At 2 a.m. on Sat., Nov. 28, they left the Complex to take home a friend who'd had too much to drink. While escorting him to the car, some men in the parking lot began yelling and calling them disparaging names.

"We were like, just leave us the f--- alone," Perry remembered.

According to the police report, Piwowarczyk, Perry and others "attempted to walk away when the six subjects began to punch them." Waking up on the ground with blood running out of his nose is Perry's next memory. Piwowarczyk will never forget what happened next.

"The police kept saying, 'How do you know this is a hate crime?'" Piwowarczyk said. "When someone screams 'faggot' in your face and you clearly know they're straight, I don't know how you could paint the picture any better."

LOCAL HATE CRIME INCIDENCE HOLDS STEADY

Piwowarczyk and Perry are just two of thousands of victims nationwide every year whose attacks involve anti-gay bias. In 2008, the latest year for which statistics are available, the FBI reported 7,775 hate crime incidents, nearly 17 percent of which entailed bias against someone's sexual orientation. Attacks against gay men outnumber those on lesbians by nearly 4 to 1.

The state of hate

Last November, the Jewish Light received a grant from the Press Club of Metropolitan St. Louis to study hate violence and its affects not just among Jews, but also other groups. The St. Louis Beacon partnered with the Light on two of the stories, as part of our Race, Frankly series.

 

The series, “The State of Hate,” appears on the Light’s website and in the St. Louis Beacon. 

 

The state of hate: The changing face of hate crimes -- and victims

 

Frequently asked questions about hate crimes 

 

Three decades later, the effects of synagogue shootings are still being felt.

 

Inside the minds of hate crime offenders

 

Teaching moments: What students can learn from hate incidents at schools 

 

The invisible crime: Hate crimes often go untold because victims fear to report

Statistics for Missouri are incomplete, as the state does not require its police departments to report hate crimes data. Of those 2008 crimes reported in Missouri, 14 attacks had sexual orientation as an element, with one of those reported in St. Louis and none in St. Louis County. The highest number -- three -- took place in Springfield. The St. Louis area has reported from one to three such crimes every year following the 1999 inclusion of sexual orientation and gender identity in the Missouri hate crimes statute.

In the 11 years since, society has shifted radically, with many more lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people coming out of the closet. That visibility is a double-edge sword, which can bring out hidden hatred even as it fosters acceptance, according to St. Louisan Philip Deitch, who chairs the community education committee of the U.S. Attorney's Hate Crimes Task Force and is a member of Central Reform Congregation.

"Throwing bottles, beating people up, being robbed, having stuff thrown at us in front of our bars, that stuff I've seen less of," Deitch said. "On the other hand, coming out has generated more attention, but I don't think coming out generates hate crimes. But any time a community is in the news, it can become more of a target."

NEW FEDERAL LAW HAS STRICTER REQUIReMENTS FOR LGBT COMMUNITY

While no charges have been filed in the attack on Piwowarczyk and Perry, St. Louis police are investigating.

"It is very possible that the suspects who committed this offense told someone about it -- many offenders do," St. Louis Police Department public relations director Erica Van Ross said. "We need those persons to come forward."

Under the Missouri hate crimes statute, offenses including assault can be bumped up to a greater charge if bias is the motivation. A regular assault charge would come with a maximum sentence of one year in the county jail. Enhancing it under the hate crimes law would increase the potential penalty to four years in prison. The FBI is also looking into the incident.

"We have talked with local law enforcement," said special agent Tim Feeney of the St. Louis FBI office. "The Complex case could very well be a hate crime."

The federal government gets involved when its assistance is requested or after it sees a need. But there are a few hitches when it comes to prosecuting hate crimes involving sexual orientation and gender identity under the 6-month-old federal Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act. For one thing, the offense must involve violence or attempted violence.

Other hate crimes are easier to prosecute because of the 15th amendment guaranteeing the rights of people regardless of race or color, and the 1964 Civil Rights Act, which prohibited discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex and national origin. The new hate crimes statute does offer at least one important benefit to gays and lesbians, according to Rich Callahan, U.S. attorney for Missouri's Eastern District.

"The one big advantage of the new law, and of the 1964 Act, is that it allows the federal government to conduct the investigation because of the possibility of federal jurisdiction," Callahan said.

As Piwowarczyk and Perry await developments in their case, they struggle with the aftermath of the beating. Their initial, opposite coping mechanisms -- Piwowarczyk threw himself into prosecuting and publicizing the attack, Perry became depressed and withdrawn -- caused them to break up, though they remain friends.

Piwowarczyk's depression came later; he's now in counseling. Both carry mace wherever they go, are careful about where they park and watch their backs.

"I live my life differently, but I still go out with my friends," Perry said. "I'm not going to let [the attackers] win like that."

WHAT'S IN A WORD? PLENTY

Not long after moving to rural Silex, Mo., in Lincoln County in 2007, life partners David Daugherty and Michael Grahn heard the rumors: Some disgruntled residents were "out to get the two new gay guys" in town.

On Sept. 12, as they were leaving local watering hole Barney T's, Daugherty and Grahn were approached by two men, asking them to ride horses at their place down the road. After Daugherty and Grahn declined, they said the two men backed into their car. "Come on over to our house and we'll settle up on the damage," Daugherty and Grahn remember the men saying. But after the couple got there, an argument broke out, and Daugherty called for help.

"When I was calling the police, my phone was knocked out of my hand," Daugherty recalled.

"I heard crunching sounds on Dave. That's the last I remember," Grahn said.

Still reeling from being knocked over the head, punched in the face and kicked all over, Daugherty and Grahn drove back to Barney T's and asked someone there to call the police. Later, they sought hospital treatment and pain medication for Grahn's black eye and Daugherty's fractured ribs, along with an assortment of painful cuts and bruises.

In St. Louis, race affects politics, the economy, personal relationships, education – virtually every important aspect of community life. Yet it’s difficult to talk honestly and productively about race. In Race, Frankly, the Beacon invites you to look at race with fresh eyes. It’s a new day nationally, and in St. Louis, it’s time.

Read more stories in the Race, Frankly project

Daugherty and Grahn believe they were victims of a hate crime. But they say they were told the chances of prosecuting the assault as a hate crime are slim to none.

"They told me, 'We don't consider it hate crime because you didn't hear them calling you 'queers' or 'fags,'" Grahn said. "When you're knocked out, you don't hear what people are saying."

Neither the Silex police department nor the Lincoln County prosecutor's office returned phone calls asking about the incident.

While documented use of a slur is valuable in the prosecution of a hate crime, it's not the deciding factor, according to Feeney, who has talked with Silex police and the victims. Feeney would say nothing else about the Silex case, but he did generalize about hate crimes investigations overall.

"We would look at 'why did this person commit this crime toward that person, what was it based on?'" Feeney said. "That's what you have to prove in a hate crime. If somebody is using language that's hateful, that's going to help the case, but it doesn't make the case."

After consulting an attorney April 5, Daugherty and Grahn found out that if they filed a lawsuit, it would likely be heard in Lincoln County, a location that they believe would not produce a gay-friendly jury. Citing health reasons, the couple decided to drop the matter.

"We are done trying to find any help from anybody," Daugherty said.

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

Calling it a "proud day for Missouri," advocates cheered when Gov. Mel Carnahan signed the hate crimes bill that included sexual orientation and gender identity in 1999. But a little over a decade later, the clapping has given way to silence: Not one state or local official interviewed for this article could think of a single crime against a lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender person that has been successfully prosecuted using the statute.

"I'm not aware of any, personally," said Jason Lamb, director of the Missouri Office of Prosecution Services.

In August 2008, Cape Girardeau County prosecuting attorney Morley Swingle had a case that came close. All the elements seemed to be in place after Shaun Cole and Eric Frymire were charged in the attack of a 20-year-old man in an apartment belonging to the victim's friend.

"They called him 'fag' and 'faggot.' Some witnesses who did not know him said he was gay," Swingle said. "He was an effeminate-looking fellow."

Under the hate crimes statute, the third-degree misdemeanor assault was raised to a class-D felony, meaning the attackers could serve up to four years behind bars.

But when the victim took the stand, he told the jury, "I'm not gay." A hate crime no more, the case ended with Frymire being found guilty of burglary and Cole, of burglary and assault. They received five years' probation and six months in jail, respectively.

Even though the Missouri law protects those who have characteristics of the opposite sex -- gay or not -- that is a gray area, according to Swingle, and not worth pursuing in that case.

"Gray areas go in favor of the defendant," Swingle said.

CLOSETS HAMPER PROSECUTION

Many gay and lesbian victims are afraid to be identified as such -- an inherent requirement for using the hate crimes law, said Karen Aroesty, regional director of the American Defamation League for Missouri and Southern Illinois.

"There are still people who don't want to come out of the closet either publicly or to their families," Aroesty said. "That's the nature of hate crime anyway. When you're targeted as victim of hate crime, there's a lot of inclination to retreat inward and not come out blazing because of the personal level of the attack."

Being closeted can be a big issue in the transgender community as well, according to Robyn Carolyn Montague, cofounder and co-chair of advocacy organization Transhaven Missouri. It's a concern for transsexuals (those with a different gender identity than their physical sex) and others who fall under the transgender or cross-dressing umbrella and are not "out."

"Many are cross-dressers who may be married to females that want to reach out to their feminine side. They'll get dressed up and go out on the town," Montague said. "They work in respectable jobs and if anything got out, they'd be afraid of being humiliated and losing their jobs."

There are no hard figures on attacks against people who are transgender. Tracking in Missouri is made difficult because the transgender category is subsumed under sexual orientation, and police forms list only two genders: male and female. The federal law should soon produce better documentation. But the National Center for Transgender Equality has pulled already some figures from a survey of more than 6,000 people in the nationwide transgender community. According to that research, completed in 2009, 19 percent have been physically attacked and 9 percent have been sexually assaulted.

Fear of being publicly identified may make the inclusion of transgender people in hate crimes laws somewhat symbolic. Still, it's an important development.

"One important aspect of the Matthew Shepard law is that it is the first federal law that recognizes transgender people," Montague said. "Yes, we are very pleased with the hate crimes part of it, but from a transgender activist's standpoint, it is also important is that it's the springboard now for other things where we are identified and recognized properly as federally protected U.S. citizens."