The Law of Second Chances Read Online Free Page B

look.
    They both sat down, Henry filling his chair and then some. Jack could feel his disdain.
    “I’m with Exoneration. It’s a death penalty advocacy group located here in the state of Florida,” Jack continued. The mention of Exoneration seemed to strike a chord with Henry. He finally spoke.
    “I’ve dealt with your organization before, Mr. Tobin. They handled my second appeal approximately six years ago. I guess my name has come up because my execution date is two months away, am I right?”
    “I expect so,” Jack replied, somewhat surprised. The man was articulate. “No matter what the reason, they’ve asked me to look at your case again. I haven’t really reviewed your file. I wanted to meet you first.”
    “I see,” Henry said. “You’re trying to get your own read on me.”
    “Something like that,” Jack replied. That was certainly part of it. He wanted to see and feel the man’s own commitment to his innocence. It wouldn’t affect whether he took the case or not. The evidence, or lack of it, would make that decision.
    “Well, you do what you gotta do.”
    “You don’t sound too enthused,” Jack said.
    Henry smiled at Jack like he was a schoolboy about to learn a valuable new lesson.
    “It’s like this, Counselor. I’ve been here for seventeen years. I’ve talked to more lawyers than I care to remember. I’ve heard more promises than a priest in the confessional. And only one thing remains constant: I’m still here.”
    Jack had heard a version of that line a time or two in the recent past. Anybody who had been in prison that many years had long ago lost any realistic hope of release. “Let me tell you this, Mr. Wilson: I will make no promises to you—ever. I will review your file thoroughly after this conversation and I will conduct my own investigation. If I believe there is a basis for requesting a new trial, I will discuss that with you, and we’ll decide together whether to move forward or not. If I don’t think there is a basis, I will tell you that as well. Fair enough?”
    Henry didn’t respond. He just stared at Jack as if he was trying to see inside him.
    “Have you read my rap sheet? Did you get a feel for who I was before I landed in here?”
    Jack stared back into Henry Wilson’s cold eyes. “Yes, I read it.”
    “That usually stops most of them. They go through the motions, but they’re pretty sure I’m guilty by the time they’re done reading my history. Why should it be any different for you?”
    Their eyes were still locked on each other. “It’s not,” Jack replied. “My first inclination is that you’re probably guilty. But the law isn’t about inclinations—it’s about evidence. And I’m going to make my decisions based on the evidence. Do you want to tell me why you’re innocent?”
    Henry continued to stare for almost a minute before answering.
    “I’m going to make this short and sweet. I was convicted based on the testimony of one man, a snitch named David Hawke. I was supposed to have killed this drug dealer who I didn’t know. I bought drugs from him a few times and that was the extent of it. Hawke testified that he drove me
and his cousin
to the guy’s house and that I slit his throat and watched him bleed to death.
    “Hawke was a convicted felon on probation. I guess I don’t need to tell you that cops can pull one of those guys off the shelf anytime they want, to say anything they want, because they own them.”
    “Maybe so, but why would a guy testify that he drove you there if he didn’t actually do it?” Jack asked. “That would make him an accomplice and as guilty as you under the felony murder rule.”
    “And why would someone implicate his own cousin in a murder if he wasn’t involved?” Wilson added. “It doesn’t make sense. I think the jury asked those same two questions and that’s why they convicted me of first-degree murder and sentenced me to death. There was no other evidence linking me to the murder. And