{"id":14509,"date":"2022-11-08T12:10:21","date_gmt":"2022-11-08T12:10:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/cassandravoices.com\/?p=14509"},"modified":"2022-11-08T12:10:21","modified_gmt":"2022-11-08T12:10:21","slug":"60-bucks-for-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/2022\/11\/08\/60-bucks-for-life\/","title":{"rendered":"60 Bucks for Life"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cYou have no appointment.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019d emailed, left messages, and read their mission statement:\u00a0To free the innocent, prevent wrongful convictions, and create fair, compassionate, and equitable systems of justice for everyone.\u00a0<\/i><\/em><\/p>\n

No. I have no idea what I\u2019m doing, but I\u2019m doing it. Walking downtown to the office of The Innocence Project in Manhattan. On my way, I look up to see the spike of the Freedom Tower cutting through dense spring clouds. It makes me wonder, in this country of income disparity, prejudice, and Proud Boys, is there indeed justice for all?<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m here now and I\u2019d like to speak to an attorney.\u201d\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/em><\/strong>\u00a0<\/i><\/em><\/p>\n

I fucked up. No one is coming to speak with me.\u00a0<\/b><\/strong><\/i><\/em><\/p>\n

Within minutes, I\u2019m greeted by an affable intake attorney named Dara, who gives me her full attention. I explain that I\u2019m a writer advocating for a wrongfully accused inmate at Cumberland Prison. Emmanuel Clark is serving a life sentence for first degree murder. After letting her know that Emmanuel\u2019s files were given to their office by his cousin four years ago to no conclusion, she agrees to take my 16-page typed transcript and assures me the office will again give his case \u2026 a look<\/i><\/em>. I\u2019m informed it will take time. That there are no guarantees. With profuse thanks, I\u2019m gone.<\/p>\n

For months now, I\u2019ve interviewed Emmanuel Clark. An inmate serving a life sentence with no parole at Cumberland Prison in Baltimore. He went in at age 19. Now he\u2019s 46 years old, serving time for a crime he claims he did not commit. We communicate by prison pay phone, trying to untangle a web of injustice. One that is all too common when you\u2019re young, poor, and not white.<\/p>\n

I learned about Emmanuel through my friend Greg. Someone who knows what it\u2019s like to be incarcerated. But for the past 10 years, Greg has focused his life on sobriety, and making people laugh, while attempting to make a difference in the world. He heard about Emmanuel\u2019s plight through his cousin, felt compelled to advocate for him, and solicited my help in the process. Both my friend and I have had our share of family dysfunction. Probably what lead us both to stand-up comedy and a decade-long friendship. But we\u2019re here now. Meeting once a week, to put together this complex puzzle that a corrupt legal system once scattered.<\/p>\n

A robot operator asks us to accept the call,\u00a0\u201cFrom an inmate at Cumberland Correctional Facility.\u201d\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/em><\/strong>Press zero, and you\u2019re connected. Allocated a strict 30-minute time limit for which the inmate has to pay. At 90 cents an hour on a jail work program, one phone call per week is a significant expense. But after two decades of no one listening to his story, Emmanuel decides it’s worth it. He\u2019s excited. There\u2019s a lot to tell and not much time. Greg in his raspy, Good Fellas voice repeats,\u00a0\u201cVery simple, Emmanuel, go slow and don\u2019t give us too many details all at once.\u201d\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/em><\/strong>\u00a0As he speaks, I\u2019m reminded of Denzel Washington in the movie, Philadelphia and his unforgettable line,\u00a0\u201cTell it to me like I\u2019m five.\u201d<\/p>\n

Born\u00a0Emmanuel Clark,\u00a0<\/b><\/strong>in a rough section of Baltimore City, neither the Greek American father he never knew, nor a Native-American mother were capable of raising him. Both parents had a dependency on drugs and alcohol which would later prove lethal for their son. What followed was foster care, juvenile detention centers, and homelessness. Out of desperation to survive, 16-year-old Emmanuel started selling crack on the street. And by 1997, he was convicted of murder one. A life sentence. Without parole.<\/p>\n

Emmanuel had been selling in Patterson Park. An area of Baltimore known as Butcher\u2019s Hill. His customers were, for the most part, prostitutes and petty thieves. There, he met a woman named Bonnie Felicetti who worked as an admin for a lawyer. But Bonnie was also a known prostitute and crack addict. She lived with her husband Tony, also a drug user, and a 38-year-old friend called Louis Koch. Emmanuel didn\u2019t know Louis well but described him as follows:<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen you talked to him, you knew he was kind of\u2026slow. Bonnie would get high and use Louis to buy drugs when she didn<\/i><\/em>\u2019<\/i><\/em>t want to leave the house.\u201d<\/i><\/em><\/p>\n

On Sunday, June 16th, the night before the murder, Emmanuel gave his last gram of crack to Bonnie with the promise that she\u2019d pay him back. 60 bucks. Within the next couple of days.<\/p>\n

Next morning, Monday, June 17th, Emmanuel got breakfast at Hardee\u2019s, before walking to Patterson Park, where his cousin would re-up his supply. He was there for several minutes when Louis showed up, saying Bonnie would be home from work. And had his 60 bucks.<\/p>\n

\u201cI figured I<\/i><\/em>\u2019<\/i><\/em>ll hang out there, get my money, wait for my cousin and get off the streets.\u201d<\/i><\/em><\/p>\n

When Emmanuel followed Louis home, he was led through an alleyway. Not the front entrance.<\/p>\n

\u201cLouis went through the gangway. I didn\u2019t think anything of it at the time. I just followed him.\u201d\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/em>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

As the two entered\u00a0<\/b><\/strong>Bonnie\u2019s backyard, Emmanuel saw panes of glass on the lawn. He noticed the outside windows were broken, but the inside windows were intact.<\/p>\n

\u201cLouis asked me to hand him the glass and I did. Whatever was in the yard, I gave him. Some of the glass I handed, he put on the kitchen table and then threw it away.\u201d<\/p>\n

Both men then entered through the window.\u00a0\u00a0<\/b><\/strong>Emmanuel was there for maybe five minutes, when he heard his cousin\u2019s whistle.\u00a0<\/b><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cWe had calls to let us know we were looking for each other.\u00a0When I left Louis, he was alive.\u201d<\/p>\n

Responding to the call, Emmanuel headed back to his cousin\u2019s, re-upped his supply, then proceeded to where he\u2019d been staying at his girlfriend Tonya\u2019s house.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen we\u2019d made it back into the neighborhood, there was police everywhere. I didn\u2019t find out Louis was dead until the next day.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tonya and her mother didn\u2019t like Emmanuel selling drugs. So, he\u2019d applied at Teddy\u2019s Roofing and got the job.\u00a0<\/b><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cIt was my first day of work and when I got home that night, Tonya was in our bedroom crying.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean what did I do? I didn\u2019t do nothing!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe police was here asking questions about you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Louis was pronounced dead on June 17th, stabbed with a screwdriver over 100 times. Fingerprints on the glass pointed the police to Emmanuel, and the weight of these accusations triggered a psychological breakdown.\u00a0400 milligrams of Thorazine and Tegretol were administered. Both antipsychotics.<\/p>\n

\u201cI had a mental snap.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was given heavy doses of drugs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was a zombie.\u201d<\/p>\n

After ten days of treatment, Emmanuel was back at the regular detention center where he faced hours of grueling questioning.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was scared terribly. The cops said I would never see my girlfriend again. Eight hours later, I repeated everything they told me. I just wanted it to be over.\u201d<\/p>\n

If Emmanuel got something wrong, if something didn\u2019t fit the detective\u2019s narrative, they would correct him. Under the influence of drugs, he was coerced into giving a false statement.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe confession I gave the cops didn\u2019t match the evidence. This was in my taped confession. Which, years later, they claim they lost.\u201d<\/p>\n

Reading through Emmanuel\u2019s case file, I noticed a few things. Fingerprints on the glass belonged to both Emmanuel and Louis. Glass found placed in the trash. The cops told Emmanuel to confess that he broke in through<\/i><\/em> the window. But the question remains: What kind of robber breaks in and then places the glass in trash bins? There were also a pair of pliers and knife found near the window which fits with Emmanuel\u2019s narrative that Louie was being locked in<\/i><\/em> the house by Bonnie and Tony.<\/p>\n

After his arrest, Emmanuel awaited trial, locked up in Baltimore City Detention Center for a year and a half. Feeling his fate was sealed, he attempted an escape.<\/p>\n

\n

From the Archives and Re-mastered, #DavidLangwallner<\/a>'s recalls his work on behalf of the @innocence<\/a> in #Kenya<\/a> and draws his own conclusions. #harrygleeson<\/a> @amandaknox<\/a> @AdamRamsay<\/a> @sunnystolentime<\/a> @AlanDersh<\/a> @kieranfagan<\/a> @think_or_swim<\/a> @whittledaway<\/a> https:\/\/t.co\/bf37bNuaZQ<\/a><\/p>\n

— CassandraVoices (@VoicesCassandra) January 10, 2020<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n