The New York Times on Sunday published interviews and profiles of more than 130 of the nation’s 200 DNA exonerees.  Each profile contains a short description of the details of each exoneree’s conviction, the amount of time spent in prison, and the compensation received.  Some include a short written synopsis of the interview and some offer audio clips.  The audio clips provide a powerful recollection of the victim’s experiences, in their own voices, of their time in prison and after their release.

The exonerees share many common experiences.  Issues of blame and strained relations with family members seem prevalent.  Take, for example, the story of Jeffrey Deskovic, wrongfully convicted at age 17 for rape and murder.  Now, 34 years old, he describes his tenuous relationship with his mother, who he felt was too passive in assisting him with his appeals.  “Too much time has passed; we have no connection,” Mr. Deskovic said. “My relatives don’t know who I am.”  Some actually lose the chance to ever reconnect with their relatives.  Alan Crotzer, who spent 24 years in prison for rape, recalls. “My mother died in late August 2001, about a couple weeks before 9/11.  She was basically all I had.  That bothered me real bad.”  

Others have faced challenges with health.  Post-traumatic stress disorder is a common ailment.  William Gregory recalls the paranoia he still feels.  “I just get real depressed, and start crying, and can’t control it.  I just feel all alone.”  Mr. Deskovic details trying to balance school as a 34-year-old with his therapy sessions.  Richard Danziger, meanwhile, was severely beaten during his first year in prison and is now permanently disabled. 

Several exonerees detail their struggle to win just compensation for their time spent in prison.  Kevin Byrd received a woeful $30,190 from the state of Texas for spending 12 years in prison for rape.  His summary recounts how the money was divided up.  “About half went to his lawyers.  He gave $8,000 to a lifelong friend who had spent years trying to vindicate him, and $2,500 to a brother to pay back taxes on the family home.  Mr. Byrd put $4,500 down on a used truck.  The rest went to rent an apartment.  His compensation was gone.”  Ronald Cotton received only $110,000 for 11 years in prison.  If an exoneree receives anything at all, it is not uncommon to receive only thousands of dollars for decades of prison time, usually during the prime of their lives when their peers are attending school and starting families and careers.  Many received nothing. Financially, it is the little things that seem to take the biggest toll upon release.  Leo Waters explains how he had to have his father sign the loan to buy a car because he had no credit history.  “It’s like being a teenager and starting your life all over again,” he said. 

According to the article, approximately one third of exonerees are able to go on to live successful lives after prison.  Mr. Deskovic, for example, states that he plans to take law school entrance exams and aspires to one day practice as an attorney.  Christopher Ochoa, who spent 11 and a half years in prison, has passed the bar and started a legal career.  Kevin Green, who spent 16 years in Soledad prison for murder, has found success by gradually obtaining better and better jobs.  “I encourage everybody who’s getting out to establish themselves by having these transitional jobs that are going for upward mobility,” he says on his profile.  “Each job was for more money.”  For many, though, their time in prison continues to haunt them even with an exoneration.  As Douglas Echols, a former staff sergeant in the Army who spent 5 years in prison for rape, observes, “It’s mighty hard to find a job being a convicted felon – whether you’re exonerated or not.  It’s been since 2002, and we’re still being carried as kidnappers and rapists.” 

However, it is the continued optimism and hope of these men that is most striking.  Brandon Moon advises others wrongfully convicted that “It’s not going to do you any good running around being angry.  You will get more done if you’re not angry.”  Willie Raines concurs.  “Why go walking around angry?  People always ask me that.  ‘Aren’t you angry, Willie?’  No.  I can’t go around just mad.”

To read the New York Times articles and listen to the interviews, click the following links:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/25/us/25jeffrey.html

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/25/us/25dna.html

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2007/11/25/nyregion/20071125_DNAI_FEATURE.html

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/25/us/25dna_method.html

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