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

A.
Yes.
Q.
Have you read his report?
A.
Briefly.
Q.
Have you read it recently?
A.
No.
Q.
Would you agree with his conclusion that you’ve adapted to CCR
reasonably well?
A.
No.
Q.
You don’t think you’ve adapted reasonably well to CCR?
A.
I’ve managed to survive without going insane, without having a nervous
breakdown from being in a cell 23 hours a day.
On February 11, 2008, I experienced another painful loss: Michael
Augustine, one of my best friends since we were little, my former running
partner in the High Steppers, my brother-in-law, died from kidney disease.
One of the last times he visited me was right after he’d had some surgery. We
were playing dominoes and when he lost a game he insisted on dropping to
the floor to do the requisite push-ups, smiling and laughing, even with
stitches still in his side. Mike fell in love with my sister Violetta when we
were children. They grew in separate ways, had marriages and relationships
and their own kids. In their forties, single, they met again and got married.
Michael’s death was another loss I couldn’t properly deal with from my

---

prison cell. My will to stay sane wouldn’t let me go into those emotions.
Warden Burl Cain didn’t want Rep. John Conyers to visit Angola. Lawyers
from both sides got involved and Conyers prevailed. On March 20, 2008,
Conyers led a delegation that included Louisiana state representative Cedric
Richmond, King, Barry Scheck, Joan Claybrook, and our attorneys Scott
Fleming and Nick Trenticosta to Angola. Warden Cain met them and took
them on a tour of the prison grounds, even bringing some of them to my tier.
Representative Richmond and Congressman Conyers stood in front of my
cell and introduced themselves. After that, Herman and I were taken to the
visiting room. When we arrived I shook everyone’s hand. Conyers hugged
both me and Herman. He told us he had been shocked about our case. It was
the first time I’d ever talked to Burl Cain. He had been on my tier numerous
times and walked by my cell like I was the invisible man. He asked me and
Herman how we were doing, putting a show on for the congressman and the
others. I was impressed that a United States congressman and head of the
House Judiciary Committee and a state legislator had taken an interest in the
injustice by the state of Louisiana in our case. King brought some of his
Freeline A3 candy and left a package with Warden Cain.
The next day Teenie Rogers, Congressman Conyers, and Representative
Richmond met with Republican Louisiana governor Bobby Jindal as a
follow-up to Rogers’s letter and asked him to consider the evidence of our
innocence and use his power over the Department of Corrections and the
Board of Pardons and Parole to look into our case and help Rogers find
Brent’s real killers.
Within a week of those visits, in an attempt to undermine our lawsuit and
take the pressure off the state, they let us out of our cells. We were not
released into the main prison population but were put in a “CCR dorm” they
had just created, called Eagle 1. On the surface, it might have looked like
progress. It was pure PR. We would still be isolated from other prisoners. We
would only be able to spend our days with CCR prisoners—in the yard, on
the walk, and in the dining hall. We would still live under CCR rules, which
prohibited us from participating in educational, vocational, or other programs
or from doing any hobby crafts, like leatherwork, beading, or painting. (They
removed the tables and chairs used for crafts from the day room in our dorm.)
We had fewer contact visits than regular prisoners. We didn’t have to wear
restraints while we were walking to the dining hall, but whenever we went

---

outside—as a group or individually—guards cleared the walk, shouting,
“Eagle 1 on the walk!” Others on the walk had to go behind various locked
gates. There was no penological reason for this. They did it to put
psychological pressure on us. Even when we were on a call-out—to the clinic
or for a lawyer’s visit—and wearing full restraints, they cleared the walk
when we were on it. It was a prison dorm in name only.
Twenty-five CCR prisoners were declared eligible to move into the dorm.
Sixteen of us chose to be moved. Eagle 1 was at Camp D. Herman and I lived
together for the first time in 36 years. It took no time to adjust. We trusted
each other and knew one another well. Herman said being in the dorm
lightened the burden and depression he felt in the cell. For me, it was
wonderful to be able to see Herman and talk to him every day, but with all
the security and the CCR rules I felt like I was still in the cell, only it was
larger.
We were all given jobs, which I would have enjoyed if we were given the
proper tools to do them. Herman and I were yard orderlies and our job was to
cut the grass around the dorm. They wouldn’t let us use the gas-powered
lawnmowers that yard orderlies used at other dorms. We had to use old-
fashioned push lawnmowers that had dull blades. There was no way for us to
sharpen the blades. The grass was so thick the lawnmower handles broke
while we pushed them. We asked several times why we weren’t allowed to
use the gas mowers that orderlies used at other dorms and never got a good
answer.
Getting enough exercise on the yard was always a problem because we
never got the amount of time we were told we could have. For months, there
was no recreation allowed on the yard—no basketball hoop or weight pile.
We had to make several requests to get a wheelchair for an inmate who
weighed over 400 pounds and had difficulty walking. He couldn’t make it to
and from the dining hall in the allotted time. First, we asked if we could bring
him a tray of food so he wouldn’t miss his meals, and when authorities
denied that we asked for a wheelchair. Eventually we got the wheelchair and
took turns pushing him to the dining hall.
The highlight of my day was walking out of the dorm with no restraints to
the dining hall to eat breakfast. For a while our dorm went to breakfast first,
while it was still dark, and I was able to look up and see the stars. It had been
many years since I could see stars above me. Inside the dining hall it was
back to reality. The room would be empty except for CCR prisoners.

---

In April 2008, FBI director Robert Mueller got back to Congressman
Conyers about our FBI files. He said they had recently been destroyed in a
“routine” purge of departmental files. We were told no record was preserved
of what was in those files. That same month Louisiana state representatives
Cedric Richmond, Avon Honey (Baton Rouge), and Elbert Guillory
(Opelousas) went with King to Governor Bobby Jindal’s office to deliver a
ColorofChange.org online petition signed by 25,000 people, calling for an
investigation into our convictions and lockdown in solitary confinement.
Governor Jindal refused to meet with them, but Representative Richmond left
a message for him, publicly calling for the governor to reexamine our case
and asking him to pardon me and Herman. “The state is too silent on this
issue,” Richmond told reporters, “so we need official government action. At
some point, we’re going to have to stand up as a state.” He announced that
the state legislature would hold hearings about the case. (In 2011, Richmond
would join the U.S. House of Representatives. He would go on to serve
alongside Congressman Conyers on the U.S. House Judiciary Committee and
eventually be elected as chair of the Congressional Black Caucus. He would
continue to speak out actively on our behalf until I walked out of prison, and
he is still trying to get legislation passed that would limit the uses of solitary
confinement.)
In May 2008, a panel of three judges in the First Circuit Court of Appeal
ruled on Herman’s claim. One of them, Judge Jewel “Duke” Welch, ruled
that based on the evidence concerning Hezekiah Brown, Herman should get a
new trial. Unfortunately, he was overruled by the other two judges, who
denied Herman’s petition. Herman would now appeal to the Louisiana
Supreme Court. Meanwhile, I got hopeful news that month. Magistrate Judge
Christine Noland reviewed my habeas petition and recommended that Judge
James Brady return my case to state court for a third trial because I had not
received effective legal counsel during my 1998 trial. Among other
deficiencies, she specifically found that my defense counsel was
constitutionally ineffective for failing to object to the reading of forensic
expert testimony about blood spatters on the “lost” clothing alleged to have
been worn by me and for failing to further investigate. Modern forensics, she
noted, could have determined who wore the clothes and whose blood was on
the clothing.
In June, the NBC