The Larson Family

In my previous blog, Justice Delayed I explained how my Uncle Jim ended up in prison after a drunken fight in a hotel room, and how he was left incarcerated for about fifteen years longer than he should have been. But the story of how he was released is a story in and of itself.

When the state of Michigan passed a “Life Means Life” law in 1992, they decided to apply the law retroactively to all currently incarcerated lifers, whether they had been given a parolable life sentence or not. That meant my Uncle Jim, who could have expected to be released somewhere around 1992, suddenly found himself the recipient of a very long sentence extension.

A group of law students from a nearby university took exception with the idea that a prisoner’s sentence could be extended with the stroke of pen, disregarding the recommendation of the judge and jury who originally tried the case. So, legal challenges were filed, and after many years, the courts finally ruled in favor of the inmates. You can pass a “Life Means Life” law, but you cannot apply it retroactively to prisoners who have already been convicted by a jury and sentenced by a judge.

It was that ruling which finally sprang my uncle from prison just two days ago.

My Uncle’s plan upon his release was to come back to North Dakota and live with his Mom, my Grandmother, in Minot. So my Mom and her other brother John met up in New Haven, Michigan, picked up my Uncle Jim as he was let out of prison after thirty-two years, and began the long drive back to North Dakota. This roadtrip was the first time these three siblings have been together since they were just little kids.

On the way to Minot, they were gracious enough to stop here in Fargo, and I got to meet my Uncle Jim for the first time since I was in diapers. The picture above, left to right, is Uncle John, my Mom, me, and Uncle Jim. I made a big, home-cooked meal of Dakota Baby-Back ribs with homemade baked beans and we had a great time with the family. Jim and John got to know my wife and son, and I got so see my Mom for the first time in two years (she lives in Texas). We stayed up talking ’til late in the night.

Unfortunately, the visit was far too short. We went out for breakfast this morning, and then they had to get back on the road to Minot. They left a few minutes ago and they’ll arrive in Minot this afternoon. Jim will get to reunite with his Mom, and then it’s down to business. He’ll have to check in with his parole officer (he has forty-eight hours from the time he enters North Dakota to check in) and then get to work on settling in at my Grandma’s house and finding work. He has a potential employment opportunity already set up, and things seem to be going good on that front. He has been a physically active man while in prison, so his health is good for a man of sixty-seven, and that’s a blessing considering most men his age would be retiring.

We hope to travel to Minot in the next month or so for a visit.

In my previous blog – A New Beginning – I told part of the story of my Uncle Jim, incarcerated for the last thirty-two years, convicted on the charge of second-degree murder. He will be released on December 16th.

My mom printed out that blog and sent a copy to my Uncle Jim and shortly thereafter I received a letter from him. Since I was short on facts, he corrected and informed me on a few things. An excerpt:

[Your blog] like your letter to the parole board, reached a deep spot not often awakened. I’d like to correct a number of misconceptions in your blog. I correct these things not in any harsh way, only so that you have more facts to base things on.

Despite Jim’s sentiment that he wasn’t correcting me in a harsh way, I was a little worried that I had overstepped some boundary by getting the facts wrong. The last thing I wanted was for my uncle to be upset with me before we even get a chance to know each other in person. He continued:

I was arrested and tried for the case I am about to be released for in 1977, a little over thirty-two years ago.

I don’t know where I got the idea it was 1973, but if you read my previous blog, you can now know, it was ‘77 and not ‘73.

I had three separate trials, the first two trials resulting in 1) a mistrial as the jurors could not agree — nine voted in my favor that time, and 2) a mistrial, as the prosecutor made inflammatory statements to the jury in his closing arguments — things he legally could not say. He did it on purpose, as he felt I would not be convicted that time either. The third trial, two years later, lasted three to four weeks and the jury finally convicted me of a lesser charge [of second-degree murder].

It was my belief then and now, that the jury compromised the last time, thinking that I must have done something — so they found me guilty of something.

Nice, right? Don’t ever let anybody tell you that the American legal system protects you from multiple trials with laws against ‘double jeopardy’.

The only evidence against me was all circumstantial — no one even so much as saw me with the man who ended up being killed.

I did not kill — nor did I help anyone to kill — the man who ended up dying. There was a drunken fight in a motel room and the man was killed. My only involvement at the time was being in the room. I never helped, nor even so much as laid a hand on the victim. But I did help the man who did it afterwards… to get away, and gave him a place in Pittsburgh to rest for a few days. Now you know my involvement.

I had heard much of this story from my Uncle before. What was he doing in the hotel room? Who was the man who died? I got a letter from him many years ago which explained in some detail, but I don’t have it anymore and I’m not sure I can remember the details. I can say my Uncle Jim has admitted being involved in dealing weapons to groups like Posse Comitatus and the American Indian Movement, both of which were quite active in the seventies. I’m not sure that the ‘meeting’ which ended with a man dying had anything to do with these activities, but it at least gives you an idea of how three guys in a motel room could have wandered down such a dangerous path.

As I said in my previous blog, my Uncle doesn’t downplay or shirk responsibility for the acts which ended with his imprisonment. He fully admits that he’s done — and was doing — things he should not have been doing. If I’m reading between the lines of his letters correctly, what he does have a problem with — and I do too — are the legal shenanigans which kept him behind bars for so long.

The original charge was first-degree murder, and I was found guilty of the lesser charge of second-degree murder, and given a parolable life sentence. That last is very important.

It is my understanding that those in Michigan who received “Parolable Life Sentences” served, on average, twelve to seventeen years. Perhaps my relation to Jim is coloring my judgment, but that seems like a sufficient amount of time for a man like my Uncle — a man who was essentially in the wrong place at the wrong time, involved in things he should not be doing, yes. But not a killer. So, how did he end up getting so much time?

Years after my imprisonment, the state of Michigan and some of its politicians decided that they wanted to make a new law regarding lifers, saying in 1992 that “Life Means Life.” And they went a big step further… making their new law retroactive to include all lifers, parolable or not.

So while I started out with a parolable life sentence, given to me by a jury… the state gave me a sentence that three juries couldn’t give me, with the stroke of a pen.

Can you imagine? Our justice system is built on several key principles. That you have a right to trial by a jury of your peers is a big one. And the jury’s decision, and the judge’s subsequent sentence, are binding. And yet a politician can essentially overrule the decision of a jury and the sentence of a judge because it’s politically popular? “Vote for me. I’m tough on crime.” Get off my johnson, Mr. Politician. Everybody is tough on crime. Have you ever heard a politician say “Nah, you know, crime doesn’t bother me so much”? Saying it, and campaigning on it, is just a way to appeal to people who are angry with their own lot in life.

I will go into detail on how my Uncle ended up being released in a future blog. — Troy

After my blog post yesterday, I did a little research on exactly how much things have changed since 1973. This is just some of what I found.

First, look at the ad to the left. It’s from a 1973 issue of Playboy magazine. “A Mini Sliderule”… in other words, a calculator, for the low, low price of $69.95! Of all the things I discovered today, the prices are what shocked me the most. For example:

• In 1973, the average price of a new house was $32,500.
• The average American yearly income was $12,500.
• If you rented an apartment in 1973, on average your monthly rent was $175.
• You could buy a brand new car, an AMC Javelin for only $2900.
• Filling that car with gas would have cost about eight bucks because a gallon of gas was just 40-cents.
• 45-cents would buy a dozen eggs.

Also in 1973, the Roe vs. Wade ruling was handed down in the US Supreme Court, the Watergate hearings began, armed members of the American Indian Movement seized Wounded Knee in South Dakota, and Secretariat won the Triple Crown. Skylab was launched, the barcode became common, and the Sears Tower was completed, surpassing the World Trade Center as the tallest building in the world.

Popular movies included:

• The Exorcist
• Deliverance
• American Graffiti

and some of the top TV shows were:

• M*A*S*H
• The Odd Couple
• McMillan and Wife - (how’s that for a politically incorrect title?)
• Sanford and Son
• Columbo
• The Bob Newhart Show

There was no such things as a cassette deck, CD player, personal computer, or satellite TV. Cable TV was in its infancy, and offering a whopping ten channels. My how times have changed. –Troy

In 1973, my Uncle Jim went to prison in Michigan. He was convicted of murder. At risk of going into too much detail and getting it wrong, I will just say that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a man he calls an “aquaintance” killed another man. He went to trial and was convicted. He’s been shuffled around the state of Michigan, to different correctional facilities, for the last thirty six years.

I’ve corresponded with him off and on since I was about twelve years old, and he’s always been honest and upfront about his past, making no excuses for his misdeeds. He’s become an educated man in prison, and has mellowed with age. He’s now in his sixties.

For many years, he’s been going to parole hearings, all to no effect. He’s been denied parole every time. Early on, family members of the victim would show up and plead with the parole board to keep my uncle in prison, but as of late, the parole hearings have been more and more sparsely attended. The judge who convicted my uncle has died. The attorney who tried him has died. And the man who actually committed the murder is also dead. At the last parole hearing, my Mom was the only member of the public who attended.

Half an hour ago, I got a call from my Mom–his sister. My Uncle Jim is being paroled on December 16th. My Mom and her other brother Johnny are going to Michigan to pick him up, and then driving him back to North Dakota to be reunited with my Grandmother. And I will get to meet him for the first time I can remember. My Mom tells me I met him once when I was a young boy, but I don’t remember it.

I don’t know if it’s fully hit me yet. My entire life, or for the last twenty-eight years anyway, I have always lived with the circumstance that my uncle was in prison. I don’t know if I really believed that a day would come when he would actually get out. But, now it seems that day is almost here.

It’s been such a sudden development, I started to think about what I can do to get prepared for his homecoming. What should I get my uncle for Christmas? No sooner had I entertained that thought, many more followed. What do you get a man who has been in prison since the early 1970’s?

Richard Nixon was the President when he went to prison. In the time he’s been incarcerated, eight-track and cassette tapes came and went, as did the Polaroid camera. He’s never experienced cable television, VCRs, DVD Players, compact discs, video games, computers, cell phones, or the internet, other than limited exposure in prison. He’s never sent an email.

And all those thoughts lead to other questions. What would it be like to be in my uncle Jim’s shoes? How do you get a job? How do you answer the questions about a blank resume? What kind of work can he expect to secure? I can only imagine the hardship he will soon experience.

I’ll have a lot more to say about this as the situation develops, but suffice to say this is a true new beginning for my family. –Troy