By A.C. Thompson

Last week marked the 25th anniversary of National Crime Victims' Rights Week, an event established by Ronald Reagan in 1981 to recognize "the plight of victims" and enhance "sensitivity" toward them.

And so, cops and prosecutors gabbed to the media. There were candlelight vigils. Awards were handed out. U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez sent out a press release saying, "For the last 25 years, we have struggled to ensure our justice system is swift and sure, and our outreach to victims is compassionate and comforting."

But amid all the speechifying an uncomfortable truth stood unaddressed: the system neglects a whole class of crime victims.

They are people like Tamyra Simpson of Oakland. Her husband, William Simpson, was felled by gunfire in San Leandro late last year, leaving Tamyra, 30, to raise two young children solo.

Because William was on parole for a crack cocaine case at the time of his murder (which remains unsolved), California law bars Tamyra from receiving help with burial costs. Even if William had gotten off parole, Tamyra still would've been last in line to get help because the law states, "Victims who are not felons shall receive priority."

"They're making the family suffer," Tamyra says. "They're making me suffer for things he did a while ago."

For non-cons, Alameda County hands out up to $5,000 for funeral expenses, the money going directly to the mortuaries and funeral homes.

Tamyra paints her husband as an ex-con who was flipping the script, a guy studying full time at Laney College and poised to start a job at the Oakland Marriott. "He was an innocent bystander when he was killed. It's not like he was robbing a bank and got shot by a security guard. He wasn't mugging an old lady," she says.

William was slain at about 4:15 a.m. while standing at a bus stop with a 21-year-old friend who caught two slugs in the head but survived; the gunfire followed some sort of late-night dispute at a house party near Bayfair Mall. According to an ultrabrief Oakland Tribune account, "Witnesses saw two people running across East 14th Street from the bus stop shortly after shots were fired. The individuals got into a dark, four-door sedan and fled."

At the Alameda County District Attorney's Office, Lisa Foster confirms that state law – California Government Code section 13955, to be specific – freezes out folks like Tamyra. However, Foster, who heads the D.A.'s Victim-Witness Assistance Division, says Tamyra and others in her situation are eligible for some types of aid, including up to $2,000 for relocation expenses, as well as grief counseling and therapy.

Foster has heard from plenty of crime survivors who aren't happy with the idea of ex-cons and their families getting anything. "They feel we're subsidizing felons, the people who are victimizing them. And I can see both sides of the issue," she says. Last year some 1,100 Alameda County crime victims – people traumatized by offenses ranging from burglary to sexual assault to homicide – came looking for support.

According to Foster, her office extends its reach by cultivating relationships with charitable souls in the nonprofit sector, everyone from the Salvation Army to "a minister who'll perform funeral services without a fee."

In San Francisco, Bryant Mortuary owner Anthony Kelley knows all about the financial hardships placed on grieving families. "You're looking at $8,000 for a typical burial, and it's something you haven't planned for and isn't covered by insurance," he says. In some cases, Kelley explains, his company isn't able to wait to find out whether a funeral will be paid for with public money, a process that can take months.

"Smaller funeral homes like us can't take the risk of not getting that $5,000. Sometimes that makes a family who can't afford a cemetery plot just go for cremation," Kelley says.

At the San Francisco District Attorney's Office, spokesperson Debbie Mesloh says, "Our office is concerned that some of the families who could apply for burial expenses are excluded because of the state provisions regarding felony status.... We are examining this issue and currently taking each matter on a case-by-case basis for those offenders who have nonviolent felonies on their record." According to Mesloh, Timothy Griffith, the baseball fan stabbed to death outside a Giants game last year, is among those excluded by the law – he had just graduated from a court-ordered drug rehab program after an arrest on burglary charges.

Sharen Hewitt directs San Francisco's Community Leadership Academy and Emergency Response Project, a nonprofit organizing hood-dwellers and homicide survivors in hopes of curbing violence. Hewitt, who regularly helps cash-strapped families bury their loved ones, is seriously offended by the law.

"The people who are denied assistance often have nothing to do with any criminal activity," she says. "This is deeply hurtful to those left behind. It says, 'You're not worthy of having any public resources invested in you.' "

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