PUBLISHER'S NOTE: These disturbing cases a classic example of a pressing theme of this Blog -
the need for courts to welcome new scientific research on false
confessions - and for police and prosecutors to be aware, and adhere
to, the steps that can be taken to avoid dangerously
coercive interrogation techniques.
Harold Levy: Publisher: The Charles Smith Blog.
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SPOILER ALERT: A warning for those who like suspense: Beware! For those who want an excellent account of miscarriages of justice that cry out to be resolved: Read on!
QUOTE OF THE DAY: “In small towns like Ada, the prosecutors and the police are under enormous pressure,” says Grisham. “Winning means justice. Winning means everything. And along the way, if the truth gets blurred … that’s too bad. And that’s how we get wrongful convictions.”
PASSAGE OF THE DAY: "The first episode opens with clips from the interrogation tapes, and the disturbing accounts seem to paint a picture of undeniable guilt. But at the end of the episode, a balding, middle-aged man with soft blue eyes and a softer voice appears on screen. “My name is Thomas Ward,” he says. “I’ve been in prison for the last 33 years for a crime I did not commit.” What seemed to be crystal-clear confessions turn out to be the product of police manipulating their suspects. Both Ward and Williamson later claimed that they had been pressured into describing dreams, not actual events. Fontenot and Williamson also suffered from mental illnesses, making it difficult for them to distinguish fantasy from reality and easy for interrogators to twist their words. Emotional interviews with family members of the accused men allow the film to begin nudging the viewer’s attitude, from wondering how these men could do and describe such awful deeds to wondering whether these men are actually guilty. And then the facts start to pile up: an interview with a psychologist who pronounces the interrogation tapes false confessions, the revelation that key pieces of evidence were never submitted, and the police’s ignoring of other suspects. Luckily, the development of forensic technology has given these men some hope."
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NETFLIX MINISERIES REVIEW: "Netflix miniseries’ timely reflection on due process and corruption." Sophia Buonos review of "An Innocent Man, published by Angelus on January 24, 2019. (Sophia Buono is a writer living in Arlington, Virginia...Angelus News is a source for Catholic news, analysis and commentary from Los Angeles).
GIST: "Ada, Oklahoma, is a quiet town. Almost
everyone goes to one of the myriad Protestant churches and knows one
another by name. Life there is full of pecan groves and high school
football. But about 30 years ago, two harrowing tragedies would cast a
cloud over Ada’s reputation. In December 1982, 21-year-old Debbie Carter was raped and
murdered in her apartment in Ada. Two years later, Denice Haraway, 24,
went missing from an Ada convenience store. Both cases were handled by
the same team of investigators and prosecuted by district attorney Bill
Peterson. In both cases, innocent men went to jail. Netflix’s original “The Innocent Man,” released last
December, dives into the chilling story of the two mysterious murder
cases. The documentary miniseries is based on John Grisham’s
best-selling 2006 book of the same title. In the Carter case, the pinned suspects were Ronald
Williamson and Dennis Fritz. Williamson had had a few run-ins with the
police and lived close by to Carter, and Fritz was often seen with
Williamson. Peterson pointed to the supposed evidence that pubic hairs
found at the crime scene were “microscopically consistent” with the
suspects’. He bolstered his claim with interrogation tapes in which
Williamson described going to Carter’s apartment to rape and kill her.
Convinced, the jury sentenced Williamson to death and Fritz to life in
prison. The Haraway case’s alleged culprits, Thomas Ward and Karl
Fontenot, found themselves in the police station after some people
suggested that their faces matched the eyewitness sketches of the men
last seen with Haraway. Their interrogation tapes appear even more damning: with
expressionless faces and matter-of-fact tones, both young men describe
how they brutally raped and murdered the girl they kidnapped. Although Haraway’s body was not found until two years
later, the jury agreed with the prosecution that enough evidence pointed
to Ward and Fontenot’s guilt, and they gave them both life sentences. But the story that “The Innocent Man” tells is a
multilayered one, and it unfolds with the brilliant timing of a murder
mystery page turner. The first episode opens with clips from the
interrogation tapes, and the disturbing accounts seem to paint a picture
of undeniable guilt. But at the end of the episode, a balding, middle-aged man
with soft blue eyes and a softer voice appears on screen. “My name is
Thomas Ward,” he says. “I’ve been in prison for the last 33 years for a
crime I did not commit.” What seemed to be crystal-clear confessions turn out to be
the product of police manipulating their suspects. Both Ward and
Williamson later claimed that they had been pressured into describing
dreams, not actual events. Fontenot and Williamson also suffered from mental
illnesses, making it difficult for them to distinguish fantasy from
reality and easy for interrogators to twist their words. Emotional interviews with family members of the accused men
allow the film to begin nudging the viewer’s attitude, from wondering
how these men could do and describe such awful deeds to wondering
whether these men are actually guilty. And then the facts start to pile up: an interview with a
psychologist who pronounces the interrogation tapes false confessions,
the revelation that key pieces of evidence were never submitted, and the
police’s ignoring of other suspects. Luckily, the development of forensic technology has given
these men some hope. Hair evidence, which helped convict Williamson and
Fritz, was repeatedly discredited, and with the dawn of DNA testing in
the 1990s, investigators were able to clear their names and identify the
real culprit, Glen Gore. But why was he originally ignored, even though an eyewitness had identified him as the last man seen with Carter? Although the film cannot unearth the full answer, it
implies a sinister one: Gore, it turns out, was involved with drug
dealers who had been known to deal to police in Ada. If it was true that
police had covered for Gore, they couldn’t cover him forever.
Williamson and Fritz were released in 1999, 11 years after their
conviction. Ward and Fontenot haven’t been so lucky. Their prosecutors
also seemed determined to convict them. One woman who tells us that
after she testified as an alibi witness for Ward, Bill Peterson
threatened her to take back her statement. “In small towns like Ada, the prosecutors and the police
are under enormous pressure,” says Grisham. “Winning means justice.
Winning means everything. And along the way, if the truth gets blurred …
that’s too bad. And that’s how we get wrongful convictions.” Fontenot has appealed his case, and Ward has filed for post-conviction relief, but neither have had success so far. “The
Innocent Man” weaves together old footage, acted reproductions of key
scenes (showing just enough detail to be disturbing without being
overtly graphic), and a wide range of interviews. Carter’s mother, Peggy, is featured prominently, A
rosy-cheeked lady of about 65 with a warm Oklahoma accent, she describes
her daughter’s sweet personality, the agony that her murder ignited,
and the strain that the investigation put on her. When she tells us that her daughter was strangled with a
cowboy belt and an electric blanket cord, her lips purse and her eyes
are glassy. “I bought both of ’em,” she says. “The Innocent Man” leaves us to ponder the unsettling truth
that corruption exists in the American judicial system. It reports that
about 4 percent of people in American prisons are innocent. That
amounts to about 90,000 people. The intentions that drove Peterson and the other law
enforcement officials remain uncertain. “No, it was not a well-done
investigation,” says Barry Scheck from the Innocence Project, an
organization that helped Fontenot file his appeal. “There’s no need
necessarily to get too conspiratorial about it, but something’s really
rotten at the core of this case.”
