ALBANY, CA: Ex-con now leads flock
By Martin Snapp
CONTRA COSTA TIMES
August 19, 2006
When members of St. Alban's Episcopal Church in Albany met to choose a new pastor, a few were wary of James Tramel's background.
And with good reason. It's not every day a church selects a convicted murderer to be its leader.
"But as soon as you meet him, those fears just fall away," said Becky Osborn-Coolidge, a member of the search committee. "Besides, if you're a Christian, you have to believe in redemption."
Tramel's story of redemption took him from San Quentin, where at age 17 he was the prison's youngest inmate, to 16 years at Solano State Prison in Vacaville, where he was ordained a deacon and priest in the Episcopal Church, to his selection this summer as the interim pastor at St. Alban's.
While in Vacaville, Tramel founded St. Dismas Episcopal Chapel, named after one of the two thieves who, according to Christian tradition, were crucified with Jesus. The story of Dismas is one he loved to tell inmates.
The other thief, Gestas, taunted Jesus, saying, "Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!"
But Dismas turned to Jesus and said, "Lord, remember me when you come into your kingly power."
Jesus replied, "Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise."
"He's the only person that the church is absolutely certain is a saint because Jesus said so," Tramel said. "Guys in prison feel excluded, but this story allows them to see that Christ is saying, 'No, no! You, too, are part of this communion.'"
In 1985, Tramel was attending an exclusive prep school in Santa Barbara when he and a classmate accosted a young man named Michael Stephenson in a local park.
For no reason, the classmate pulled out a knife and stabbed Stephenson 17 times. Tramel did nothing to stop him, nor did he try to help Stephenson as he lay dying. All he did was go back to his dorm and bet a friend $50 that there was a dead body in the park.
Sixteen hours later, Tramel was arrested. He was tried, convicted and sentenced to 15 years to life.
He was 17, and his life was over -- or so he thought. He says he hated himself, and he was sure God hated him, too.
His first stop was San Quentin. He remained there for four years until he was transferred to Vacaville, where he spent the next 16 years.
At San Quentin, he volunteered for The Squires, a "scared straight" program for at-risk teenagers. Since he was barely older than they were, they listened to him more than they would to older convicts.
"I had a real impact on them, and that made a big impact on me," he said. "I began to realize that my time in prison didn't have to be a waste."
Since many inmates were dying from AIDS and other diseases, he volunteered for the prison hospice program. One night in 1993, a guard woke him and said, "You're needed in the hospice."
An inmate named Steve was dying from stomach cancer. Tramel comforted him as best he could. Then Steve asked him the question that changed his life: "James, what do you believe?"
The answer came from Tramel's heart: "I really believe God loves us beyond measure."
Steve said, "James, that's what I want." He asked Tramel to baptize him -- which he did, using water from the sink.
Then Steve died in his arms. Tramel has never been the same since.
"My life is no longer my own," he said.
He threw himself into prison activities -- organizing victim/offender reconciliation groups, recording for the blind and conducting pizza sales among the inmates to raise money for Bay Area Women Against Rape.
He began studying by mail for the ministry. During his studies, he met and fell in love with a fellow divinity student named Stephanie Green, now his wife.
On July 4, 2004, Tramel became a deacon in the Episcopal Church. He was ordained a priest a year later.
But he was still facing a lifetime in prison. Six times he came up for parole, and six times he was turned down.
Finally, in 2005, the parole board said yes. But two days before Tramel was due to be released, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger reversed its decision.
"That was the hardest time of all," Green said. "We had his apartment all set up with everything he'd need to start a new life -- new sheets, towels, cookware. It all had to be returned."
But this year the governor changed his mind, thanks to a letter-writing campaign among Episcopalians throughout Northern California, including Bishop William Swing. On March 12, after spending 21 of his 38 years behind bars, Tramel was a free man.
"I truly believe he would never have been released without all the people who wrote letters on his behalf," Green said. "That's what a church is -- an ecclesia, a community."
He was the only inmate on the yard as he walked to the main gate that final day. He pushed a button to let the guard know he was ready to be released.
"A series of gates started opening in front of me, one after another, then closing behind me again," he said. "It felt like the Red Sea parting."
His parole officer drove him to his new home, the rectory at Good Shepherd Church in Berkeley. He served as assistant priest at Good Shepherd until July 1, when he moved to St. Alban's to replace the Rev. Jim Stickney, who retired in June.
Not everyone is cheering Tramel's redemption, including Michael Stephenson's family.
"I don't care how he's turned (his life around)," Barbara Yates, the fiancee of Stephenson's father, Edward Stephenson, told the Oakland Tribune. "I don't care how remorseful he is. I think his punishment should be to be in prison for life. He took a life. He knew right from wrong."
Tramel understands their feelings.
"I don't deserve their forgiveness," he said.
On June 30, the day before Tramel took up his new position at St. Alban's, he and Green were married after an engagement that had dragged on for six years because of his incarceration. They hope to have children. He will serve at St. Alban's for the next year or so while the congregation conducts a search for a permanent pastor.
He's still getting used to freedom, including not making collect phone calls, as he had to do in prison.
And, he said he thinks about Michael Stephenson every day.
"What's changed is that my guilt is no longer disabling; it's the source of my drive," he said. "I think of Michael as an angel to whom I'm accountable. I hope my choices honor him in a way I failed to do 21 years ago."
And he added, "I'm not the story. God's grace is the story."
Reach Martin Snapp at 510-262-2768 or e-mail msnapp@cctimes.com.
BIOGRAPHY
• WHO: The Rev. James Russell Tramel
• AGE: 38
• OCCUPATION: Interim Pastor at St. Alban's Episcopal Church in Albany
• RESIDENCE: Albany
• EDUCATION: Bachelor of Science in business administration from Thomas Edison State College in Trenton, N.J., 1996. Master of Theological Studies from the Church Divinity School of the Pacific, 2003.
• PERSONAL: Married the Rev. Stephanie Green on June 30.
• CLAIMS TO FAME: Ordained deacon in the Episcopal Church on July 4, 2004. Ordained priest June 18, 2005.
****
Dressed to kill
Crime Flashback
December 4, 2005
By MAX HAINES
Toronto Sun.com
James Tramel and David Kurtzman had a lot in common. Both were 17-year-old students at Northwestern Prep in Santa Barbara, California. The two boys were attending the school to raise their academic scores with the intention of pursuing military careers. James planned on enrolling at the Air Force Academy, while David sought entrance to the Naval Academy in Annapolis.
In the summer of 1985, James and David lived in an apartment with seven other students near the Northwestern Campus. Maybe the boys had too much time on their hands, maybe it started out as a schoolboy prank. Whatever the reason, James thought it would be a great idea to form a club. They swore allegiance to each other and so "The Nine" was formed.
Club without a cause
It's difficult to have a cohesive club without a cause. The boys were in luck. One of their members, Eric Rixen, was beaten up by a Mexican youth. When James heard of the indignity, he was incensed and demanded that the club seek revenge. He talked of making home-made weapons, but found that other club members did not take his ranting seriously -- no one except David Kurtzman. He went along with James. When James suggested that Mexicans might attack their apartment, there is evidence that David slept with an army knife at his side that night.
James kept alive the illusion of an attack by an imaginary army. He measured his roommates for dark clothing to be used if and when they counterattacked the enemy. Most of the boys thought it was a lark. Unknown to them, the imaginary enemy had become a reality in the now warped mind of James Tramel. David Kurtzman also believed in the intense rivalry between The Nine and the Mexicans.
The day after club members were measured for black clothing, James and David left the apartment at approximately 10:30 p.m. Earlier that day, David had sharpened his army knife. He gave it to James, who carried it in his belt.
The boys were looking for a Mexican. They were stalking a fellow human being. They spotted a youth of Mexican extraction eating a hamburger at MacDonald's.
The boys lingered as the youth finished eating.
Finally he strolled into Alameda Park with the two hunters following at a safe distance. It was dark. Could this be a trap? David asked James for the knife.
There were no lights or voices in the park that night. Only the strains of music originating from the gazebo broke the eerie silence of the hot, still night.
Michael Stephenson was 29 years old, but had made precious little of his life. When the Chicago native was 19, he left home to wander across the nation. For 10 years, he had led the life of a nomad.
Michael had made beautiful Santa Barbara his home for the last three years. Where else could one live off the income from odd jobs and spend the nights under the stars?
The night of Aug. 3, 1985 was no different from the scores of nights which preceded it. Michael finished his snack and then strolled to the gazebo in Alameda Park. His portable radio played pleasant music. He stretched out in the gazebo. The music from the radio soon lulled him to sleep.
Silently, James and David approached the sleeping form. "That's him," James whispered. Michael heard and wiped the sleep from his eyes. As he did so, David Kurtzman plunged his 10-inch knife into the back of Michael's neck. Again and again, the knife found its mark. Later, over a dozen stab wounds were discernible on the victim's body. Not satisfied, David turned Michael's body over on his back and slit his throat. The boys made their way back to their rooms, where David calmly cleaned his knife.
'Bagged a Mexican'
James held an informal meeting of The Nine. He announced, "It's not just a game any more. We bagged a Mexican tonight." The seven other boys were incredulous. Two of them, Tom Wetterhahn and Tyler Sheppard, refused to believe James and insisted on viewing the body. They quickly became believers.
That same night, James swore all the members of his club to secrecy. He and David would leave California forever and start a new life in Canada. But it was not to be. Next morning, club members gathered up the murder weapon and David's bloody trousers and took them to the police. James and David were taken into custody.
Why did the two boys create an illusion so realistic that they appeared compelled to carry out an attack on an imaginary enemy? During their separate trials they could offer little by way of explanation.
David related in graphic detail the events of that fateful night. "My heart started pounding in my ears. There were flashes in my head. I envisioned all the things that could happen, people crawling over the sides of the gazebo. I just lost it."
James stated, "I couldn't believe what had happened. It was just like a dream."
James Tramel and David Kurtzman were found guilty of murder in the second degree. Both were sentenced to 15 years to life imprisonment.
While in prison, Tramel has distinguished himself by earning a Master of Theological Studies degree. He has also become an ordained Deacon of The Episcopal Church. Despite being recommended for a parole by the States Board of Prison Terms, Governor Arnold Schwartzenegger reversed the board's ruling and Tramel is still fighting for his freedom.