surviving a wrongful conviction

January 16, 2022 
Author: Evaristo Salas jr.

It takes a tremendous amount of mental discipline and skill to give each day in prison meaning. Especially when you’re in there for something you didn’t do. 


This prison life is structured every day in such a way that it encourages a routine based mentality and discourages finding meaning or purpose in almost anything.

In 1776 in the Virginia House of Delegates, the impassioned young delegate George Keith Taylor described what a prisoner could expect when entering in prison:

"He is enclosed in a narrow cell of which the walls are so thick that the echo of the loudest sounds can not reach his ear.
He sees no face but that of his keeper, nor does he hear the smallest whisper of a human voice…
During all this time, he sustains the torture of having nothing to do and his mind is compelled to broad over his past conduct and current condition. 
How wretched, how full of anguish must be the retrospect while memory recalls his wounded conscience every succeeding act of abandoned villainy. Must not his mind be a sentimental hell where pangs the most exquisite rack of his soul? 
Will he not in bitter remorse implore the pardon of heaven and resolve on reformation of conduct? And will not then the penitentiary house be to him the school of virtue?"


Given this statement by one of the most significant voices defining the correctional philosophy, it's no surprise that I find it very hard to look beyond the confinement of this cell and forge some sort of purpose and meaning during each passing day.

Sure, things have changed a lot since 1776, but the physical aspect and architecture of a prison that has been designed to foster anguish, loneliness and hopelessness still remains. And so does its power over the psychics of its captives.


Most prisoners only scratch the surface when it comes to finding purpose while they are doing their sentence. Most take the easy way by trying to numb their minds or feelings into forgetting where they are, or they try to find some temporary happiness that gets them through the moment, such as drugs, alcohol or unhealthy food. Although that strategy may work for a moment, the things they are running from are always waiting for them on the other side of that run. 

I did my share of running too, but I grew tired of the chase.


In order for me to find meaning and purpose in a place that has been designed to foster the opposite, I had to develop a mentality that recognizes the pain of an unjust incarceration. I had to sense it within the very place where it came from to avoid it. 
I had to not think too deep or too far of the reasoning behind all of this. I had to stop my mind to go to some of these very dark places in order to survive prison.

It's like going into a desert and creating a garden within a dry, parched land. There’s no water, no shelter except an infinite mass of grains of sand. And every grain of sand stands alone. But with vision, time, strength and will, one can make even the desert bloom. 


My duty every day in prison is to turn that day into a garden of solitude. Not necessarily to fill with endless tasks, but to fill it with worth.

I have not succeeded everyday to live this way, but I have managed to do it for the majority of my days.

I tell myself that this day is part of a bigger meaning and I must make it count. And by making it count, it gives meaning and purpose to that very day and to my life in general.


It feels like the time I’m doing for a crime I didn't commit 
is the same as counting every grain of sand in a great desert: it's endless, it's boring and there is sadly no end to it. But even I can survive the desert. And along with my family, I will. 

nature is my freedom

January 9, 2022 
Author: Evaristo Salas jr.

I have always enjoyed the winter months, especially in those years where a lot of snow fell.


As a kid growing up in Sunnyside, big winter storms are a rarity. The hopeful anticipation that one could possibly come through would fill my youthful mind with all the possible activities that I could achieve if we were lucky enough to have one. 
Of course; most if not all these activities and ideas were not feasible because some were way too outlandish, others involved mountains that did not exist and in some I had to have magical superpowers so I could fly through the air or get not cold at all. But, to my youthful and unchecked imagination, everything was possible.


When I still lived in the streets, I never experienced a heavy snowfall. Most years came and went with only a few inches of snow here and there. 
And when it eventually did snow, that snow needed to be enjoyed within the first hour or two of it falling. To wait any longer would run the risk of it melting away.

Finally, after many years of hopeful anticipation, that “one in a decade snowstorm” came roaring through Sunnyside and it did not disappoint! 
I remember watching it begin to snow and grow with an intensity while the night began to fall. I was so excited I could barely sleep. I kept waking up through the night to make sure that it was still snowing. Fearful that if I stopped looking, the storm would somehow know this and punish my inattentiveness and move on. 
As I woke up the following morning, to my delight, not only had the snow remained, but it was deep, powdery and begging to be disturbed. I wasted no time and flung myself into the first snow that I could see, making trails, balling up snow balls that kept falling apart and just enjoying what nature created for me during the night.


My whole neighborhood became a winter wonderland that I intended to play in. Soon I was joined by other kids from the neighborhood. I could see parents looking at us from the windows of their warm, cozy houses. They all had a little smile on their faces that spoke of wanting to let go of life's troubles and live in the moment and join us kids in appreciating this gift of above.
As the hours flew by, only the most dedicated snow lovers remained. By then, no fresh snow was left in our neighborhood, so we went to discover more fresh snow to leave our marks on it. Eventually, we came across a large twenty foot pile of snow that was the remains of a large plowed parking lot. To us it was much more than a pile of plowed snow. It was our mountain and gave me one of the most fun experiences of my entire life. Day after day we return to claim our little mountain of heaven until it was no more.


We never had another winter storm that big in our small town. But to me it didn't matter, because I lived those days as if I would never get the opportunity to repeat it. 
Little did I know how true that would be…


When I now look out of my cell-window while it is snowing, or as I walk to the chow hall and see some snow laying on the ground, there is a part of me that wants to go out there and be a free kid again. Something within me desperately wants to go back in time and enjoy it the same way as I did so long ago after that short snow storm in my hometown.


The child within me still remembers 
and is still hungry for a time when the choice was mine to make.


The snow still calls me to play, but it remains untouched, undisturbed and unappreciated to do anything other than look at it. It would bring the stares and a pile of negative comments of the guards and I would land in the hole if I even touched that white gold for one second.

So for now, I wait once again in hopeful anticipation for a new year, for a new winter and for a new snow storm. 


"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer."


I hope I will experience the freedom to appreciate anything nature is giving to me. 
I hope to enjoy it as much as I did when I was still a free child while I was living in Sunnyside. 
I hope I will forget what has happened to me and my family.  
Nature sets free and nature heals. And I hope to experience it all again someday.

santa doesn't visit prison

January 2, 2022 
Author: Evaristo Salas jr.

Celebrating anything in prison can be very challenging, especially on a holiday that is typically celebrated with family and friends.


December is the time of the year that is very depressing for most prisoners. It can be a big reminder of what is missed and what has been lost.

But be that as it may, a large portion of the inmate population do celebrate these holidays in a very dramatic way. In past years I've seen the dayroom* filled with groups of ten to fifteen individuals who were all preparing their best prison-versions of the foods their families had traditionally made around this time of the year. You would be surprised at what a few hungry men can manage to whip up with some vending machine items and a microwave.


During those times that these ‘holiday celebrations’ take place, the dayroom takes on the sight, sounds and smells of a large family gathering. Most inmates tend to forget they are in prison and maybe that's the intention behind these celebrations more than the actual holidays itself.

I'm not a ‘Scrooge’, but I rarely if ever participate in any of these large and sentimental celebrations. I typically only eat the holiday meal that the prison offers. I call my family for a short twenty minute conversation, wish them a “Merry Christmas” and head back to the cell.

But, this year I did participate in one of the celebrations. We made ‘tamales’: a traditional Mexican dish. Like I said earlier; you'd be amazed at what could be made with a little creativity, so the food was anything but disappointing. It was a good distraction, even though it only lasted for a few moments.


My wife encouraged me to participate in this celebration. She gets a sense of comfort knowing that I am making the best out of a bad situation.

Although I will miss my wife, our son and the rest of my family terribly, I am hopeful that the next Christmas will be spent with them and not in a dayroom filled with strangers anymore. 


I pray this injustice that has taken me away from my family for so many Christmases, 
will finally come to an end one day. 


I pray this will all be just a bad memory from a lonely time when I had no control over anything or anyone. And that all of this will be something from the past and no longer shapes the present. I pray I'm in a better place next time. I wonder if the tamales will taste as good as these guys made it over here, but I don't know. That is something for me to discover when I'm out there with my family. So I keep praying I will be exonerated at least before December 2022. I pray...

*A common space shared by prisoners residing in a cell or group of cells, to which prisoners are admitted for activities such as dining, bathing, or passive recreation and which are situated immediately adjacent to prisoner sleeping areas.


Covid-19 behind bars, part 2

December 2021
Author: Evaristo Salas jr.

There were many individuals in the ‘quarantine unit’ who had it far worse than me.

The people in the cells next to me were experiencing the worst of the corona-virus. One was throwing up, shivering uncontrollably and gasping for air. He was screaming for help, kept crying and saying he was going to die. No help came. 
After nearly 5 hours, his screams became weaker and weaker. He began to call for his mother and soon after, his voice went quiet. I assumed he had died. A few hours later, I could hear the guards and medical staff removing him from his cell.

This scene was replaying itself over and over throughout the entire prison with tons of other inmates. By this time, the entire prison was already on lockdown. The virus has spread to every unit possible. In a feudal attempt to stop the spread, the prison administration began relocating and housing the uninfected people in different sections of the prison. These were not specifically designed to house inmates because they also used the educational building and the gym. The decision to put the inmates wherever they could, seemed to facilitate the spread of the virus rather than to stop it.

Ten days later, I was administered a third corona test. I tested positive. 
I was then escorted back to the ‘M-unit’*.


As I walked into the unit, the sound of 130 people talking at the same time was defying. I was surprised at the lack of control the correctional officers seem to have over the whole situation. None of the corona restrictions that were so strictly enforced prior to me leaving the unit, were now still being used. In fact, not even the prison rules seem to be followed anymore in general. Large hordes of drunken, belligerent inmates meandered their way aimlessly through the day room and tiers. 
This sight was adding to the instability of the whole situation and creating an atmosphere of uncertainty.

Whatever authority structure that existed prior to the covid 19 outbreak, 
was now completely gone.


These inmates had no fear of the consequences of their actions and made that blatantly clear to everyone. The virus was now just a backdrop to the impulses of human nature. All corona did was strip away the structures that contain it.

As the days and weeks went by the inmates grew more restless and violent. But just as suddenly as it all began, it ended. 
The virus has reached its peak and so did the mayhem and madness that came with it. It now didn’t take long before the correctional officers began to reassert their authority in drastic ways.
All the ‘medium security inmates’ were sent back to their original units. And with that, ‘M-unit’ returned back to its normal, laid-back vibe.

In the end, COVID-19 infected nearly 2000 inmates and staff members. Five inmates had died. A high percentage of the inmate population is now vaccinated and also got their third booster-shot. Since that first outbreak there has only been two small outbreaks until December 2021, which infected less than a dozen inmates.

Some of the corona restrictions are still being used nowadays and will most likely be a permanent fixture from this point on.


I experienced a lot of difficult situations in prison. I have been on many lockdowns, seen a number of large fights and heard people getting beaten up pretty bad in the cells next to me. I have seen grown men cry, people convert to God and people who decided that there is no God. I have seen hungry people who were starving almost to death and I experienced being alone for days, months and years at the time. I have seen kids being intimidated by creepy offenders and boys who became men by making bad decisions for their prison gang. 

During 25 years of a wrongful incarceration, 
I have seen almost every painful situation possible in a prison system.
But I would also have to say that this experience stands alone.


It has shown me not only the ugliness of what people can become when certain social structures are beginning to collapse around them, but also the beauty, kindness and resilience of the human spirit because I also saw others put aside their differences so they could strive to help other inmates survive this endless pandemic.

I would have to say, although corona was (and still is) a very difficult situation to experience in an American prison, it is something that has enhanced my own compassion and empathy for others who are sick and fighting for their lives. 
I am grateful for having survived corona so far. I am grateful for what these experiences gave to me. And that gives me the strength to make it home one day. A home that now exists in a world that is not the same anymore as it used to be because a deadly virus changed everything.
I am ready to see it all, but also sad that the free world I once lived in, now became history.

* Prior to the COVID-19 outbreak, ‘M-unit’ housed long-term ‘minimum security inmates’. It now houses a majority of ‘medium security inmates’, which changed the entire dynamics of this unit and made it a more hostile environment.
‘Medium security inmates’ are housed in a more secure unit. Their cell doors are typically made of steel and are able to be opened and locked by staff members which gives more control to the correctional officers.
‘M-unit’ is a minimum-security unit. It's doors are made of wood and not the inmates carry their own keys so it doesn't have to be opened by a correctional officer.

nervwrecking hearings

November 28, 2021 
Author: Evaristo Salas jr.


The court hearing on the 27th of September 2021 was the first one that I attended in the last 26 years of my life. It was a stressful, but eye-opening experience. I had my doubts about receiving a fair hearing in Yakima County.  After all, this was the same county where I was wrongly convicted all these years ago.

 

There was still a part of me that had always believed that if I had enough evidences proving I didn't commit the crime, it would be fairly easy for the judges to determine with the given evidences they would see that I did not commit the crime. The assumption would then be that the court would grant me a new trial. But that didn't happen.
And although this event wouldn't surprise me, it still disappointed me and my family.
It was obvious after the first few minutes of the court hearing that the judge was not going to grant me a new trial. His body language, the words that he used, even the tone in his voice clearly broadcasted to me and to my lawyers that he was going to deny my request for a new trial.
After that, it was easy for me to make the decision to appeal directly to the Washington State Court of Appeal, division III, to give my case another chance to be seen and examined by another people.
The Court of Appeals would be in my situation a better option, given that they are not directly located in the Yakima area and they are a panel of three judges rather than just one. 


Unfortunately, this appeal process will take nearly two years to reach a decision in my case. 

 

But, if that allows me the opportunity to get a fair trial or at the very least a fair hearing, then it's worth the wait.
It will be difficult for me and my family because we have already lost so many years with nothing else but patiently waiting and trying not to complain about how long everything takes. We want to be thankful, not ungrateful. And even after all this time, we still remain steadfast in our resolve and are confident that one way or another, true justice will eventually come.
I will continue to give updates as my case moves through the courts and I am hopeful I will have good news to share soon... 

Covid-19 behind bars, part 1

November 21, 2021
Author: Evaristo Salas jr.


It  was November, 2020 and just a few days before Thanksgiving when the corona outbreak here at Airway Heights Corrections Center began for the first time.
There was a possible infection here in the ‘M unit’ and 10 individuals from this unit were placed on quarantine. Each of those individuals had been exposed to an outside Correctional Industries- worker who had tested positive for the virus. A few days after that initial quarantine, one or more of these individuals tested positive as well. ‘M unit’ was immediately in lockdown and quarantine.
I as well as a few other Unit Custodial- workers became the ‘Covid-19 Makeshift Sanitation Crew’. In simple words: the cleaners. 
We had no clue how to disinfect everything according to the official guidelines, we were simply given personal protection equipment and a spray bottle with disinfectant. We were given the task to sanitize the entire ‘M unit’ every 45 minutes, beginning at 6:00am and ending at 10:30pm for 7 days a week.
It was an exhausting process, one that had little to no effect on preventing nor controlling the spread of the virus.

Within a few days of the lockdown/quarantine, some individuals living on my tier begun to show symptoms of corona. That number doubled nearly every day.
Panic began to grow amongst us as those who were obviously sick had still not received any help from the staff. No test for corona had yet been taken.
The situation in ‘M unit’ began to deteriorate as the number of infections grew by leaps and bounds. The strict authoritarian structure that is so necessary in prisons, even began to collapse. The lines that divided guards and inmates began to blur as the guards also became infected.

Nearly three weeks into the outbreak, I had managed not to get infected. But my then former cellmate started to show symptoms of illness. Within two days he got problems with breathing. It got so bad, he eventually decided to declare it a ‘medical emergency’. They then had to take him out of the ‘M unit’ to keep him from the other inmates and since I was his cellmate, I also had to move. 
Initially we were both placed in the same cell but an hour later, I was moved to a single cell. The unit we were in was equipped as a sort of ‘quarantine unit’ and had special rules everyone of us had to comply.

Being housed in that quarantine unit was horrible.

If you had a confirmed, positive test for Covid-19, you were not allowed to get out of your cell at all. That means: 
- No phone use;
- No recreation, such as going to the gym or the library;
- No chow-hall;
- No exchange of clothing, and the worst;
- No shower.

Besides that, there was zero information on when you would be getting placed out of quarantine again.
It all sounded to me a bit like a solitary confinement situation, but with only the sick and dying criminals around you and not just the mentally insane ones.
I had tested negative twice prior to being placed in the quarantine unit, so I was allowed to get 30 minutes for 3 days a week out of my cell. During that out-time, I had to choose to use the phone and have contact with the outside world, or to take a shower. 
Unfortunately, that little bit of freedom only lasted for a couple of hours. When I woke up in that cell the next morning, I experienced corona symptoms for the first time in my life. 
And even though they were very mild, the fear of it taking a turn for the worse while being in a prison where I don't even belong in general, was overwhelming... 

 preparing for freedom

November 14, 2021 
Author: Evaristo Salas jr.


The last two years I have been preparing for my eventual release. My focus have been gaining the skills, knowledge and awareness I would need to support my family. Not only financially and practically, but also mental and spiritually.

20 Plus years of wrongly imprisonment and all the emotional trauma that comes with it is not just going to magically melt away once I walk out of these gates. I have to know myself thoroughly. I have to figure out what habits, thoughts and actions I need to discard and which ones I need to nourish and enrich to become a successful man in the outside world.
This process has not been easy. I can't always see the aspects of my own personality and character that need the most attention or need to be challenged and changed.
This is where the opinion of my wife is so important. Her loving and compassionate guidance has opened my eyes to some of the most entrenched emotional walls and barriers that I had within me. Our long talks, our many tears and our moments of vulnerability all contributed to the destruction of these walls and barriers and the renewal and enrichment of my true self.
Although it has been important for me to take life skill classes, learn different trades and to surround myself with things that are going to help me find a good job and earn a decent living,
I believe its equal important (if not more important) to develop and strengthen those deep and lovely connections I have with the people I love.

My definition of wealth has nothing to do with the kind of job I have or the amount of money I make, but it has everything to do with the amount of time I can spent loving, appreciating and caring for my wife and son.

Time is the greatest gift you can give to the people you love. 


From now and to the point that I’m home, I will enrich their lives with all the love and attention I can give to them. And by doing so, I will ensure that my own life is on great success. As painful as prison is, it made me realize what is truly important in life and that is loving and giving to others freely without expecting to get anything back for it in retun. 

 the fight is not over

November 7, 2021 
Author: Evaristo Salas jr.


On the 27th of October, 2021 I had a hearing at the Yakima County Courthouse in the superior court. It was through Zoom because of COVID-19.
At that hearing, my motion requested that I be granted the right to question Sgt. Rivard (the cop) and Ofelia (the former girlfriend of the victim) to have them testify under oath at my evidential hearing. It would basically have meant that they would’ve spoken the actual truth in front of a judge before the evidential hearing would take place. That evidential hearing was scheduled later during this year and would have meant that I was be granted a new trial, or that they would dismiss the case. Unfortunately, that motion to question both under oath, was denied. 


Judge Elofson also went on to rule that the following evidence did not constitute newly discover evidence and would not have changed the outcome of the trial had it been presented at my trial in the presence of the jury in 1996:
 1) Ofelia's removal of the truck and sanitation of the crime scene;
 2) Ofelia's rendering criminal assistance charges;
 3) Ofelia's hypnosis prior to viewing the photo-lineup;
 4) Informant’s status of being paid for information and for testifying;
 5) Receipt of payments made to informant by Sgt. Rivard.
 
As result of the ruling at this hearing, the evidential hearing that was scheduled later this year was considered moot. It was a painful realization, but an evidential hearing would have been a waste of time because of this decision.
We then simply requested that the judge clarified his rulings on why he would deny my motion for a new trial if the evidential hearing would have taken place later this year. 


We appealed his decision. 


My case is now headed to the Washington State court of appeals, division III, for review.
The appeal process is very time consuming. It may take upwards of two years before any decision is made.
Although I and my family understood that the chances of the same court overturning a conviction which they resided over on the basis of innocence was slim, we still had a strong hope that justice would prevail.
The evidences in our eyes is substantial enough to warrant a new trial. But sadly enough, the court system is set up to perverse convictions and not to overturn them. So we operate on a every level at a disadvantage. No matter how strong the evidence maybe in showing innocence, there are many factors and standards that need to be met before any evidence can even be considered by a judge of any court.
This makes the task of proving one's innocence very challenging. Be that as it may, the struggle to prove my innocence continues and my hope for justice reminds unbroken. 


Freedom from this wrongful conviction and from this unjust sentence will come. 

And when it does, a peaceful smile across my face will say it all: “It has finally happened!” 

breaking the silence

October 31, 2021
Author: Evaristo Salas jr.


I think it is very important for me to explain my reasoning behind my absence from my website.

One year ago I was advised that it might be better to allow the court process to play it self out before being vocal about the hardships and struggles it took to get my case if front the courts. 
As you could imagine, making the decision to be silent and not commenting on the ongoing struggles for my freedom was very hard.
I have always been a firm believer in the words of Martin Luther King: "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter". I feel now that I can no longer be silent. After all, is not truth strengthen when it is spoken? Does not lies become stronger and more entrenched in the absence of truth? 
Lies are what placed me in prison and the silence and fear of many has perpetuated it. It was my words of truth that was instrumental in beginning the process that eventually led to the documentary and revealed the injustice that brought me here. 
I suppose this argument could be made: your words and the publicity they may bring, may irritate and annoy those in a position to change your current situation. And there may be some truth in that. I would say to that: “true words enhance and compliment justice”. Nobody who is given the task to render justice, could or should be irritated by something that enlightens it.
And if they are, then their sincerity in rendering justice should be questioned.
 
My will and my voice is all I had.
 
Those two things are the most important aspects in determining whether justice is finally applied to my case. With that being said, I will update this website weekly on each Sunday and give voice to my struggle for justice.
I think it is imperative that you, the reader, should be able to see what it really takes to undo an injustice.
The only way I feel that a person can see it and understand it, is either by experience it on their own (which I sincerely hope nobody ever has to experience) or by reading a first hand account of it as its on going. This system needs to change but that is only possible with people who are willing to understand the agony of a wrongful conviction.

Thank you for reading my words. And welcome to this website! I'm in the meantime also working on some other interesting projects. You will hear soon more about that. The fight for freedom continues. But the future looks bright!

moving forward: a written statement for the final hearing

October 27, 2021

“For two an a half decades I have been known by the Department of Correction (D.O.C) number 760504.
But my father, my sisters, my fiancée and my son all know me as Evaristo Salas, or “Junior”.

Its was January 8th 1997, three weeks after my 16th birthday that I address this court for the first and last time. My words were short, but true: "I didn't kill nobody, and God is my witness. One of these days the truth will come out, and I will prove them all wrong"

These were the words of a 16-year old kid who did not have the mental capacity to articulated the depth of fear and anguish that he was feeling. His voice was a trembling whisper, but the truth that he spoke would resonant through time slowly but steadily bringing to light the injustice that was taking place.

For 25 years I have held on to the notion that truth was stronger then a lie and that no injustice or wrongful conviction could stand the test of time
and that my words,
no matter how small and insignificant they may have been at that time,
would reach the ears and hearts of those individuals who could see the truth behind them.

The road to here has been painful and filled with the horrors that only prison can bring physically, mentally and spiritually. I have been deprived of the very things that make us all human. Isolated: locked in cage, treated as a murder. Stigmatized...
I have been forced to live in an environment that knows only the cruelty and brutality of those who live with no hope, those whom have long ago discarded the rules of society and replace them with their own version of truth.
This prison and the individuals that occupy these cells became the only form of education that was provide to this 16-year old kid. The father who loved me so much now stood outside these prison gates and was forced by circumstances to be an unwilling witness and bystander to the terror that he could no longer protect his son from. He, like the rest of my family, now became unwitting victims in this never ending saga of injustice.

The greatest tragedy of all this, more so then the injustice of my wrongful conviction, is that this officer by his actions allowed the real perpetrators to go free. He decided in that moment that true justice did not matter. That the rule of law that he swear an oath to uphold did not apply to him. And that the trust and faith the victims family's had placed in him and society as a whole, meant nothing. His decision to abuse his authority, to manufacture my guilt and play judge, jury ánd executioner, literary destroyed any prospect that my life and that of the my family would be anything other then one of struggle hardship and pain.
I have nearly twenty nephews and and nieces that only know me by name.
I have spent the passed 25 Christmases and birthdays in a cell.
My joyful youthfulness is gone; faded away with all the experience that never where. I have been force to pay a debt that I did not own.

I come to this court humbled by life and educated by adversity. Gone is the ignorance of youth that is now replaced by the stoicism that was once born in the furnace of desperation and despair.
I will not attempt to educated this court on its understanding or application of justice for I firmly believe that this court adhere to the principles and foundations that it was founded on.
I would only humbly ask that in this case it would effort me the right to due process will grant me the right to fair and impartial jury and allow me to present this newly discovered evidence that is material to my case.

It has been 9,151 days since I first spoke these words. I still stand by the truth of these words:
“I didn't kill nobody,
and God is my witness".

Evaristo.”

disclaimer

This website is made for inmate no. #760504 so he can use his freedom of speech. Inmate no. #760504 has no access to the internet in any possible way and is not in possession of a computer and/or any device. This page is being updated by an acquaintance of this person, so by someone outside the prison.

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