MoJo Interview: The Angola 3
http://www.motherjones.com/news/update/2008/07/moJo-interview-the-angola-3.html
Meet the Black Panther Party members who spent 36 years of solitude
in a Louisiana state penand who a federal magistrate now says should
be freed.
By Brooke Shelby Biggs
July 9, 2008
UPDATE: On July 8, a federal judge in Louisiana overturned Albert
Woodfox's 1972 conviction. If the state does not request a retrial,
he could be freed in the coming weeks. It is unclear whether the
court's ruling will influence the progress of Herman Wallace's appeals.
After 35 years, 11 months, and one week, Albert Woodfox and Herman
Wallace walked out of solitary confinement for the first time at
Louisiana State Penitentiary on March 24, 2008. Originally imprisoned
on robbery charges, they were convicted in 1972 of the murder of
prison guard Brent Miller. Wallace and Woodfox say they were framed
and made an example of by a prison administration that resented their
attempts to reform the prison through nonviolent protest. They had,
after all, gone so far as to found a chapter of the Black Panthers at
Angola, the first and only one inside a prison.
With Robert King Wilkerson, a fellow Panther who was convicted the
next year of the murder of a fellow inmate, the men became known as
the Angola 3. King established his innocence in 2001 and walked free
after 29 years in solitary.
Woodfox and Wallace have the distinction of serving a longer stretch
in solitary confinement than any other inmates in the nation's
history. They spent every day in cells averaging six feet by nine
feet, for 23 hours, spending one hour either showering, running in
tight circles on a small, concrete yard surrounded on four sides and
above by chain-link and razor wire, or walking up and down along the
tier. A bare lightbulb burned 24 hours a day above them in their
cells, and television sets bolted to the walls opposite their cells
blared constantly. The only climate control was a massive fan at the
end of the tier, which did little to alleviate the sultry Louisiana
summer days and nothing to warm the cold winter nights. For the first
17 years of their sentence, they were not permitted visitors, and
then only a closely monitored, preapproved group of friends and
family who were generally only permitted to talk to the men through a
metal screen.
To communicate, they shouted to one another; the wardens
intentionally kept Woodfox and Wallace on different tiers so they
could not see or hear one another unless one was on the yard, where
he could shout into the other's barred window.
In 2004, Boston psychiatrist Stuart Grassian, who specializes in the
mental effects on extended solitary confinement, evaluated all three
men on behalf of their attorneys. Grassian's research details the
psychological toll of such confinement, including psychotic breaks,
decompensation, and suicidality. Woodfox, Wallace, and King, he
noted, had survived with remarkable stoicism, albeit probably damaged
for life. Robert King recalled that in the 1980s, when his sister
reached to hug him for the first time in almost two decades, he
realized he had forgotten how.
The ACLU filed a civil suit on behalf of the men in the Louisiana
courts in 2000, contending that the conditions of their captivity
amounted to cruel and unusual punishment, and that they had been
systematically denied access to due process in order to earn their
way back into the general prison population.
NBC Nightly News got ahold of the story and aired a piece entitled
"Cruel & Unusual?" about the men on March 16. A few days after the
newscast, Rep. John Conyers visited the men, and in his capacity as
chairman of the House Judiciary Committee, publicly called for an
investigation into Wallace and Woodfox's convictions. Brent Miller's
widow, Leontine Verrett, told NBC that she would like to see her
husband's real killer or killers identified.
Just a week after NBC aired its segment, Woodfox and Wallace were
released from solitary into a new "maximum security dormitory" along
with 17 other inmates who had shared the solitary wing on Angola's
former death row. (A new death row opened in 2007.) Angola
spokeswoman Angie Norwood said the transfer had nothing to do with
the media attention, and that the men had been held in solitary all
these years for their own protection.
The transition for both has been both thrilling and difficult to
adapt to, they say. And they insist the move is not significant in
the grand scheme until they win their cases and prove their
innocence, and walk out the front gate of Angola into the blissfully
stifling bayou air.
The three men have been advised by their lawyers not to discuss their
legal cases, in an effort to keep their strategy from the prying eyes
of an increasingly agitated attorney general's office. But I spoke by
telephone with Woodfox and Wallace on the 36th anniversary of
Miller's murder, to check in on their adjustment to new surroundings.
Counterintuitively, it turns out the men aren't getting enough time alone.
HERMAN WALLACE
Mother Jones: What is life in the new dormitory like? What is a
typical day like for you?
Herman Wallace: Let me put it to you like this, without saying what
it's like for me. I've watched these men when we were in the cells,
and some of them would take and be throwing feces on one another.
They were angry. They were out of touch with themselves. Once these
men come over here, to this dormitory, I could see the change in
these guys. I see the humanity coming back into them. Every goddamned
day I can see this here.
[A recorded voice chimes in: "This call originates from a Louisiana
Correctional Facility and may be recorded or monitored."]
May be recorded? It is being recorded.
You have one guy in here who's been down [at Angola] the longest of
everyone. He's been down since 1961. He come here with six years and
he wound up with three life sentences. He recognizes this is a very
dangerous place. I've often spoke about this guy. Give this man a
chance. Give him hope. Get him out of these cells and let him prove
himself. And you know what? This guy here is amazing everybody.
That's some of the things I'm happy about. It's giving these guys a
chance to get out of themselves. And you know, I appreciate that. For them.
MJ: But what's it like for you?
HW: What's it like for me. [Laughs.] That much I don't talk about.
When you go to talk about how it affects me and what I think about
it, that's a whole different ball game.
MJ: Do you get to go outside and exercise?
HW: Outside? Well you know, I've went outside about two, three times
since I've been over here, but it's not the outside that really gets
me, because I've got so much work to do. I'm not able to get as much
done as I would normally have gotten, because there's so much
distraction. These men constantly come to both Albert and I for
advice on certain things. They know about this dormitory, they know
that it's due to the things that we are doing, and they don't want to
do anything to disrupt that. So they are on their best behavior.
When you look at it from that perspective, we understand. But come
on. [Groans.] I've got to go into the shower, behind the wall, to sit
down and write so I wouldn't get disturbed. They're looking for me,
and I'm behind the shower.
I believe that they were holding a lot of these guys in these cells
because they didn't have other places in order, anywhere else to put
them. These guys are not bad. But you put them in a situation where
they can't maneuver, then yeah, they're going to respond in the
manner that you treat them.
But this is not Albert nor my objective. Our objective is that front
gate. We're working our way towards that front gate, gradually.
MJ: Are you feeling optimistic about your case?
HW: I've always been optimistic, you know?
But listen here: A lot of things we're sworn to secrecy on, kind of a
gag orderit's not something I'm very comfortable with, but by the
same token, we have a force out there who are trying to make things
happen, and it wouldn't be all that healthy for either of us to spill
the beans on what is in the making and what is about to happen. What
you're doing is giving our adversaries the opportunity to counteract
what we are doing, particularly because the telephones are monitored.
I think they've been holding us to let other guys know, "Look, if you
are involved with anything that is remotely close to what these guys
are involved with, your ass is gonna be locked up forever in the same way."
You have wardens who swore they would never take us out of these cells.
I could care less than a shit if they want to settle or not.
Personally, I'm ready to go to trial. There are certain things that
need to be done because our objective is change, not only for Albert
and I, but for the rest of the men. Our suit doesn't cover the other
15 men in this dormitory; the state is going to have to deal with
that on their own, in order to cover their ass so these men don't
follow suit in the manner that we did. I can talk about that, I can
say that, can't nobody shut me up on anything like that.
When they call me "militant" it's because of my defiance, the things
that I am pursuing. I'm pursuing my freedom, alright? And they look
at that as a "militant" act.
MJ: So you're busy? Working hard?
HW: I'm working so hard, you wouldn't believe. Because you have all
of these guys who see what's going on around us and they know we are
for real. They come to us for advice about their own cases. So that's
what I was saying about ducking around because I need to handle the
case for Albert, and I need to handle the case for myself, and vice
versa with Albert for me. We have to keep our focus. We can't get
sidetracked with all these different other cases. We're at a critical
phase and that's so important.
There are programs that I'm already undertaking that I want to reach
back into this prison [after I'm out], and prisons beyond Angola to
help these guys.
ALBERT WOODFOX
Mother Jones: How does it feel to be out of solitary?
Albert Woodfox: It's still a period of adjustment for me. A lot of
distractions. I haven't been able to figure out what my new routine
is going to be yet, but you know, slowly...
I'm just giving myself some time to develop a routine that's more
conducive to being in a dorm rather than a cell.
MJ: Your attorney tells me you did something like 600 sit-ups in a
row? Is that part of your new routine?
AW: [Laughs.] Well, that's not at once. That's throughout the day.
MJ: Are you having the same problem as Herman, not getting a lot of
time to yourself?
AW: Yes, well, we've somewhat become the village elders. All of the
problems, big and small, seem to come to us here. On the one hand its
an honor that the other prisoners in the dorm have enough respect for
us that they think we can help them out, but on the other hand it can
be distracting at times.
MJ: So are you ever just by yourself?
AW: Yeah, yeah, Herman and I, every once in a while we get off by
ourself and just talk about thingspersonal issues, social issues, or
political issues. We try to stay connected to what's happening in
society and in the world, as well as discussing our case and what our
next move will be.
MJ: Is it different just getting to talk to Herman face-to-face after
all these years?
AW: Oh yeah, we have and will continue to talk about things we've
been denied the right to talk about for thirty-some years. Especially
the loss of family ones, how it affected us individually and as
friends. It's far different from shouting out a window to someone and
getting to sit right across from them, you know?
MJ: How are the guards being with you in your new accommodation?
AW: Well you know, the guards run the spectrum of professional to
asshole. And we've had a little bit of both.
We're trying to take one day at a time, not become flustered or
frustrated about some of the things that happen. You know, its going
to take the dorm awhile to evolve its own culture. I think the
administration is probably surprised that there's been no major
incident in the dorm and that everybody seems to be making the extra
effort to live in peace and unity. I think that's a tribute to the
determination of the people in the dorm right now to make it a success.
MJ: Do you have more privileges in the dorm than in solitary, more
books and newspapers?
AW: Nah, the only thing we have more access to is more space. We have
access to the same newspapers we had, the library comes around once
or twice a week, the TVs go off at twelve except on Fridays and
Saturdays, so that's somewhat new. They used to be on 24/7 in the
cells, so to me that's a welcome change.
MJ: So you can experience actual quiet?
AW: Yeah, there are times at night I may wake up at two or three in
the morning and I may get up and come sit in the day room and just
reflect on where my life is now as to compared to where it was, and
where I want it to go.
MJ: Are you feeling hopeful?
AW: Well yeah. Right now the awareness of the cause of the Angola 3
is probably at its highest point. With awareness comes more support;
a lot of very important people in the federal and state government
have taken an interest in what's going on here in Angola, and
hopefully that will help us obtain our main goal, which is our
freedom, and to affect some kind of change in the prison system as well.
MJ: So you're hoping what happens in your case serves to help those
who might be left behind in Angola when you are free?
AW: Well yeah, it's already helped them. There's a dorm now. At one
time CCR (closed-cell restrictedthe terminology for solitary at
Angola) was a dead end. If you were lucky enough to get out of CCR,
you went to the cell block if you were black, and if you were white
you usually went to a dormitory environment. So now there's a dorm so
you can leave a cell not just for another cell. And hopefully from
here into the main prison population.
MJ: What is the biggest difference for you?
AW: The biggest change for me is being able to walk beyond nine feet
at one time. For the last 30-some years I was confined to walking
nine feet one way and nine feet back the other way. Really, actually
shorter, because the metal sink/toilet combination took up about two
feet of that.
We get to go to chow, and I've had a visit since [we've come over
here] without any restraints. It was kind of strange, being in a
large area like that with so many other people. A lot of people came
over to the table and wanted to shake my hand and thank me for
staying strong and not allowing these people to break me or break
Herman. It was great on one hand but it was humbling on the other
hand. We never thought so many people cared so much about what
happened to us. That so many people's hopes and dreams and courage or
whatever was a part of us.
MJ: Do you get to go outside?
AW: Yeah, we have the yard seven days a week. The strange thing about
it, when I was in the cell I always had this urgency to go on the
yard, because we only had three days a week. But that's kind of
disappeared because I know the yard is available. I just started this
week developing a workout routine that's somewhat more strenuous and
longer than in the cells, a writing routine...you know it takes time
to adjust to the various [head] counts at various times, walking to
the dining hall, eating, walking back. If anything, its a pleasure.
Being able to go beyond nine feet can be a great feeling.
MJ: Are you getting to see more of your family?
AW: Well my brother came up, my niece and her children, my nephew by
his marriage, but mostly its the people who always visitthat hasn't
changed; we're limited on how many people we can have on our approved
visiting list.
MJ: What do you do with the free time in your day?
AW: Well I always set aside two hours to read. And I'm always engaged
in some kind of conversation, usually with Herman, but people are
coming up to me with things that range from personal to legal to
social to political. As a matter of fact I was playing dominoes when
it was time for me to come and talk to you. I don't watch a lot of TV
but when I do it's usually some kind of news show or Animal Planet or
Discoverysomething educational.
The thing I noticed most about being with Herman is the laughing, the
talking, the bumping up against one another, being able to "check"
one another; we've been denied this for so long. And every once in a
while he'll put his arm around me or I'll put my arm around him. It's
those kind of things that make you human. And we're truly enjoying that.
--
Brooke Shelby Biggs is a freelance journalist based in San Francisco.
-------
State wants '73 verdict upheld
http://www.2theadvocate.com/news/24302904.html
By BILL LODGE Advocate staff writer
Jul 10, 2008
State officials said Wednesday they will ask the 5th U.S. Circuit
Court of Appeals in New Orleans to uphold the 1973 murder conviction
of Angola inmate Albert Woodfox.
Woodfox, who spent more than 30 years in solitary confinement,
received a second trial in 1998. But he was convicted again for the
stabbing death of 23-year-old prison guard Brent Miller. He remains
an inmate at the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola.
The inmate has argued for decades that he was framed by prison
officials because of his formation of a chapter of the Black Panther
Party at Angola.
U.S. District Judge James J. Brady ruled Tuesday that Woodfox
received ineffective assistance of counsel in 1998. Brady then
overturned the conviction.
"Judge Brady's ruling is sound, and it is just," said Nicholas J.
Trenticosta, a New Orleans attorney representing Woodfox in the
current proceedings. "They should allow Mr. Woodfox to walk free."
That won't happen yet, according to a statement released by Louisiana
Attorney General James. D. "Buddy" Caldwell through his
communications director, Tammi Arender Herring.
"We are currently reviewing the ruling by the federal district court
and are taking the steps necessary to perfect our appeal of the
matter," Caldwell said in the statement. "Since this is a matter in
litigation, we will not comment further on the specifics of this case."
The Attorney General's Office handled the 1998 prosecution because a
member of the district attorney's office for West Feliciana and East
Feliciana parishes had a conflict of interest in the case. Angola is
in West Feliciana Parish.
Samuel C. D'Aquilla, who became district attorney in 2003, said
Wednesday that his staff will prosecute Woodfox in a third trial if
the attorney general's office loses its appeal and decides to drop the case.
"If it comes back to us, we're going to do it," D'Aquilla said.
Christopher A. Aberle, a Mandeville attorney for Woodfox, said in a
written statement that his client's murder conviction was "based on
false evidence."
Trenticosta added: "The injustice in this case is unfathomable."
Brady's decision to overturn the murder conviction was made on the
recommendation of U.S. Magistrate Judge Christine Noland.
Noland concluded that Woodfox's attorneys in 1998 Bert Garraway of
Baton Rouge and Clay J. Calhoun Jr. of Clinton should have
attempted to quash the indictment in the second trial. Noland said
the state's key inmate eyewitness was dead and had been secretly
promised at the first trial that prison officials would assist in his
release from a life sentence.
She also said the defense attorneys should have tried to kill the
case after prosecutors revealed that state officials had lost
blood-spattered clothing that possibly could have cleared Woodfox.
Garraway has since died. Calhoun did not reply to a call made to his
office Wednesday.
Paul R. Baier, a professor at LSU's Paul M. Hebert Law Center, taught
Noland in law school.
Baier described Noland's recommendation to Brady as "rock solid."
"I'm sorry to burden the state with a retrial," Baier said. But he
added that Woodfox's attorneys in 1998 should have hammered away at
revelation of the state's concealment of its promises to an inmate
witness in the original trial.
.
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