National
Matthew Shepard book creates uproar
Laramie sheriff calls writer’s claims about 1998 murder ‘conspiracy theory BS’
A new book claims Matthew Shepard sold crystal meth and worked as an escort. His family said it won’t respond to ‘conspiracy theories.’
A newly published book that claims gay University of Wyoming student Matthew Shepard had a sexual relationship with his killer and his 1998 murder wasn’t a hate crime has triggered expressions of outrage by LGBT activists and fueled efforts by anti-gay groups to downplay the need for hate crimes laws.
“The Book of Matt: Hidden Truths About the Murder of Matthew Shepard,” written by gay journalist Stephen Jimenez and officially released on Tuesday, comes on the eve of the 15th anniversary of Shepard’s murder in Laramie, Wyo.
It also comes at a time when the “Laramie Project,” the internationally acclaimed play about the Shepard murder and its portrayal of the slaying as a hate crime, is about to open at the Ford’s Theater in Washington with a newly produced epilogue.
In addition, a documentary film called “Matt Shepard is a Friend of Mine,” directed by a filmmaker who was one of Shepard’s high school friends, is scheduled to premiere at the Washington National Cathedral on Oct. 4.
With the play and film exploring the Shepard murder as a hate crime that adversely impacted an entire community beyond the scope of an individual victim, the startling assertions made in Jimenez’s book have prompted at least one prominent gay commentator to reassess longstanding assumptions about the Shepard case.
“Events are more complicated than most politicians and activists want them to be,” said gay conservative commentator Andrew Sullivan. “No one should be afraid of the truth.”
Among the book’s claims is that Shepard, 21, knew and socialized with Aaron McKinney, also 21, one of two men convicted of his murder, at least a year before the crime. According to Jimenez’s stated findings in the book, Shepard and McKinney each used and sold crystal meth, both had been involved with an escort service in Denver and Laramie that arranged for them to have sex for money with men, they were seen at the same parties in Laramie, and the two occasionally had sex with each other.
Jimenez told the Blade he devoted more than 13 years of research and investigative reporting in preparation for his book, interviewing more than 100 people on the record, including a dozen people he identifies as friends of Shepard and more than a dozen friends of McKinney.
But some of the national LGBT advocacy groups have joined the Matthew Shepard Foundation, which was created by Shepard’s parents to combat anti-LGBT violence, in challenging the accuracy of the book and the credibility of its sources.
“Attempts now to rewrite the story of this hate crime appear to be based on untrustworthy sources, factual errors, rumors and innuendo rather than the actual evidence gathered by law enforcement and presented in a court of law,” a statement released by the Shepard Foundation says.
“We do not respond to innuendo, rumor or conspiracy theories,” the statement says. “Instead we remain committed to honoring Matthew’s memory, and refuse to be intimidated by those who seek to tarnish it.”
Albany County, Wyo., Sheriff David O’Malley, who served as Laramie police commander at the time of the murder, told the Blade on Tuesday that he believes the book “is full of lies” and described it as “conspiracy theory BS.”
Jimenez said he and others working with him have thoroughly and meticulously scrutinized and vetted the findings of his investigation, which he says included a careful reading of virtually all of the police and court records related to the case that initially had been sealed by a judge.
Laramie officials have said the records became available to the public in late 1999 shortly after the conclusion of the trial of McKinney, who was convicted of bludgeoning Shepard to death by repeatedly striking him in the head with the barrel of a .357 Magnum pistol while Shepard was tied to a fence at an isolated prairie just outside of town.
Co-defendant Russell Henderson confessed to having tied Shepard to the fence while accompanying McKinney on what he said began as a plan by McKinney to lure Shepard from a Laramie bar to rob him. Unlike McKinney, Henderson pleaded guilty to a murder charge rather than face a trial. Both men were sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.
“I think the discovery of who Matthew Shepard was as a person and the complexity of who he was as a human being is really important,” Jimenez told the Blade.
“And so my reason for writing the book is to really say let’s understand what was really going on here,” he said. “If we’re serious about dealing with hate and violence in the culture, let’s understand what really happened here. What are the forces that came into play that created this grotesquely violent murder?”
Added Jimenez: “And certainly as I know now, the official story that these were two strangers that walked into a bar and targeted Matthew because he looked well-dressed and looked like he had money and appeared to be gay or that Matthew came on to them in the bar or that they lured him out of the bar because he was gay – those are simply not true.”
Jimenez was referring to the findings in the official police report that was based in part on a confession by McKinney to police at the time of his arrest three days after the murder. In his confession, McKinney said he and Henderson planned to rob Shepard, not to kill him. He said he lost control of his emotions and actions after Shepard allegedly groped him in the pickup truck that Henderson was driving after Shepard accepted McKinney’s invitation to drive him home from the Fireside bar on the night of Oct. 6, 1998.
McKinney’s lawyers, who attempted to invoke the so-called “gay panic” defense at McKinney’s trial, told the jury in his November 1999 closing argument that McKinney’s judgment was clouded that night by his consumption of alcohol and his use of and addiction to crystal meth amphetamine.
“Aaron McKinney is not a cold-blooded killer,” defense attorney Dion Custis said. “What happened is he hit him too many times” after the crystal meth consumption and Shepard’s alleged groping caused him to fly into an “uncontrollable rage.”
LGBT advocacy groups, noting that perpetrators of anti-gay hate crimes often use the gay panic defense as an alibi, said at the time that McKinney’s use of the gay panic defense confirmed their belief that McKinney’s motive was anti-gay hatred.
O’Malley said the police investigation found that McKinney had not been using crystal meth for several days and that investigators concluded that the murder “had nothing to do with drugs.” He said that the incident started as a robbery but investigators believe the brutality of the beating, in which McKinney crushed Shepard’s skull, involved a form of “overkill” that indicated the true motive was anti-gay animus.
Jimenez argues in his book that McKinney was suffering from the effects of his crystal meth use at the time of the attack but that some of his animus toward Shepard was based on alleged conflicts over a drug deal at a time when the two were working for rival drug suppliers. He bases this theory on information from both named and anonymous sources.
“It boggles the mind that this book flies in the face of all of the evidence related to the drug use,” said Cathy Renna, a former official with Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD), who attended the McKinney trial.
“Aaron McKinney has changed his story so many times it’s not even worth trying to keep count,” said Renna in referring to subsequent statements that McKinney has made to reporters in interviews from jail.
“But the one thing that Aaron McKinney has been clear about and has remained consistent to is that he didn’t know Matt beforehand.”
Renna and others questioning the reliability of Jimenez’s sources have cited a memo that ABC News correspondent Elizabeth Vargas mistakenly left at O’Malley’s residence in 2004, when she interviewed O’Malley, as confirmation that Jimenez reached his conclusions about the Shepard case before he began research for a controversial report on the ABC program 20/20. The memo, according to critics who have seen it, outlined the view the Shepard murder was not a hate crime along with some of the other revelations recounted in the Jimenez book.
Jimenez, however, told the Blade that the criticism is unfounded because his memo was based on more than two years of research that he already had conducted on the case long before he became involved in the 20/20 project.
He also disputes claims by critics that the 20/20 broadcast on the Shepard case in 2004 was based on unreliable sources.
“When I did the ABC News story every single note, every single interview transcript, everything we did was vetted by the top vice presidents and lawyers at ABC,” Jimenez said.
Concerning his book, Jimenez notes that the lead prosecutor in the Shepard murder case, Cal Rerucha, has stated on the record in his book that he agrees that the preponderance of evidence shows that drugs rather than anti-gay hate was the motive behind the murder of Matthew Shepard.
Regardless of whether the claims in Jimenez’s book are correct or not, some LGBT activists question the purpose of such a book, which they note has already been cited by right-wing anti-gay organizations to question the validity of hate crime legislation.
National
Madonna roundup: Reviews, sales, and love for ‘Danceteria’
Pop legend’s new album ‘Confessions II’ earning raves
Madonna isn’t just back, she’s ubiquitous.
From a Times Square takeover to Graham Norton’s couch, the pop legend is busy promoting her new album, “Confessions II,” a sequel to 2005’s “Confessions on a Dance Floor,” that is earning rave reviews.
“Madonna’s back in peak form with a fresh and honest dance record that’s not only her best in 20 years, but a genuinely vital addition to her canon,” says Pitchfork.
“Facing grief and loss has made Madonna’s music deeper than it’s been in 20 years, but also more alive,” the Guardian proclaims.
“If everyone in the club is a work of art, as ‘Danceteria’ says, then to live loudly is to make an indelible mark,” according to Vulture.
The album features upbeat dance productions along with some melancholic views on death and loss. On the song “Betrayal,” she reflects on the recent death of her stepmother Joan, singing, “You’ll never take my mother’s place … you betrayed me, you enslaved me.”
On “L.E.S. Girl,” she revisits her early days living on the Lower East Side and struggling to pay the rent. “Bizarre” seems to reference her failed 1980s marriage to actor Sean Penn. “Test” is a duet with daughter Lola Leon, in which she sings, “I wish I knew / The pain I’ve caused / My butterfly / Was always being watched.”
But the emotional high point of the album comes on “Fragile,” which she wrote about the death of her brother Christopher. The two were close early in Madonna’s career and he designed sets for early tours, including “Blonde Ambition.” But they had a falling out after her marriage to Guy Ritchie and he wrote a scathing tell-all book about his sister that led to years of estrangement. The two reconciled after Christopher’s cancer diagnosis and shortly before he died in 2024 at age 63. She sings, “Late last night I was fast asleep/You came to me in a dream/You said, ‘Don’t forget about me/Don’t forget to be happy.’”
Death emerges again but in a much more upbeat context in “Danceteria,” an ode to the iconic New York nightclub that has emerged as a gay favorite single and seems destined to be the song of the summer in queer nightlife. She recounts her pre-fame days trying to convince a DJ to play her first single “Everybody” at the club and name checks Jean-Michel Basquiat, Keith Haring, best friend Debi Mazar, and DJ Mark Kamins on the track.
Streaming numbers and sales are strong for the new album with projected first week sales of 100,000 ensuring a No.1 debut in the U.S.
U.S. Federal Courts
Three overlooked court rulings limited White House anti-trans policies
Supreme Court narrowed trans rights, advocates saw victories in other decisions
While the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision in West Virginia v. B.P.J. continues to dominate headlines about transgender rights, three recent federal court cases produced significant rulings that limited or temporarily blocked Trump-Vance administration policies attacking trans Americans.
Talbott v. USA
Trump issued Executive Order 14183, “Prioritizing Military Excellence and Readiness,” on Jan. 27, 2025, banning trans people from serving in the military. The following day, GLAD Law and the National Center for LGBTQ Rights filed a federal lawsuit in the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia challenging the ban on behalf of six active-duty service members and two individuals seeking to enlist. The organizations argue the policy violates the Fifth Amendment’s guarantee of equal protection under the law.
The plaintiffs sought a nationwide preliminary injunction — a temporary block on enforcement of the executive order while the litigation continued. The district court granted that injunction and later rejected the Trump-Vance administration’s request to dissolve it, temporarily protecting trans service members from being discharged solely because of their gender identity.
That protection, however, was short-lived. In Shilling v. Trump, the Supreme Court stayed the lower court’s injunction, allowing the military to begin enforcing the trans service ban while litigation continued. The U.S. Air Force subsequently required trans service members facing involuntary separation proceedings to appear in uniforms and grooming standards corresponding to their sex assigned at birth and, in some cases, used their deadnames during those proceedings.
Despite that setback, the plaintiffs secured two significant legal victories during Pride month.
On June 1, a federal appeals court blocked the discharge of the trans service members involved in Talbott. Then, on June 30, a federal district court certified the case as a class action on behalf of all currently serving trans service members. That means future rulings in the case will apply not only to the original six plaintiffs but to all active-duty trans military personnel covered by the class.
The case remains ongoing, but class certification significantly strengthens the ability to protect trans service members as the litigation continues. Currently, there are 28 plaintiffs in total, including the two still attempting to enlist.
Z.A. v. Blanche
In Z.A. v. Blanche (formerly Z.A. v. Lucile Salter Packard Children’s Hospital at Stanford), the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California issued an emergency order one day before a federal grand jury subpoena was set to be enforced on July 2. The order blocked the Department of Justice from obtaining confidential medical records belonging to California families whose children receive gender-affirming care.
The ruling relied in part on protections established under the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA), the 1996 federal law governing the privacy and security of medical records.
The decision represented a significant check on the administration’s efforts to obtain sensitive patient information, protecting the privacy of trans patients and their families while the legal challenge proceeds.
Doe v. Blanche
Doe v. Blanche, which remains ongoing, challenges Trump’s executive order, Defending Women From Gender Ideology Extremism and Restoring Biological Truth to the Federal Government. Under policies implementing that order, many trans women in federal custody would be housed in men’s prisons.
A federal district court in D.C. granted a preliminary injunction blocking enforcement of a Bureau of Prisons policy that would require incarcerated trans women to be housed in men’s facilities regardless of individualized safety assessments or the risk of sexual assault.
The Bureau of Prisons policy also conflicts with the goals of the Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA), enacted by Congress in 2003 to address sexual abuse in correctional facilities through standards, research, funding, and prevention measures. Federal data has consistently shown that trans people in custody experience sexual assault at dramatically higher rates than the general prison population.
Commentary
When a church fears the rainbow
Puerto Rico pastor objected to Pride symbols outside congregation
There are moments when an incident stops being merely a local story and begins to reveal something much deeper. What happened on June 28 outside One Church, in Comerío, Puerto Rico, belongs in that category.
I do not know who painted the rainbow colors on the asphalt and on a roadside guardrail. I do not know what motivated them, and it is not my place to justify their actions. If someone believes a law was broken, there are authorities and legal mechanisms to address that. That is not the point of this reflection.
The point is the words that followed.
Hours after those colors appeared, Pastor Jorge J. Santiago Reyes went live on social media. He said he felt threatened. He described what happened as a physical attack against his church. He appeared angry and disappointed. He called those who painted the rainbow “cowards” and “charlatans.” He expressed frustration with the support that, according to him, the municipal government of Comerío has shown toward the LGBTQ community, and with those who support posts related to that community. He repeated several times that the people responsible had “crossed the line.” He ended his message by saying, “These charlatans have to be stopped.”
As I listened to his words, I stopped thinking about the paint.
I began thinking about fear.
There is one phrase the pastor repeated again and again: “They crossed the line.” Yet he never explained what that line was. If he was referring to a possible violation of the law, that is for the authorities to determine. If he meant respect for property, there are also procedures to deal with that. But when that line remains undefined and the message begins to associate a rainbow with a threat, the question changes. It is no longer only about a guardrail or a road. It becomes a question about what boundary, in the pastor’s view, was actually crossed.
Paint can be erased.
A brush can cover the asphalt and return a guardrail to its original color.
What does not disappear so easily is the meaning of those colors.
And perhaps that is where the real conflict begins.
It is significant that this happened precisely on June 28, the day when the LGBTQ community remembers a history marked by exclusion, violence, and the struggle for dignity. What represents memory, hope, and the possibility of living without hiding for millions of people was presented by others as a threat.
I do not know why someone painted that rainbow. I do not need to know in order to ask whether those were the words society should expect from a pastor.
A religious leader may feel hurt, frustrated, or angry. What he cannot forget is the responsibility that comes with every public expression. His words do not end when a livestream ends. They move beyond the space of his church, reach people who may never share his faith, and help shape the way others see those who think differently. When a pastor calls other people “charlatans” and “cowards,” says they “have to be stopped,” and turns a rainbow into evidence of an attack, he is no longer speaking only from frustration. He begins to build a discourse that can feed rejection toward a community far larger than the people responsible for that act.
There was another moment in the livestream that caught my attention. The pastor reminded viewers how much he has served Comerío, how much he has accompanied his community, and how much he has worked for it. I have no reason to question that service. I am sure many people can testify to the good he has done.
That is precisely why it was difficult to hear.
Pastoral vocation is not about reminding a town of everything one has done for it when conflict appears. Service does not lose its value when it goes unrecognized; it loses something when it becomes an argument to claim a moral position from which to speak down to others. A person who serves does so because that is the nature of the calling, not because that service grants authority to discredit those who think differently.
As a pastor, that part of the message left me deeply uneasy. Not because I expect ministers of God to be perfect. We are not. But because our words carry weight, we are called to speak with greater responsibility. Some expressions build bridges. Others raise walls. Some words invite encounter. Others end up justifying rejection.
The paint will disappear. A brush will be enough to cover the asphalt and return the guardrail to its original color.
The words will not disappear as easily.
They will remain recorded in a video, shared again and again on social media, and remembered by those who heard them. They will remain long after the last trace of paint has been erased.
When this episode is remembered, it probably will not be because of the rainbow that appeared outside One Church, in Comerío, Puerto Rico.
It will be because of the words a pastor chose to use when speaking about it.
And that difference changes everything.
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