On January 6, 2011, Colorado Governor Bill Ritter, Jr., granted "a full and unconditional posthumous pardon to Joe Arridy, who was convicted of killing a 15-year-old Pueblo girl, sentenced to death and executed by lethal gas seven decades ago." The governor cited that "an overwhelming body of evidence indicates the 23-year-old Arridy was innocent, including false and coerced confessions, the likelihood that Arridy was not in Pueblo at the time of the killing, and an admission of guilt by someone else."Volunteer Denver Attorney David Martinez worked on the case for 4 years before organizing his thorough 523-page "Petition for Pardon" and delivering it to the governor. In the petition he used my book Deadly Innocence (1995) as his compass. In addition, Martinez spent long hours doing his own exhaustive gathering of the massive amount of evidence and arguments that can be found in his formal petition. Martinez asked me to write my own affidavit, which he included in his larger document.Robert Perske, being first duly sworn, does depose and state the following:This is my personal appeal to Governor Bill Ritter, Jr., asking him to issue a posthumous pardon to Joe Arridy, who was wrongly executed on January 6, 1939, in the Colorado State Penitentiary. My reasons for doing so:Governor, it is fortunate that today a person with intellectual disability similar to that of Joe Arridy could not be executed for a capital crime in Colorado or anywhere else in the United States. Notwithstanding this evolution in the law, the granting of a posthumous pardon of Joe Arridy would be an incredible symbolic gesture of hope and progress to individuals with intellectual disability, many of whom are still classified as mentally retarded, who continually encounter discrimination in their daily life. Perhaps, and possibly more important, however, such an Executive Action will proclaim to the greater society the progress that Colorado has made and is making in the transformation of humanity for the greater good of all its citizens, independent of intellectual capacity. It is the next step in creating a brighter future by leaving the past behind.My research was published in Deadly Innocence, a book I wrote in 1995 (Nashville: Abingdon Press). Excerpts from the book along with page numbers are cited in this affidavit.On March 28, 1992, sociologist Richard Voorhees sent me a poem from an out-of-print book in which the poet described a warden weeping as he watched a man in a death row cell playing with a toy train before being walked to a gas chamber ("The Clinic" by Marguerite Young, Moderate Fables, 1944).I sent a copy of the poem to Watt Espy, director of the Capital Punishment Archives, in Headland, Alabama. Espy researched the origins of the poem and found information that tied it to the life and trials of Joe Arridy, who was executed on January 6, 1939, at the age of 23.During the 2 years after receiving the poem, I traveled up and down the Eastern Slope of the Rocky Mountains from Cheyenne to Pueblo and to Grand Junction on the Western Slope. I discovered newspaper articles by reading old microfilm rolls in The Pueblo Chieftain, The Denver Post, The Rocky Mountain News (Denver), The Daily Sentinel (Grand Junction), and Wyoming Tribune (Cheyenne). I interviewed archivists and historians at the Regional History Division of Western Colorado (Grand Junction), Wyoming State Archives (Cheyenne), District Archives of the Pueblo Public Library, Local History Center of the Cañon City Public Library, and the Colorado State Archives (Denver).Joe Arridy was born to non-English speaking Syrian immigrants in Pueblo, Colorado, on April 29, 1915. He attended the first grade in Bessemer Elementary School. At the beginning of Joe's second year, the principal called on the Arridy family and told them that their son could not learn and asked them to keep him at home. The parents reported that for the next 4 years, Joe stayed around the house. He was a passive but happy child. According to his parents he was the happiest when he was playing all by himself. His favorite pastime was making mud pies and driving nails into pieces of wood (p. 19).At age 10, Joe was committed to the Colorado State Home and Training School for Mental Defectives in Grand Junction. The Binet-Simon Test was administered. The results showed that Joe was unable to repeat four digits (4-3-7-9). When shown the color red, he said it was black and that green was blue. He usually spoke in incomplete two- or three-word sentences. As the questions became harder to answer, he remained silent. The examiner listed him as "an imbecile with an IQ of 46." Later, his institutional records showed no critical incident reports. For the most part he was a shy and quiet loner (pp. 27–28).Nine months later, Joe's father missed his son. He asked that Joe be sent home. The request was granted. Upon his return, Joe took lonely walks all over town. These walks continued for 3 years.At age 14, the walks came to an end when a probation officer caught a gang of boys performing sexual acts on him. The officer wrote an angry letter to the court, labeling Joe as "one of the worst mental defective cases that I have ever seen." The court ordered his immediate return to the institution in Grand Junction (p. 31). During the next 7 years at the institution, Joe's records show that he was incapable of working on the farm crews or sitting in classrooms. Therefore, he was given a "day activity," working side by side with a kindly kitchen worker, "Mrs. Bowers." She reported that Joe was only capable of "tasks of not too long duration, can wash dishes, do mopping of floors, can do small chores and errands. He depends on others for leadership and suggestions" (p. 39).At age 22, Joe and a few other inmates watched men riding on top of railroad boxcars that passed the institution. Together they wandered off the institution grounds and jumped on boxcars. They took the 24-hour ride through the mountains to Pueblo. Later they took the trip back. Joe was last seen in Grand Junction on the evening of August 13, 1936. He was believed to have jumped onto a boxcar either that night or the next morning (p. 41).After that, Arridy disappeared from sight until he walked up to the kitchen car of a railroad work gang on August 20 in the East Railroad Yards of Cheyenne, Wyoming. He was dirty and hungry. Mr. and Mrs. Glen Gibson, the kitchen workers, took him in, helped him wash up, and gave him clean clothes. For 6 days he washed dishes. When the crew moved to Archer, east of Cheyenne, Arridy was not allowed to go with them. On August 26, 1936, Mrs. Gibson drove Arridy back to the Cheyenne railroad yards and left him there (pp. 104–105).On Saturday evening, August 15, 1936, slightly before or after midnight, Dorothy Drain, 15, and Barbara Drain, 12, were bludgeoned about their heads while sleeping together in the same bed at 1536 Stone Avenue in Pueblo. Dorothy was raped and beaten to death. Barbara, near death, was rushed to Saint Mary Corwin Hospital. She survived. Later, she identified Frank Aguilar as the attacker at his trial. She was not present at Joe Arridy's trial. She did not even identify Joe Arridy as a co-attacker (pp. 42–43, 78).On August 26, 1936, shortly after Mrs. Gibson dropped Arridy off in the Cheyenne railroad yards, he was arrested by two railroad detectives and turned over to Sheriff George Carroll. Carroll, like law officers in all of the towns up and down Colorado's Eastern Slope, was actively picking up suspects and interrogating them regarding the attacks on the Drain girls in Pueblo.After an hour and a half of questioning, Carroll called a reporter and told him that he had just received a complete confession for the Pueblo crime from Arridy. He recited to at least one reporter a long series of wordy, complete sentences that Arridy purportedly uttered. According to Carroll, Arridy was the lone killer, and he committed the crime with a club.At first, when Chief J. Arthur Grady received news of the confession, he was shocked. The real killer, Frank Aguilar, a former Works Project Administration (WPA) worker who had been supervised by the Drain girls' father, had already been arrested for the crime. He had been arrested during the funeral of Dorothy Drain. The Pueblo police had even recovered the weapon used in the crime. It was the head of a hatchet with nicks that matched the wounds on the girls. The Pueblo police kept all this evidence confidential because Aguilar vehemently denied committing the crime.Following this, Sheriff Carroll changed his story. After conducting another interrogation, he then reported to the press that a hatchet—not a club—was used in the crime. He also claimed that Arridy did not commit the crime alone. According to Carroll, Arridy simply said in two words that he did it "with Frank."Sheriff Carroll was an individual who was known to talk long and loud about being in the posse that finally caught up with and finished off the notorious Barker gang. Now during his regular announcements to the press, he performed at his long-winded best. Carroll had been totally verbal in his interrogations of Arridy; nothing was written down on paper nor was any confession signed. The alleged confessions and changes in them were dictated daily to reporters (pp. 42–51). In essence it was then claimed that the crime was a two-person job. The physical evidence pointed to Aguilar but law officials somehow felt that Arridy's confession was needed to complete the case.Aguilar's trial came quickly, starting on December 15, 1936, exactly 4 months after the crime. It ended 7 days later. Arridy was never present in the Aguilar trial and Sheriff Carroll had no large part in it either.On the night before Aguilar's final court day, he caved in and told his defense lawyer that he did indeed commit the crime. The next morning, Aguilar's attorney passed the information to the judge and petitioned him to change Aguilar's plea to "Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity." The judge overruled the motion and speedily sentenced Aguilar to death (pp. 74–79).After the death sentence was announced, Aguilar was brought face to face with Mrs. R. O. McMurtree, 58, who identified him as the lone attacker in a similar crime that happened 2 weeks earlier and just three blocks away from the Drain crime. She and her aunt, Sally Crumply, 72, were sleeping in the same bed when Aguilar attacked. He beat them on the head as he had done to the Drain sisters. Like Dorothy Drain, Sally Crumply was bludgeoned to death (pp. 45, 79).Aguilar's execution came quickly. On August 15, 1937, just 2 days short of the first anniversary of Dorothy Drain's murder, Aguilar was executed (p. 119). On the same day, Sheriff Carroll and two railroad detectives received a $1000 reward for making the arrest of Joe Arridy in Cheyenne (p. 118)Later, in Arridy's trial, Sheriff Carroll became the star of the case. He spoke in his heroic over-wordy style. According to the press, he did not speak from a single note. He simply testified from memory. After announcing Arridy's first confessions to reporters and Chief Grady, two Pueblo detectives sped through the night to Cheyenne. The next morning, they joined in an another interrogation, with Carroll at the lead. Then they drove back to Pueblo (pp. 47–51).Later that day, Carroll drove Arridy to Pueblo (pp. 55, 99). He was present at the Pueblo Police Station when Arridy and Aguilar were brought together. He took leadership when Arridy was taken to the Drain home, where the crime was reenacted (pp. 50–56). He was present at the prison in Cañon City when Aguilar gave a signed confession that marginally included Arridy's initials in the lower left margin on the first page a lower left column. That confession was printed in its entirety in the Pueblo Chieftain but was withdrawn and never heard in a court (pp. 60–66).During the prosecutor's evidentiary presentations, Sheriff Carroll took the stand five times. The transcript shows how Carroll was allowed to launch forth as a riveting storyteller. He testified that Arridy was in complete control of his thoughts and spoke in clear sentences that described the colors on the walls in the bedroom and the colors of the nightgowns the girls wore, and even the colors of the dresses the girls would be wearing when they went to Sunday church services (pp. 93–101).The Joe Arridy that Carroll described was a far cry from the Arridy who often spoke in unfinished sentences and did not know who Franklin Delano Roosevelt was; nor did he know what a hatchet was or that his own father was present in the courtroom (pp. 83–91).The lone defense attorney argued that Arridy was "Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity." The question before the court was, "Does Joe Arridy have the capacity to tell good from evil and right from wrong?" If not, he should be found to be insane and not guilty. Three psychiatrists testified that Arridy did not know right from wrong, but they balked by saying that he was not insane. According to them, one needed to be "normal" first before ever being insane, and they claimed that Arridy had never been normal.The jury deadlocked at six to six, but an hour later, they voted that Arridy would have to go on trial for murder. Almost every word of the trial was being transcribed by The Pueblo Chieftain; it printed a banner heading that said, "Alienists [Psychiatrists] Testify Arridy Has Mind of a Six-Year-Old—State Hospital Physicians Tell Jury Boy's Not Insane—Just an Imbecile" (p. 42).As strange as it may seem today, the defense attorney had conducted no investigation into the case. At the beginning of the trial, he announced that he would not present an evidentiary defense and would only cross-examine witnesses for the prosecution. He then requested that the judge set aside the earlier sanity trial verdict and that he be given permission to argue a sanity case one more time. Furthermore, he asked permission to make his opening argument after the prosecution had completed its evidentiary case. The judge agreed to all of these conditions (p. 92).The same three psychiatrists testified again. This time the physician superintendent of the Grand Junction institution added his voice. They presented the same "he does not know right from wrong, but he can't be insane because he has never been normal" arguments exactly like they did in the earlier sanity trial (pp. 112–115).Once again, Sheriff Carroll voiced his views without their veracity ever being challenged. After he touted his 30 years of experience and claimed that he interrogated Arridy for "6 or 7 hours," the prosecutor asked him, "Based on your experience [is] Joe Arridy capable of distinguishing right from wrong?" Carroll responded, "I think there is no doubt, whatever, but what he is" (p. 115).A verdict of guilty was rendered on April 17, 1937. Arridy was sentenced to death (p. 115).For a year and a half, a pro bono "Citizen Lawyer" Gail Ireland fought valiantly to save the life of Joe Arridy. During that period, Ireland managed to get at least six stays (pp. 129–135). On January 6, 1939, at 6:15 p.m., the Colorado Supreme Court voted 4-3 to deny the last petition. Governor Teller Ammons called the warden at 6:30 p.m. and ordered that the execution be carried out.The chaplain administered the Roman Catholic Church's "Last Rites for a Child." It called for the chaplain to recite each phrase of "The Lord's Prayer," two words at a time with Arridy repeating them: "Our father… our Father… who art… Who art… all the way to the amen" (pp. 132–135).
N 65 have been exonerated. N 29 have been exonerated by DNA tests N 5 of them (Jerome Bowden, Earl Correll, Girvies Davis, Barry Fairchild, and Cornelius Singleton) were convicted before many investigation techniques (including DNA testing and the videotaping or police interrogations) were developed and applied to such cases. N 1 person (Joe Arridy), in a very old case, received a posthumous pardon from a governor. His action may inspire others to seek posthumous pardons for individuals who were wrongly executed in the distant past.
Today, disability workers are finding numerous ways to talk to law officials about the above characteristics. They can do it during investigations, in police academy training segments, during officer roll-call sessions, on court witness stands, and during joint police-community conferences. I remember how the original list of eight character traits (Ellis & Luckasson, 1985) grabbed my attention so vividly after reading them for the first time. This experience makes me hopeful that today, when others voice the list of 20, it will have the same effect, with the positive outcome of these persons we work with and care about experiencing greater safety, security, and justice in the communities in which they live.
Most persons would feel an unspeakable repulsion about ever living on death row of an American prison. The lights are kept on night and day. Guards watch closely so no inmate can quietly sneak into oblivion before the official government-sanctioned "send-off" day. As the day of death comes closer, the physical and mental strain can be awful. How could anyone laugh for joy in a setting like this? There was once a man who did.His name was Joe Arridy. He was 22 years old and 5′4″ inches tall. He wore shackles and was surrounded by police officers when he was placed in the custody of Warden Roy Best. Earlier that day, Arridy had been sentenced to death for complicity in the grisly ax murder of a 15-year-old girl in Pueblo. The warden and a number of officers walked Arridy to his cell. They watched as he sat down on his bunk, folded his hands, and said nothing.A few days later, the warden checked on Arridy. To his surprise, he observed the inmate vigorously polishing his metal dinner plate. He worked on it until it functioned like a mirror. Then he busied himself making faces in it and talking to himself.Warden Best was so impressed by Arridy's self-entertaining nature, he gave him an armload of old magazines and picture books. Arridy responded with laughter and began turning pages and looking at the pictures until the books fell apart. Then Best brought Joe a pair of scissors and the inmate went to work cutting out some of the faces. He hummed as he worked.For the 18 months and 7 days that Joe lived in Cañon City, Best did everything he could to help Joe feel safe and happy. Best surprised Joe by giving him a bright-red car with a wind-up mechanism and battery-powered bulbs for headlights. Joe played with the car for days on end. When the batteries for the headlights wore out, Best brought fresh ones. Again and again, Joe wound it up and let it scoot across his cell floor. When it struck the bars and turned over, Joe exploded with laughter and shouted, "Car wreck, car wreck!" Such shouts could be heard at 2 and 3 a.m. Interestingly, his cell neighbors, Angelo Agnes, who killed his wife; Norman Wharton, a cop killer; and Pete Catalana, killer-and-dope peddler, tolerated his outbursts and they became close to Joe.When newspaper reporters asked about how Joe was faring, Best usually began the interview by saying, "Joe Arridy is the happiest man who ever lived on death row." That statement was echoed in newspapers in towns up and down the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains.During the Christmas of 1938—Joe's last—Warden Best gave him a toy train. Denver Post reporter Jack Carberry described what happened in a feature story:Joe told reporters that he wanted to live with Warden Best for the rest of his life. Some reporters even learned that Joe had spent relaxed times in the warden's home. He was acquainted with the warden's wife, Mabel, and with Buddy Best, a nephew who lived in the home as well.While all of these heartwarming actions went on in the prison, the warden put in motion legal actions on the outside to save Joe's life. He contacted Denver attorney Gail Ireland for help. Ireland, one of the most popular lawyers in the state, was touted as "a sort of Johnny Appleseed, scattering the good gospel of citizenship responsibility." He took on many pro bono pursuits, which he called "labors of love." Later, he was elected Colorado's attorney general. Ireland threw himself into the case. Within that critical year and a half, he managed to get nine stays. The last stay ended only minutes before Joe died.On January 9, 1939, at 6:00 p.m., Governor Teller Ammons called the warden and told him to hold off the execution until the Colorado supreme court voted on Joe's case. At 6:15 p.m. the court voted 4–3 that Ireland's very last petition be denied. Ten minutes later, the governor ordered the warden to carry out the execution.For Joe's last meal, he ate large helpings of ice cream. Earlier, Mabel Best had made a three-gallon canister the old fashion way because she knew it was Joe's favorite food. He ate it with Father Albert Schaller, the chaplain. Then, Father Schaller gave Joe last rites. Denver Post reporter, Jack Carberry wrote about what he observed.When the priest finished the whole prayer, Joe returned to his train. He played with it until the warden and the chaplain came for him the last time. Joe wanted to take his train with him, but he was talked out of it. He gave it to Angelo Agnes. He gave his shiny plate to the warden. He asked the warden to give his red car to Buddy Best.Joe walked up the gravel road toward the death chamber with the warden on one side and the chaplain on the other. The 50 authorized witnesses who followed strained to listen to all that was being said about learning to play a harp in Heaven. When they approached the small bungalow-like building, the witnesses assembled in front of the viewing window. A reporter from The Pueblo Chieftain dutifully described all that the witnesses saw:Joe Arridy's life was far from satisfying before he went to prison. A few chronological snapshots from a much larger file on this man's life are listed here.April 29, 1915: Joe Arridy was born in Pueblo, CO. His parents were non–English-speaking immigrants who came from Syria.1921: At Age 6, Joe enrolled in elementary school. At the beginning of his 2nd year, the principal refused to take him back.1922–1924: For 4 years, Joe merely stayed around the house. He was happiest when he was alone, playing all by himself. His favorite pastime was making mud pies.October 30, 1925: The Pueblo county court committed Joe to the Colorado State Home Training School for Mental Defectives in Grand Junction.November 15: A psychologist administered a Stanford revision of a Benet-Simon Test. Joe flunked the repeating of four digits. He was shown the color red and he said it was black. He could not name the days of the week. Most of his sentences were incomplete, containing only two or three words. The examiner classified him as an "imbecile."August 13, 1926: Joe's father fought to bring him home. Once again, Joe lived a lonely but self-satisfied life. Now at Age 12, he took long walks, wandering all over Pueblo.September 17, 1929: Joe was attacked by a gang of boys on the street. A probation officer broke it up. Then, he took Joe in custody and sent a report to the judge: In it he said,September 20, 1929: Joe went back to the institution. He lived there for the next 7 years.August 8, 1936: Joe, now 22, jumped onto a railroad boxcar that passed the institution. He took the 24-hr ride to Pueblo and jumped on other freights. He turned up 16 days later in Cheyenne, Wyoming.August 15: A bloody crime took place in Pueblo that caused dragnets to be organized up and down the eastern slope of the Rockies. Dorothy Drain, 15, and Barbara Drain, 12, were savagely bludgeoned while sleeping together in the same bed, shortly before midnight. Dorothy was raped. Both suffered severe head injuries. Dorothy died, but after a long hospital stay, Barbara survived.August 26: Joe was arrested for vagrancy in the Cheyenne railroad yards. He was interrogated by Sheriff George Carroll, a nationally famous former member of the posse that caught the Barker Gang. As unbelievable as it seems, Carroll stated that Joe confessed to being the savage attacker of the two girls. After getting the confession, Carroll called a newspaper reporter friend with the news. It moved quickly over the press wires. Carroll said later that Arridy was a good talker who kept changing his story. Finally the sheriff said that he got Arridy to admit to the awful thing he did to the two girls. "He was alone when he did it." "He beat them with a club."Later that night, Sheriff Carroll called Pueblo Police Chief J. Arthur Grady and told him about Arridy's confession. Grady told an informant later that when he got the report, he "almost dropped the phone." Frank Aguilar, the real killer, was already in custody. What's more, the weapon was found in Aguilar's home. It was not a club. It was the head of an ax. Even so, Aguilar refused to confess to the murder.August 27: The next morning, Carroll claimed that he interrogated Arridy again, and he reported that Arridy was now saying, "He beat the girls with an ax, and he did it with a man named 'Frank.'" Somehow law enforcement saw this statement as completing the investigation. It provided the confession Aguilar refused to give.Even so, in all the deliberations that followed, the prosecution was forced to dance around an amazing amount of conflicting facts so as not to blow the Aguilar case out of the water, and possibly look like fools.December 21: On the evening before the last day of Aguilar's trial, he told his lawyer that he did attack the Drain girls.December 22: That morning, Aguilar went before the judge and admitted that he did murder Barbara Drain and he wanted to change his plea to "innocent by reason of insanity." The judge denied the plea. Later that day, the jury voted that Aguilar was guilty. He was sentenced to death.After the sentence, Aguilar was taken to a side room where he was forced to face Mrs. R. O. McMurtree. This 58-year-old woman identified Aguilar as the individual who bludgeoned her and beat to death her aunt, Sally Crumply, 72, as they slept in the same bed. It happened in the same way as the attack on the Drain girls. It took place at midnight, 2 weeks before the Drain murder and only three blocks away from the Drain home. These women also were bludgeoned with a blunt object, but the case was never investigated because Aguilar was already sentenced to death. McMurtree, nevertheless, stated that Aguilar was alone when he committed the crime.It is interesting to note that not once was Arridy's name brought up during this last crucial day of Aguilar's trial. It appeared that Joe Arridy had served earlier as an expendable man. Now, he was no longer needed to complete the case against Aguilar.February 8, 1937: Joe's first "sanity" trial began. The judge ordered the jury to listen and decide whether Joe Arridy was "innocent by reason of insanity." According to the judge, "lf the defendant was unable to tell right from wrong, he should be declared insane and therefore not guilty."Early in the hearing, Arridy was placed on the witness stand for the only time during all of his defenses. The trial transcript contained 17 pages showing how Joe talked in his short, few-worded sentences. A few samples of many follow:The complete transcript of Arridy on the witness stand has been published in its entirety (Perske, 1995, pp. 83–89).February 11: The jury voted that Joe Arridy was guilty. It happened because three psychiatrists from a mental health hospital confused the jury by testifying that Arridy did not know right from wrong, but they refused to call him insane. According to them, "A person needed to be normal before going insane—and this defendant has never been normal." The Pueblo Chieftain summed it up the next day with a banner headline: "Alienists Testify Arridy Has Mind of a Six-Year-Old—State Hospital Physicians Tell Jury Boy's Not Insane—Just an Imbecile."April 12–17: Arridy faced the trial of his life. Even so, it was not much of a trial. His appointed defense lawyer conducted no investigation of the case. Then he presented the following requests, which the judge allowed:The prosecution then went first and presented their evidentiary case. Sheriff George Carroll became the key presenter for the prosecution. The trial transcripts show how this famous sheriff became the central force for convicting Arridy. He was the lone interrogator of Arridy in Cheyenne, WY. He served as the leader when Arridy was purportedly reenacting the crime in the Drain home. He spoke without any notes or printed documents. He took the witness stand five different times. The transcripts show, in page after page, how Carroll was allowed to launch forth as a riveting storyteller with few questions from lawyers.Carroll testified that during the interrogations, Arridy described the crime bedroom:The prosecutor asked Carroll, "At the time Joe Arridy first admitted complicity, what were his reactions?" Carroll replied, "He was very sorry and cried about it." When the prosecutor asked how many times, the sheriff replied, "I would say three or four times."When the prosecution rested, the defense lawyer launched out with his second insanity trial. In his opening statement, he said,The three psychiatrists who testified in the first sanity hearing took the witness stand again. It was a new jury, but the three of them voiced the same litany they did in the first sanity hearing: "The defendant does not know right from wrong, but he is not insane. One cannot be insane if he has never been normal. The defendant has never been normal so we cannot say he is insane."Then came another physician, the superintendent of the institution at Grand Junction who hammered a coffin nail into Arridy's defense. He asked to read a prepared statement and the request was granted. Reading the statement, he said,April 17, 1937: After the four physicians finished their testimony, the defense rested. Then, the prosecution called its rebuttal witnesses. The final witness was Sheriff George Carroll, a man with "30 years experience as a law officer," who had testified that he interrogated Joe Arridy for "six or seven hours." The prosecutor asked him, "Based on your experience and your observation of Joe Arridy, is he capable of distinguishing between right and wrong?" Carroll answered, "I think there is no doubt, whatever, but he is." Three hours later, the jury found the defendant guilty. He was sentenced on the spot.Beginning in 1992, I went to every local history and library archive that was located in cities along the eastern slope of the Colorado Rockies—ranging from Pueblo on the south to Cheyenne on the north. I also traveled through the Rocky Mountains to Grand Junction. I searched through microfilms of The Denver Post, Rocky Mountain News, The Pueblo Chieftain, Grand Junction Daily Sentinel, Cañon City Daily Record, and Wyoming State Tribune. All of these documents are tucked safely in file boxes in Colorado. In 1995, some of the crucial documents and citations were placed in a book (Perske, 1995).Two years ago, many of the later documents and activities surrounding the life and death of Joe Arridy began to be collected and placed on a Web site (Eason, 2007). That Web site expands daily.From 1959 to 1970, I worked as a chaplain of an institution for persons with intellectual disabilities. After that, I took all I learned about understanding and caring for these persons, and I metamorphosed into a street-court-and-prison worker who latched onto very lonely individuals with disabilities who were in trouble with the legal system. It was self-directed, citizen advocacy work. But somebody had to do something for people like this who were misjudged and wrongfully killed.I am approaching Age 82. There's not much more I can do or say about Joe's situation. Yet, I hope there are some caring professionals and citizens who will be interested enough to keep focusing on the gaping holes in this case.One such person is Stephen Greenspan, a former Connecticut colleague now living in Colorado, who has prepared an affidavit that will be submitted as part of a request for a posthumous pardon. Steve is a psychologist—well known for his work on the definition and adaptive limitations of people with intellectual disabilities—who has testified in numerous "Atkins" (death penalty exemption) cases. Steve's affidavit (Greenspan, 2009) shed light on the nature and extent of Joe Arridy's limitations, and it makes a powerful case for why the so-called "confession" should be given no weight whatsoever. Hopefully, these results in correcting an egregious miscarriage of justice, and will shed light on a dark chapter in America's treatment of people with disabilities.
On May 13 and 14, 2008, major Connecticut media outlets described how a prisoner was stomped to death in MacDougall Correctional Institution's lunchroom. It was quick and awful—and the guards could not get to the melee fast enough to stop it. After learning about this human tragedy, I felt heavy hearted for two reasons.First, after visiting MacDougall regularly for almost 17 years, I felt sadness for the institution's correctional officers. I have watched how, with every coming year, staffing and support resources have been diminished. These creeping cutbacks have kept committed officers from fulfilling all the correctional skills for which they were trained. As that happens, the officer morale goes down and prisoner lockdown time goes up.Second, I have a close friend who eats in that prison lunchroom. He is also housed in a "pod" that is reserved for high-security prisoners, mostly killers. My friend has observed numerous explosive situations on his pod. When they happen, he has been known to cower in a corner or hurry to his cell door, hoping that none of the violence will spread to him.His name is Richard Lapointe. By all of the letters of the law that have been applied to his case, my friend is believed to be a raging, highly athletic killer. He has been deemed so bad by the courts that he is living out a sentence he can never complete—life without parole plus 60 years.Those of us who know him and care about him swear that he is a soft little man who is far from athletic. He does not have a mean bone in his body. He is a 63-year-old, 5′4″, pudgy man with an up-and-down thickness that even includes his head. He wears thick glasses and hearing aids.He grew up in Hartford, Connecticut's Charter Oaks Housing Projects where the other kids nicknamed him "Mr. Magoo." For many, he became the object of taunts and tricks, but the kids living close by sensed his vulnerability and they became his protectors.Lapointe has an intellectual disability called Dandy-Walker syndrome. Anyone understanding this syndrome knows that a portion of the vermis, the tissue connecting the cerebellum to the temporal lobes of the brain, is missing. He has undergone five brain surgeries that were needed to shunt excessive fluid pressure from expanding his skull and damaging his brain. No clinician diagnosed this dilemma until he was 15 years old.He likes to walk, but he never runs. If he gets up or stops too fast, he experiences dizziness that he calls "a rush." He has a hard time tackling abstract problems, but he is a whiz at seeing his world in concrete terms and relying on authority persons to help him fill in the blanks.He, in his concrete way, is forever worrying about how much snack money he has or does not have in his commissary account. At other times, he good naturedly voices an avalanche of puns that his mother taught him, rote style, after he was expelled from the Hartford public schools.As for his reliance on authority figures, police officers were always at the top of that list. As a dishwasher in Manchester restaurants, he enjoyed chatting with police when they stopped in for a meal or cup of coffee. That is why, when Lapointe was picked up for questioning by the Manchester police on July 4, 1989, he became putty in their hands.The first interrogator took him into a room and immediately accused Lapointe of savagely raping and murdering Bernice Martin, the grandmother of Lapointe's wife, in her tiny Manchester apartment. Lapointe never believed that a policeman would lie to him like that.After perhaps an hour of interrogation, the detective printed in large block letters, "ON MARCH 8, 1987, I WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR BERNICE MARTIN'S DEATH AND IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. MY MIND WENT BLANK." Although Lapointe could not read, he signed the confession.In a later confession, Lapointe tried to say all the things that the detective wanted to hear. Even so, he still tried to be true to himself when he ended a more elaborate confession by saying, "If the evidence shows that I was there, and that I killed her, then I killed her. But I don't remember being there."After knowing Richard Lapointe for almost 17 years, I ache for him. No physical evidence connected him to the crime. He lives in prison because of three confessions he gave to officers in one-on-one sessions in a closed room. No video or audio devices were used that could help judges and juries to see and hear what really went on during 9 grueling hours of interrogation.The Richard Lapointe who I know never beat Ms. Martin in the face with his fists. He never took a piece of cloth, formed a ligature rope around her neck, and cinched it tightly with a knot that only a trained Boy Scout might tie. He never lashed together her wrists tightly in the same fashion. He never stabbed her nine times in the back and once in the stomach. He never ripped the clothes off of the lower part of her body. He never raped her with a blunt object. He never masturbated on the bed and carpet. He never used a blunt object for a second time to strangle her. He never burned the handle off of a knife. He never carried her 160-pound body into another room and set her apartment on fire in three different places. He never sprinted for the normal equivalent of five city blocks to his own home so he could calmly sit down with his wife and son and watch the Sunday night National Geographic feature on television, with no blood, the smell of smoke, or any dishevelment of his clothes.I accept the painful fact that honest justice and justice determined by the letter of the law can be two different things. Even so, I will never cease to wonder if there is any power in the state of Connecticut that can remove this discrepancy in Richard Lapointe's situation.After all, life without parole plus 60 years is an very long time. It would be a sad situation if Richard Lapointe dies in prison for a crime he could not have even begun to commit.
Today, persons with intellectual and related disabilities are being seen as citizens in full standing in their own neighborhoods. We see them on the street, on buses, in restaurants—even attending classes in their own neighborhood schools and working at jobs they are able to do.It wasn't always that way. In earlier years they were seen as objects of rejection. Most were removed from their communities and sent to live in large, out-of-the-way, state-funded institutions. Now that they are back in the midst of our neighborhoods, we are learning to understand and support them as never before.Most—but not all—seek to be friendly with local police officers. They do it because they need to depend on authority figures around them to live in the community successfully. Police officers need to know that some tend to be overly vulnerable and pliable when placed under pressure in interrogation rooms. In such a situation they may say whatever these authority figures want to hear. They will even confess to crimes they did not commit.Today, 53 persons with intellectual and developmental disabilities have confessed to serious felonies—murder, rape, arson, and robbery—that they did not commit. These cases have been extracted from three sources: They come from my own 30-year collection of files and from sifting through a list of all false confessors produced earlier by two of the top experts on all false confessions (Drizin & Leo, 2004). More recently they have been sifted from a constant stream of false confession reports flowing out of the Center on Wrongful Convictions at Northwestern University's School of Law. All of the 53 individuals have been legally exonerated.The number of persons on this list will increase in the years to come. For example, I can name 15 other false confessors with intellectual disabilities I believe to be innocent, but they will not be placed on this list until they have been exonerated by a formal legal action.Six factors gleaned from this list may be worth pondering:The confessors are listed alphabetically along with the state and year in which they confessed. The specific disability mentioned in each document has been placed between quotation marks.Baddeley, Age 19, "with fetal alcohol effect" was coerced into confessing to setting fire to the high school where he was a student. Two years after his conviction, a young woman in therapy voluntarily came forward with evidence showing that she was the true arsonist (Courtney, 2004).A 23-year-old woman "with IQ tests in the 70s," was hired to baby sit a 3-year-old child on a hot summer night. The child died in her bedroom from hyperthermia. A state trooper coerced Baker into confessing that she willfully turned up the thermostat to kill the child. At trial, she could not describe or show how to adjust a thermostat. In addition, a technician described that there was a short in the home's heating system. Baker was convicted of second-degree murder, apparently for failing to react properly to the overheated environment. After she spent nearly 5 years behind bars, the conviction was thrown out (Chittum, 2000; Nogas, 2000a, 2000b).While in jail awaiting trial for an unrelated crime, Victoria Banks claimed to be pregnant. She did it to garner sympathy and get out of jail. The ploy worked. Later, when a sheriff asked her about the baby, she told him that the baby had died. She, her husband, Medell, and her sister, Dianne Tucker, "all with mental retardation," underwent intensive questioning over 5 days until they confessed to murdering the infant. Later, it was discovered that Victoria had undergone a tubal ligation 4 years earlier and was unable to have children (Luo, 2002).Barco's girlfriend was found dead in her car. Bruising on the victim's neck and chest led investigators to believe she had been strangled. During interrogation, Barco, "with IQ 57," confessed to beating her to death with a stick. He spent 8 months in jail awaiting his trial. His public defender finally called for a reexamination of the woman's body and found she had actually died from a lethal level of alcohol. The bruising was consistent with injuries typical of alcoholics. The murder charges were dropped (Associated Press, 1986).After his mother was murdered, Bell, "a man with mild retardation," endured over 50 hours of questioning before he finally confessed. DNA evidence exonerated the man after he spent 17 months in jail (Scharnberg & Mills, 2002).A 7-year-old girl was raped and murdered. Bennett, "diagnosed as mentally retarded," confessed to both crimes. DNA evidence finally excluded him. Bennett spent 2 years in jail before a jury acquitted him (Aheran, 1998).Brown, a man "with an IQ of 50" was arrested and questioned for the beating death of an 80-year-old woman. Two detectives wrote a "full confession" in perfect English grammar that Brown could not read. In no way did it match Brown's halting, sparsely worded repetitive speech. He was placed in custody in a state mental hospital because he was not competent to stand trial. In the meantime, both detectives were convicted for taking bribes from other jail inmates. No physical evidence connected Brown to the murder. The judge found the investigation "so shoddy," he ordered that murder charges against Brown be dropped (Thompson, 2007).A woman was raped. Brown, a man "who is mentally retarded," confessed and was given 35 years in exchange for pleading guilty. After spending 6 years in custody, he was exonerated through DNA, which identified the true perpetrator (Associated Press, 1997).A sheriff's deputy was murdered in his patrol car. Brown, age 15, "with an IQ of 57," was arrested, shackled to the floor, beaten, and threatened with the electric chair until he confessed. No physical evidence tied him to the crime. A confidential informant led investigators to focus on a sheriff's deputy, who later admitted that he had killed his fellow officer (de Vise & De Marzo, 2002; McMahon & Friedberg, 2002).Burrell, "an illiterate man with mild retardation" was actually one of two persons in totally different settings who were convicted of murdering the same elderly couple. Both ended up on death row. After officials recently reexamined the case, they agreed that it should never have been brought to a grand jury. Scattered bits of evidence only complicated the case. For example, Burrell's ex-wife told an officer that her ex-husband did the crime. She said it to gain full custody of their son. In addition, an obscure affidavit from an earlier prosecutor stated that he moved the cases along to avoid embarrassing the sheriff at that time (Barrouquere, 2003; Baughman & Guarisco, 2001).A man was stabbed to death. Police arrested 16-year old Chestnut after observing a fresh cut on his hand and blood on his clothes. After 15 grueling hours of questioning, the teenager confessed to the murder. After 6 months in jail, Chestnut was excluded as the killer by DNA (Richissin, 1998).A homeless man was beaten to death. Coleman, 17, later confessed to the murder. According to his lawyer, this teenager "with learning disabilities" would have "confessed to anything." Five teenagers in all were charged and held in custody for 6 weeks before one of them, the true perpetrator, confessed and pled guilty (Sorkin, 1990).Cullipher was hanging out with friends when one of them was crippled by a gunshot wound to the head. After hours of intense questioning, the 16-year-old "learning disabled" teenager confessed and was convicted at trial. Later, the victim was caught on videotape saying he actually shot himself during a game of Russian roulette. A judge threw out the conviction and prosecutors refused to retry the case (Roberson & Lenz, 2001).The victim was shot with an antique ball-and-cap pistol. The killers pulled out the victim's teeth, sliced off his tattoos, lashed him to a steel beam, and threw him into the river. After his body was recovered, Delay, "a man with mental retardation," was questioned and he confessed to the crime. A bystander who witnessed the crime finally overcame his fear and told police what really happened. Charges against Delay were dismissed (Fry, 1993).This man "with autism" was questioned about a bank robbery. He signed a confession, but no record was made of the actual interrogation. Interestingly, Fitzpatrick, a man with remarkable weaknesses and strengths, possessed an uncanny knack for recall. He wrote a detailed 6-page summary of what went on between him and the interrogating police chief. In his summary, Fitzpatrick said that the chief "told me that he would talk to me like a father to a son. So I said, 'Okay, Dad.'" Five months later, the real bank robber confessed. He stated that he could not stand seeing a person with an intellectual disability go to prison for a crime he, a serial bank robber, committed (O'Brien, 1999).Gayles, 18, with "an IQ of 71," underwent 36 hours of interrogation before finally confessing to the rape and murder of a 12-year-old girl. He signed a typed confession that he could not read. Two weeks after his arrest, DNA evidence exonerated Gayles and he was released (Kresnak, 2001).Goldwire, 28, "a man with a developmental disability with autistic features," was battered by questions from three high-pressure detectives, and he worked and worked on his answers until each one was precisely what the officers wanted to hear. After 21 hours in such a confessional pressure cooker, Goldwire was charged with strangling his sister to death and was jailed for a year and 11 days. By then, both the prosecutors and defenders saw that the confessions were so "preposterous" that a state supreme court judge released the man "because he was innocent." "Here we had the ingredients of the perfect storm for false confessions," said the judge. Goldwire's lawyer claimed that the detectives "lacked the necessary training for questioning suspects with special needs and are too eager for an arrest." Goldwire's family is suing the NYPD detectives who forced the confession (Dwyer, 2007; Marzulli, 2008).This 19-year-old man "with mental retardation and an IQ range of 51–65," was interrogated for the rape and murder of an 11-year-old girl on Halloween night. Although no physical evidence connected the man to the murder, he confessed to raping and slaying the young girl in her trailer home. Fortunately, DNA found on the victim was run through the FBI's Combined DNA Index System (CODIS). It excluded Gonzales and identified the real killer (Sandlin, 2008).Police interrogators convinced this man "with learning disabilities and borderline mental retardation" that two other suspects implicated him in a woman's rape and murder. In his compliant way, Gray confessed to being their "look out." He spent 6 years in prison before the real perpetrator confessed to the crime (Richissin, 1999).Police picked up this 17-year-old "with mental retardation" for questioning based on a tip. After 2 nights of intense questioning, Gray confessed that she was with four men who had abducted a man and woman, raped the woman, and killed them both. Under pressure, she fingered four men as perpetrators. All were convicted. Seventeen years later, DNA revealed that Gray and the four men were innocent. The same evidence implicated the real perpetrators who eventually confessed (Frievogel, 2000).A grocer was shot four times for refusing to turn over the day's cash receipts to a bandit wearing a ski mask. The perpetrator threw away the mask after leaving the crime scene and diving into an open window of a fleeing car. Two 17-year-olds "with mild retardation," Ryan Matthews and Travis Hayes, were interrogated for the crime. Matthews refused to confess. Hayes, on the other hand, caved in after 6 hours of intensive pressure and trickery and told the detectives that he only drove the car while Matthews went into the store. Matthews received a death sentence. Hayes received life without parole. Many months later, the discarded ski mask was tested for DNA, and saliva incriminated another man. Both men have now been freed (Innocence Project, 2008).This 20-year-old man was questioned about a break-in, kidnapping, rape, and murder of a 10-year-old girl. Hernandez, "whose IQ had been measured at various times in the mid-and-low 70s," under tremendous pressure by interrogators, finally exclaimed, "All I did was hold her down." After 12 years on death row, Hernandez was freed when DNA identified the real perpetrator. Postscript: After the confession was given, one of the top interrogators in Illinois decided to go out on his own and corroborate it. He found solid evidence showing that Hernandez was elsewhere when the crime was committed. After giving his report, his superiors ordered him to keep quiet. In addition, one of the top assistant attorney generals refused to defend the conviction and was rebuked for it. Consequently, both resigned and Illinois lost two of its most dedicated and honest crime fighters (Frisbie & Garrett, 1998; Perske, 2005).This 15-year-old was brought to the police station and questioned regarding a prostitute who was raped and beaten into a coma so severe that she could not recall the incident later. Hughes signed a confession that was written out by detectives. Although Hughes was "a severely developmentally disabled boy" who could not read or write, the confession was very detailed. Finally, DNA proved his innocence and he was released (Ferguson, 2008).A beloved priest was gunned down on the main street of a big city, and a chorus of citizens cried out for the capture and punishment of the killer. Eight days later, the police captured "a transient indigent and a person of low mentality of the moron type." In a 10-point report, law officers identified seven witnesses, a pistol, an empty shell, and a signed confession. The county state's attorney took the report, read it thoroughly, and then announced that he would speak for his whole department at the man's arraignment. At the arraignment, he announced that he was dropping the case. He spoke without notes for 90 minutes, discrediting every piece of evidence against Israel. Afterward, the audience in the courtroom applauded. Subsequently, this attorney was shunned severely by his own political party. Even so, in 1933, the president-elect of the United States appointed him as his first attorney general. Thirty years later, a witness to the shooting, who had been threatened to death if he ever spoke out about it, finally stepped forward. He named the real killer (Perske 2005; Zeldes, 1994).Jeffrey, a "mentally retarded" 18-year-old was brought to the police station and accused of beating to death his girlfriend's 13-month-old son. The baby was the grandson of a police officer in the same city. After his forced confession was signed, a public defender viciously attacked it line by line and finally got the judge to do the same. The officers coached Jeffrey about what to say. They led him to believe he could go home if he said he hit the child by accident. On the witness stand, the officers failed to agree as to who said what. The judge found that Jeffrey merely "parroted" what the officers told him to say. The judge called the whole investigation a "shameful embarrassment." He suppressed the confession and declared strongly that it was not voluntary. Because the investigating officers had little or no corroboration, the case was dropped. After 3 years in jail waiting for trial, Jeffrey was a free man. Even so, the judge made one final statement that the police department is now taking to heart. He said, "Prior to this hearing, I was not convinced that it might be good police practice to videotape the entirety of a defendant's interrogation." After listening to those investigators on the stand, he changed his mind (Nesmith, 2006).Jones, a man with "IQs ranging from 60 to 73 and unable to read words longer than four letters," was picked up and questioned about three murders and a rape. He confessed to all of them and was convicted in 1995. Because he confessed, little attention was paid to the blood and hair samples taken in the case. Later, the samples and DNA connected the crimes to another man. Looking back at the interrogation transcripts, it became clear that Jones merely repeated fictions created by the interrogators. A lawyer selected by the police commission to investigate the case stated that the interrogators "could have convinced Jones he was Spiderman had they chosen to do so." Sadly, while the wrong man was in prison, the real perpetrator succeeded in raping and murdering 10 other women (Blankstein, Gorman, & Larrubia, 2004).Police claimed that "mildly retarded" Kelly told them things about a rape and murder of a woman that only the killer could know. They also claimed that Kelly led them to the murder site. DNA excluded him and identified the real murderer. Kelly was released after 3 years in prison (Shellem, 2003b).After a 9-year-old girl was strangled, King, a man with an "IQ of 57" was picked up and questioned for 3 days. He then signed a confession he could not read. After, in jail, he kept asking for his crayons and coloring books. After King spent 13 months in jail, the real killer confessed. After a year and a month, King was released (King, 1998).This man, "with an IQ of 70," was convicted of raping and murdering an elderly woman. He confessed after a state trooper convinced him that his fingerprints were found at the murder site. After 16 years in prison, Laughman was excluded by DNA evidence (Shellem, 2003a).In April 2006, the sheriff in a rural southeast Nebraska county announced that Livers, 29, confessed to the fatal shooting of a wealthy farm couple in their home. He also named a cousin as an accomplice. The confession came after 11 hours of tough interrogation and threats of the death penalty. According to a public defender and psychologist, "Livers was tired, hungry, and frightened. By confessing, Livers thought that the interrogation would cease, and he would be allowed to return home." Psychological assessments revealed that Livers was "learning disabled all of his life, had low intellectual functioning and was highly compliant, allowing him to fall prey to overzealous investigative tactics." By June 2006, the sheriff's department announced that two teenagers on a crime spree from Wisconsin turned out to be the real killers; DNA testing connected them to the crime. The public defender and a psychologist for the defense wrote a brilliant, step-by-step account of all that happened in the case, which has been featured in the monthly magazine of the National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers (Bear & Bresler, 2007).Twelve days after a man was beaten to death in a rooming house, police officers picked up Miller, a 20-year-old man with "IQ 66–69," who almost immediately confessed to the crime. After Miller spent 269 days in jail, the confession fell apart and the real killer was arrested. Normally, defense lawyers feel a sense of satisfaction from such victories and then go on to other cases—but not Miller's lawyer. He was angry. He went before the city council and castigated the police department's handling of the case. According to the lawyer, Miller had no police record or history of substance abuse. "He had had only good experiences with the police—making him eager to please them, which led to the confession." Even then, Miller's lawyer did not stop. He said that he would like to see "an experienced counselor with the mentally disabled train officers in questioning such suspects." The lawyer then demanded money from the city to help put Miller's life back together again. All this led to a shouting match in the council chambers, with Miller's lawyer threatening to sue. Later, the chief of police promised to conduct an investigation of city officers involved in Miller's case (Chansanchai, 2004; Lyons, 2004).This 14-year-old "with an IQ between 65 and 70" was one of four teenagers who confessed to raping and murdering a medical student. Investigators said that if he signed the confession he could go home. He signed. After 15 years in prison, Ollins was cleared by DNA and was freed (Possley & Mills, 2001).Oltmanns, 28, was unconscious when he was rescued from an apartment building fire that killed two elderly apartment residents. This man "with cerebral palsy and mild retardation" was hospitalized for 3 weeks for carbon monoxide poisoning, smoke inhalation, and burns. While he was still in a groggy state, police interrogated him and got him to scrawl a single sentence on a piece of paper: "I accidentally started the fire with lighter fluid and match." No other evidence tied him to the arson. He was charged with two counts of first-degree murder, two counts of second-degree murder, and arson. Two years later, a court threw out the confession (Trautmann, 1994).A teacher was murdered. Police picked up 16-year-old Olmetti on the basis of a tip. The teenager, "who is borderline mentally retarded," was questioned by the police for 18 hours before confessing to the crime. Teachers at another school one mile away then certified that Olmetti was with them at the time of the crime. Despite this alibi, he spent 2 full years in jail before the charges were dropped (Rossi & Tucker, 1997).A 78-year-old woman was raped and murdered. Police canvassed the neighborhood and found bloodstained clothing in Paccagnella's boarding house room. This "man with an IQ of 61" was taken in for questioning. As pressure in the interrogation room mounted, the man asked if he could go home if he apologized to the victim. That statement was taken as a confession. He spent 10 months in jail before DNA testing showed that the blood on the clothing was his own. A month after Paccagnella's release, the real killer was identified and convicted (Doege, 1996).In 1980, a 22-year-old nursing student was viciously bludgeoned to death with a blunt object in her bedroom. Her roommate found her covered with blood. She was rushed to the hospital but died 5 hours later. The case grew cold until a detective reopened it in 1989. Then, he ignored many important leads and focused only on Phinney, then 47, "a man with borderline mental retardation," who lived in the house next door. The detective conducted a face-to-face interrogation for 12 hours. Of course, there was no videotaping in those days, so no judge or jury actually saw and heard what really went on in that interrogation room. Even so, the confession that was printed by the detective and signed by Phinney was bizarre. According to the confession, Phinney sneaked into the victim's house with his camera and flash attachment and found the woman asleep. He crept up to her, raised her nightgown, pulled down her underwear, and prepared to take pictures of her "private parts." Then she woke up. He panicked and beat her to death with his camera and flash. It had to be a terrible beating because blood was spattered on the walls and the 10-foot-high ceiling. Although no physical evidence tied him to the crime, his signed confession prompted a jury to find him guilty. Phinney was sentenced to life without parole. In 2004, a superior court judge overturned the conviction. In 2006, the Supreme Judicial Court upheld the lower court's decision. Phinney was let out on bail to live at home with an electronic monitoring bracelet attached to him at all times. In 2008, the murder was retried. A national expert on false confessions studied the confession. Then, on the witness stand, the expert discussed it line by line and ripped it to shreds. The jury deliberated for 10 hours and then declared Phinney innocent. At 65, and after spending 19 years in prison, he was a free man (Redmond, 2008).On May 26, 1978, a 4-year-old child was carried away and murdered. Then came a tip that Reynolds, 25, a man with "mild mental retardation," could be the killer. The police did everything possible to get "the right words" out of Reynolds, including two polygraph tests, hypnosis, and sodium amytal injections. Seven months later, Reynolds was brought in for a marathon interrogation that lasted 14 hours. "Reynolds finally looked up like a dog with his ears pressed against his head and said, 'I'll say so if you want me to.'" The next day, the chief called a press conference and announced that the case was solved. Reynolds was convicted. Four years later, a serial killer confessed to an FBI agent that he killed the child. Reynolds was released, but the police chief felt miffed by the agent's actions. Being a political power, the chief pressured the FBI to transfer the agent who had upset his own strong beliefs. The agent was transferred from Missouri to Hawaii (Ganey, 1989).Rocha, a 20-year-old man with "mental disabilities who reads at the third grade level," confessed to being present during the murder of a 15-year-old girl and helping to dispose of the body. He confessed even though he and his family flew to Brazil 3 days before the girl's murder and returned 8 days after her body was found. Even so, the district attorney refused to drop the charges for 15 months. The legal director of a center for wrongful convictions spoke out on national television about the case:After a series of sexual assaults on elderly women in a public housing complex for senior citizens, police arrested this 17-year-old "special education student with seriously limited reading and writing skills." During the interrogation, he signed confessions for three assaults and was charged with four. Police told him he could go home if he signed them. Rollins was sentenced to 75 years. The defense attorney planned to have DNA tests conducted, but he was suspended indefinitely for "multiple acts of neglect" before the tests could be performed. Eleven years later, new DNA tests showed Rollins was innocent of all the crimes and he was freed. The city settled the wrongful conviction by awarding Rollins $9 million (Washburn, 2006).On a Friday in March, a Canadian student on spring break was fatally shot in the back of the head. On Saturday, the police picked up odd, loquacious, happy-go-lucky, beach-loving, 18-year-old Shoup. By 3:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, the police received a full confession. When the police gave the confession to the media, it was revealed that Shoup had "an I.Q. of 62." Three weeks later, the real shooter and two accomplices were charged with the murder. Even so, Shoup was not released until August (Ditzler, 1996; Holland, 1996).A district judge abruptly ruled that Singletary, now 50 and "a retarded man with an IQ of 63," should be freed immediately. The judge claimed that a high-pressure detective tricked Singletary into confessing that he strangled his niece to death in 1995. Although he could not read, Singletary signed a confession and was partially videotaped while he cried and said he wanted to borrow money for drugs and tried to scare her into doing it by putting his hands around her neck. He said he did not mean to kill her. He was convicted for "depraved indifference murder" and sentenced to 20 years to life. None of the lawyers in early hearings mentioned his "mental retardation." Even so, the current attorney's habeas petition argued that Singletary's mental condition should have been obvious to all who were involved in the case. No physical evidence connected him to the murder. Singletary stated later that the detective said something like, "Who are they going to believe, the white man with the badge or the black man on welfare" (Perrotta, 2005)."Illiterate, mentally retarded," and an illegal immigrant from Mexico, this 31-year-old woman sat in prison for 4 years for confessing to the murder of her former 49-year-old boyfriend. The confession was received after 14 hours of interrogation. Torres claimed that the police promised to let her go if she confessed. Later, it was clear that there were elements in the confession that did not equate with the way the murder really happened. Then came DNA evidence showing that two men were the killers. Although Torres confessed that the murder took place in the kitchen, the blood of all three men was found in other rooms. On reception of this evidence, prosecutors dropped the case (Dienst, 2007).His defenders called him "a human parrot." When he was questioned about the murders of six women, 38-year-old Townsend, a man "with an IQ of 56," confessed to all of them. A judge ordered his release after DNA evidence excluded him from all the murders. His defense lawyers claimed that he confessed to detectives "because he wanted to please them" (Farrington, 2001; Friedberg & Smith, 2001).Detectives approached Vasquez, 37, "a man with mental retardation," while he was cleaning tables at a McDonald's restaurant. They asked him to come to headquarters with them. With a tape recorder running, the detectives described to Vasquez the murder of a woman who had been raped and strangled with a venetian blind cord. They then confronted him and told him they had evidence to show that he was the killer. Too naïve to believe that policemen would lie, he broke down and cried for his mother. Three intense interrogations took place. During the third one, he went into a dreamlike state. His meek, pleading voice became low pitched and steady as he described how he killed the woman. Later, the police connected the crime to the real perpetrator with the first successful use of DNA testing. Vasquez received a pardon on January 4, 1989, 5 years to the day after the detectives approached him at McDonald's (Mones, 1995; Priest, 1989).The four Ward brothers—William, 67; Delbert, 59; Lyman, 62; and Roscoe, 70—operated their ramshackle farm like their deceased father did for many years. They did it even though they were "illiterate and mentally retarded." Then William died in his bed. When the police arrived, Delbert was taken to a state trooper barracks and forced to confess to killing him by somehow putting his hand over the mouth and nose of his brother. The neighbors rejected the services of a court-appointed lawyer, took up collections, and gained the services of a skilled criminal trial lawyer. During the trial, the neighbors packed the courtroom. The jury voted to acquit (Perske, 1991).At Age 34, Warney confessed to murdering a prominent civil rights activist. His lawyers contended that the admission was "riddled with errors, and was the rambling of a man with an IQ of 68." Early attempts to gain DNA testing were rebuffed by the state supreme court. In 2004, the court stated that, "Warney's defense had not met the legal threshold to require testing, and that claims that tests could show someone else has committed the killing were too speculative." Even so, the New York City–based Innocence Project took on the case and produced a DNA test that excluded Warney. It also identified the real killer, who was already in prison for another conviction (Craig, 2006).This 23-year-old man "with mental retardation" took the blame for every crime mentioned by police interrogators, including three break-ins, two malicious woundings, an attempted rape, two actual rapes, two robberies, burglary, and capital murder. He was tried for capital murder and was sentenced to death. In 1985, Washington was only days away from execution when a fellow death row inmate sounded the alarm that Washington was about to die without a lawyer. For the next 17 years, a group of lawyers and citizen advocates battled for Washington's life. At long last, a series of DNA tests (some hidden by the state) showed that Washington was innocent (Edds, 2003).A home was firebombed and five people died. Wilkinson, "a man who is mentally retarded," was picked up and taken to the police station. There, he was stomped and beaten with a blackjack by investigators and told that he would never see his wife and child again if he did not confess. After 15 months in jail, a judge threw out Wilkinson's confession, finding that he signed a confession he could not read. Later, a neighbor confessed to the crime (Radelet, Bedau, & Putnam, 1992).A 79-year-old woman was burned alive in her home. Based on a tip, the police interrogated Wilson, a 20-year-old with "organic brain damage and mental retardation." A tape recording of the interrogation showed how detectives blatantly spoon-fed the words they wanted Wilson to say. They promised that if he said them, "We could all go home." Later, a judge unwittingly scared Wilson into pleading guilty by telling him that if he went to trial he could be sentenced to death. Wilson pled guilty. Later, the real killer, doing time for a similar murder in Kansas, confessed to the murder of the woman in Missouri. Still later, the governor pardoned Wilson. In his pardon, he said, "It is evident that the only facts this mentally retarded man knew about this hideous crime were the facts given to him by investigators who felt pressure to solve the case quick" (Carnahan, 1995; Perske, 1994).After firefighters put out a fire in an abandoned building, they found the burned naked body of a 39-year-old woman. She died from a head wound and was strangled. Later, a 16-year-old was picked up and questioned until he confessed. He said that a 19-year-old man and Young, 31, had been with him. They were coerced into confessing as well. However, it was discovered that the 16 year old was already in police custody at the time of the crime, leaving the other two to answer for the murder of the woman. Young, a man "with IQ 56 who couldn't read or write anything other than his name," spent more than 12 years in prison before DNA tests excluded him. After being released, Young said his years behind bars had been harrowing. Other inmates stole from him and fought with him. The stress, he said, made him want to just stay in his cell and sleep his life away (Mills & Coen, 2005).My editor helped me do the final proof. I read the article line by line off the computer screen while she followed along with a copy of the manuscript in front of her. Interestingly, we had to stop every now and then so she could recover from her shock and sadness over what happened to these 53 persons with intellectual and developmental disabilities. One cannot help but wonder if such anguish might someday lead to the end to these awful miscarriages of justice.
I was born in 1927. That was the year Charles Lindbergh flew to Paris and Babe Ruth hit 60 home runs. These high points remain vivid in my memory. Later, however, I became aware of two other happenings that plunged hundreds of my human brothers and sisters into a terrible dark and dismal slough of despondance. In 1927, Hitler wrote Mein Kampf (My Struggle). In it he called for the cleansing of the human stock of the world. He cried out for the building of a super race. He wrote:
Even so, some investigators—but not all—fail to follow these steps with persons who have intellectual disabilities. Some—but not all—misread the defendant’s differences and come to believe, really believe that they ‘‘have the man.’’ Some—but not all—question them relentlessly for long hours until a confession is squeezed out of them. They do it even when no physical or witness evidence connects the person with a disability to the crime. Fortunately, in the last 10 years, interrogations leading to false confessions is being exposed to the light of day as never before.
I am convinced that some of the most joyful, life-changing conventions in our field are those that focus on families with children who have Down syndrome. Whole families come. Some appear with babes in arms. Clinicians named Pueschel, Crocker, Kumin, Falvey, Rosenberg, and many others hold impromptu clinics in halls, lobbies, and special session rooms. It all goes so well because these parents hunger to learn everything they can about their own child with this disability. There are sharing sessions galore for moms, dads, brothers, sisters, and grandparents. There are even sessions for persons with this disability who help one another to speak for themselves. Then come the banquets and the laughter; the awards and the cheering; and the dances, where all are dressed in their very best clothes. Many leave exhausted from these carnivals of hope, education, and comradeship, but they leave knowing that they are part of a powerful, expansive movement. One cannot help but wonder whether some earlier ‘‘big bangs’’ in history gave rise to such an expansive movement. I say yes. I can pinpoint at least two such explosions. These explosions were heart-ripping. Even so, the way the folks in this field gathered around these wounds and worked for healing was fantastic.
There is something gentle but powerful about the word decency. When it is used at certain crucial times, it has warmed hearts and changed minds. I know of two times in the history of the United States government that it did just that. The first happened on June 9, 1954. Senator Joseph McCarthy, chairman of the Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations reached his scathing best at naming persons he claimed to be despicable, un-American communists. In doing so, he destroyed the professional lives of hundreds of persons in industry, entertainment, and government. Because he struck such fear in the hearts of others, no one felt safe enough to disagree with him in public. On this particular day, McCarthy and his staff members focused on the United States Army. During the hearing, he claimed to possess files on 130 ‘‘dangerous’’ persons. Hearing that, an attorney for the Army, Joseph Welch, told the senator he should give the names to the FBI ‘‘before the sun goes down.’’ This suggestion caught McCarthy off guard. He rather childishly fired back by suddenly claiming to have a file on a young lawyer working in Welch’s law firm. Welch defended his young colleague admirably, but McCarthy did not let up. Finally, Welch said, ‘‘Let us not assassinate this lad further, Senator. You have done enough. Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last? Have you left no sense of decency?’’ The audience burst into applause. When McCarthy heard it, he was visibly shaken. He turned to his counsel, Roy Cohn, and said, ‘‘What happened?’’ At that point, McCarthy’s powerful grip on others began to melt like butter on a hot summer day. The second happened on June 20, 2002. On that day, the United States Supreme Court ruled in Atkins v. Virginia that the execution of persons with mental retardation be banned. Justice John Paul Stevens, speaking for the High Court, gave the following reasons. • Such executions violate the Eighth Amendment of the Constitution forbidding ‘‘cruel and unusual punishment.’’ • Disabilities in reasoning, judgment, and control of impulses can keep these persons from being as morally culpable as others who commit capital crimes. • The ruling contained a list of ‘‘diminished capacities.’’ Anyone acquiring a certain number of them before age 18 could hardly be listed among the ‘‘worst of the worst’’ for whom execution was reserved. • These persons with disabilities may have deserved punishment all right, but executing them would be excessive and unfair. • Stevens recognized a ‘‘consistency of the direction of change’’ in the legislatures of death penalty states that called for such a ban. For example, from 1988 to 2001, 18 death penalty states voted for such a ban. Other state legislatures were considering such moves while Atkins v. Virginia was being heard by the Court. • Stevens claimed that killing these persons ‘‘will not measurably advance the deterrent or the retributive purpose of the death penalty.’’ • He also recognized how these persons have often been coerced into confessing to serious felonies they did not commit.
The following persons with intellectual disabilities confessed to serious crimes—murder, rape, arson, and robbery. Later, the legal system found them innocent of the crimes to which they confessed. Presently, the list names 38 individuals. Thanks to advancing forensic practices, more names are being added to this list every month. For example, DNA has recently excluded 3 more wrong-person convictions, but they will not be listed until the courts rule. The search gives rise to six factors that may be well worth pondering:
In 1980, something happened in my town that drew me into our criminal justice system as never before. On October 14, in Darien, Connecticut, Jimmy Hafner, age 13, was strangled with his own belt. He was last seen standing on the sidelines of an after-school soccer game. His friend, the goalie, recalled him being there. ''Jimmy was ragging me,'' he said. ''He just kept kidding me. You, know, it was all in fun.'' The goalie also said that Jimmy was standing with a neatly dressed man with blond hair. He saw them conversing with each other. He figured that the man was either a coach or a college student. The next morning Hafner's body was found in the woods next to the soccer field. The man who was standing with him never came forward. His identity remains a mystery today. Three days later at 7:30 p.m., a detective went to the home of 20-year-old Andy Burge. He asked Burge to come to the station and help him solve a crime. Burge jumped at the chance to help. For years, he had talked about wanting to be a policeman. His parents seemed to be a bit surprised by the detective's request , but they let him go. After midnight, Burge had signed ''an admission'' that he murdered Haf-ner. He told his dad later, ''You'll be proud of me. I helped them solve the case.'' At trial, three veteran officers presented Burge's signed admission as the keystone of their case. According to them, Burge ''told them things that only the perpetrator could know.'' They admitted that no stenographic or electronic record was taken of three interrogations—except for a tape-recording of the last 10 minutes of the first session. Officers initially claimed that the recorder malfunctioned. Later they said they failed to turn it on. The prosecution emphasized that no man would ever sign a confession for a crime that he did not commit. Defense experts described Burge as a young man with severe intellectual disabilities. Brain damage left him with uncoordinated movements, speech impediments, and a short attention span. He usually spoke in three-word sentences. They testified that Burge's slight, 5Ј7Љ 140-pound build, and his physical disabilities rendered him unable to engage in a ''scuffling'' that killed Hafner. According to defense experts, Burge possessed a rich fantasy life that ''ranged from being a rock star to a sleuth who solved crimes.'' Consequently, …
