Will Leonard Peltier Die In Prison?

Hundreds of thousands of pages of evidence have since been uncovered to suggest that Peltier’s conviction was the end product of unconstitutional tactics and surreptitious violence perpetrated by the feds. The Raging Bull shootout occurred in an era dubbed the “Reign of Terror” by Indigenous traditionalists who were routinely brutalized by the FBI, the Bureau of Indian Affairs, and the paramilitary faction of the US-installed tribal government, known as the Guardians of the Oglala Nation, or the Goon Squad. There were reportedly upwards of 60 unsolved murders across the reservation in one three-year period at this time. The FBI was known to turn a blind eye to, if not actively arm, the GOONs.

Peltier’s AIM codefendants were acquitted on homicide charges by an Iowa jury on the grounds that it was rational and necessary self-defense in the face of the government’s ongoing terror campaign. But Peltier, who had fled to Canada, had to be extradited, so his trial came later. This time, the FBI took the case to a federal judge who was“notoriously anti-Indian” and who barred all evidence pertaining to anti-Indigenous violence from the GOONs and the federal government. Key witnesses were blocked from the stand, or threatened and coerced into false testimony.

The jury found Peltier guilty of two counts of first-degree murder; he was given two consecutive life sentences.

Today, Peltier cannot even walk unassisted, let alone be a “danger to his community,” which is one of the considerations the Parole Commission must take into account. His lawyers told The Nation that for an incarcerated person, it can be near-impossible to access quality healthcare.

“The only consistent feature of his medical records is the near-universal lack of follow-up,” Moira Meltzer-Cohen, of the Leonard Peltier Defense Committee, said. “Even when it’s the prison’s own doctors recommending care, it just doesn’t happen.”

Moreover, in a maximum security prison, inmates are often thrust suddenly into lockdown—making reliable, routine care seemingly impossible, Meltzer-Cohen said.

But Jenipher Jones, a cocounsel on the case, said Peltier’s plight goes beyond the typical pitfalls of prison healthcare. “To withhold care from that political prisoner often means that attention is being diverted from advocacy, from pursuit of release,” Jones told The Nation. “It is forcing them to fight for their lives instead.”

Meanwhile, the FBI has leveraged its political power to keep Peltier locked up. Under the Clinton administration, The White House allegedly all but promised to free Peltier. His defense committee bought him clothes and his grandson prepared a bedroom for his homecoming.

Then, thousands of current and former FBI agents swarmed to Washington to protest Peltier’s clemency. Suddenly, and without warning, Clinton released his list of clemency grantees on January 20, 2001—without Peltier’s name on it.

Chauncey Peltier, Leonard Peltier’s oldest son, was with his father on the reservation on the day of the shootout. He recalls the long, winding road trips in his father’s orange Chevy van, fishing out on the lake, traveling with AIM demonstrators. He also remembers being 10 years old, entering the courthouse for his father’s trial—and being slammed against the wall by FBI agents who told him his “murdering dad would never walk free.”

It was just one more chapter in what the junior Peltier described as a lifetime of FBI harassment and violence on account of his last name, and a lifetime of loss.

“So many people tell me I sound just like him,” Chauncey Peltier told The Nation. “I feel like I’ve been robbed in this situation too, because my father’s been wrongfully incarcerated and he ain’t been there for us kids when we needed him.”

But Peltier’s reach has also spanned far beyond the prison walls—not just his story, but his words, his poetry, his art and his activism. From his cell in a supermax prison, Peltier has helped organize Indigenous-led mutual aid initiatives such as toy drives, collaborated with scholars to craft Indigenous-focused policy, and funded humanitarian initiatives by selling his artwork.

The elder Peltier was not available for interview at this time, impeded by both his declining health and the communications roadblocks of incarceration—phone calls and visits are severely limited. But in his 1999 memoir, he stood up for continued Indigenous resistance, and emphasized the importance of preserving the culture and heritage of his people.

“I am guilty only of being an Indian,” he wrote. “Being who I am, being who you are—that’s Aboriginal Sin.”

Peltier’s lawyers told The Nation they will be filing an appeal. There have also been continued demands for President Joe Biden to grant Peltier clemency—demands that will likely increase now that Biden is set to leave office in January.