Would You Believe in Public Justice?

If someone you knew was suspected of a crime they didn't commit would you believe in public justice?

If someone you knew was charged with a crime they didn't commit would you believe in public justice?

If someone you knew was convicted of a crime they didn't commit would you believe in public justice?

If someone you knew served 27 years in prison for a crime they didn't commit would you believe in public justice?

Tort Deform:

On Thursday, after spending 27 years in prison for a crime that he did not commit, Charles Chatman walked free. The world — or the world outside of jail, that is — was a different place than that he had left nearly three decades ago. After only using spoons in prison, he had to relearn how to use a knife to cut his steak. The judge for his case even had to teach him how to use a cell phone — a newfangled technology, for 47-year-old Chatman — so he could call his family. Chatman is the 15th wrongfully convicted prisoner in Dallas County who has been exonerated by DNA evidence since 2001.

Chatman’s story is one of those tug-on-your-heartstrings tales of a man whose life spun out of his control. When he was 20, he was convicted of raping a young women who lived five houses down the street. The women, who was in her 20s, picked Chatman from a police lineup. Serology tests further validated her claim, showing that Chatman’s blood type matched that found at the crime scene, despite the fact that the blood type also matched that of 40% of black males. Chatman was convicted of aggravated sexual assault and sentenced to 99 years in prison based on a police lineup, unreliable blood evidence, and a jury that had only one black member. “I was convicted because a black man committed a crime against a white woman,” Chatman said, as quoted in the Associated Press. “And I was available.” Chatman had been working at the time of the crime — a claim supported by his sister, who was his then-employer — but the alibi didn’t seem to matter.

During those 27 long years in prison, Chatman did have three chances at parole. The parole board always pressed him to confess, and when Chatman refused fabricate a story of his crime, the board refused to let him out. “Every time I’d go to parole, they’d want a description of the crime or my version of the crime,” said Chatman. “I don’t have a version of the crime. I never committed the crime. I never will admit to doing this crime that I know I didn’t do.”

This happens too often with rape, robbery and murder. The real criminals may still be on the street while perhaps thousands of innocent men today sit in prison for crimes they did not commit.