Not only did Jackson’s testimony contradict Hezekiah Brown’s testimony in every way, but he contradicted the statement he gave authorities two days after Miller was killed. In that statement (which we didn’t obtain until years later), Jackson said he was going down the walk when he saw me and Herman standing in the yard near the Pine dorms. He said I was wearing a brown hat, “like a hunting cap,” over my Afro. He said he walked up to me and Herman and after Herman walked away I told Jackson I was going to “kill a pig.” Then Herman returned and said there was a “chump” sitting in Pine 1. Jackson said he walked away toward the dining hall. A few minutes later, he said, he heard screaming and circled back down to the walk to Pine 1. In the 1972 statement, Jackson went on to say he looked through a window and saw me and Herman stabbing Brent Miller. And then he said he entered the dormitory where Miller was being attacked and Herman pushed him to the side as he and I left the building. Jackson said he then followed us out the door. In this version, he didn’t stab Miller. He didn’t mention Gilbert Montegut in either account.
Under cross-examination, Jackson testified that he was interrogated four times between Miller’s killing on April 17 and the evening of April 19, when he finally gave the statement in which he said he watched through the window as Herman and I stabbed Brent Miller. During his first interrogation, he told authorities he didn’t know anything. The next day, he said, he was “picked up” and “put in the hole.” He testified he was questioned by Warden Henderson, Captain Hilton Butler, and Deputy Sheriff Daniel. When asked if he’d been beaten he replied, “I got hit. . . . They had a tough meeting when they first locked me up.” Inadvertently he indicated that he may have been so badly “hit” that he’d needed a doctor. He testified that on April 19 he told his lawyer to “go to the hospital, try to get me a doctor. . . . I told you how the people harassing me.” When asked, on cross-examination, if authorities held a weapon to his head during his interrogation, which is what Jackson told Herman and Gilbert Montegut in the months leading up to the trial, Jackson testified that he “never seriously” told them that.
Jackson didn’t mention Montegut once and the state prosecutors didn’t ask about him, even though their star witness, Hezekiah Brown, placed Montegut at the scene, stabbing Miller. When Garretson questioned Jackson, he asked if Montegut had stabbed Brent Miller. Jackson replied, “Well, I can’t say definite. I can’t give you no definite answer on that.” Jackson testified that Montegut was not present with us on the walk and “not during the struggle.” He denied the DA agreed to reduce his charges to manslaughter in exchange for testimony, and, he testified, when prosecutors placed him and Hezekiah Brown in a room together the day before Herman’s trial (which Garretson discovered the first day of their trial), they “never discussed nothing” about their testimony or what had happened the day of Miller’s killing.
When Hezekiah Brown took the stand, he repeated the well-rehearsed testimony that he gave at my trial—I came up behind Miller and pulled him against me, stabbing him in the back; I ran out of the dorm with Herman, Jackson, and Gilbert Montegut, and Leonard Turner wasn’t there—all contradicting what Jackson said. Anything that diverged from his tale, he didn’t seem to “remember.” When Garretson asked if my body or Herman’s or Montegut’s touched Miller’s body while we were stabbing him, Brown said he didn’t know. When asked if there was a lot of blood he said he didn’t know because he “wasn’t paying attention to no blood.” (There was no blood on Brown’s bed, where Brown said Miller was seated while he was being stabbed, and the blanket and sheet weren’t ruffled.) In trying to determine the time of death, Garretson asked Brown if the sun was up when he walked out of the dorm. Brown replied he didn’t know.
Brown unwittingly gave a small detail supporting our contention that we were framed that hadn’t come up at my trial. He had testified at my trial that when he was questioned by authorities during his second interrogation “they told me what happened.” At Herman’s trial Brown let slip that the night he was pulled from his bed at midnight and brought to a room to be interrogated a second time, “select” prisoner “files”—presumably mine, Herman’s, and Jackson’s—were already on the table when he walked in and they were given to him. At Herman’s trial Brown also implied that he added Gilbert Montegut to his statement later under duress. “I knowd if I said no, I didn’t know nothing about it then . . . I’m going to get punished behind it,” he testified. “I’m going to get throwed in one of them cells, and I . . . stayed in one of them cells on Death Row . . . I couldn’t stand that no more.”
Another witness for the state, a prisoner named Howard Baker, contradicted Chester Jackson and Hezekiah Brown. Baker testified he was walking by Pine 1 when he saw Herman come out the door of Pine 1 “with blood on his sweatshirt and down the front of his pants” and “enough to become, you know, readily visible if you would look at it,” and that upon exiting Pine 1 he saw Herman turn right toward the dining hall. Baker also testified he did not see me, Chester Jackson, or Gilbert Montegut, but he did see an inmate named Pedro follow Herman out of the dorm, “two or three seconds” after Herman, “around 7:55 or 8 a.m.” Baker also testified he didn’t see Hezekiah Brown, Leonard Turner, Paul Fobb, or Joseph Richey that morning. He only saw Herman and Pedro. Nobody had ever mentioned Pedro in any statement or testimony before this.
Baker went on to state that after Herman—still covered in blood—turned right exiting from Pine 1, he walked past the clothing room and through the snitcher gate, which was manned by a security officer, and then past the dining hall to another security gate, which was manned by a different security officer, to get to the tag plant, where he worked, with no questions asked. At the entrance to the tag plant he checked in with a guard, giving his ID number and housing assignment—a requirement for all prisoners. About “six minutes later,” Baker testified, he entered the tag plant and Herman, still wearing his bloody clothes, asked him for a key to a box containing work clothes. Baker said he gave him the key and Herman changed into clean clothes and placed his bloody clothes “on top of the box.” Then, Baker said, Pedro entered the tag plant in his bloody clothes and talked to Herman. He said Herman then picked up his bloody clothes and carried them to a furnace in the front of the plant and burned them.
Baker didn’t come forward with this story until after he’d been living in the brutal conditions of cellblock B for several months. Prison records our attorneys obtained years later showed that after he gave his statement against Herman, Howard Baker was moved to a dorm at Camp A, where he served as “clerk of security.” After that he was moved to the dog pen, the same highly prized, low-security area that housed Hezekiah Brown. On the witness stand Baker said he came forward to tell his story months after Miller was killed “because of my conscience.” Years later he would recant his testimony, saying he didn’t think anyone would believe his statement against Herman because there was no furnace in the tag plant; there was no place to burn clothes in the tag plant and “everybody knew it.”
When Joseph Richey took the stand, he repeated that he saw Leonard Turner come out of Pine 1, followed by me, Gilbert Montegut, Chester Jackson, and Herman. Only this time instead of saying I bumped into the trash wagon (which was not on the walk, according to Herbert “Fess” Williams, who testified at my trial) Richey testified that as we left the dorm the door “hit the garbage buggy” and the door was stuck open so Richey could see into the dorm, and he saw a body lying on the floor inside Pine 1. He said after Hezekiah Brown left the dorm, Richey entered it and walked up to Brent Miller’s body and then left, waiting outside for the body to be discovered.
Herman had five alibi witnesses. One of them, Gerald Bryant, worked in the kitchen and testified he not only saw Herman in the dining hall at 7:30 or 7:45 that morning but also gave Herman some books. Another inmate, Clarence Jones, who testified he served Herman a breakfast tray that morning while working in the dining hall, said he saw Bryant give books to Herman. There were witnesses who testifie
d they walked with Herman directly to the tag plant from the dining hall. Garretson showed the judge and jury the roster from the tag plant, proving Herman had signed in for work before eight a.m. on April 17. Prisoner Henry Cage testified that when he arrived at his job in the tag plant, around eight a.m., Herman was already there, working.
As for Gilbert Montegut, several witnesses, including a captain, testified they saw him in the hospital, nowhere near Pine 1, before and after breakfast the morning Miller was murdered. Captain Wyman Beck’s testimony saved Montegut. Assigned to the hospital that day, he testified he saw Montegut there around the time Miller’s body was discovered. Beck also testified that prison officials had called him that morning and told him to send Montegut back down the walk. A prison worker testified that he saw Montegut in the hospital between 7:30 and 8 a.m. and corroborated the captain’s testimony that a warden telephoned the hospital that morning asking for Montegut to be sent to the walk. No explanation was given as to why Montegut was summoned.
The same forensics information that came up at my trial was conveyed to the jury. In summary: no clothing, no weapon, no physical evidence whatsoever linked any of us to the murder of Brent Miller. There was a clear, identifiable bloody fingerprint that didn’t match me, Herman, Montegut, or Jackson.
Back in CCR, Robert King and I were following Herman’s trial in the newspapers. When I read that Chester Jackson turned state’s evidence against Herman I felt disgusted by his betrayal. I thought back to the first meeting the four of us had with our lawyer, nearly two years before. I remembered thinking there was something wrong with the way Jackson acted. He wasn’t animated; he sat back in his chair. At the time, I wondered if it was nerves, or if he’d been broken. Now I knew. He lied on me and Herman, knowing we were innocent, to save his own ass. He also lied to all of us and our lawyer for two years. The all-white jury didn’t deliberate long. Herman was found guilty of the murder of Brent Miller. Gilbert Montegut was found not guilty. In exchange for his testimony, Chester Jackson took advantage of the plea deal offered and pleaded guilty to manslaughter.
Herman was sentenced to life in prison and sent back to CCR, but not to my tier. By now we understood they would never put us on the same tier in CCR again. That year, and for decades, they tried to come between me and Herman. They tried to break our connection. What they didn’t realize was that with every action they took against us, the stronger we became; the more united it made us. After being railroaded and lied about, after our unjust trials and wrongful convictions, we knew we were in this for life. That knowledge gave us a new determination, a new strength, and a new sense of dedication to our cause. There was a very strong loyalty and devotion between us. We had an expression we got from the TV show Star Trek to describe our bond: “Separated but never apart, never touching but always connected.” That line became ours. Thirty years later I would still sign my letters to him “Never Apart.” They could put us wherever they wanted, and they did, but they could never come between us. By the end of his trial we’d grown so much together in such a short time, as Panthers, as comrades, and as men. I sent Herman a note, asking him if he needed anything. He wrote back no, he was fine.
Years later we found out that less than a month after Herman’s January conviction, on February 15, 1974, Warden C. Murray Henderson started writing letters to secure an immediate release for Hezekiah Brown.
Chapter 22
King Is Set Up
Between my trial and Herman’s trial Robert King was wrongly convicted for the murder of a prisoner on his tier. He was set up for the same reason Herman and I were set up: to punish him for being militant, aggressive, outspoken, and resistant—and to give authorities a reason to keep us locked up. King was a leader, a Panther, an agitator. To prison authorities that meant he was a “troublemaker.” He was the prisoner on his tier who talked back to freemen when they spoke to prisoners disrespectfully. He was the one who refused to go into his cell if he was protesting conditions. He didn’t stop talking when ordered to “shut up.” He didn’t lower his voice when he was told he was being “too loud.” He fought back when he was attacked by security. He spoke to the other prisoners about fighting back against inhumane conditions. His courage, determination, and strength influenced other prisoners.
The murder took place on the tier, when they were still allowing prisoners out on our hour at the same time. Two prisoners on King’s tier, August Kelly and Grady Brewer, got into a fight. Both prisoners were armed. During the fight Brewer stabbed Kelly and killed him. There was no doubt that Brewer, alone, stabbed Kelly and that he did it in self-defense. A dozen witnesses saw what happened. There was a guard at the end of the tier who immediately came and saw Brewer with the weapon. Brewer was covered in blood. Brewer told authorities he stabbed Kelly in self-defense. In spite of that they charged every prisoner on the tier with murder. They did it to coerce someone to talk, and it worked; they found a prisoner who would testify against King. King and Brewer were charged with the murder of August Kelly and would be tried together. The prisoner who testified against King (and who would later recant, saying he was in the shower when Kelly was killed) was moved out of CCR and given trustee status.
Before King and Brewer’s trial in the summer of 1973, their state-appointed lawyer met with them only once. Grady Brewer was worried one meeting wasn’t sufficient for the lawyer to prepare an adequate defense for him and King. He expressed his fears to the judge, in open court, repeatedly. The judge told him to stop talking. Brewer kept talking, asking the judge for a new lawyer. The judge finally told him if he talked one more time he would be gagged. Brewer spoke out again and he was bound and gagged. So was King, who hadn’t said a word. Their hands were cuffed behind their backs. Duct tape was put across their mouths. They were forced to sit like this throughout their trial. Due to the lying inmate’s testimony that had been coerced by authorities, King was found guilty along with Brewer. They were sentenced to life in prison. King and Brewer were sent back to CCR and, for a while, King was put on my tier.
In 1974, under the direction of Elayn Hunt, the first female director of the Louisiana Department of Public Safety and Corrections—and based on the bill written by Rep. Dorothy Mae Taylor—Angola finally banned the use of inmate guards and integrated the prison. The inmate guards were moved to an isolated camp away from the rest of the prison for their own protection and stayed there until they were released or died. When they integrated CCR they took the white inmates from their tier and put them on different formerly all-black tiers. They selected two white men to live on D tier, where I was. One of them, a white supremacist and member of the Ku Klux Klan, refused to be put on a tier with black prisoners, saying he’d rather go to the dungeon, and that’s where they put him. They replaced him with another white prisoner. One of the white prisoners, named Pelts, was put next to me.
There was no problem whatsoever integrating D tier. I talked to both of the men about how we ran the tier collectively, as a group. I told them about the rules of conduct we established. I said it doesn’t matter if you’re white or black, we just want everyone to follow the rules and be respectful to one another. Pelts and I became friends. He didn’t have any family who visited and had no money. I always remembered him when I ordered from the commissary and if he needed something I got it for him. He loved ice cream. One day I received a new radio from my brother-in-law and I gave Pelts my old radio. He told me nobody had ever done anything so kind for him before.
The next day we were standing at the bars talking and he thanked me again. I said, “No problem, man, I’m glad you can enjoy it.” We both turned back into our cells and the next thing I heard was the prisoner on the other side of Pelts, a man we called Shelby, hollering down the tier, “Get the freeman, get the freeman.” I grabbed my mirror and went to the bars. I could hear a gasping, strangled breathing and angled my mirror so I could see into Pelts’s cell. He was on his hands and knees between the toilet and the bunk, struggling to breathe. His face was brig
ht red. There was a huge vein as wide as a finger popping out from his neck. He appeared to be frozen but kept trying to raise his head. He raised his eyes and met mine in the mirror. “Hold on, man,” I told him. “Help is coming, Pelts, they’re coming. Hold on.” In his eyes, I felt he was saying, If I can just raise my head, I’ll be OK. I never saw a human being struggle so hard to do something and not be able to do it. He collapsed onto the floor and died from a massive heart attack. It’s the first time somebody I had a friendship with died. It shook me up. I put the pain of it in the back of my mind to a place where it didn’t affect me. It was all I could do.
At some point between 1974 and 1975 a warden was summoned by a protest on King’s tier and on his way out he looked around and said to the sergeant, “Where the hell are the televisions? Get some goddam televisions in here!” Television was the one thing we never fought for. They installed the TVs on the walls across from the cells on every tier in CCR; one for every five cells at first. (Later there was a TV for every three cells.) On weekdays, the TVs went on at six a.m. and went off at midnight; on weekends or holidays they stayed on all night.
After we got the TVs, they stopped letting us all out of our cells on the same hour. For a while they allowed three prisoners out on the same hour, but three prisoners could still be too powerful when they refused to return to their cells or resisted other orders, so they changed the rule and only one of us was allowed out at a time. From then on, we were each let out of our cells on a different hour, staggered throughout the day. The TVs caused a lot of disunity on the tier; prisoners started liking different programs and then fought over which programs to watch.
In 1974 the Louisiana Supreme Court reversed King’s conviction on the grounds that his trial judge had “abused his discretion” by allowing King and Brewer to be bound and gagged during the trial. King was retried in 1975. At his second trial he wasn’t gagged, but he was bound at the defense table and forced to wear a prison jumpsuit. At the trial, Grady Brewer testified that he alone killed August Kelly, in self-defense, and the state’s previous “witness” against King refused to testify against him at all. In spite of that, King was convicted a second time. He was sentenced to natural life and returned to CCR.
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