Viewpoint

Berkeley wants student to get out of town

On May 25, 1997, according to The Los Angeles Times, David Cash peered into a stall in a Nevada casino restroom and saw his best friend muffle the screams of a 7-year-old girl with his left hand and fondle her with his right. Cash was in the restroom for two minutes. He did not assist his friend, nor did he hinder him. Cash did not call for help; he just left as his friend shouted at the girl. When Cash and friend Jeremy Strohmeyer reunited minutes later, Sherrice Iverson was dead in the restroom.

To avoid the death penalty, Strohmeyer pleaded guilty to the murder earlier this month. As his best friend went to jail to await sentencing, Cash spent the day in class at the University of California at Berkeley.

Regardless of his responsibility under the criminal law, many in the university community at Berkeley want to see Cash leave. The student government passed a resolution calling for Cash to voluntarily withdraw from the university after protesters gathered at Berkeley's Sproul Plaza to demand his expulsion. On the day of the rally, Chancellor Robert Berdahl the former president of University of Texas, was asked if he would feel comfortable with his daughter living in the coed dormitory where Cash resides. Berdahl declined to answer. At least Berdahl doesn't have to live and study with Cash, who is currently protected by Berkeley police.

Cash's major is probably not public relations. Not one to be mired in the past, Cash blithely told the L.A. Times that he does not think about the murder. "I'm not going to get upset over somebody else's life. I just worry about myself first. I'm not going to lose sleep over somebody else's problems." Instead, he is enjoying his notoriety. He told the Times that the publicity surrounding the case has made it easier for him to "score with women." Anyone concerned about Cash's future will find reassurance in his plans, which he revealed to the Long Beach Press-Telegram: "I'm no idiot ... I'll get my money out of this."

A more timid personality might shy away from publicity, but Cash seems eager to bask in the glare. A hot topic on radio talk shows in Los Angeles, Cash called KLSX-FM to participate. "The simple fact remains that I do not know this little girl. I do not know starving children in Panama. I do not know people that die of disease in Egypt."

Even though he says that he doesn't think about it, one wonders how often David Cash recalls the Memorial Day weekend 1997, when he and Jeremy Strohmeyer, two weeks shy of graduating from high school, went to Nevada.

As the Times describes, the slot machines had lost their charm by early Sunday morning. Cash and Strohmeyer were ready to leave the Primadonna Resort and Casino when a rolled up wet paper towel hit Strohmeyer's arm. He picked it up and threw it back at the little girl in black boots and sailor outfit who accidentally threw it his way. Sherrice Iverson darted out of the video arcade. Jeremy Strohmeyer followed.

They played hide and go seek for a few minutes until Sherrice ran into the women's restroom. When Strohmeyer caught up to her, Sherrice stood in one corner clutching a yellow "Caution: Wet Floor" sign. As Strohmeyer approached Sherrice, she swung the sign at him. After being hit by the 46-pound girl, according to Jeremy's report to Las Vegas police, he "went haywire." Cash watched as Strohmeyer forced Sherrice into the handicap stall and locked the door.

Cash jumped on a toilet to peer into the adjacent stall, where a young girl struggled to escape the grip of a man more than twice her size. David Cash was Sherrice Iverson's last chance.

David Cash is not his brother's keeper; he is not in the business of looking out for others. And legally, he doesn't have to be.

Sadly, Jeremy Strohmeyer's crime was not a unique event. What is unique is Cash's lack of remorse.

This column ran in Monday's edition of The Daily Texan, the University of Texas-Austin's student-run newspaper.

09-30-98