Justice failed, p.8
Justice Failed, page 8
8.
More Appeals and Post-Conviction Efforts
After the second conviction, I would be at the mercy of the time-consuming, very frustrating appeal process again. My case went back to Barbara Kamm in the State Appellate Defender’s office.
Kamm immediately initiated two steps: Because I was broke, she “ghost-wrote” a post-conviction petition for me, which I filed pro se26 on October 21, 1997, and, at the same time, she submitted a new appeal.
In the appeal, she argued that I was denied a fair trial because: I wasn’t permitted to present “relevant evidence to show that Andrew Wilson committed this offense [the murder at McDonald’s] with Edgar Hope, and Logan [I] was misidentified.” She cited numerous examples.
Kamm’s appeal was rejected on December 22, 1997, three years after my second conviction. The court held that there was no error in precluding evidence pertaining to Andrew Wilson because I was allowed “to present substantial amount of evidence in support of the defense of mistaken identity.” Numerous other of our arguments were also rejected.
As a result of my pro se petition, the Cook County Public Defender’s office was appointed to assist me on a post-conviction petition. My case was supervised by Harold J. Winston who, along with his staff, worked tirelessly on my behalf. Kamm volunteered to continue to help. Erica L. Reddick, assistant public defender,27 was originally assigned to my case and Winston, after he became the unit supervisor in early 2000, agreed to serve as cocounsel and lead attorney. Joining the defense team were Noel Zupancic, an investigator, Christine Komperda, a paralegal, and Elizabeth Turillo, a senior law student who conducted research and drafted documents.
For the next eight years, from 2000–2007, Winston’s group: reinterviewed witnesses, sought out possible new ones, interviewed prisoners, and reviewed transcripts and police reports. Winston’s team achieved good results, getting affidavits from the following people:
Gail Hilliard, who was a McDonald’s employee and was working the night of the shooting. She swore that I wasn’t in the restaurant at the time of the murder, stating, when shown a photo of me, “There’s no doubt in my mind that Andrew Wilson was the person who pulled out the sawed-off shotgun and shot Lloyd Wickliffe on Jan. 11, 1982.” She had not been interviewed before by any of my attorneys.
Thomas Bennett, who was a Chicago detective on my case in 1982. He said when he visited a dying friend, Charles R. Grunhard, also a detective, in Mountain Home, Arkansas, Grunhard told him that while he and Burge were drinking, Burge admitted that police had the wrong man in the McDonald’s case and the right man was Andrew Wilson. (Grunhard died in 1990.) Bennett also said when he first interviewed Anthonette Dawson, one of the three witnesses who identified me as the killer, she didn’t tell him she knew who fired the shotgun at Wickliffe. However, in later interviews, she accused me of killing Wickliffe.
Terrance “Terry” Babers, Dawson’s boyfriend, who contradicted Dawson’s testimony. He said Dawson didn’t mention she knew who the shooter was, or that she ever saw me and Hope together.
Pamela Johnson,28 who was working as a cashier in McDonald’s the night of the shooting, but wasn’t called as a witness at either of my trials. She said she “did not see Alton Logan” in the restaurant that night.
Winston and Zupancic went to three different prisons to interview inmates. Two signed affidavits that Hope and/or Wilson had told them I was innocent and the third said he was aware of an affidavit that Wilson had drafted in which he confessed to the crime, and exonerated me. (I discuss that affidavit in Chapter 11.)
The defense team found huge gaps in police files. Many reports were missing and even former Police Superintendent Richard J. Brzeczek testified at one hearing that the reports should have been in the files.
I have outlined in some detail the appeals and post-conviction processes to show how time-consuming they are, and why my emotions fluctuated wildly with spirits rising when appeals were filed, and crushed when courts rejected our arguments.
I rested my hopes on Winston and his staff finding evidence that might get me another—yes, a third—trial. My lawyers were vigilant in their attempts to do so.
We also lost time on some procedural matters. For instance, we filed a motion in 2002 to have a special prosecutor take over the case because the head of the Cook County State’s Attorney Office, Richard Devine, had once represented Jon Burge. In April, Cook County Circuit Court Judge Paul Biebel, Jr., assigned the case to the Attorney General’s Office, which handled the prosecution for the next six years (2002–08.) I think this was the right thing to do, but the move didn’t mean much as to my legal efforts to get a third trial, and it slowed the process.
As we searched for legal avenues we might pursue, I had an idea. I had read about DNA testing and how it was being used to prove innocence or guilt. The DNA science began to be applied in criminal investigations in the 1970s and became more sophisticated in the ’80s. I asked my attorneys to see if we could conduct some DNA testing on the shotgun and the shell found in McDonald’s. Maybe, just maybe, we could find Wilson’s DNA on both, or even just the shell or the shotgun. The attorneys agreed with me and started the process. Sure, the odds were not good. But we had nothing to lose if we didn’t find anything.
As we worked on new legal strategies, I got a most unbelievable break, one that no one could have predicted. It had nothing to do with evidence, witnesses, police reports, affidavits, or court proceedings, and it proved that my mother was right when she repeatedly told me, “The truth will come out one day.”
9.
Affidavit Discovered
Harold Winston, the lead attorney on my defense team, was heading home on the Burlington Northern Santa Fe (BNSF) train at about 5:30 p.m. He sat down when a Page One story in The Chicago Reader caught his attention. Under the headline, “The Persistence of Andrew Wilson,” the lead of the story by John Conroy on November 29, 2007, read:
Andrew Wilson, the notorious killer of Chicago police officers William Fahey and Richard O’Brien, is dead. Wilson, who was serving a life sentence at Menard Correctional Center, died of natural causes November 19 in a hospital in Belleville, Illinois.
In other reports on Wilson’s death, Derek Schnapp, a spokesman for the Illinois Department of Corrections, said Wilson had been dealing with “health related” issues. Schnapp refused to elaborate because Wilson’s family didn’t want the cause revealed.
The Reader story reminded Winston that someone over the years had suggested that if Wilson died in prison, he should contact Wilson’s 1982 attorneys (Dale Coventry and Jamie Kunz) about my case. In our interviews with Winston, he couldn’t remember who gave him this advice. He said it might have been people in his office or a paralegal who heard it from someone who had talked with Jamie Kunz.
Coventry was unequivocal in our interviews that he never talked with anyone about the affidavit and its contents, and Andrea Lyon also maintained she never broke her silence. Kunz, however, acknowledged that he mentioned it many times to friends and associates. If the subject of innocent people serving prison sentences was discussed, he would say he knew of such a situation. He would talk about my case but didn’t mention any names.
“I talked about it . . . in the course of these years . . . at least to say I know of a case where a guy’s serving a natural life sentence for a crime he didn’t do and the reason I know is that my client did it, and told me he did it, and I can’t talk about it,” Kunz said. “I’ve been fairly discreet about that, moved mostly by self-pity, and besides, it’s a cracking good story. Coventry swears up and down he didn’t talk and I believe him. Put the blame on me. I’ll take it.”
His stories may have reached the person who advised Winston to contact Coventry and Kunz.
Kunz may also have been the source of rumors Barbara Kamm heard about some kind of “secret affidavit” testifying to my innocence.
Whoever was the source of the advice to contact Coventry and Kunz, Winston, when he reached his office the next day, called Coventry.29 He wasn’t in, so Winston left a message. Coincidentally, Kunz called Winston on another matter. The two decided to meet at Kunz’s home to discuss Wilson’s death and what it might mean for me.
Kunz briefed Winston about the affidavit and that Wilson confessed to Kunz and Coventry that, “I was the guy with the shotgun.” Winston telephoned Coventry who said he wouldn’t release the affidavit voluntarily. He asked Winston to file a motion for disclosure and have a judge order him to do so.
Coventry said, in his interviews with Berl, he wanted to make sure that everything would be done properly and legally, that there would be no mistakes. “I was taking every legal step I could to make sure it would work. I was trying to make it as legal as possible to avoid any challenges and to make sure it would be OK.
“The issue was whether I would volunteer information and the answer was, ‘No.’ But, do I respond to a court order and the answer is, ‘Yes.’”
I found out that Wilson died at about the same time, and I called Winston, who confirmed Wilson’s death. He said he already knew about it, and that he had talked to Coventry and planned a meeting with him.
The next thing I remember was that Winston called to notify me about the affidavit. He summarized what Kunz had said about the document. I wasn’t sure what it might mean. I didn’t know much about the law. Yes, it sounded good. Yet, I didn’t want to be too happy. I had been through too much.
Finally, I said to myself, someone has come forward and told the truth. I’ve been saying for more than twenty-five years, “It wasn’t me.” Winston also called members of my family to advise them about the affidavit, and he expressed hope that this would free me.
I felt a little optimistic. I knew it all depended on what the prosecutors would say—if this gets to court. They fought me all the way throughout the years. I was sure they would fight me again. I wasn’t totally confident that the affidavit would help me.
I was also upset. If it was true that these lawyers had evidence that I was innocent, how could they not say anything for all those years? How could they keep quiet when they knew an innocent man was rotting in prison? I thought the following, “You know the facts, and still you don’t come forward to let it be known.” I couldn’t understand that. Yes, later, when I learned why Coventry and Kunz kept silent, I gave them credit for following the rules. The attorneys were the only ones who did.
During the court hearings and the ensuing publicity, I read an Associated Press story that two years earlier—in about 2006—Kunz called Coventry to check on the affidavit. The two had not talked in about ten years.
In the story, Kunz is quoted as saying, “We’re both getting along in years. You ought to do something with that affidavit to make sure it’s not wasted in case we both leave this good Earth.” Coventry assured Kunz that the affidavit was in a safe place. Coventry believed that if he died, and my case was still at issue, his daughter, also an attorney, would find it, decipher its meaning and take the appropriate actions. Kunz and Coventry didn’t talk again until Winston called after Wilson’s death.
On December 17, 2007, Winston filed a motion, asking the court to order disclosure of the affidavit. The motion summarized how I had maintained that I was innocent and recapped the entire case. It stated that Coventry and Kunz: “. . . have advised counsel (Winston) that they are willing to come forward and disclose what Andrew Wilson communicated to them [in March 1982] about his involvement in the McDonald’s case if this court enters an order either directing or authorizing them to do so in the interests of justice.”
The motion also pointed out why the order is permitted under the law and, most importantly, enumerated how at the second trial vital evidence was barred from being entered into the record. This evidence included the facts that:
Wilson hid the shotgun he fired to kill Wickliffe in McDonald’s in his aunt’s beauty shop where it was found.
Hope was a frequent partner of Wilson’s in the crimes the two committed.
Wilson planned to break Hope out of the Cook County Hospital, where he was recuperating from a gunshot wound suffered when he was arrested for killing a police officer on the CTA bus.
One of the witnesses against me, Charles Trent, testified that Wilson and I had a similar appearance. That alone should have created doubt about his identification of me as the shooter.
The motion also cited other new evidence, including affidavits from several witnesses who stated that I wasn’t in the McDonald’s the night of the murder.
In making the case for disclosure, Winston wrote, “Freedom to make these disclosures may open up leads to additional evidence of Alton’s innocence. An innocent man should not be left to languish in prison.”
The case was assigned to Cook County Circuit Court Judge James M. Schreier and, from what I heard, I finally got a break—a big break.
Coventry told Berl that having Judge Schreier preside over the case, “was the best thing that could have happened to Alton Logan. Judge Schreier is one of the few completely honorable men in that court system.”
On January 11, 2008—on the twenty-sixth anniversary of the murder—Judge Schreier granted our motion, stating, “Attorneys Dale Coventry and William Jameson Kunz are free to discuss what Andrew Wilson told them about his involvement in the shooting at McDonald’s on January 11, 1982, with attorneys in this case.” He ruled that Wilson had waived his attorney-client confidentiality privilege regarding the McDonald’s murder once he died. Both Coventry and Kunz testified at that hearing about their conversation with Wilson.
My case was attracting public interest, and we were contacted by 60 Minutes. The producer said they wanted to do a story on me. I think 60 Minutes learned about my case from stories in Chicago media outlets. I told Winston I had no problem with doing that. The reporter, Bob Simon, first talked to Coventry and Kunz and later came to the Stateville Correctional Center in Crest Hill, Illinois to interview me.
The segment aired Sunday, March 9. As a result, that brought more attention to my unique situation, particularly in Chicago, and from then on I received lots of publicity. Most of it was very favorable, more than favorable. The public was outraged. No one could understand it. Kunz said years later, after my release, he didn’t expect such a reaction. He said many demanded his and Coventry’s disbarment, others recommended the two be fined, and some suggested that he and Coventry be imprisoned for twenty-six years.
“The feeling of release [when I was freed in 2008],” Kunz said, “was so powerful, I could live with the brickbats.”
In his filing that the Kunz–Coventry affidavit should be admitted at our hearing, Winston also argued that extensive evidence existed that I didn’t commit the murder. This evidence included:
Sworn statements by a McDonald’s employee, Gail Hilliard, that the man with the shotgun was Andrew Wilson. As I have mentioned, she hadn’t been called previously to testify in my case. Her statement was corroborated by Pamela Johnson, also a McDonald’s employee, who knew me. She said she didn’t see me in the restaurant the night of the murder. I referred to her earlier as well.
The fact that the shotgun used at McDonald’s was found February 1982 along with guns belonging to the two police officers killed by Andrew Wilson in his aunt’s beauty shop.
Testimony by Donald White to whose home Wilson and Hope went after the shooting that Andrew Wilson committed the crime with Hope. We also had statements from his brothers as to my innocence.
Wilson’s involvement in several other crimes with Edgar Hope.
“Denying the admission of this affidavit and testimony would deprive Alton of his constitutional right to present a complete defense,” Winston wrote. Winston stated that my rights had been “trampled on” at my trials when crucial evidence was barred from admission, witnesses on my behalf were not permitted to testify, and we were denied the right to challenge prosecution witnesses.
We presented an affidavit from Marc Miller dated February 25, 2008, in which he swore that Hope firmly maintained, in his second or third interview, that I was innocent. Hope didn’t understand how I was charged, Miller stated in the affidavit. Hope didn’t know who I was, and he gave him (Miller) names of people who would verify that he committed crimes only with Andrew Wilson.
Miller added that Hope “leaned” heavily on him to make sure he told Rimland that I was innocent, and that Rimland should do his job by conducting a thorough investigation to have the charges against me dropped. Miller acknowledged that he couldn’t permit Hope to talk to Rimland.
“Because my conscience was troubled about what to do, I waited before I informed Rimland that his client, Alton Logan, was innocent,” Miller swore in his affidavit.30 He also said he let Jim Sorensen,31 one of two lawyers in my second trial, know that I was innocent.
On March 10, Miller testified before Judge Schreier. Although he was living in Florida, he had called Winston and volunteered to come to court. At the hearing, Miller said that Hope denied ever having seen me before I was indicted for the McDonald’s murder, and ordered him to tell Rimland that I was innocent. Hope also urged that Miller could go out into his neighborhood and verify what he was telling him about Wilson being his only partner.
Hope demanded, at least five or six times, that Miller see Rimland. “He was ordering, haranguing me to seek out Mr. Rimland,” Miller testified.
Miller assured Hope he would do as he directed, i.e. tell Rimland about my innocence and check Hope’s story in the neighborhood. He testified he went to meet Coventry and Kunz to tell them that, in fact, their client, Wilson, was guilty of the McDonald’s murder.
Miller admitted he was “surprised, shocked, upset, concerned, confused about what I should be doing.”
