Ordeal not over for wrongly accused teen
These days, Eugene Bailey, 17, is afraid to go outside even on the brightest mornings and has trouble sleeping through the most silent night.
But at least he doesn't want to kill himself any more.
For weeks, police and prosecutors said Eugene was the teenager who administered the last vicious punch that helped kill Fenger high school student Derrion Albert during a brawl on Sept. 24.
It turned out that Eugene wasn't the boy on the now infamous video of Derrion's death. The authorities let him go, but only after "putting my son through living hell,'' said his mother, Ava Greyer, 38.
"They didn't do their homework, and they didn't apologize,'' she said.
More important than an apology, I think, is making sure Eugene receives the psychological counseling that he and his mother agree he needs.
"I feel like my life has been ruined,'' he said.
He was charged with first-degree murder and locked up for three weeks in the maximum-security division of the Cook County Jail, with, as he puts it, "rape men and child molesters.''
"They look in my eye and they see I don't belong there,'' he said. "I look in their eye and I say that's a rough dude.''
He has been free for more than a week, but he still feels like he's in jail. He says he's now afraid of the gang members and other teens in his Roseland neighborhood.
"I used to go anywhere I wanted,'' he said. "I used to have confidence.''
As the video and then the story of his arrest flashed around the world on the Internet, Eugene became a notorious celebrity and maybe, he fears, a trophy for the thug who gets the boy accused of killing the honor student.
"I really don't feel too safe being outside,'' he said. "Getting locked up and accused of something I didn't do -- something that bogus -- just broke the spirit in me.''
He said he is also afraid of the police.
"They could plant something on me,'' he said. "The police got embarrassed because they had to let me go.''
He said he will not return to Fenger, where he was a senior. His mother wants to move the family far away from Roseland. She wants to find her son a private school and psychological counseling, not only for Eugene but for his four siblings living at home.
"I need counseling myself,'' she said. "I'm about to go crazy.''
For help, Eugene and his mother have turned to Rainbow/ PUSH Coalition and the Rev. Jesse Jackson (for whom I've written free-lance op-ed pieces in the past). Dressed in a suit and tie, Eugene looked me in the eye and said he was at his older brother's home when Derrion was killed. He said he and Derrion were friends, and a couple of hours before the brutal beating, "Derrion walked me to my choir class and then he went to lunch.''
Three days later, Eugene was in the back of a police wagon headed for jail. Eugene was terrified when he walked into the sprawling lockup. He says a female correctional officer told him he should request PC -- protective custody.
"They still got rapists, and they still stab people in PC,'' he said. "But it's safer than anywhere else.''
His cellmate in the PC unit had a makeshift clothesline strung across their cell. To Eugene it looked like a good way out.
"If they were going to pin this on me,'' he said, "I thought I might as well commit suicide.''
An older prisoner saw how depressed and scared Eugene appeared and gave him some advice.
"I saw your mama on TV,'' the prisoner said. "She's out there fighting for you. Keep your head up.''
Eugene said he has not watched the video of Derrion's death.
"I don't want to have no more bad memories,'' he says. "I already feel broken.''
We can't keep allowing our children to break. Soon, we won't have any whole ones left.