The Sun Does Shine
Page 7
5
PREMEDITATED GUILT
Equal and exact justice to all men of whatever state or persuasion.
—WORDS ETCHED INTO THE JEFFERSON COUNTY COURTHOUSE
When I stepped out of the car at the police station in Bessemer, I saw nothing but flashes of bright light. I ducked my head down and tried to keep my eyes closed because the light and the noise and the shouting were disorienting and confusing. I don’t know who called the press or what they had been told, but I had watched enough television to know this was a perp walk and I was the perp. I was annoyed at this point, or somewhere between annoyed and angry. How embarrassing, I thought. For me and for the police when they had to tell the press they made a mistake.
They brought me into a room at the police station, and three more officers—Vassar and Miller and Acker—were waiting along with a man who didn’t say anything but who I found out later was David Barber, the district attorney of Birmingham. They read me my rights again. Acker put a blank piece of paper in front of me and asked me to sign it.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Just sign it, and we are going to type up your Miranda rights on it so everyone knows we read you your rights.”
“You know what? I’m an honest person, so if anyone asks me—whether it’s a judge or another police officer or anyone—I will tell them that you read me my rights,” I said.
The detective put the pen on top of the paper. “We’re going to take the cuffs off you, and then you can sign the paper and have a drink, and we’ll get this all sorted out right quick.”
I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I wasn’t a fool. There was no way I was going to sign a blank piece of paper. I looked up at the men around me. They looked happy, excited. Maybe even a little jumpy, like you do when you have a big secret you are just dying to tell. In that moment, I felt the first real twinge of fear. Why did they want me to sign a blank piece of paper? That wasn’t right. None of this was right.
“I’m not going to sign that paper.”
I said it firmly, and I saw them all look at each other. One of the other detectives picked up the paper. I didn’t really know who was who. They started firing questions at me.
“Where were you on the night of February 23?”
“I don’t know that. How am I supposed to know that?”
“What about the night of July 2? Where were you on the night of July 2?”
I thought about it a bit. I had gone to Atlanta on the night of the third with Sylvia to drop off my nieces. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what I had done the night before.
“I was probably home on the second. I don’t remember doing anything else. I was probably home in February too. I don’t go out much,” I said. “I would have been home with my mom those nights.”
“Can you prove it?” the detective said quietly, and I felt a shiver go up my spine.
“I can’t prove it. Man, could you tell me where you were on some random day in February? Seriously.”
“I’m not the one under arrest here.”
“Well, I shouldn’t be under arrest either. I haven’t done nothing wrong. Whatever this is, you guys got the wrong guy.” I folded my arms up around my chest, trying to look cool and calm, but I could feel my heart pounding against my folded arm.
“Where were you on the night of July 25?”
I thought about it hard—I should be able to account for a week ago. I started walking backward through my week. And then it hit me, I absolutely knew where I was on the twenty-fifth.
“I was at a friend’s house a couple of miles from my place. This was on Thursday, right?”
One of the detectives wrote something down in a notebook.
“What’s the name of your friend?”
I gave them her name.
“What time were you at her house?” I thought back to that night. I had dinner with my mom and then went by my friend’s.
“I got there about 8:00 P.M. or so, and I left at 11:15.”
“And where were you after 11:15?”
“I drove to my job out in Ensley, and I was at work all night. I worked the night shift. Midnight to 8:00 A.M. Bruno’s Warehouse. Although sometimes we got off earlier if we finished the work. I think I got off around 6:00 A.M. that day. That would be the twenty-sixth.”
There was nothing but silence after that.
They put me behind bars, and that’s when I realized I was going to be spending the night. It’s not easy to get comfortable when the bunks aren’t meant to fit a big man, so after a sleepless night, they transported me to the county jail in Birmingham. Lieutenant Acker rode with me.
“What am I under arrest for, exactly? The other guys said robbery. Who did I rob?”
“You want to know why you’re under arrest?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re under arrest for first-degree kidnapping, first-degree robbery, first-degree attempted murder.”
“Man, you got the wrong person.”
“Man, we’re not even done with you yet. There’s going to be more charges.” Acker turned around and looked me in the eye for the first time since I had told him I was at work on the twenty-fifth. “You know, I don’t care whether you did or didn’t do it. In fact, I believe you didn’t do it. But it doesn’t matter. If you didn’t do it, one of your brothers did. And you’re going to take the rap. You want to know why?”
I just shook my head.
“I can give you five reasons why they are going to convict you. Do you want to know what they are?”
I shook my head, no, but he continued.
“Number one, you’re black. Number two, a white man gonna say you shot him. Number three, you’re gonna have a white district attorney. Number four, you’re gonna have a white judge. And number five, you’re gonna have an all-white jury.”
He paused and smiled at me then.
“You know what that spell?”
I shook my head, but I knew what he was saying. You couldn’t be raised in the South and not know what he was saying. My whole body went numb, like I was under an ice-cold shower in the middle of winter.
“Conviction. Conviction. Conviction. Conviction. Conviction.” He pointed to each finger on his left hand and then he held up the number five and turned his palm toward me.
I leaned my head back up against the seat and closed my eyes. Since the age of four, I could remember my mom teaching all of us kids to respect authority. She respected authority—almost blindly so. “Tell the truth,” she always said, “and you’ve got nothing to fear.” Even when I had gotten in trouble before, she told me, “Even if it hurts you, you tell the truth. What’s done in the dark will always come to light.” In my mom’s world, there was no gray area. The police were who you ran to when you were in trouble—you never ran from them. They were always there to help. That’s why I had let them search my car and my room. That’s why I had told them my mom had a gun when they asked me earlier. You told the truth. The police were there to help. There was nothing to be afraid of.
I remember her sitting me down after graduation. “Listen, there are going to be people that dislike you just because of the color of your skin. Some going to dislike you because you black; some people going to dislike you because you light-skinned. You going to have people dislike you because of whatever reason they find to dislike you. That’s just how the world is. But you have to be knowing that you are responsible for how you treat others, you’re not responsible for how they treat you. Do you understand? I don’t care what people say about you—you don’t drop down to their level. You always treat someone better than what they treat you. Always.”
I thought of her at home alone. She must be scared. I hadn’t been offered a phone call. Hopefully the neighbors were with her. I knew Phoebe, Lester’s mom, would be at my mom’s side just as soon as she could. Lester should be out of the mines by now. I wondered if he had heard. He would make sure my mom was okay, just like I would have done for his mom. That was the only thought that
brought some comfort. This would get cleared up. First-degree robbery and attempted murder and kidnapping? Hell, I felt like I was the one being kidnapped. They would see I was at work. Talk to my friend. I didn’t know about those other nights. I couldn’t remember, but I had to believe that they would believe me. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and the more I cooperated and helped them investigate whatever this was, the sooner I would go home. I didn’t care what Acker said. No one was going to convict me for something I didn’t do. I was innocent, and it would get sorted out in the morning.
The press was out front of the Birmingham jail as well, and they paraded me around and inside. I was read my rights again and processed into the jail with fingerprints and mug shots and was told they were also charging me with murder. Two murders. They had evidence, they said. The gun at my house matched the bullets. They found the murder weapon. Someone saw me. It was over. I should confess. None of it made sense. I refused to speak. I just wanted a moment to clear my head and sort this out in my mind. I needed to talk to my mom. I was given green-and-white-striped scrubs to change into, and it was all a blur until they took me up to the seventh floor—C block. I was given a thin, one-inch mattress, a plastic razor, a plastic mug, a toothbrush, and my very own roll of toilet paper. I set my stuff down on my bunk. All I wanted was to lie down and sleep for a week.
“Stand outside your cell with your back against the wall.”
I lined up with everyone else and watched as the guards did roll call. I counted the names in my head as they yelled them out. There were twenty-four of us altogether. I looked around. Most were black; some were white.
When the guard was done, I turned to go back into my cell.
“Hinton!”
I turned toward the guard.
“You can’t go back in your cell until the day’s over. Everyone has to be in the common area.”
The common area had metal seats and tables bolted to the floor, and all of them were arranged so that they faced a small television mounted to the wall. I just wanted to call my mom and Lester and see if they could straighten out this mess somehow. And then I wanted to close my eyes and sleep and wake up at home in my own bed and have the last twenty-four hours be some sort of bad dream.
I sat down on one of the cold, rounded seats and nodded at the white guy who sat down across from me. He had bright red hair, and he gave me a big smile that looked half-friendly and half-serial-killer-clown.
“Welcome to C block,” he said. “It’s where all the capital murder kids come to play.”
6
THE WHOLE TRUTH
It is the opinion of this examiner that the subject told the truth during this polygraph examination.
—CLYDE WOLFE
They sent me to Kilby Prison to finish out the weeks I had left on my parole when they arrested me. It was a way to buy some time, I guess, get their ducks all in a row. I barely had a moment to speak to my mom and to Lester; the phones were never free, and collect calls were expensive. “This is all a mistake,” I said when I finally got hold of them. “We will get this sorted out. Once I have an attorney and explain everything, they will realize they have the wrong person and let me go.” I was reassuring them and reassuring myself. At least, I thought, when this was cleared up, I would be totally free once and for all. No more parole. No more checking in every month. No more chance they could just swoop me out of my house because I was in the system. I did my few weeks at Kilby and returned to Jefferson County to wait for my time to go before the judge.
I was indicted by a grand jury on November 8, 1985. My face was in all the local newspapers. People wanted to string me up. Shoot me outright and save the taxpayers some money. And this was all before I had even stepped foot in a courtroom. Before I had been appointed a public defender. And before I was even able to say, “Not guilty,” at an arraignment.
My case was assigned to a judge on November 13, 1985—his name was Judge James S. Garrett. I met my court-appointed attorney, Sheldon Perhacs. He was only a little shorter than I was, around six feet or so, but he was lean and muscular. He wore his hair slicked back like he was some sort of Italian mobster or maybe even a boxer. I had seen all three Rocky movies, and the fourth one was just about to come out. At my arraignment, he barely looked at me. He was officially assigned my case, and I heard him mumble, “I didn’t go to law school to do pro bono work.”
I cleared my throat, and he looked me in the eye for the first time. Even though I was handcuffed and chained, I held out my hand to shake his.
“Would it make a difference if I told you I was innocent?”
“Listen, all y’all always doing something and saying you’re innocent.”
I dropped my hand. So that’s how it was going to be. I was pretty sure that when he said “all y’all,” he wasn’t talking about ex-cons or former coal miners or Geminis or even those accused of capital murder.
I needed him, so I had no choice but to let it slide. I had to believe that he believed me. He was my Italian fighter. He was Rocky, and I was Apollo Creed—not like in the first movie but in later movies, where they are allies, friends even. I had only seen the trailer for Rocky IV, and I wanted to think of Perhacs training early in the morning, running up the courthouse steps, drinking raw eggs while he read through tall stacks of case files and left no stone unturned in his investigation. It gave me comfort to think of him this way—to pretend that he believed he was in the fight of his life fighting for my life.
It wasn’t until about ten years later that I actually got to see Rocky IV. It made me glad that I hadn’t known that Apollo Creed died in the movie while Rocky stood by and watched.
The judge set a trial date of March 6, 1986.
I turned to Perhacs before they took me back to C block. “Give me a lie detector test. A truth serum. Hypnotize me. Whatever you have to give me that will show them I’m telling the truth. I don’t care what it is, I’ll take it, I’ll do it. This whole thing is a mistake. I’ll take any test they have to prove it.”
He just stared at me, and then he waved his hand in the air like he was swatting away a fly. “I’ll come see you at the jail soon. We’ll talk about your case. I promise.”
I held on to that promise like a drowning man hangs on to whatever he can grab that he thinks will save him.
CONFIDENTIAL
DATE: 5/13/86
SUBJECT: ANTHONY RAY HINTON
SSN: XXX-XX-XXXX
Mr. Sheldon Perhacs
Attorney at Law
Suite 1414
City Federal Bldg.
2026 Second Ave. N.
Birmingham, Ala. 35203
At your request ANTHONY RAY HINTON was given a polygraph examination to determine his truthfulness in a case of Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, and Murder. Standard polygraph procedure was exercised throughout the examination.
RESULTS:
During the pre-test interview ANTHONY RAY HINTON stated that his address is XXXXXX XXXX, Burnwell, Ala., and that he was born 6/1/56 in Jefferson County, ala. Subject is a 29 year old male, 6’2” tall, 220 lbs., with black hair and brown eyes. Subject said he has a high school education, is single and has no dependents.
Subject said he was convicted in 1982 in Bessemer, Ala., of Theft of Property; also was convicted twice in Bessemer, Ala. in 1982 of Auto Theft, and was sentenced to 15 months and placed on 1½ years of probation for these three convictions. Subject said he has been convicted in Bessemer, Ala. of several worthless checks and has paid the fines.
The subject went on to say that he has never shot anyone and has never robbed Quincy’s, Captain D’s or Mrs. Winner’s. The subject insists that he had nothing to do with the crimes in question and doesn’t know who committed the crimes.
The subject was then asked the following relevant questions:
TEST I
Q Do you plan to try to lie to any of these questions?
-no
Q Have you told me the whole truth about this matter?
Q Did you ever commit an armed robbery?
-no
Q Did you ever point a gun at anyone?
-no
Q Did you ever shoot anyone with a gun?
-no
Q Are you trying to withhold any information about this matter?
-no
TEST II
Q Did you know Mrs. Winner’s was going to be held up?
-no
Q Did you plan to hold up Mrs. Winner’s?
-no
Q Did you ever point a gun at anyone in Mrs. Winner’s?
-no
Q Did you ever shoot anyone in Mrs. Winner’s?
-no
Q Have you told me the whole truth since we’ve been talking?
-yes
Q Did you purposely try to lie to any of these questions?
-no
TEST III
Q Did you know Mrs. Winner’s was going to be held up?
-no
Q Did you plan to hold up Mrs. Winner’s?
-no
Q Did you ever point a gun at anyone in Mrs. Winner’s?
-no
Q Did you ever shoot anyone in Mrs. Winner’s?
-no
Q Have you told me the whole truth since we’ve been talking?
-yes
Q Did you purposely try to lie to any of these questions?
-no
TEST IV
Q Did you plan to rob Quincy’s?
-no
Q Did you tell Mr. Smotherman to open the safe?
-no
Q Did you point a gun at Mr. Smotherman?
-no
Q Did you shoot anyone in Quincy’s?
-no
Q Have you told me the whole truth since we’ve been talking?
-yes
Q Did you purposely try to lie to any of these questions?
-no
TEST V
Q Did you plan to rob Quincy’s?
-no
Q Did you tell Mr. Smotherman to open the safe?
-no
Q Did you point a gun at Mr. Smotherman?
-no
Q Did you shoot anyone in Quincy’s?