GIST: "The first time I interviewed John Thompson, I was a little taken aback. Back in 2013, I traveled to New Orleans to interview him for a story on prosecutor misconduct. He was a victim of such misconduct. I began the interview by asking him whether anyone had ever apologized to him. He went off on a rant, at times just inches from my face. “Tell me what the hell would they be sorry for. They tried to kill me. To apologize would mean they’re admitting the system is broken. That everyone around them is broken. It’s the same motherf–––––g system that’s protecting them,” he said, jabbing his finger into the air for emphasis. He added, “What would I do with their apology anyway? Sorry. Huh. Sorry you tried to kill me? Sorry you tried to commit premeditated murder? No. No thank you. I don’t need your apology.” I hadn’t expected that. I had interviewed exonerees before, and I had always been struck by their grace and their unfathomable lack of bitterness. I still admire that about those particular exonerees. But there’s also something to be said for anger. We admire grace. Anger compels a reaction. Thompson’s anger was righteous. It was unimpeachable. And once you know the circumstances of his two convictions — of what happened before, during and after his incarceration — it’s really the only emotion that makes any sense. Thompson served 18 years in prison, 14 of them on death row. In 1985, he was convicted of two separate crimes, a murder and an armed robbery. He was innocent of both. He was convicted of the armed robbery first. He had a solid alibi for the murder, but to give it, he would have had to take the stand. That would have opened the door for prosecutors to tell the jury about the armed-robbery conviction. So he didn’t. The jury convicted him and sentenced him to die. By 1999, Thompson had outlasted seven death warrants. But he was running out of time. With his date in the execution chamber just a few weeks away, and his appeals exhausted, a defense investigator stumbled onto a piece of microfiche film while pouring through records at a city police station. The film contained records of a blood test that had been done on a piece of clothing from one of the victims of the armed robbery. The victim had said the blood was from the man who attacked them. The test results excluded Thompson as the source of the blood. The armed-robbery conviction was tossed, and Thompson’s execution was delayed. He was tried again for the murder and this time was able to tell the jury about his alibi. The jury took a little over a half hour to acquit him. Orleans Parish (La.) District Attorney Harry Connick quickly convened a news conference and announced that he was appointing a grand jury and an investigator to look into Thompson’s conviction. That investigator resigned a week later. He’d later reveal that he believed the prosecutors in Thompson’s case had knowingly hid the blood test results, and he recommended that at least one of them be indicted. Instead, Connick closed down the grand jury and ended the investigation. One of the two prosecutors would later confess on his deathbed to another prosecutor that he and his colleague had hidden the blood evidence. The prosecutor who heard the confession then waited five years before revealing it. To his credit, he then helped work for Thompson’s release. To this day, he is the only prosecutor to receive any discipline for Thompson’s wrongful convictions..........

Read the rest of this memorable commentary - on an extraordinary man (may he rest in peace)  - at the link below: