Kass: Chicago police officer slain as the mayor embarrasses himself and his city - chicagotribune.com
In anti-handgun Chicago, criminals aren't bothered by Mayor Richard Daley's handgun ban. They haven't been bothered for years.
And so another Chicago police officer was shot to death. But it wasn't during a traffic stop or some hunt through an alley after a drug sting.
Thomas Wortham IV, 30, was a victim of a robbery, shot down outside his boyhood home in the staunchly middle-class Chatham neighborhood, his body dragged 100 feet or so by the getaway car.
The thugs were trying to steal his motorcycle, a gift to himself upon his return from a second tour of duty in Iraq as a first lieutenant in the Army National Guard.
Wortham, a patrol officer, was helping his neighbors reclaim a troubled neighborhood park, the scene of several recent shootings.
"He was the best of us. He was a role model. He was 30 years old, a grown man, a police officer, a soldier, a man of service," said Ald. Freddrenna Lyle, 6th, who has known the Wortham family since she was a child.
"It was 'Yes, ma'am' and 'No, sir' from him. He had self-respect. He was teaching these young men how to be men," she said.
I talked to Lyle on a side street in Chatham just after she'd paid a long condolence call to the Wortham family, as neighbors stood out on their sidewalks, agonizing over the loss.
The front lawns were neat and small. Backyard gardens were places of old-fashioned flowers, peonies and phlox and tea-roses. It is a neighborhood carefully tended.
At that moment, Mayor Daley was holding a news conference, another dog-and-pony show at City Hall to demonstrate his tough stance on crime.
He called it to express his concern that the U.S. Supreme Court will overturn the city's handgun ban. There were guns on a table as props, so much eye candy for the cameras.
A reporter asked the obvious question: Given the numbers of shootings in the city, isn't the handgun ban ineffective?
The question was more than fair. In Chicago, the only people who are confident in their 2nd Amendment rights to bear arms are the criminals, the cops and the politicians.
Law-abiding citizens can't own handguns. They don't have an army of bodyguards, as does Daley. Political hacks have guns. They get out the vote for his machine.
And the retired neighbor who's never been arrested in his life? Oh, no. If he has a gun, it would be anarchy in the streets, according to Daley.
Confronted with a logical question, here's what the mayor did: He picked up a rifle from the prop table of guns, raised it and began to babble.
"It's been very effective," said Daley of the handgun ban. "If I put this up your butt, you'll find out how effective it is. Let me put a round up your, you know."
The mayor of Chicago then went on to say if the justices were attacked by thugs with guns, they'd see things his way.
"Maybe they'll see the light of day," Daley said. "Maybe one of them will have an incident, and they'll change their mind overnight, going to and from work."
Chicago politics is a rough business. But suggesting that Supreme Court justices need to suffer before becoming enlightened is despicable. It not only embarrasses the mayor, but everyone who lives or works in Chicago.
His press aides put out a statement saying the mayor used "less than ideal" language when he suggested inserting the rifle into his critics and pulling the trigger.
And there was no word of any plans to apologize to the Supreme Court.
But he meant what he said. And so the mayor reveals his nature.
Daley has been a bully his entire life, a child of muscle and privilege, and now he's terrified at the prospect that his citizens might think he's lost control of the streets.
The police despise him. Their department is terribly understaffed and overworked. Taxpayers want more cops. But there's no money for additional police because Daley wasted it all, hundreds of millions of dollars year after year after year on deals for his cronies.
While Daley spent his life pushing weaker people around, Thomas Wortham spent his life as a man of service. Now he's cold at the funeral home, waiting for burial.
His Chatham neighborhood once was considered free of violence. It is the home of Sen. Roland Burris, of former Police Supt. police Superintendent Terry Hilliard, of lawyers, judges, doctors, bus drivers and steelworkers.
Neighbors recalled Cole Park, just across the street from Wortham's boyhood home, as a place to see the best basketball players in the city. Even a young rookie named Michael Jordan played hoops in pick-up games.
Now there are iron bars over the rims to discourage young men from congregating in the park, the scene of a recent rash of shootings.
Wortham's tour of duty in Iraq ended less than two months ago. He bought himself that motorcycle and planned on helping Ald. Lyle reclaim Cole Park this weekend.
On Thursday, it was the setting for a prayer vigil for his immortal soul.
"His mother was worried that something was going to happen to him over there [in Iraq]," Lyle told me. "But he had to come home to Chicago to get shot down."
Home to Chicago, the anti-handgun city, where the thugs don't worry much about what the mayor has to say.
In anti-handgun Chicago, criminals aren't bothered by Mayor Richard Daley's handgun ban. They haven't been bothered for years.
And so another Chicago police officer was shot to death. But it wasn't during a traffic stop or some hunt through an alley after a drug sting.
Thomas Wortham IV, 30, was a victim of a robbery, shot down outside his boyhood home in the staunchly middle-class Chatham neighborhood, his body dragged 100 feet or so by the getaway car.
The thugs were trying to steal his motorcycle, a gift to himself upon his return from a second tour of duty in Iraq as a first lieutenant in the Army National Guard.
Wortham, a patrol officer, was helping his neighbors reclaim a troubled neighborhood park, the scene of several recent shootings.
"He was the best of us. He was a role model. He was 30 years old, a grown man, a police officer, a soldier, a man of service," said Ald. Freddrenna Lyle, 6th, who has known the Wortham family since she was a child.
"It was 'Yes, ma'am' and 'No, sir' from him. He had self-respect. He was teaching these young men how to be men," she said.
I talked to Lyle on a side street in Chatham just after she'd paid a long condolence call to the Wortham family, as neighbors stood out on their sidewalks, agonizing over the loss.
The front lawns were neat and small. Backyard gardens were places of old-fashioned flowers, peonies and phlox and tea-roses. It is a neighborhood carefully tended.
At that moment, Mayor Daley was holding a news conference, another dog-and-pony show at City Hall to demonstrate his tough stance on crime.
He called it to express his concern that the U.S. Supreme Court will overturn the city's handgun ban. There were guns on a table as props, so much eye candy for the cameras.
A reporter asked the obvious question: Given the numbers of shootings in the city, isn't the handgun ban ineffective?
The question was more than fair. In Chicago, the only people who are confident in their 2nd Amendment rights to bear arms are the criminals, the cops and the politicians.
Law-abiding citizens can't own handguns. They don't have an army of bodyguards, as does Daley. Political hacks have guns. They get out the vote for his machine.
And the retired neighbor who's never been arrested in his life? Oh, no. If he has a gun, it would be anarchy in the streets, according to Daley.
Confronted with a logical question, here's what the mayor did: He picked up a rifle from the prop table of guns, raised it and began to babble.
"It's been very effective," said Daley of the handgun ban. "If I put this up your butt, you'll find out how effective it is. Let me put a round up your, you know."
The mayor of Chicago then went on to say if the justices were attacked by thugs with guns, they'd see things his way.
"Maybe they'll see the light of day," Daley said. "Maybe one of them will have an incident, and they'll change their mind overnight, going to and from work."
Chicago politics is a rough business. But suggesting that Supreme Court justices need to suffer before becoming enlightened is despicable. It not only embarrasses the mayor, but everyone who lives or works in Chicago.
His press aides put out a statement saying the mayor used "less than ideal" language when he suggested inserting the rifle into his critics and pulling the trigger.
And there was no word of any plans to apologize to the Supreme Court.
But he meant what he said. And so the mayor reveals his nature.
Daley has been a bully his entire life, a child of muscle and privilege, and now he's terrified at the prospect that his citizens might think he's lost control of the streets.
The police despise him. Their department is terribly understaffed and overworked. Taxpayers want more cops. But there's no money for additional police because Daley wasted it all, hundreds of millions of dollars year after year after year on deals for his cronies.
While Daley spent his life pushing weaker people around, Thomas Wortham spent his life as a man of service. Now he's cold at the funeral home, waiting for burial.
His Chatham neighborhood once was considered free of violence. It is the home of Sen. Roland Burris, of former Police Supt. police Superintendent Terry Hilliard, of lawyers, judges, doctors, bus drivers and steelworkers.
Neighbors recalled Cole Park, just across the street from Wortham's boyhood home, as a place to see the best basketball players in the city. Even a young rookie named Michael Jordan played hoops in pick-up games.
Now there are iron bars over the rims to discourage young men from congregating in the park, the scene of a recent rash of shootings.
Wortham's tour of duty in Iraq ended less than two months ago. He bought himself that motorcycle and planned on helping Ald. Lyle reclaim Cole Park this weekend.
On Thursday, it was the setting for a prayer vigil for his immortal soul.
"His mother was worried that something was going to happen to him over there [in Iraq]," Lyle told me. "But he had to come home to Chicago to get shot down."
Home to Chicago, the anti-handgun city, where the thugs don't worry much about what the mayor has to say.
