To Free the Truth

As I mentioned in my story, I was 16 when I arrived at the Garza West Unit, a maximum intake facility. My brother and I “caught chain” (rode the bus) there together with about 50 others from Harris County Jail. It was the first time, I’d seen him since trial and the only quality time I’d spent with him since before Ray died. Handcuffed together, we talked about our family, appeals, and hope for our future. We both hoped we’d be assigned to the same unit after the intake process at Garza but realized it was unlikely because the TDCJ doesn’t like to house family together. Once we stepped off the chain bus and received our TDCJ-ID numbers, we were assigned to different dorms. 

Garza West and Garza East were built on the old airforce base Chase Field in Beeville, Texas. The inmates are housed in dormatories made of sheet metal. Think of living in a tin box with the South Texas sun heating it up in 105 degree weather. There were two large fans to each dorm, but they only circulated hot air. It felt like living in an oven. I tried to stay out of the dorm as much as possible during the day for more than just the heat. The predators hung out in there watching T.V., gambling at the domino table, and doing unspeakable things behind the bunks in the back of the dorm beyond the guards’ observation.

I went before a committee my first day there to determine my housing and job assignment. Being a skinny kid, I’d hoped to get in the kitchen to put on a few pounds. When I asked the warden about it, he bared his tobacco stained teeth and in the deepest redneck voice you’ve ever heard said, “Boy, we gone start a young’un like you in da fields. Come see me when you got some whiskers on ya face, then we’ll see about a food service job.”

Think of slaves on a plantation with the slave owners on horses with whips, cracking them to push the slaves harder. Only here, all the slaves weren’t black, and the master wielded a gun. Everyone had an “aggie” (hoe), You form a line and beat the dirt while the “lead row” (lead inmate) sings in the scorching sun. It’s tedious work, monotonously beating on dirt in time with a tune, and it only pissed me off because I didn’t believe I deserved to be here for a crime my father committed especially when trustee inmates would come around later with a tractor and plow the field we were hitting on in an hour. In other words, all of our hard work was inconsequential. That just added insult to injury. 

My brother and I caught chain from Harris County with a guy tattooed from head to toe. We called him “Scratch” because a lot of his ink looked like it was scratched on. He’d been inside before, so he tried to lace us up on how everything works, what to expect, how to act, etc….Scratch told me he was going to try to get to Jester 4 unit, a psychiatric unit that, according to him, was air conditioned, had hospital bunks that reclined with the push of a button, cable T.V., great food, and pretty nurses who treated you like a human. I asked him how to get to such a place and he just told me to “act crazy” as in tell them I hear voices and see things that aren’t there. 

I didn’t really want to leave my brother, but I felt like we’d soon be sent to different farms anyway. Besides, I was tired of the hot dorms and the hard work after only 3 weeks. Scratch said you didn’t have to work and you lived with psych patients on Jester 4, nothing like the predators on Garza and the other units. So, I told the psych doctor that my field boss’ horse was stealing my thoughts, and that I had suicidal thoughts because I kept hearing my dead uncle calling me from the other side. The next day I was sent to the Skyview Unit, a psychiatric unit in Rusk, Texas.

Most people have misconceptions about prison and what actually happens on the inside. You might be surprised to learn that inmates in the TDCJ don’t have access to swimming pools, tennis courts, microwaves, or the Internet contrary to popular belief. In fact, high security inmates on death row, ad. seg., and close custody don’t have access to televisions. It’s not that I’m complaining; I just want everyone to understand the truth of the matter. That’s roughly 20% of the 155,000 inmates here. 

The TDCJ is divided into 3 main security levels–minimum, medium, and maximum. For my purposes, I’ll describe the functions of a maximum security facility, which houses inmates of all security levels. 

A maximum security facility such as McConnell unit has two sides–A side and B side. A side is minimum custody or the ‘job’ side. Unless you are a confirmed gang member, have a high profile case, or were an extremely bad actor in the county jail prior to coming to prison, you start off on minimum custody. These prisoners run the ‘farm.’ They work in the kitchen, laundry, maintenance, commissary, paint crew, barber shop, clean up crews, they do clerk work, and a few even work the fields. B side houses medium custody, close custody, and ad. seg. (administrative segregation). On Polunsky unit, the ad. seg. building houses death row. 

Minimum custody inmates have T.V.’s in the dayrooms which are recreation rooms close to the housing area with benches and tables to sit on. Here you can play games such as dominos and chess or even write a letter. Each building has a large outside recreation yard with a universal weight machine, basketball court, and handball court. As long as you aren’t at work or on restriction, you can use the dayroom or outside rec yard from 7:30 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. on weekdays and until 1 a.m. on weekends. 

Additional privileges for minimum custody inmates include admission to educational programs (i.e. GED classes, vocationals, college academics), the craft shop (woodworking, leather working, and art), and sporting tournaments. Minimum custody spends $85 commissary every two weeks if they have the money to spend. Contact visits are also possible for minimum custody. At a contact visit, you can sit with your family, hold hands, and even kiss them goodbye. Non contact visits occur with a glass partition separating inmate from visitor and you talk to each other via telephone receiver. Minimum can have 1 regular visit per week which lasts 2 hours. A special visit is reserved for family or friends which live over 300 miles from the unit. These visits are 4 hours a day on consecutive days (2 days only). You must be minimum custody to get 1 special visit a month. 

Chronic rule violators find themselves on B side, medium custody. Here your only job is the fields. Picking cotton and vegetables or pounding on dirt with a hoe or ‘aggie’ is your typical task. You are only allowed 4 hours of rec time a day, 2 regular non contact visits per month (no special visits), and GED classes only. Medium custody can spend up to $30 every 2 weeks on commissary. You generally 6-9 months on medium custody without a major disciplinary case before making minimum custody. 

Close custody is supposed to be for the most aggressive inmates. Fighting with a weapon, assault, or even multiple fights will land you on close custody. Here you can’t work anywhere. You only get 1 regular non-contact visit a month (no specials) and just 2 hours of rec a day. There’s no TV on close custody. Close custody can spend up to $20 commissary every two weeks. It takes about 9 months to a year without a major case to make medium custody from close custody. 

Death row and ad seg are housed on the same building, under a totally different set of rules than the general population. There’s a level system similar to behavioral modification of the custody system in general population. You are never allowed physical contact with anyone. Every time you leave your cell you must be handcuffed and escorted by two officers with riot batons. 

Ad seg/death row level 1’s have all of their property, get to recreate in a day room (no T.V.) or outside rec yard 10 hours a week. They get to spend $85 every 2 weeks on commissary. Level 1’s also get 1 regular noncontact visit per week (1 special visit a month), no contact visits. Level 2’s don’t have any electrical appliances except a fan. They get 4 hours of rec per week, no commissary privileges except $20 hygiene and stamps, and only 2 regular non contact visits each month (no specials). Level 3’s are treated the same as level 2’s except they get only 3 hours of rec a week and only 1 regular visit (non-contact) each month.

With close to 14 years experience in a maximum security facility, I have countless stories from both sides of a farm. For your convenience, they will be recorded under two subcategories: general population and the row.

A pointing finger of blame has a powerful hold on even the most informed and intelligent of juries.

                                        –Dr. Elizabeth Loftus

It astounds me that anyone, especially in a court of law, can still put so much weight on eyewitness testimony. Our system recognizably puts incredible faith in the accuracy of a person to see, perceive, and recall events and people. The very thought is rather disturbing. With all the current information available about the fallibility of human memory, you would think people would recognize the need to take such testimony with a grain of salt. This simply isn’t what happens, though. In a mock trial study conducted by Dr. Elizabeth Loftus, mock jurors were presented with a murder case. In the first trial, prosecutors presented circumstantial evidence alone. Conviction rates were less than 20%. With the addition of an eyewitness, conviction rates increased to more than 70%. Even when that witness had 20/400 vision, which is far past the mark for legal blindness at 20/200, conviction rates were still 68%. That alone speaks volumes about the impact a witness can have, even an unreliable one. It is imperative, though, that juries recognize that misidentification can and does happen as a result of the imperfect processes of our memories. Without doing so, there is a clear danger that anyone can be wrongly convicted of a crime–an ending that can lead to tragic results.

One of the biggest problems here is that most of society has no real concept of how our memories operate. These misconceptions greatly impact a jury’s ability to fairly judge a trial in a court of law–especially in cases where the defendant’s life is on the line. We do not, as popular belief would have it, store images and events like a video recorder to be played back whenever we feel the urge or need to use a particular memory. Instead, long term memories are placed in mental drawers. These drawers are tightly packed and are constantly rifled through in search of this information or that. Things are unloaded, milled about, and replaced in no particular order. As Dr. Loftus states in her article Witness for the Defense: The Accused, the Eyewitness, and the Expert Who Puts Memory on Trial, “As new bits and pieces of information are added into long-term memory, the old memories are removed, replaced, crumpled up, or shoved into corners. Little details are added, confusing or extraneous elements are deleted, and a coherent construction of the facts is gradually created that may bear little resemblance to the original event.” Mistakes are inherent, too, because “we consciously fill in any gaps in the information with inferences to make the memory whole.”

Memories both diminish and grow. The initial perception fades. With each recalling or retelling of the information, the memory is changed. Each time later events are stored in the drawer on top of that initial memory, things change. According to Dr. Loftus, “We interpret the past, correcting ourselves, adding bits and pieces, deleting uncomplimentary or disturbing recollections, sweeping, dusting, tidying things up.” Memory, then, is not a permanently fixed part of our human processes. It is a constantly shifting and changing reality. Memories often hold a great power over us in this way even to the extent that we believe we saw something we did not.

Memory should also be understood to occur in 3 stages. Mistakes or errors can occur at each of these stages alone or in combination. The first stage involves perceiving and encoding the information to be stored. There are many factors which can greatly affect how we perceive, acquire, and encode information. Event factors have enormous power over perception. In terms of witnessing a crime, the lighting, distance between the witness and event, the duration of the viewing of the event, arousal/stimulation/stress levels, presence of a weapon, witness’ intake of prescription medications (e.g. Xanax), existence of prior expectations, personal biases and more affect the way the crime is perceived.

The second stage involves storage. The storage of information is affected by both decay and interference. Decay is just the natural loss of information over time. Memory is not static. Forgetting is fact. Interference occurs when new information replaces old information. This can be caused by misleading questions, suggestibility, and more. A study by Gorenstein and Ellsworth showed that the likelihood of an eyewitness correctly identifying faces was decreased after they viewed mugshots. Dr. Loftus also conducted a study in which participants viewed a car crash and were then asked several questions. One of these questions involved false information about a barn–there was no barn in the film. When questioned a week later, 17% of the participants remembered seeing a barn. Even the tiniest bit of new information has the power to corrupt and change a memory. Police questioning, when constructed the right way, can certainly alter the original memory leading to misidentification.

The third stage of memory is retrieval. This stage involves recalling the information we’ve stored in our memory drawers. Again, suggestive questions can have a great impact here as can feedback from investigators. Dr. Loftus conducted yet another study about memory in which participants were asked to view a film of an auto accident and were then asked to estimate the speed of the approaching vehicle. Some participants were asked how fast the car was going when the two vehicles ’smashed’ together while others were asked when the vehicles made contact. The first group answered an average of 40.8 mph while the others answered 31.8 on average. While this doesn’t seem like a great difference, depending on the speed limit in the area, that 9 mph difference could make or break the case in a civil trial or even possibly even a vehicular manslaughter case. Positive feedback can also change the memory. A study conducted by Wells and Bradfield asked participants to watch an 8 second security camera video taken at the scene of a real murder shows a male walking into a store. Right after he passes the field of the camera, he shoots and kills a security guard. The video was of bad quality but was slowed considerably to allow the viewers to intake as much as possible. Participants were then asked to identify the person in  a 5 photo lineup that did include pictures used during the actual investigation but not of the true perpetrator. All participants were told the gunman was in the photo lineup and each one layed finger on 1 of the 5 photos. The participants were divided into 3 groups–no feedback, negative feedback, and positive feedback. After identifying a suspect, each person was asked how sure they were of their choice and about how well they could see the perpetrator and make out the details of his face. The feedback was enough to alter information. Those who were given negative feedback were only certain of their choice about 15% of the time while 50% of the positive feedback group was certain they had identified the right man. Almost all the participants stated that the feedback had no effect on their certainty level, yet there is an obvious difference.

There are other factors too which can affect our memories. In a criminal investigation, we are affected by our own eagerness to please investigators. There is often a reward we gain from this and we attempt to obtain it even if that reward is simply thinking good of ourselves or gaining the respect of the investigator questioning you.  Even when the witness isn’t sure about an identification they will still try hard to make one and often choose a person who best fits their perception of the criminal. All too often, that choice is wrong. Also, when we’ve made an identification, even when wrong, there is very little chance that identification will be recanted. We have constructed a new memory and it has taken hold replacing the actual sequence of events. Unconscious transference is another issue. This occurs when a witness will identify a person they have seen previously or see regularly as the perpetrator in a crime. A study conducted by Robert Bukhout in 1974 shows how this occurs. An assault was staged in view of 141 observers. Several weeks later, these observers were asked to identify the person in a 6 photo lineup 60% chose the wrong person. Of those who misidentified the perp, over 60% chose someone else who was in the crowd at the scene.

It is or should be reasonably easy to see the flaws of relying on eyewitnesses in a case. Juries have historically put too much emphasis on this kind of evidence leading to far too many wrongful convictions. In a study of 65 such convictions performed by Edwin M. Borchard, 45% could be attributed to false identification. In another similar study by Arye Rattner in 1983, out of 200 erroneous convictions, 52.3% could be attributed to misidentification by eyewitnesses. Of course, it’s not saying that all or even most witnesses intentionally lie, but they are human and it’s accurate to say that human memories have high chances of being completely wrong. When you’re discussing cases involving the death penalty, it must be pointed out that a mistake by a witness can’t be reversed. The person doesn’t go to prison for a few years and return home. That person is strapped to a bed and injected with a combination of drugs which permanently stops the processes of life. A tragic end for them, for those that love them, and for the entire system as justice as tossed in the garbage.

So, how does all this relate to a case like Robert’s? As you’ve likely read in his story, the state’s case against him was almost solely based on the testimony of 5 inmate witnesses. For one, as we’ve related, each and every one of those witnesses were offered rewards for testifying. The obvious assumption here is that these 5 people lied in order to get ahead…to profit, persay, off the TDCJ’s focus on Robert. If, for one reason or another, that seems hard to believe, then simply look at the facts presented here. Take into consideraton that 1 of his accusers saw him commit the crime yet this person had obvious vision problems. He couldn’t identify Robert correctly to begin with, pointing, instead, at the attorney seated at the defense table. He couldn’t correctly identify Robert until he was about 5 feet away from him…I wouldn’t have counted on his ability to see the crime as it occurred and correctly identify the witness. He probably had no idea what he was looking at…if he saw anything at all. Knowing that any legitimate witness has a great likelihood of being wrong, how could anyone convict when no physical evidence can be found to link the suspect to the crime? It’s just one more thing that doesn’t add up.

“You didn’t see that,” is a common refrain among officers inside McConnell, one boss told me. The free world rarely even tries to look, and that is how the agency prefers it.

                                                  –N. Blakeslee in Shades of Gray

There are multiple reasons why my attorneys called guards in to testify in rebuttal of the inmate witnesses against me but not any inmates on the unit the day of the murder. When I first spoke with investigator Jim Dixon, who the court hired for me, I was still toying with the idea of suicide by state, so I didn’t offer many names of people who might corroborate my story. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have done any good because all but 2 of the inmates Mr. Dixon interviewed refused to sign a statement and testify on my behalf. While many told him things favorable to my defense, they feared getting retaliated against by the TDCJ not to mention having their parole denied. 

I corresponded with a couple of inmates on McConnell unit after I was transferred to Michaels unit. They informed me that over 100 white inmates were placed on 7 building and locked down for over 2 months after Nagle’s death. They were harassed in many ways, including being denied showers, necessities such as clean clothes, hygiene, and cleaning supplies, and visitation. After weeks without a shower, a few guys on 1 row broke their toilets in protest. Horace Groves wrote that all of 1 row was flooded and you see chunks of feces floating around but no one cleaned it up. When they brought johnny sacks around for meals, the guards ordered the inmates to kneel down in that filthy water if they wanted to eat. Most refused choosing to starve instead. The guards told them life would get considerably better if they would sign statements against me. 

Warden Johns ordered video recording of all movements and operations concerning me upon my arrival on Michaels unit–for my own protection. I couldn’t recreate, shower, or eat without the camera rolling. Despite this and other measures, the guards found ways to make my life hell–banging on my window and walls while I slept, trashing my cell when I went to shower, and once a lieutenant spit in my food before he told the camera operator to roll the tape. Of course, I refused the tray which is what he wanted. 

An inmate down the run who wanted to be kind to be offered me a few shots of coffee and some mint sticks. I tied a string together to try to ‘fish’ the goods under the door. As soon as he had the stuff tied on my line and out on the run for me to pull, the gate popped open and several guards stormed the run, confiscating the coffee and mint sticks. They yelled at the inmate and threatened the entire run, “If we catch anyone giving Pruett anything, you won’t eat, plus it’s a disciplinary case. Pruett don’t get shit except a meal.”

Only 2 inmates ever tried to help me. Kevin Vecshi and Damont Jackson, neither of which were on McConnell at the time of Nagle’s slaying. Vecshi testified that Anthony Casey, who testified against me, told him that he knew I didn’t kill Nagle. That he, Casey, just wanted to get pending criminal charges dismissed. Jackson said he overheard Casey say that he knew a “Mexican” did it, but the court refused to let Jackson testify. 

Vecshi and Jackson were transferred to Connally unit with the state’s inmate witnesses prior to my trial. They both told the judge that the staff on Connally unit wouldn’t let them have their personal property including hygiene because they were testifying on my behalf, yet all of the state’s witnesses received their property while waiting their turn to take the stand… Treatment like this and the above mentioned harassment deterred inmates from trying to help me.

In light of these fundamental violations of the Constitution, the Texas Rules of Evidence, and the trial court’s pretrial discovery order, Pruett’s conviction should be set aside

   –Judge Joel Johnson to the Criminal Court of Appeals

The law requires jurors to presume a criminal defendant innocent until the state proves guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Defense attorneys are explicit in their explanation of this law, and every member of the jury swears to follow it, but how many honestly do? Think about it. On one side of a courtroom you have what many believe to be the noble prosecutors, dressed in expensive suits that exude authority. These are the defenders of justice, hard at work fighting crime. Now, look over at the defendant typically dressed in cheap street clothes, if not prison garb, who has been charged with a crime. I believe a lot of jurors start out thinking the defendant and his lawyer are the bad guys while the prosecutors and their team are the good guys. These jurors-honestly hardworking Joes and Janes-naturally wonder why the good guys would hall the bad guy in here, spend all the money to take him/her to trial, if they weren’t sure he or she is guilty. No doubt about it, the burden of proof quickly shifts to the defense. It’s no longer innocent until proven guilty in a courtroom once the trial commences; despite your Constitutionally guaranteed rights, you are guilty until you prove your innocence whenever you’re in that defendant’s chair. 

My case is a perfect example. In fact, I was even further behind the 8-ball than most. I’d already been convicted of murder once, which the jury learned by the reading of my indictment prior to opening arguments. They heard this on that indictment because the circumstances which caused the case to be capital was my being in prison for murder already–a conviction I was not allowed to expand on. The jury never heard that I was convicted under the law of parties for a crime committed by my father.  So, there I am, a convicted murderer in prison charged with killing a guard. Oh, being covered in tattoos didn’t help perceptions either. You don’t think that jury wanted me to prove I was innocent?

Sadly, my prosecutors not only exploited this advantage, they illegally obtained a conviction by not playing by the rules. Judge Joel Johnson granted a “discovery of evidence” order during pretrial hearings. Basically, the state was required to give my lawyers names and statements of all witnesses against me so I could prepare a defense. Judge Johnson had something come up, though, and traveling judge J. Villareal tried the case. Judge Villareal let the prosecution get away with anything and everything including violating the discovery of evidence order of Judge Johnson which still applied to my case. During the rebuttal phase of trial, the prosecution sprung the testimony of witnesses Michael Hall and Michael Ross on me. Both of whom said I confessed to them. My lawyers had no way to prepare for the lies of Hall and Ross because they had no statements by these inmates. We asked the judge by statements from these inmates, but the prosecution claimed there weren’t any.

    ”What are the papers you are referring to, then?” my lawyers demanded.

    ”Notes by an investigator, not statements, ” prosecutors said. 

Judge Villareal looked at the “notes” and decided they weren’t statements and not subject to disclosure under the order of discovery. 

During a post-conviction hearing, Judge Johnson was made aware of all of this. He reviewed the notes compiled by the state’s investigator on Hall and Ross. Under the Texas Rules of Evidence, he said they clearly constitute witness statements and handed them over to my attorneys. These “notes” were clearly inconsistent with the Hall and Ross’ testimony. Judge Johnson concluded that the prosecutors had committed prosecutorial misconduct. In his Proposed Findings of Facts and Conclusions of Law, he wrote, “The accused has the right to inspect evidence material to his defense. The court has authority to make such evidence discoverable and did in this cause…The state acted in bad faith in withholding the information on Hall and Ross, deliberately disregarding the Court’s order to obtain an advantage. The trial court (Judge Villareal) abused its discretion in allowing the testimony of Hall and Ross…The prosecution had in its possession detailed summaries of interviews with Hall and Ross–these consitute witness statements under 615f (2) Rules of Evidence. These witness statements contain inconsistencies with trial testimony. The failure of the court to compel production harmed Pruett, violating his Constitutional right to confront his accusers.”

Is it not enough that presumption of innocence is a myth, that the burden of proof shifts to a criminal defendant and he or she must prove innocence? I guess not in my case. Prosecutorial misconduct should lead to that prosecutor being disbarred. Maybe that would make district attorneys think twice about cheating to win a conviction. Defenders of law and order and justice? Please. Prosecutors look at convictions at notches in their belts; I doubt most care how they get them.

Our decisions in this system depend on the collective votes of jury members, usually 12, at each trial. We expect this jury to make an informed, impartial decision. Jury trials are only good practice in theory, though, and for several reasons.

First, utilizing a working group of people to make a decision together is the same as asking just one person to do so. It is our tendency on a primitive level as social creatures to follow the herd, to conform. As Richard Dawkins states in his essay Trial by Jury, “juries are massively swayed by one or two vocal individuals.” We use multiple member juries hoping that the group will be able to hash out the topic together with more knowledge and understanding. But, that isn’t reality. Leaders speak and the herd follows. What you have, then, is not 12 independently reached assessments of the evidence, but rather one or two assessments which influence all the rest. It’s like putting these lives in the hands of just one person to do as they see fit. With the way the jury selection process is designed, that often means that the deck is stacked against the accused to start.

Juries are complicated even more because impartial decisions are impossible to obtain. The saying is that justice is blind, but that’s certainly a flawed assessment of reality. Each juror comes armed with biases, experiences, beliefs, perceptions, prejudices, and the like. Those factors, regardless of orders to be impartial, are sociologically proven to greatly influence an individual’s decisions–especially when strong leaders with strong beliefs and biases are taking charge of juries. All of this is proven in the arbitrary manner in which death is  handed out.

You will find discrepancies across the country among the offenders who are actually punished by death. Gender plays an important role in who does and does not get death. 1 in 10 murders are committed by women, but only 1 in 50 offenders given the death penalty are female. So, females represent 10% of all murderers bu only 2% of all persons given the death penalty.

Economic status also contributes to death sentences. More often than not, offenders facing a capital trial are poor. They certainly can’t afford their own attorney and are, instead, given court appointed attorneys who are often ill trained and definitely underpaid. Many of them are, assuredly, not the cream of the crop. In Texas, for example, 1 in 4 capital offenders were represented by attorneys who have either been reprimanded for their behavior or disbarred altogether.

Race is also an issue. 96% of the states which have studied race and the death penalty show an obvious link between race of the victim,  race of the offender, or both and punishment of death.  Looking at numbers strictly, it is more than obvious to even the average joe that the victim’s race is an issue. Whites represent about half of all murder victims-close to 50%. But, when looking at the victims of capital cases, whites were the victims in 80% of them. This means that juries tend to place more value on the lives of whites more than others races.

The area of the country seems to be a huge influencing factor as well. Since reinstatement, 1136 people have been killed (more now since Texas is on a roll this year once again). Of those 1136, the South is responsible for killing 922–well over half. And, most of those were executed by Texas…about half of that 922, actually.

On a final note (but certainly not the last of these issues), death as stated in so many publications is supposed to be reserved for heinous crimes, for offenders beyond repair who have committed crimes so atrocious that death is the only solution.  But, that doesn’t happen, either. Gary Ridgeway killed 48 people in the state of Washington over decades. He admitted it and led police to several bodies. Ridgeway, deemed the Green River Killer, was given life. He ‘helped’ police and was offered a life sentence in trade. Yet, in Texas, you don’t even have to kill someone to receive death and, in fact, there are several people on death row now because of the law of parties. All you have to do is be present at the crime scene with a connection to the actual killer. You don’t have to murder, wound, or even have an intent to kill.

Some things just do not add up if we’re talking about blind justice and impartial juries.

Justice should be fair and accurate especially when you’re discussing the death of another person no matter what that person is accused of doing. Accusations do not mean guilt and the evidence should be weighed without regard for specific characteristics. Giving any type of person a death sentence more often than others completely undermines the ideas of justice, fairness, and accuracy. Instead of being based on the crimes and the evidence, it seems (and studies show) that death is merely the whim of jurors. It depends more on their personal thoughts, beliefs, and experiences than an impartial weighing of the facts. Life is too meaningful to be extinguished so casually.

A torn up disciplinary report with my name on it was found by Nagle’s body. This, undoubtedly, made investigators focus on me. The thing is, the only evidence found on that disciplinary report was an unknown palm print belonging to neither me nor Nagle. Keep in mind, the building sergeant reviews all disciplinary reports, speaks with the rule violator, then decides whether or not to sign off on it before processing. Sergeants Ortiz and Martinez were at 3 building desk with Nagle after my confrontation with him several hours before he was killed.

During cross examinations of Sgt. Ortiz and other officers, items at the crime scene which were inside a multipurpose room by 3 building desk, were logged in as being found in different locations from where the free world CSI’s found them. The guards who first found Nagle were ordered to secure the area, per protocol, for the CSI’s–not to touch anything. Based on this testimony, the crime scene had been tampered with…

The state’s case against me consists of inmates only. Only 1 inmate, Allen Thompson, signed a statement the day of the murder. Everyone else interviewed that day said they didn’t see anything. Thompson, who worked for Sgt. Martinez as an informant, claimed to witness me attacking Nagle. He then took off running to the first guard he could find. Problem is, he had to wait for Officer L. Gleiu at the 3/4 gate to open the gate before he could get to Officer Dancer, which was the first person he alerted. He told her he needed to speak with Sgt. Martinez. Officer Gleiu testified that she has no memory of seeing Thompson that day. Allen Thompson was the state’s star witness.

Once the word got out that I was the prime suspect, scores of inmates wrote investigators claiming to have witnessed the murder of Nagle. But, some of these inmates couldn’t have possibly witnessed it–prosecutors acknowledged at trial–because they were on the opposite side of the unit or not even on McConnell that day.

Every inmate who testified against me received a reward–early parole, pending criminal charges dismissed i.e. Anthony Casey had a possession of marijuana and an assault on a TDCJ officer charge dropped, and favorable treatment. Not one inmate testified for free or out of the goodness of their heart. The jury heard what each inmate’s reward was.

Also, most of those inmates changed their stories. In statements, they said one thing, but stated something different on the witness stand. Furthermore, their collective stories didn’t add up–everyone seen something different.

The prosecution argued that I cut my thumb while stabbing Nagle to death. The murder weapon was found at the scene of the crime. Pictures of it were taking of the gaping cut on my thumb. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that if I was the culprit, some of my blood or fingerprints would be in or around the crime scene? Wouldn’t some of Nagle’s blood be on me.

The crime scene was tested for physical evidence including DNA evidence. Blood wasfound at the crime scene. It all belonged to Nagle except a spot on the murder weapon that could not be identified. None of my DNA or physical evidence was found in or around the crime scene.

DNA was tested on the blood on my clothes and the torn pockets I used to stop the bleeding on my thumb. It all came back as only my blood. There is absolutely no physical link between me and this crime. It’s all in the trial record.

Defense Attorney Joseph Colina, "People lie. DNA doesn't."

It must be noted that Sgt. Martinez was indicted the same day I was for laundering $60, 000 of drug money for a prison gang. He was apprehended with the money a month after Nagle’s murder along with several other officers. Sgt. Ortiz resigned around the same time. Ortiz wasn’t implicated in anything illegal, but he and Martinez were close friends and it was widely known that both belonged to the same prison gang.

Nagle was the President of the TDCJ Worker’s Union in the Southern Region. He was famous for busting dirty guards. A week before his murder he was leading a march at the state Capital for pay raises for guards. He was then quoted as saying, “A guard will have to die before they do anything about it.” 

*See article in the links section entitled Shades of Gray*

To me, there’s no doubt I could have pointed the investigators in the direction of the murderer(s), but I’ve already explained what happens to snitches in prison. Besides, at that time, I just didn’t care about anything. In fact, I recall thinking how inept the investigators were for even considering me a suspect. I didn’t realize why they focused on me.

By the time I was indicted, I’d begun entertaining thoughts of taking the blame allowing the state to kill me. When I was 16, I slashed my arm with a razor in a failed suicide attempt. I just didn’t have the guts to do it myself, but the thought of letting the state do it sounded appealing in my convoluted head. It’d be sweet release.

In short, I put up a half-hearted defense. I never lied and said I did it, yet there was so much more I could have done to save my life. The defense I did present was a facade for my family and friends. I didn’t want anyone knowing I’d totally given up on life. That said, I got pretty emotional during the punishment phase of trial when the DA asked me, “I’m not sure I understand you. Just what are you asking this jury, Mr. Pruett?”

I looked at the jury with tears in my eyes, “I don’t care what ya’ll do. I’m going to die in prison anyway.”

I was sentenced to die by lethal injection on April 30, 2002.

December 17, 1999 seemed to embody Murphy’s Law–if something could go wrong, it did. I’d been working in the fields for the past 6 months. They usually called us out for work around 5:30 a.m. My cellmate worked the night shift sweeping the hall, but they rarely called him out so he stayed up most nights reading and drinking coffee. He could use my coffee pot as long as he had hot water ready when they called me out to work. He fell asleep early the night before and forgot to plug the coffee pot in, so when I poured water into my jar when I headed out the door, I realized it was cold then yelled at him. He rolled over, looked at me with one eye open, and rolled back under his sheet.

No coffee that morning meant more than feeling drowsy. A caffeine headache hit me hard around 10 a.m as the blistering south Texas sun scorched me. Monotonously pounding dirt with my hoe in time with the lead row’s (leader of the field squad) song didn’t help much. When the sole of my boot broke off, I dropped to my knees in frustration. If there is a god, I thought, he surely hates me.

At noon, the field lieutenant raised his cowboy hat and pointed his horse towards the back gate. “Hat time” meant time to turn in and go eat lunch. That day, for me and another guy with old boots, it meant a trip to the boot room with our field boss.

After the typical 5 minute wait in a line filled with naked men holding their clothes in their hands to be searched, our boss took us to the boot room. An hour later he led us to the chow hall in our new boots. Fried chicken, potatoes with gravy, and chocolate cake! We were hungry, that’s for sure. But, just as we approached the chow hall door, Lt. Wallace slammed it shut. “Chow’s over!”

“WTF?!?” I was in disbelief. I pointed towards our field boss and quickly told the lieutenant that we were field squad and had been taken to boot up. He told the lieutenant this was true. Yet, Wallace was indifferent. He told our boss to take us to the ODR (officer dining room) and give us a johnny sack, which is a sack lunch with a peanut butter sandwich and raisins.

My coworker and I were infuriated. The entire walk to the ODR I complained, telling our boss that we didn’t bust our asses in the hot sun for him for peanut butter and raisins. It was fried chicken day for crying out loud! He didn’t seem to care all that much.

Walking down the hall with my shoulders slumped and my head down, I took a bite of my sandwich and headed towards my building. I must have passed 5 ranking officers and 20 guards, not one of which said a word about me eating in the hall. Yet, when I entered 3 building, the desk officer, Daniel Nagle, barked at me, “OFFENDER! DO NOT EAT IN MY HALLWAY!” I didn’t say anything at first, just looked at him crazy. I rounded the desk area and dropped my ID card in a box designated for inmates going to the outside rec yard, then walked towards the outside door. Nagle screamed, “Hey! I told you not to eat in my hallway! That’s a case! Throw that sandwich away NOW!”

I was pissed. I’d worked hard for 6 hours for a stinking peanut butter sandwich, passed all that rank eating it, and this guy wanted me to throw it away? Sure, everyone knew Nagle was a stickler for the rules, but where was his humanity? Did I have to be treated like scum for eating my lunch? We had a heated exchange for about a minute before I told him in a not so kind way why I had a sandwich and was eating it in the hallway. He told me he’d call Lt. Wallace to verify my story, but I was a getting a case until he heard from him. I shrugged my shoulders and went outside. While I was outside, I spoke with Sgt. Martinez and Sgt. Ortiz through the fence separating the outside rec yard and the main hallway. I explained to them what transpired between Nagle and me and all about the chow hall closing. They listened to me, but only had smart comments. They headed to the front desk where Nagle was.

I’m not sure if was before or after I talked to the sergeants but while on the rec yard, I worked out on the universal weight machine. While adjusting the pin on the bench press for another guy, I cut my thumb. The machine was old and out of line, so in order to adjust the weights, someone had to press the bar up while another person placed the pin between the weights. As I was doing that, the guy on the bench press jerked the bar and the metal pin cut me badly. Blood poured out of my hand, so I used my shirt and pants to stop the bleeding. It wasn’t the first time that pin bit someone.

After rec, I went back to my cell block to get my dirty clothes for exchange. I then left the block and stopped at the desk to speak with Nagle. I told him I was sorry for getting mad, but I wasn’t in the wrong for eating my lunch. He told me it was okay, that he called and found out I was allowed to have it, but he didn’t want me eating in “his hallway” again.

I left the building to exchange my clothes. After getting clean clothes, I lounged around the commissary and 3 gym–a good 150 yards from 3 building where Nagle worked. It was my routine to hang out in this area with a group of others waiting for last chow around 4:30 p.m. My thumb was still bleeding so I used torn up pockets on a shirt to stop the bleeding.

While I waited for the chow hall to open, I noticed several Hispanic inmates who lived on 7 building. They rushed down the hallway and slipped through the gates leading to 7 building. They looked nervous. A couple of guys around me said someone just beat the shit out of Nagle. They said he was knocked out on 3 building. Everyone talked but no one walked toward the building to investigate.

Maybe 10 minutes passed before a bunch of rank came running towards 3 building screaming, “Clear the hall!!!!!!” We were all ushered into the gym and the doors were locked. Shortly thereafter, the rank came rushing back down the hallway with someone on a stretcher, presumably Nagle. Cheers rang throughout the gym. No one like Nagle. He was hard on everyone, inmates and guards alike.

About 2 hours, Sgt. Ortiz came into the gym and did an inmate head count. He left. About 30 minutes later, he returned with a group of officers. They handcuffed me and led me to 11 building which is the lockup building. I didn’t know what the hell was going on.

In 11 building, Sgt. Martinez stripped me naked and took pictures of me. I was then placed in a legal visit cage. These are metal cages approximately 2 square feet around and 10 feet high. I sat inside for 7 hours in only boxers without food or water while a cold front chilled south Texas.

In the middle of the night, I was taken to the administration building and interviewed by two investigators. “Nagle is dead,” they told me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Huh?? Well, he was a tough officer. I’m not surprised someone killed him.”

“Do you know who or why?,” they asked.

“No, I’m not a snitch, but I don’t know anything anyway. I was by the gym and commissary.”

I did express to them about how the inmate population felt about Nagle. He treated us like dirt, subhumans. No less than 10 times a day, he had arguments with inmates about rules. I had one with him myself that very day. I’d heard countless officers in shouting matches with him. At this point, I had no idea they were focused on me as a suspect, but it became clear in another interview the following day when they accused me of murdering Nagle, and immediately transferred me off the McConnell Unit to the Michaels Unit over 500 miles away.

My hope vanished completely in 1999. A slip from the mailroom said I should come pick up my legal mail by noon the next day. The letter from my lawyer stated that one of my state appeals had been denied. He also regretted to inform me that he would no longer be able to represent me because the state of Texas wouldn’t pay for additional appeals. If I wanted to file anything else, I had to pay him or file it myself. It was a long walk back to my cell. 

What could I do? I’d need $20,000 for an attorney to file my state habeas corpus, and if that was denied, an additional $50,000 for federal appeals. I didn’t have $2 for a tube of toothpast; where would I get that kind of money?!? There were a few decent jailhouse lawyers who could file my appeals, but they wanted no less than $2500 deposited into free world bank accounts–if I paid the $1000 for my trial transcripts. 

With nowhere to turn and no real way to fight for my freedom, I sank into a deep state of despair. I’d already been depressed because my mother rarely wrote. The letter from my attorney only exacerbated it. The psych doctor increased my dosage of antidepressants, yet I still walked around listlessly, thoughts of suicide frequently on my mind. There were several guys there that I thought of as true friends, dudes who expressed sincere love and empathy, yet I still felt alone.