It has been my experience that because of institutional and individual racism

In These Times
. One prisoner repeatedly
requested medical attention, starting in 2010, for extreme pain in his side. He
was told he had gas. Over the next five years, Ridgeway and Quandt wrote,
the prisoner “developed numbness in his feet, legs and fingertips, lost his
appetite, and dropped nearly 100 pounds. When he finally received a CT scan
in 2015, he was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in his kidneys and lungs.”
Angola routinely hired doctors with suspended licenses, a practice that is
condemned by the National Commission on Correctional Health Care and the
American College of Correctional Physicians. Between 2011 and 2016, when
the article was published, Ridgeway and Quandt wrote, “14 physicians have
been employed by Angola. Twelve came to Angola after receiving
disciplinary sanctions from the state medical board for misconduct.” The
medical director at Angola in 2016, they wrote, “served a two-year prison
sentence and had his license suspended from October 2009 to October 2014
for purchasing crystal meth with the intent to distribute in 2006 (he was hired
at Angola in September 2010). The state medical board noted that [he] was
diagnosed with amphetamine, cocaine and cannabis dependence, in addition
to adjustment disorder and personality disorder with antisocial, narcissistic
and avoidant features.” Unsurprisingly, the death rate for prisoners at Angola,
they wrote, dwarfed the nationwide average in state prisons.
On July 12, two days after Amnesty tried to meet with the governor, Rep.
John Conyers wrote a letter about Herman’s situation to the Civil Rights
Division of the U.S. Justice Department, cosigned by ranking member of the
U.S. House Judiciary Committee Congressman Rep. Jerrold Nadler (NY);
ranking member of the Subcommittee on the Constitution and Civil Justice
Rep. Bobby Scott (VA); and ranking member of the Subcommittee on Crime,
Terrorism, Homeland Security, and Investigations Rep. Cedric Richmond
(LA). The letter called for an investigation of the Louisiana Department of
Public Safety and Corrections for its “abysmal history of protecting the rights
of its prisoners,” of which the “tragic story of the Angola 3 is a case in
point.”
About Herman, the congressmen wrote, “We have heard that he lost over

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50 pounds within 6 months. Despite that dramatic weight loss, and at 72
years old, the prison did nothing to treat or diagnose him until he was sent to
an emergency room on June 14. Given the late stage of his diagnosis, his
treatment options are now limited. He is frail and ill, but is still being treated
as if he is a threat to security, and we hear that he remains under lockdown
conditions. This is unconscionable.”
Our attorneys petitioned the court to get bail for Herman. His friend and A3
supporter Ashley Wennerstrom and her husband said they would take
Herman into their home if he was released on bail, vowing to ensure Herman
would comply with any restrictions placed on him by the court, whether it
was electronic monitoring or curfew. They lived a block from his childhood
home. Nick Trenticosta, Herman’s friend and lawyer, who had known
Herman for 17 years, also promised the court he would make himself
available to personally monitor and ensure Herman complied with court
orders if he was released on bail. Bail was denied.
My first meeting with Herman, King, and our lawyers took place on July
31. Wade transport officers drove me the five hours to Hunt and escorted me
to the meeting room. Herman walked into the room swinging his arms,
smiling, wearing his beret at a tilt on his head. He was very thin but relaxed,
and animated. He told us not to worry about the cancer. With proper
treatment now, he was going to beat it. I wanted to believe him. And I admit,
looking into his eyes, I thought if anyone could beat cancer Herman could.
We talked about his chemotherapy, which made him sick. He said he could
handle the pain, but the air-conditioning in the prison hospital got to him. He
was used to being in a steaming-hot cell in CCR. He was always cold in the
hospital. We talked about legal strategy in our civil and criminal cases. We
talked about world events, the latest news. When guards locked up my
transport shackles to drive me back to Wade, I somehow felt hopeful. By the
time I got to Wade reality had set in. Herman and I exchanged letters.
“I knew how you would face this,” I wrote. “Like you said we have been
friends/comrades for a lifetime. . . . I can’t bring myself to talk to anyone
about this now, the pain and fear is just too raw right now. Michael took the
news very hard. . . . As for me I’m not gonna lie, I’m filled with so much pain
and fear that I’m having trouble functioning day to day. Don’t waste your
time it is what it is. Stay strong comrade. Never apart.”
At our next meeting, less than a month later, Herman was in a wheelchair.

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It was devastating to see. He’d lost even more weight. After we talked about
our court cases, King and I forced ourselves to keep it like old times. We
talked about Black Lives Matter, the civil rights movement that was just
beginning to grow out of the injustice around the murder of Trayvon Martin,
the black teenager who was shot and killed in broad daylight while walking
home to his dad’s house after buying candy at a store. Trayvon’s killer,
George Zimmerman, had just been acquitted of murder by a Florida jury.
Herman spoke about how we had to protect Black Lives Matter. But he was
also confused, talking about the past as if it was the present, talking about
LSU games that happened years before. That’s when I realized the
seriousness of the cancer, because it was affecting his sense of time.
In August 2013, my attorneys Katherine Kimpel and Sheridan England,
working with George Kendall and his team, filed a motion for a temporary
restraining order on the strip searches at Wade, noting: “Defendants now strip
search Plaintiff Woodfox and inspect his anus . . . even though he is shackled
in wrist, ankle and waist chains when outside of his cell; is under constant
observation or escort; and typically has no contact with individuals other than
correctional personnel. Defendants continue this practice despite the fact that
they are on notice that these strip searches are unlawful and previously agreed
via consent agreement not to conduct such strip searches.”
In early September, Herman released this statement:
On Saturday, August 31st, I was transferred to LSU Hospital for evaluation. I was informed that
the chemo treatments had failed and were making matters worse and so all treatment came to an
end. The oncologists advised that nothing can be done for me medically within the standard care
that they are authorized to provide. They recommended that I be admitted to hospice care to make
my remaining days as comfortable as possible. I have been given 2 months to live.
I want the world to know that I am an innocent man and that Albert Woodfox is innocent as
well. We are just two of thousands of wrongfully convicted prisoners held captive in the American
Gulag. We mourn for the family of Brent Miller and the many other victims of murder who will
never be able to find closure for the loss of their loved ones due to the unjust criminal justice
system in this country. We mourn for the loss of the families of those unjustly accused who suffer
the loss of their loved ones as well.
Only a handful of prisoners globally have withstood the duration of years of harsh and solitary
confinement that Albert and myself have. The State may have stolen my life, but my spirit will
continue to struggle along with Albert and the many comrades that have joined us along the way
here in the belly of the beast.
In 1970 I took an oath to dedicate my life as a servant of the people, and although I’m down on
my back, I remain at your service. I want to thank all of you, my devoted supporters, for being
with me to the end.

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In September 2013, Herman was deposed again, this time on videotape, so it
could be shown to jurors when our civil suit against cruel and unusual
punishment finally went to trial. Our lawyers wanted jurors to see for
themselves who Herman was. The state was against it; in my opinion, the
state’s lawyers would have preferred to continue to slander him in the third
person. There was no judge at the deposition. Any objections that were made
by either side throughout the questioning were made for the record, for the
purposes of future litigation. By then, Herman was in a great deal of pain
even though he was on strong painkillers. He answered questions while lying
on his side in his prison hospital bed. Speaking took a tremendous amount of
effort and energy. He wanted to go through with it, in spite of his suffering
and exhaustion. Our lawyer Carine Williams tried to make him as
comfortable as possible, helping him take sips of water and covering him
with blankets. She insisted a nurse sit with him during the deposition and
alert them if she thought any part of the proceeding became too much of a
strain. He threw up between some of the questions. Our lawyers repeatedly
checked to see if he wanted to stop the deposition, and Louisiana’s lawyers
were definitely willing to end it. When they offered to pull back from
questioning him, he insisted on doing it. “C’mon. C’mon,” he said.
Attorneys Richard Curry and Ashley Bynum represented the state. Most
of their questions centered on Herman’s involvement with the Black Panther