Friday, April 11, 2008


Dateline: April 6, 2008 Location: Deep inside a prison cell in Florida

Three weeks ago, when my friend and PEN literary mentor, William Brantley, suggested I start a blog, with his help and expertise, I agreed wholeheartedly. I’d been thinking the same thing for months, but had no idea how to implement it. I knew that my story needed to spread into cyberspace if I had any hope of being rescued from Purgatory, so that if enough people discovered the truth of this miscarriage of justice, perhaps the hue and cry of thousands of good people would overwhelm the lies of a corrupt, powerful few.
FACT: I did not shoot or kill Steve Bluffstone in the early morning hours of February 17, 1975, in Tampa, Florida. I have been paying for others’ crimes for over thirty years. That should accumulate a lot of interest in a justice account somewhere.
FACT: I was wrongfully arrested and convicted of first degree murder based on withheld evidence, perjured testimony, and the actions of corrupt police detectives and Hillsborough County prosecutors Norman Cannella and Mark Ober.
Unlike the victims of prosecutor Mike Nifong, the Duke University lacrosse team players, I did not have wealthy parents to hire the best legal defense team, to shove this flimsy case down their throats. I refused their plea bargain offers to be out of prison in five years. I risked the electric chair for principle. And here I sit. This is my story.

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