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  3. Letter to My Son
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With the four men safely behind bars, the DA chose not to prosecute further. For Feazell in particular, the victory could not have come at a better time. Months before, in the spring, the DA had drawn nationwide attention when he cast doubt on the murder claims of famed serial killer Henry Lee Lucas. But as spring turned to summer, the limelight had grown dark: Simons, meanwhile, became one of the most well-respected officers in the state. Despite this acclaim, Simons felt the most satisfaction from having fulfilled his calling. He had one last gesture to make. Now Simons, with the help of Stowers, ordered one and had it installed.

He could not have known that his promise, and every action he took to fulfill it, would shortly come under intense scrutiny—and, in the years to come, set the course for one of the strangest, most serpentine cases of criminal justice in modern Texas history. She was a tomboy who had grown up wanting to be a cop, like her grandfather, and joined the Detroit Police Department in But four years later she was laid off, and wanting to live someplace warm, she applied for a job in Texas.

The Waco Police Department offered her a position, and when she arrived, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the city had cars and paved roads. Evans had seen plenty of murder and mayhem in her career, but nothing this macabre. She found that the weather and the laid-back, friendly attitude of Texas suited her.

She also fell in love with a fellow officer, J. Price, whom she married; the two bought some land out in the country and acquired a few horses. Evans changed her name to Jan Price, and after several dedicated years on the force, she became a detective. Almost five months after the final conviction in the lake murders, at around noon on March 2, , Price got a call about a questionable death at a house on North Fifteenth Street. It was a Sunday, and she had been working with one of her horses, but she was the on-call detective that week.

There they found a footprint on the front door, which had been kicked in, and some smudged fingerprints around the house. In the back bedroom, facedown on the bed, lay the nude body of a year-old woman. She had been raped, sodomized, beaten, and suffocated.

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Her name was Juanita White. White had struggled with her attacker—her nose was broken, her ear torn, her body battered. The crime struck Price as unbearably sad. The intruder had not taken anything of value—the TV was still there—but had ransacked the front bedroom, opening several boxes and scattering papers everywhere. White had another son, Steve Spence, who told officers that she had begun to receive threats; she also thought her phone was tapped. In his letter, Snelson wrote that he had made his testimony up. I have a witness. Two days later, White was dead. This was unusual; as far as Price knew, no one outside the WPD was on the case.

60 Days In - Undercover im Knast

Vic Feazell was taking over the case and appointing Truman Simons as his investigator. Simons has said that he got involved only after he received calls from a few of his informants.

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The Vast White by Jason Walters

When Simons contacted Price, he told her that he already had a suspect. Simons promptly put out feelers to his contacts on the street and got a name: The deputy had also heard—from other officers or his informants—that White had been bitten by her assailant, and so on March 17 he visited Washington in jail and asked for his permission to take a dental mold.

Price was stunned that Simons had taken his investigation so far without her, but she agreed to accompany him to go speak with Jim Hale, a forensic odontologist in Dallas who was studying the Washington mold. She had been a detective for only two years at that point, and they were after a vicious killer. Hale, at least, seemed to reassure her that Simons was on the right track. Simons told Price that, through his informants, he had learned that Washington had had a partner in crime, a nineteen-year-old named Joe Sidney Williams. When they returned to Waco, Simons set about gathering information on the young man, talking assiduously to sources both in and out of jail.

Price continued investigating too, but she became increasingly frustrated with her partner. Simons testified that he fully cooperated with Price. Furthermore, in her view, the evidence that Simons had gathered was not very impressive—the blood on the sweatshirt, it turned out, was barely a drop, and the sneakers did not match the shoe print from the front door.

Then Price began to develop a different suspect.

Letter to My Son

On May 1 a woman who lived a few blocks from White was violently attacked in her home. She was beaten with a hammer, raped, and left for dead. The woman survived and identified her attacker, a young man named Benny Carroll, who had been dating her granddaughter. Eight days after the assault, Carroll was arrested for the rape, and he pleaded guilty. According to Price, she tried to share this development with Simons, but the deputy was too busy gathering information on Williams, who was arrested the following month for burglary. Simons would later disagree and say that it was Price who fingered Williams as a suspect after his arrest.

Nevertheless, Simons believed he had found his men. Feazell also included Chief Scott, who had publicly accused him of refusing to prosecute valid criminal cases. The acrimony was about to get even worse. Meanwhile, Price refused to close the White case; though she now had other investigations to work on, she was convinced that Williams and Washington were innocent and spent her spare time interviewing their lawyers and sources on the street.

The following summer, in August , Williams went on trial. Eight informants, two of whom had been in jail with Williams, took the stand. Instead she, along with three other WPD cops, testified for the defense to say how untrustworthy the informants were. When Williams was nevertheless found guilty and given a life sentence, Price was so peeved that she stepped up her informal investigation.

She interviewed Washington and Williams again. Others told her about special treatment that informants got from Simons, who gave them cigarettes, food, and time alone with their wives and girlfriends. Simons has always denied giving inmates conjugal visits. Price and Turk made quick headway. On November 17 they spoke with Otis Douglas, an informant who had testified against Williams. The charge was indeed dropped, but Simons has said repeatedly that only the DA had the power to drop charges.

On November 19 a furious Feazell dragged Price and Scott before a grand jury, cross-examined the detective, and demanded that she turn over her files on the White case. Price obliged, agreeing to halt the investigation until after Washington went to trial. But at the end of the hearing, she walked up to the DA and gave him a message.

Price and Turk returned to their investigation in earnest, tracking down all the informants who had testified against Washington and Williams. One of these was a woman named Angela Miles, who had been serving time for burglary. Right before the trial, Simons had written out a statement for her to sign; in it he offered various incriminating facts she knew nothing about. White would say anything to benefit themselves. The more people Price talked to, the more she doubted the case against Washington and Williams—and wondered about the case against Spence, Deeb, and the Melendez brothers in the lake murders.

But the world that she and Turk were investigating was so shadowy that they never got anywhere on the Lake Waco case. Informants they interviewed offered myriad allegations about Feazell and Simons, and the two cops found themselves having to consider the sources. Now she hoped she could help free Washington and Williams—and cast some light on the DA and his investigator.

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But the case went nowhere. She found herself rooting for two convicted killers. In June she got her wish with Deeb, when the Court of Criminal Appeals overturned his murder conviction. After his direct appeal had been denied, the former shop-keeper, who never wavered in his protestations of innocence, had resolved to free himself: He eventually hammered out a page writ of habeas corpus, a last appeal available to death row inmates in which evidence can be introduced to allege that their trial was unfair.

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  • Is my mother with you? In Texas was carrying out more executions than any other state. There were many reasons for this: Perhaps more significant, however, was the fact that Texas, unlike many states, had no law requiring that a death row inmate be granted legal representation for his writ of habeas corpus. In fact, it was standard practice for judges to set death dates before inmates had even filed these appeals.

    The TRC lawyers faced an enormous task: To uncover any facts that might help save their clients—that prosecutors had concealed evidence, for example, or that an inmate had suffered an abusive childhood or was mentally disabled—the attorneys had to reinvestigate every case, searching through files and trial transcripts, visiting with inmates, and traveling far and wide to find old and new witnesses.

    The lawyers worked nonstop, often juggling several cases at once in a race against the clock, filing appeals and motions up until the very hour of a scheduled execution. It was grueling, often heartbreaking work, and it tended to attract young, idealistic lawyers, like two attorneys in their late twenties named Rob Owen and Raoul Schonemann. The two had become friends after working one summer in Atlanta on death penalty cases with the American Civil Liberties Union, and they had developed a passion for representing the doomed.

    Six or seven full-time lawyers handled five to ten appeals at any given time, for convicts who had sometimes just weeks, or days, to live. Finally, on Labor Day, with 45 days until his execution, Owen and Schonemann were assigned the case. The more they understood of the case, the more troubling they found it: Other evidence, meanwhile, had never been turned over to defense attorneys, including dozens of police reports that seemed to contradict the murder-for-hire theory.

    But later he told the police that he was out driving around the parks at about eight in the evening; this inconsistency, among other details, had prompted Detective Ramon Salinas and Lieutenant Marvin Horton to briefly consider Franks a suspect. The polygraph, given twelve days after the murders, was ultimately inconclusive—yet decidedly strange. According to the report, Franks had become extremely upset toward the end of the test. He and Owen found plenty of evidence implicating others, yet little that pointed to their own client.

    In fact, not one of the seventeen people interviewed by police who had been at Koehne Park that night mentioned Spence or the Melendez brothers—or anyone who looked like them. It began to dawn on both lawyers that the Spence case was going to be different from any they had handled before. The two lawyers hit the road, driving all over Central Texas to interview as many original witnesses and jurors as they could find. They also tried to track down all the jailhouse informants. But they were running out of time: Spence had been convicted of murder twice, which meant the lawyers had to file a habeas writ in two trial courts, and it had already taken a month just to read all the documents.

    The two asked for a stay of execution. Allen never disclosed anything from the file to the defense. But Owen and Schonemann had bought themselves two more months, so they went out on the road again. They knew they had to attack the jailhouse testimony; if Robert Snelson had lied, they figured, other inmates probably had too. Convicted Nazi who escaped justice dies in Germany at Israeli president to wrap up talks on forming new government.

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    The Marked Woman

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