By Bob Frantz

The News-Herald

Thank you, Mrs. Welker.

For years, many of us have wanted to say some of the very same things you said after the game on Sunday, by way of your Facebook status update. Your comments were spot on, and you should be commended for them.

For those unaware of Anna Burns Welker’s now infamous Facebook commentary, all this supportive wife of her defeated husband did was to remind everyone of exactly who Ray Lewis really is while the CBS broadcast crew fawned over the Ravens’ linebacker.

Certainly her comments came in the frustration of the moment, because her husband, Wes, and his Patriots lost the AFC championship game, and she stated as much through her subsequently issued apology.

But for some of us, it was gratifying to see someone else, especially someone reaching a much larger audience, expressing the same feelings we have felt.

“Proud of my husband and the Pats,” Mrs. Welker typed, innocently enough. “By the way, if anyone is bored, please go to Ray Lewis’ Wikipedia page. 6 kids, 4 wives. Acquitted for murder. Paid a family off. Yay. What a hall of fame player! A true role model!”

If she had been a player, and her words a play, the cameramen would have replayed that hit over and over again, as she pancake-blocked Lewis at the line of scrimmage and stomped on his chest on her way by.

And it was beautiful.

For years, fans have watched Ray Lewis dance, prance, scream, and self-promote before every game and after every victory, pushing his teammates on the side.

It’s a self-glorification ritual that has been the hallmark of his Hall of Fame career.

And through the years, we’ve watched the national media, along with millions of fans, embrace this guy as the emotional, spiritual, and inspirational leader of his team. He’s been praised for his motivational skills, adored for his ability to connect with his peers, and obviously, universally lauded for his incredible ability on the football field.

And for those of us who still remember the names of Jacinth Baker and Richard Lollar, we’ve been disgusted by every complimentary word that has come his way.

For most of us, our expressions of disdain for Lewis have fallen on deaf ears. Most people don’t want to hear about what happened in the past, choosing to fixate on his remarkable play in the present. They talk about his loyalty, as he has stayed with the Ravens for his entire career, potentially spurning greater riches elsewhere. They talk about his charitable work, and they underscore that he hasn’t had any brushes with the law since that fateful early morning of January 31, 2000.

As if he were a factory, proudly displaying a workplace safety sign declaring “13 Years Without A Double-Murder Charge.”

Quite an accomplishment.

And then there are those who defend the accolades thrown Lewis’ way, shouting that everyone deserves a second chance, especially after one has paid his debt to society. The problem with that argument? He never paid his debt for anything. Perhaps we should consider what debt was truly owed before we declare a balanced ledger.

Ray-Ray’s debt was incurred at a Super Bowl party on that fateful night in 2000, when he and eight members of his posse engaged in a fight outside of Atlanta nightclub with the two victims — a fight that left the outnumbered men bleeding to death in the street, victims of stab wounds.

Lewis and his gang reportedly poured into their rented limousine, covered in blood. Lewis himself was wearing a blood-stained white suit that night, yet when the limo reached its destination, the suit was nowhere to be found. In fact, to this day it has never been found.

In the subsequent days, Lewis and two members of his crew were charged in the double-murder. Prosecutors eventually gave the NFL star a plea deal in exchange for testifying against the others.

Lewis pleaded guilty to obstruction of justice for, according to the limo driver, trying to orchestrate a cover-up inside the fleeing vehicle. With the victims’ blood splattered all over them, Lewis made sure that none of them would turn on one another.

With his freedom and multi-million dollar career on the line, however, Mr. Loyalty cut his deal and testified — ineffectively — against his friends. Both men were acquitted after short deliberation, leaving all to wonder exactly how forthcoming Lewis was when testifying.

No one is actually calling Lewis a murderer anymore, but it can be said with certainty that he, at a minimum, helped two of his friends get away with the murders. Two of the men in Lewis’ rented limousines stabbed two other men to death, and everyone in that limo knew which ones. Since prosecutors and jurors could never be sure which two, thanks to the oath of silence Lewis reportedly made them all swear, the case remains unsolved.

Thirteen years later, no one else has been charged with the murders, because prosecutors already know who the killers are. Or at least from what group they came.

So as the media continues its two week-long celebratory goodbye hug, as Lewis prepares for the final game of his illustrious career, I want to thank Mrs. Wes Welker for reminding us of exactly who is being honored.

Ray Lewis does not deserve our honor.

He does not deserve our respect.

If we must applaud him for being a great player, so be it. But I refuse to honor the man who either murdered two human beings, or made it possible for two murderers to go free.

Mrs. Welker, I will be happy to join you as a 49ers fan for a day.

And I’m sure the Baker and Lollar families will be right there with us.