The Murder Behind ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’

It's 11:30 p.m.

on October 27th, 1992, in Sasebo, Japan.

22-year-old radio man, Allen R.

Schindler, Jr., walks along a riverside path, one of many American sailors making his way from the nearby US.

Navy base to the bars and clubs of this small Japanese city.

But unlike many of his peers, Allen walks alone.

For months, Allen has been ruthlessly bullied and harassed by his shipmates for his supposed homosexuality.

Allen never confirmed their speculation until one month ago.

Desperate for the abuse to end, Allen came out as gay to the captain of his ship, the USS Bellow Wood.

Because gay men are not allowed to serve, the captain had no choice but to begin discharge proceedings against Allen.

But Allen doesn't mind.

He's looking forward to a new start in a more tolerant career.

And in the meantime, he's happy to have recently found people who accept him here in Japan.

As he passes the entrance to Sasebo Park, Allen checks his watch.

Tonight, he's on his way to meet three gay Californian entertainers he met a few days ago on shore leave.

He's still got a few minutes before he's due at the karaoke bar.

So Allen ducks into the park and heads to his public restroom.

He pushes open the door of the men's room and finds it empty.

He walks over to a urinal, and just as he begins to undo his zipper, he hears the sound of footsteps.

The door swings open and another man enters.

As Allen turns his head slightly to acknowledge his presence, the man slams his fist into Allen's skull.

Allen falls to the floor and the man grabs him in the headlock.

Allen struggles and bites his attacker.

He yells in pain.

Only then does Allen notice that yet another man has entered the restroom.

He hopes that this man will rescue him, but he does not.

He rears his leg back and kicks Allen in the head, joining in what will become a fatal attack.

After four years in the Navy, Allen is killed in a Japanese public restroom by two of his crewmates.

The brutal and violent nature of his death will turn the matter of gay rights in the military into a national conversation.

The strong feelings evoked will lead to an unsatisfying compromise that fails to deal with the issue.

Openly gay people will eventually be allowed to serve in the armed forces, but not for almost two decades after Allen Schindler is murdered by his comrades on October 27, 1992.

From Noiser and Airship, I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day.

On this podcast, Every Day, we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is October 27th, 1992, the murder behind Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

It's October 27th, 1992, in Sasebo Park, a few moments after Allen R.

Schindler, Jr.

was attacked.

Seaman Jonathan Witte strolls through the park, enjoying the cool evening air.

Like many of his shipmates from the USS Belleau Wood, Jonathan is enjoying an evening away from the US Navy base.

His belly full of beer, Jonathan decides to use the park restroom before he walks the mile journey back to his ship.

As he approaches the park's bathroom, he hears a male voice singing loudly.

He presumes it's one of his shipmates who's enjoyed a little too much Japanese hospitality, but as he walks past a window, Jonathan stops dead in his tracks.

The singing man is kicking a person on the restroom floor, blood is splattered all over, and the victim on the ground isn't moving.

Jonathan is about to go in and stop the horrific attack, but another man moves out of the restroom shadows and pulls the assailant's sleeve as though trying to stop him.

The attacker shrugs him off and continues to assault the defenseless man on the floor.

Jonathan wants to intervene, but both men seem in on the attack, and he knows he can do nothing when he's outnumbered two to one.

So instead, Jonathan runs a few hundred yards to the park's entrance, where he saw three US.

Navy patrolmen just a few minutes ago.

When he yells for help, they jump up from a bench and follow him back to the scene of the attack.

The patrolmen pull out their weapons, but the restroom is quiet.

The attackers have fled.

As Jonathan follows the patrolman inside, he gags at the horrific sight of the victim's bloodied face.

It's obvious he's in bad shape and needs medical help quickly.

Jonathan helps the patrolmen slip a jacket underneath the victim, and they use it as a stretcher to carry him to an ambulance.

As paramedics work on the victim, one of the patrolmen reads the military ID he found on the victim.

Only then does Jonathan realize who's been attacked, Allen Schindler, one of his crewmates.

The attackers beat Allen so badly that Jonathan didn't recognize him.

And a few hours later, Jonathan receives the news that he's been dreading.

Allen has died from his injuries, and Jonathan is now an eyewitness to a murder.

Seven months later, Jonathan is asked to relive the events of that awful evening in court.

During the trial of the two attackers, he refuses to describe the overwhelming violence of the murder while Allen's mother is in court.

But the medical examiner who conducted the post-mortem compares the injuries Allen received to being in a high-speed car crash.

Lawyers for the prosecution paint the two defendants as calculated psychopaths who selected Allen as their target purely because he was gay.

Reporters pick up on the brutality of the homophobic killing, and soon Allen Schindler's death shines a spotlight on the treatment of gay servicemen in the armed forces.

Although the viciousness of the murder is universally condemned, the issue of gay people serving in the armed forces arouses strong feelings across the political and social divide.

Many Americans agree with current military regulations that bar homosexual people from serving in the armed forces.

They point to Allen Schindler's murder as an extreme example of the division that occurs when gay men are allowed to serve alongside heterosexual comrades.

But others think that gay men have an equal right to serve their country.

They claim that sexuality has no bearing on their performance, nor on the performance of their peers.

In 1993, the administration of President Bill Clinton responds to the trial of Allen Schindler's attackers by directing the American armed forces to lift the ban on gay men and women serving their country.

But President Clinton faces pushback from many of his senior commanders and political opponents in Congress.

The two sides negotiate a compromise in the form of a defense directive best known as the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy.

Under Don't Ask, Don't Tell, gay servicemen are still barred from serving in the armed forces.

But the directive also prevents the armed forces from inquiring into a person's sexuality, except in very specific and limited circumstances.

The authors of Don't Ask, Don't Tell will intend it to be a workable solution that satisfies all parties, but it will appease no one.

Gay rights campaigners will continue to challenge the directive, demanding a proper solution to the issue of homosexuality in the military.

But before they can see any change, they'll have to face legal challenges and another brutal murder of a gay serviceman.

It's September 1997, aboard the nuclear-powered submarine USS Chicago, four years after the introduction of Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

Senior Chief Petty Officer Timothy R.

McVeigh marches into a cabin and salutes.

He's been summoned here by the vessel's captain, but 36-year-old Senior Chief McVeigh doesn't know why.

Although when he sees the stony faces of his senior officers, he figures he must be in some sort of trouble.

With a sigh of exasperation, the captain curtly declares that McVeigh is being removed from the submarine.

McVeigh is puzzled.

He's a 17-year veteran with numerous decorations, accommodations for good conduct.

He has no idea why he's suddenly being disciplined in this way.

The captain then reads from a paper in front of him, announcing that the US.

Navy is beginning discharge proceedings against McVeigh for homosexual conduct, claiming the petty officer previously stated he was homosexual.

McVeigh is stunned.

The captain is correct that McVeigh is gay, but he knows the regulations laid down by Don't Ask, Don't Tell, and McVeigh's always been careful to keep his sexuality a secret on the ship.

But McVeigh's protests fall on deaf ears, and within two months, he's hauled in front of a Navy disciplinary board.

There, three officers hear the evidence against him, namely an online profile linked to McVeigh in which he identifies as gay.

After a short hearing, Senior Chief McVeigh is told that the Navy is kicking him out, despite years of honorable service.

But McVeigh is not prepared to accept this judgment.

To do so would mean losing many of the financial benefits due to him after such a long career at sea.

So instead, McVeigh takes the Navy to a civil court.

In a Washington DC courtroom, McVeigh's lawyer argues that the Navy's discharge is wrong.

The attorney does not question the discharge panel's conclusion that McVeigh is gay.

Instead, the attorney argues that the Navy did not follow the guidelines outlined in the Don't Ask, Don't Tell regulations.

The Navy had no right to investigate McVeigh based on a private online profile that had nothing to do with his work.

After considering the case, the judge decides that it has merit.

His written opinion castigates the Navy's investigation as a search and destroy mission, and he orders the Navy to pay compensation to McVeigh.

But even though he won his case, McVeigh must still be discharged from the Navy now that he's been outed as gay.

The judgment highlights the flaw in Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

Gay servicemen still don't have the legal right to exist in the armed forces, and there isn't a political consensus to fix that.

But the campaign for change doesn't rest.

One year after the discharge of Senior Chief McVeigh, the treatment of gay servicemen returns to the headlines.

In July of 1999, 21-year-old Private Barry Winchell is attacked by a fellow soldier with a baseball bat and murdered in his sleep at Fort Campbell Army Base in Kentucky.

The cold and calculated nature of Private Winchell's death reinvigorates the debate around Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

An investigation reveals that Private Winchell had suffered homophobic abuse and harassment for months, but his superiors at the base did almost nothing to stop it, partly because they felt intervening would force them to investigate Winchell under the current Don't Ask, Don't Tell regulations.

So instead, they opted to ignore the abuse until it was too late.

Following the murder of Allen Schindler, the death of Private Winchell is the second killing of a gay serviceman by his comrades in the space of seven years.

It spurs Secretary of Defense William Cohen to order a review of Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

The Department of Defense's own studies indicate that repealing the directive and allowing openly gay people to serve in the armed forces will not have a detrimental effect on the military, but it will still take more than a decade of political maneuvering in Washington, DC before enough votes are secured in Congress to end Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

Eventually, in July 2011, President Barack Obama and his top military commanders will commence a 60-day countdown before the official introduction of updated regulations.

Under these new rules, homosexual conduct will no longer be admissible as a reason for discharge, and openly gay people will finally be permitted to serve in uniform alongside their heterosexual comrades.

By then, 14,000 military members will already have been discharged because of Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

But for thousands more, this newest legislation will mark the dawn of a new freedom.

Peace.

Thank.

It's September 20th, 2011, at a US.

Air Base in Germany, 60 days after President Barack Obama announced the imminent repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

Senior Airman Randy Phillips turns on his computer's webcam and uses his cell phone to dial the number of his family's home in Eclectic, Alabama.

For the last six months, Senior Airman Phillips has used the webcam to record himself talking about life in the armed forces as a closeted gay man.

He's posted the videos online, but he's never shown his face and kept his account anonymous, but that is about to change.

Today, Don't Ask, Don't Tell is being repealed and gay people are finally allowed to serve in the military.

So Phillips has decided to show his face online and publicly reveal his sexuality.

The first people he wants to tell are his family.

Phillips' father answers the phone and Phillips prepares to come out.

Yeah.

Will you love me, period?

Yeah.

Like, you'll always love me, as long as I'm a...

Like, always have been, I've known since forever.

Phillips' father assures him of his love and says that over the next few minutes, he knew just the same as before.

And after finishing the conversation, Phillips uploads the video of his phone call to his social media channels.

Within minutes, the intimate moment between father and son goes viral.

As tens of thousands of people share it online, it's picked up by American television networks and reaches millions more.

Thanks to the extensive coverage, Phillips will become a poster boy for the new regulations allowing gay Americans to serve in the armed forces.

Many other serving soldiers, airmen and sailors will follow his example and open up about their sexuality.

But the response to Phillips' video will not be all positive.

Many comments will criticize both Phillips and the change of policy using derogatory and threatening language.

The divided response to the coming out video will indicate that there's still progress to be made before gay people feel truly equal in the armed forces.

But the fact that Randy Phillips could come out at all will be a testament to a new liberty, secured almost 20 years after the violent killing of Allen R.

Schindler, Jr.

shook the military establishment on October 27, 1992.

Next, on History Daily, October 30th, 1961, the day the USSR detonates the largest bomb in history, Soviets decide to remove Joseph Stalin's body from public display in an effort to build a new image for the Soviet Union.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Christian Piraga, sound design by Katrina Zemrak, music by Lindsay Graham.

This episode is written and researched by Scott Reeves.

Executive producers are Alexandra Curry-Buckner for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.