By Michael E. Miller
By Allie Conti
By David Villano
By Jose D. Duran
By Michael E. Miller
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By Kyle Swenson
By Luther Campbell
Jack Thompson looks nothing like 9/11 orchestrator Mohamed Atta. He wears a slick business suit and lives in a million-dollar home in Coral Gables. Yet the 56-year-old lawyer hand-delivered a letter to U.S. District Court Chief Judge Federico A. Moreno last week that sounded a lot like terrorism: "Maybe," he wrote, "my 'mistake' was not killing 3,000 people to make my point."
On Monday, federal marshals showed up at his home to question him about the matter. Next up for the man who for 20 years has worn the mantle of the puritanical police: disbarment.
Miami-Dade Circuit Court Judge Dava Tunis last month found Thompson guilty of 27 violations of the Florida Bar code of conduct. The case against this vexatious litigator is detailed in 4,100 pages of exhibits and testimony. Examples of his sins include sending members of the Florida Supreme Court gay porn and a picture book with images of (1) swastikas, (2) a kangaroo clutching an outsize gavel, (3) a kangaroo in judge's robes sitting on the bench, and (4) Ray Charles. His point was to illustrate that Florida's high jurists simply could not comprehend the ineffable complexities of his arguments.
If Tunis's findings are confirmed by the court this fall, the justices will only be confirming what hip-hop artists and gamers have known for decades: Jack don't know jack.
Thompson entered the public psyche in 1988, when he campaigned against then-Dade State Attorney Janet Reno by employing a novel strategy — he inferred she was a closeted lesbian. Two years later, his profile was raised during the furor over Miami rap group 2 Live Crew, charged with staging an obscene performance at a Hollywood nightclub. He sent the lyrics of "As Nasty as They Wanna Be" to Gov. Bob Martinez and every county sheriff in the state.
He also sent along legal documents attached to copies of his driver's license. Over his photo, he pasted an image of a caped crusader. "I have sent my opponents pictures of Batman to remind them I'm playing the role," Thompson told a Washington Post reporter. "Just like Bruce Wayne helped the police in the movie, I have had to assist the sheriff of Broward County." (Charges against 2 Live Crew were eventually forgotten.)
In an unrelated matter around that time, the Florida Bar Association dropped an inquiry into Thompson's mental stability after a bar-appointed neuropsychologist pronounced him competent.
Norm Kent, a prominent gay Fort Lauderdale attorney, began feuding with Thompson two decades ago when they were on opposite sides of a case regarding radio host Neil Rogers, who spouted obscenities on the air. Kent publishes the Express Gay News and National Gay News and is a board member of the National Organization for Reform of Marijuana Laws. His philosophy is the antithesis to Thompson's radically conservative, born-again-Christian ethos. And Thompson has in several instances attempted to have his nemesis's law license yanked. "In each of these cases, he's arguing, 'How does the [Florida] Bar allow a pot-smoking homosexual to continue to practice?'" Kent says. "Thompson has a hard time coping with the fact that a lawyer as gay as I am can be as successful as I am."
In the early Nineties, Thompson turned his ire to rap, including an attempt to stop distribution of Ice-T's song "Cop Killer." Then he moved onto his next target: Grand Theft Auto. Pixelated videogame violence inspired the murderous sprees at Columbine and Virginia Tech, he ranted in faxes and e-mails to the press.
The events leading to his disbarment began in 2003, when Devin Moore, a Fayette County, Alabama teenager and compulsive Grand Theft Auto player, killed two police officers and a radio dispatcher. Two years later, in February 2005, Thompson sued the videogame's developer — Rockstar Games — and others on behalf of the families of the victims, claiming Grand Theft Auto had persuaded Moore to commit the crime.
But there were problems. Thompson filed the case in Alabama, where he was not licensed. And he employed his usual fax and e-mail smear tactics, even after a gag order was issued. In August, the defense counsel, lawyers of the prestigious Blank Rome firm in Philadelphia, asked Judge James Moore to give Thompson the boot. After the judge agreed, Thompson sent him dozens of faxes alleging he was in "bed" with opposing lawyers and that the jurist's "friend" had fixed the case. "You're the guy who wants to give Take-Two my scalp," he wrote. "Thieves and liars ... are your corporate criminal buddies, Judge Moore."
In February 2006, Moore filed a complaint about Thompson's behavior with the Florida Bar (which would later be affirmed by Tunis). The judge declined to comment for this story.
More anti-videogame screeds followed, until Michigan gamers Alyson Burch and George Ettinger tried to extend an olive branch by collecting money to send Thompson flowers. At first, the goal was only $50, but soon international donations swelled the pot to more than a grand. Burch and Ettinger sent an expansive bouquet to Thompson and donated the rest to charity. The affair became a web sensation when Thompson flatly refused to accept the bouquet and then accused the pair of being spies for Rockstar Games, Burch said.