| WHEN INNOCENCE ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH |
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January 3, 2000
WASHINGTON You might think it is a simple matter
for prison inmates to walk free when DNA tests prove they are innocent.
You also might think it is easy for them to at least
get permission to have the evidence in their cases retested with modern
DNA testing techniques.
You might even think prosecutors and the courts are interested,
more than anything else, in justice, in finding the actual wrongdoers,
not in keeping apparently innocent people locked up.
Maybe you believe in the tooth fairy too. Wrongful
conviction, it turns out, is not enough to get you out of jail, even when
your innocence is supported by DNA evidence.
Clyde Charles, 46, was one of the lucky ones. He
made national news a few days before Christmas when he walked out of the
Louisiana State penitentiary at Angola, cleared by DNA evidence, after
serving 18 years in jail for a crime he did not commit.
He was lucky because the evidence had not been lost
or destroyed as it has been in countless other cases. He was lucky that
the Innocence Project at New York's Benjamin N. Cardozo Law School at Yeshiva
University successfully sued Louisiana in 1998 to allow Charles to be retested.
Cardozo law professor Barry Scheck, who became famous
as O.J. Simpson's DNA attorney, helped free Charles and almost 70 other
inmates using DNA testing techniques that were not available when the men
were convicted.
Charles was lucky, project attorneys say, that the
state did not fight to keep him locked up. Instead, before approving the
test, the state required Charles to promise not to sue the state for false
imprisonment.
In Texas, Roy Criner has not been as lucky.
Criner, 34, is a burly, baby-faced logger who was
sentenced to 99 years in prison for the rape and murder of Deanna Ogg,
16, whose body was found in Montgomery County, Texas, in 1986.
Criner has remained in jail despite two DNA tests
in the past three years that refute the testimony that convicted him.
Criner and Charles are two Innocence Project cases
being spotlighted in "The Case for Innocence," a "Frontline" documentary
scheduled for broadcast Jan. 11 on WTTW-Ch. 11.
When "Frontline" reporters interview Texas state
officials, including Judge Sharon Keller, who wrote the appellate court's
rejection of Criner's appeal, they simply shrug off the DNA results as
compelling, but not compelling enough.
Could he be innocent, an interviewer asks. "Oh,
I suppose that's a possibility," says Keller after a slight pause, as if
the notion had not occurred to her until that moment. "But he certainly
hasn't established it."
So what if all of the arguments made by the prosecution
in Criner's case have been refuted? What if, she offers, Criner had an
accomplice that the court did not know about.
It is not enough that the state no longer has proof
that Criner is guilty. Keller says Criner now must establish that he is
"unquestionably innocent."
Such defensiveness on the state's part is all too
typical. The sad fact, as one of Criner's defenders puts it, is that "innocence
is not a basis for getting out of prison in this country."
Sadder still is the refusal of many prosecutors
to reopen cases after DNA evidence shows the wrong person has been jailed.
The path to federal appeals also has been squeezed
by new federal laws and Supreme Court decisions limiting one's rights to
appeal.
What is to be done? Defenders of the status quo
argue taxpayers can't afford to open the floodgates to every inmate who
wants a new trial. But taxpayers don't have to. All the states have to
do is to pass new laws, rules and procedures that protect prisoners' rights
while avoiding frivolous appeals.
A DNA evidence law passed in Illinois two years
ago makes a good model. Among its requirements, the conviction must have
occurred before DNA testing was used in criminal investigations. The conviction
also must have been based almost entirely on identification by a witness
and the evidence to be tested has to have been in the custody of a law-enforcement
agency since the trial ended.
In the meantime, we, the public, should let our
governors and prosecutors know that we want justice for victims and criminals,
not just big prison body counts.
One prominent governor, George W. Bush, could make
a particularly meaningful contribution by looking into the Roy Criner case.
True, Bush has a lot on his mind these days. But
he does call himself a "compassionate conservative."
Talk is cheap. Actions speak.
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