PFC US ARMY
VIETNAM
Publish in the NY Times in 2011:
Randall Dale Adams, who spent 12 years in prison before his conviction in
the murder of a Dallas police officer was thrown out largely on the basis of
evidence uncovered by a filmmaker, died in obscurity in October in
Washington Court House, Ohio. He was 61.
Mr. Adams had chosen to live a quiet life divorced from his past, and when
he died on Oct. 30, 2010, of a brain tumor, the death was reported only
locally, said his lawyer, Randy Schaffer. The death was first widely
reported on Friday.
The film that proved so crucial to Mr. Adams was "The Thin Blue Line,"
directed by Errol Morris and released in 1988. It told a harrowing story,
and it had the effect of helping to bring about Mr. Adams's release the
following year.
"We're not talking about a cop killer who's getting out on a technicality,"
Mr. Morris said when Mr. Adams was set free. "We're talking about an
unbelievable nightmare."
The story began on Nov. 27, 1976. Mr. Adams was walking along a Dallas
street after his car had run out of gas when a teenager, David Ray Harris,
came by in a stolen car and offered him a ride. The two spent the day
drinking, smoking marijuana and going to a drive-in movie.
Shortly after midnight, a Dallas police officer, Robert Wood, stopped a car
for a traffic violation and was shot and killed. The investigation led to
Mr. Harris, who accused Mr. Adams of the murder. Other witnesses
corroborated his testimony, and Mr. Adams was convicted in 1977.
Sentenced to die by lethal injection, Mr. Adams appealed the verdict, but
the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals refused to overturn it. His execution
was scheduled for May 8, 1979.
Three days before the execution, the United States Supreme Court ordered a
stay on the grounds that prospective jurors who had been uneasy about the
death penalty were excluded during jury selection even though they had
clearly said they would follow Texas law.
Gov. Bill Clements went on to commute Mr. Adams's sentence to life in
prison. With the death penalty no longer an issue, the Texas appeals court
ruled there was "now no error in the case."
In March 1985, Mr. Morris arrived in Dallas to work on a documentary about a
psychiatrist whose testimony in death penalty cases was controversial. The
psychiatrist contended that he could predict future criminal behavior,
something the American Psychiatric Association had said was impossible.
In Dallas, Mr. Morris met Mr. Schaffer, who had been working on the case
since 1982. The two began piecing together a puzzle that pointed to Mr.
Harris's guilt in the police shooting. Mr. Harris had by then accumulated a
long criminal record and was on death row for an unrelated murder.
Mr. Morris and Mr. Schaffer knew from the records that Mr. Harris had
bragged about killing a police officer after the shooting but had then
recanted and blamed Mr. Adams, and that the pistol used in the killing had
been stolen from his father.
Their own investigation revealed that three witnesses had been improperly
sprung on the defense and that they had committed perjury in their
testimony. Moreover, a statement that Mr. Adams signed during an
interrogation was misconstrued as an admission that he had been at the scene
of the crime.
With so much evidence seeming to suggest Mr. Harris's guilt, many Texans
believed prosecutors had gone after Mr. Adams and not Mr. Harris because Mr.
Harris, who was 16, was too young to be executed under Texas law. In the
murder of a police officer, the theory went, prosecutors almost always seek
the most severe punishment.
Mr. Schaffer said Mr. Morris gained access to witnesses and others related
to the case. "They forgot the script they learned for the trial," he said.
"They told the truth."
After the movie came out in 1988, the resulting outcry prompted a judge to
grant another hearing, something Mr. Schaffer had not been able to
accomplish. Mr. Harris recanted his previous testimony, without confessing.
In 2004, Mr. Harris was executed for the other murder.
In March 1989, the Texas appeals court ruled Mr. Adams was entitled to a new
trial because of the perjured testimony. Three weeks later, he was released
on his own recognizance, and two days after that the Dallas district
attorney dropped all charges.
Mr. Adams lived a peripatetic life afterward, first returning to his native
Ohio, then moving to upstate New York, later returning to Texas, in the
Houston area, and finally settling again in Ohio. Mr. Schaffer said Mr.
Adams gave speeches against the death penalty and married the sister of a
man on death row. He did not know if they were still married at his death.
Mr. Adams's mother died in December, and he is survived by at least one
sister, Mr. Schaffer said.
Mr. Morris went on to make, among other films, "The Fog of War: Eleven
Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara" (2003), which won an Academy
Award.
Mr. Schaffer said that if Mr. Adams were found to be wrongly convicted under
today's law in Texas, he would get $80,000 for each year of incarceration.
At the time his conviction was thrown out, wrongly convicted prisoners could
get a lump sum payment of $25,000 if pardoned by the governor. But Mr. Adams
was ineligible for the money. He had not been pardoned; his case had been
dismissed.
He also did not receive the $200 given to prisoners when they are released
on parole or on the completion of their sentences, Mr. Schaffer said. Again,
Mr. Adams did not qualify.
∼Raised in Grove City, Ohio, in November of 1976, he moved to Dallas to try and find work. In 1977, he became acquainted with David Harris, a drifter. Shortly after they became acquainted, a police officer in Dallas was shot and killed. The investigatation lead to David Harris, who told authorities that Adams had shot the officer. Adams was arrested, tried, convicted and sentenced to death. At one point, he came within 72 hours of being executed, before the Supreme Court overturned the sentence and the Governor of Texas commuted his sentence to life in prison. Errol Morris, a noted documentarian, took an interest in the case and produced the award winning documentary The Thin Blue Line about the case. In it, Morris exposed the sloppy prosecution, repressed evidence and uncovered new evidence that proved Adams' innocence. In 1989, based largely on statements from Harris who admitted that he had lied in the first trial, a court overturned the conviction and ordered a new trial, however, the Dallas District Attorney's Office declined to refile changes and Adams was set free. He returned to Washington Court House, Ohio where he lived quietly until his death from a brain tubor.
VIETNAM
Publish in the NY Times in 2011:
Randall Dale Adams, who spent 12 years in prison before his conviction in
the murder of a Dallas police officer was thrown out largely on the basis of
evidence uncovered by a filmmaker, died in obscurity in October in
Washington Court House, Ohio. He was 61.
Mr. Adams had chosen to live a quiet life divorced from his past, and when
he died on Oct. 30, 2010, of a brain tumor, the death was reported only
locally, said his lawyer, Randy Schaffer. The death was first widely
reported on Friday.
The film that proved so crucial to Mr. Adams was "The Thin Blue Line,"
directed by Errol Morris and released in 1988. It told a harrowing story,
and it had the effect of helping to bring about Mr. Adams's release the
following year.
"We're not talking about a cop killer who's getting out on a technicality,"
Mr. Morris said when Mr. Adams was set free. "We're talking about an
unbelievable nightmare."
The story began on Nov. 27, 1976. Mr. Adams was walking along a Dallas
street after his car had run out of gas when a teenager, David Ray Harris,
came by in a stolen car and offered him a ride. The two spent the day
drinking, smoking marijuana and going to a drive-in movie.
Shortly after midnight, a Dallas police officer, Robert Wood, stopped a car
for a traffic violation and was shot and killed. The investigation led to
Mr. Harris, who accused Mr. Adams of the murder. Other witnesses
corroborated his testimony, and Mr. Adams was convicted in 1977.
Sentenced to die by lethal injection, Mr. Adams appealed the verdict, but
the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals refused to overturn it. His execution
was scheduled for May 8, 1979.
Three days before the execution, the United States Supreme Court ordered a
stay on the grounds that prospective jurors who had been uneasy about the
death penalty were excluded during jury selection even though they had
clearly said they would follow Texas law.
Gov. Bill Clements went on to commute Mr. Adams's sentence to life in
prison. With the death penalty no longer an issue, the Texas appeals court
ruled there was "now no error in the case."
In March 1985, Mr. Morris arrived in Dallas to work on a documentary about a
psychiatrist whose testimony in death penalty cases was controversial. The
psychiatrist contended that he could predict future criminal behavior,
something the American Psychiatric Association had said was impossible.
In Dallas, Mr. Morris met Mr. Schaffer, who had been working on the case
since 1982. The two began piecing together a puzzle that pointed to Mr.
Harris's guilt in the police shooting. Mr. Harris had by then accumulated a
long criminal record and was on death row for an unrelated murder.
Mr. Morris and Mr. Schaffer knew from the records that Mr. Harris had
bragged about killing a police officer after the shooting but had then
recanted and blamed Mr. Adams, and that the pistol used in the killing had
been stolen from his father.
Their own investigation revealed that three witnesses had been improperly
sprung on the defense and that they had committed perjury in their
testimony. Moreover, a statement that Mr. Adams signed during an
interrogation was misconstrued as an admission that he had been at the scene
of the crime.
With so much evidence seeming to suggest Mr. Harris's guilt, many Texans
believed prosecutors had gone after Mr. Adams and not Mr. Harris because Mr.
Harris, who was 16, was too young to be executed under Texas law. In the
murder of a police officer, the theory went, prosecutors almost always seek
the most severe punishment.
Mr. Schaffer said Mr. Morris gained access to witnesses and others related
to the case. "They forgot the script they learned for the trial," he said.
"They told the truth."
After the movie came out in 1988, the resulting outcry prompted a judge to
grant another hearing, something Mr. Schaffer had not been able to
accomplish. Mr. Harris recanted his previous testimony, without confessing.
In 2004, Mr. Harris was executed for the other murder.
In March 1989, the Texas appeals court ruled Mr. Adams was entitled to a new
trial because of the perjured testimony. Three weeks later, he was released
on his own recognizance, and two days after that the Dallas district
attorney dropped all charges.
Mr. Adams lived a peripatetic life afterward, first returning to his native
Ohio, then moving to upstate New York, later returning to Texas, in the
Houston area, and finally settling again in Ohio. Mr. Schaffer said Mr.
Adams gave speeches against the death penalty and married the sister of a
man on death row. He did not know if they were still married at his death.
Mr. Adams's mother died in December, and he is survived by at least one
sister, Mr. Schaffer said.
Mr. Morris went on to make, among other films, "The Fog of War: Eleven
Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara" (2003), which won an Academy
Award.
Mr. Schaffer said that if Mr. Adams were found to be wrongly convicted under
today's law in Texas, he would get $80,000 for each year of incarceration.
At the time his conviction was thrown out, wrongly convicted prisoners could
get a lump sum payment of $25,000 if pardoned by the governor. But Mr. Adams
was ineligible for the money. He had not been pardoned; his case had been
dismissed.
He also did not receive the $200 given to prisoners when they are released
on parole or on the completion of their sentences, Mr. Schaffer said. Again,
Mr. Adams did not qualify.
∼Raised in Grove City, Ohio, in November of 1976, he moved to Dallas to try and find work. In 1977, he became acquainted with David Harris, a drifter. Shortly after they became acquainted, a police officer in Dallas was shot and killed. The investigatation lead to David Harris, who told authorities that Adams had shot the officer. Adams was arrested, tried, convicted and sentenced to death. At one point, he came within 72 hours of being executed, before the Supreme Court overturned the sentence and the Governor of Texas commuted his sentence to life in prison. Errol Morris, a noted documentarian, took an interest in the case and produced the award winning documentary The Thin Blue Line about the case. In it, Morris exposed the sloppy prosecution, repressed evidence and uncovered new evidence that proved Adams' innocence. In 1989, based largely on statements from Harris who admitted that he had lied in the first trial, a court overturned the conviction and ordered a new trial, however, the Dallas District Attorney's Office declined to refile changes and Adams was set free. He returned to Washington Court House, Ohio where he lived quietly until his death from a brain tubor.
PFC US ARMY
VIETNAM
Publish in the NY Times in 2011:
Randall Dale Adams, who spent 12 years in prison before his conviction in
the murder of a Dallas police officer was thrown out largely on the basis of
evidence uncovered by a filmmaker, died in obscurity in October in
Washington Court House, Ohio. He was 61.
Mr. Adams had chosen to live a quiet life divorced from his past, and when
he died on Oct. 30, 2010, of a brain tumor, the death was reported only
locally, said his lawyer, Randy Schaffer. The death was first widely
reported on Friday.
The film that proved so crucial to Mr. Adams was "The Thin Blue Line,"
directed by Errol Morris and released in 1988. It told a harrowing story,
and it had the effect of helping to bring about Mr. Adams's release the
following year.
"We're not talking about a cop killer who's getting out on a technicality,"
Mr. Morris said when Mr. Adams was set free. "We're talking about an
unbelievable nightmare."
The story began on Nov. 27, 1976. Mr. Adams was walking along a Dallas
street after his car had run out of gas when a teenager, David Ray Harris,
came by in a stolen car and offered him a ride. The two spent the day
drinking, smoking marijuana and going to a drive-in movie.
Shortly after midnight, a Dallas police officer, Robert Wood, stopped a car
for a traffic violation and was shot and killed. The investigation led to
Mr. Harris, who accused Mr. Adams of the murder. Other witnesses
corroborated his testimony, and Mr. Adams was convicted in 1977.
Sentenced to die by lethal injection, Mr. Adams appealed the verdict, but
the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals refused to overturn it. His execution
was scheduled for May 8, 1979.
Three days before the execution, the United States Supreme Court ordered a
stay on the grounds that prospective jurors who had been uneasy about the
death penalty were excluded during jury selection even though they had
clearly said they would follow Texas law.
Gov. Bill Clements went on to commute Mr. Adams's sentence to life in
prison. With the death penalty no longer an issue, the Texas appeals court
ruled there was "now no error in the case."
In March 1985, Mr. Morris arrived in Dallas to work on a documentary about a
psychiatrist whose testimony in death penalty cases was controversial. The
psychiatrist contended that he could predict future criminal behavior,
something the American Psychiatric Association had said was impossible.
In Dallas, Mr. Morris met Mr. Schaffer, who had been working on the case
since 1982. The two began piecing together a puzzle that pointed to Mr.
Harris's guilt in the police shooting. Mr. Harris had by then accumulated a
long criminal record and was on death row for an unrelated murder.
Mr. Morris and Mr. Schaffer knew from the records that Mr. Harris had
bragged about killing a police officer after the shooting but had then
recanted and blamed Mr. Adams, and that the pistol used in the killing had
been stolen from his father.
Their own investigation revealed that three witnesses had been improperly
sprung on the defense and that they had committed perjury in their
testimony. Moreover, a statement that Mr. Adams signed during an
interrogation was misconstrued as an admission that he had been at the scene
of the crime.
With so much evidence seeming to suggest Mr. Harris's guilt, many Texans
believed prosecutors had gone after Mr. Adams and not Mr. Harris because Mr.
Harris, who was 16, was too young to be executed under Texas law. In the
murder of a police officer, the theory went, prosecutors almost always seek
the most severe punishment.
Mr. Schaffer said Mr. Morris gained access to witnesses and others related
to the case. "They forgot the script they learned for the trial," he said.
"They told the truth."
After the movie came out in 1988, the resulting outcry prompted a judge to
grant another hearing, something Mr. Schaffer had not been able to
accomplish. Mr. Harris recanted his previous testimony, without confessing.
In 2004, Mr. Harris was executed for the other murder.
In March 1989, the Texas appeals court ruled Mr. Adams was entitled to a new
trial because of the perjured testimony. Three weeks later, he was released
on his own recognizance, and two days after that the Dallas district
attorney dropped all charges.
Mr. Adams lived a peripatetic life afterward, first returning to his native
Ohio, then moving to upstate New York, later returning to Texas, in the
Houston area, and finally settling again in Ohio. Mr. Schaffer said Mr.
Adams gave speeches against the death penalty and married the sister of a
man on death row. He did not know if they were still married at his death.
Mr. Adams's mother died in December, and he is survived by at least one
sister, Mr. Schaffer said.
Mr. Morris went on to make, among other films, "The Fog of War: Eleven
Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara" (2003), which won an Academy
Award.
Mr. Schaffer said that if Mr. Adams were found to be wrongly convicted under
today's law in Texas, he would get $80,000 for each year of incarceration.
At the time his conviction was thrown out, wrongly convicted prisoners could
get a lump sum payment of $25,000 if pardoned by the governor. But Mr. Adams
was ineligible for the money. He had not been pardoned; his case had been
dismissed.
He also did not receive the $200 given to prisoners when they are released
on parole or on the completion of their sentences, Mr. Schaffer said. Again,
Mr. Adams did not qualify.
∼Raised in Grove City, Ohio, in November of 1976, he moved to Dallas to try and find work. In 1977, he became acquainted with David Harris, a drifter. Shortly after they became acquainted, a police officer in Dallas was shot and killed. The investigatation lead to David Harris, who told authorities that Adams had shot the officer. Adams was arrested, tried, convicted and sentenced to death. At one point, he came within 72 hours of being executed, before the Supreme Court overturned the sentence and the Governor of Texas commuted his sentence to life in prison. Errol Morris, a noted documentarian, took an interest in the case and produced the award winning documentary The Thin Blue Line about the case. In it, Morris exposed the sloppy prosecution, repressed evidence and uncovered new evidence that proved Adams' innocence. In 1989, based largely on statements from Harris who admitted that he had lied in the first trial, a court overturned the conviction and ordered a new trial, however, the Dallas District Attorney's Office declined to refile changes and Adams was set free. He returned to Washington Court House, Ohio where he lived quietly until his death from a brain tubor.
VIETNAM
Publish in the NY Times in 2011:
Randall Dale Adams, who spent 12 years in prison before his conviction in
the murder of a Dallas police officer was thrown out largely on the basis of
evidence uncovered by a filmmaker, died in obscurity in October in
Washington Court House, Ohio. He was 61.
Mr. Adams had chosen to live a quiet life divorced from his past, and when
he died on Oct. 30, 2010, of a brain tumor, the death was reported only
locally, said his lawyer, Randy Schaffer. The death was first widely
reported on Friday.
The film that proved so crucial to Mr. Adams was "The Thin Blue Line,"
directed by Errol Morris and released in 1988. It told a harrowing story,
and it had the effect of helping to bring about Mr. Adams's release the
following year.
"We're not talking about a cop killer who's getting out on a technicality,"
Mr. Morris said when Mr. Adams was set free. "We're talking about an
unbelievable nightmare."
The story began on Nov. 27, 1976. Mr. Adams was walking along a Dallas
street after his car had run out of gas when a teenager, David Ray Harris,
came by in a stolen car and offered him a ride. The two spent the day
drinking, smoking marijuana and going to a drive-in movie.
Shortly after midnight, a Dallas police officer, Robert Wood, stopped a car
for a traffic violation and was shot and killed. The investigation led to
Mr. Harris, who accused Mr. Adams of the murder. Other witnesses
corroborated his testimony, and Mr. Adams was convicted in 1977.
Sentenced to die by lethal injection, Mr. Adams appealed the verdict, but
the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals refused to overturn it. His execution
was scheduled for May 8, 1979.
Three days before the execution, the United States Supreme Court ordered a
stay on the grounds that prospective jurors who had been uneasy about the
death penalty were excluded during jury selection even though they had
clearly said they would follow Texas law.
Gov. Bill Clements went on to commute Mr. Adams's sentence to life in
prison. With the death penalty no longer an issue, the Texas appeals court
ruled there was "now no error in the case."
In March 1985, Mr. Morris arrived in Dallas to work on a documentary about a
psychiatrist whose testimony in death penalty cases was controversial. The
psychiatrist contended that he could predict future criminal behavior,
something the American Psychiatric Association had said was impossible.
In Dallas, Mr. Morris met Mr. Schaffer, who had been working on the case
since 1982. The two began piecing together a puzzle that pointed to Mr.
Harris's guilt in the police shooting. Mr. Harris had by then accumulated a
long criminal record and was on death row for an unrelated murder.
Mr. Morris and Mr. Schaffer knew from the records that Mr. Harris had
bragged about killing a police officer after the shooting but had then
recanted and blamed Mr. Adams, and that the pistol used in the killing had
been stolen from his father.
Their own investigation revealed that three witnesses had been improperly
sprung on the defense and that they had committed perjury in their
testimony. Moreover, a statement that Mr. Adams signed during an
interrogation was misconstrued as an admission that he had been at the scene
of the crime.
With so much evidence seeming to suggest Mr. Harris's guilt, many Texans
believed prosecutors had gone after Mr. Adams and not Mr. Harris because Mr.
Harris, who was 16, was too young to be executed under Texas law. In the
murder of a police officer, the theory went, prosecutors almost always seek
the most severe punishment.
Mr. Schaffer said Mr. Morris gained access to witnesses and others related
to the case. "They forgot the script they learned for the trial," he said.
"They told the truth."
After the movie came out in 1988, the resulting outcry prompted a judge to
grant another hearing, something Mr. Schaffer had not been able to
accomplish. Mr. Harris recanted his previous testimony, without confessing.
In 2004, Mr. Harris was executed for the other murder.
In March 1989, the Texas appeals court ruled Mr. Adams was entitled to a new
trial because of the perjured testimony. Three weeks later, he was released
on his own recognizance, and two days after that the Dallas district
attorney dropped all charges.
Mr. Adams lived a peripatetic life afterward, first returning to his native
Ohio, then moving to upstate New York, later returning to Texas, in the
Houston area, and finally settling again in Ohio. Mr. Schaffer said Mr.
Adams gave speeches against the death penalty and married the sister of a
man on death row. He did not know if they were still married at his death.
Mr. Adams's mother died in December, and he is survived by at least one
sister, Mr. Schaffer said.
Mr. Morris went on to make, among other films, "The Fog of War: Eleven
Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara" (2003), which won an Academy
Award.
Mr. Schaffer said that if Mr. Adams were found to be wrongly convicted under
today's law in Texas, he would get $80,000 for each year of incarceration.
At the time his conviction was thrown out, wrongly convicted prisoners could
get a lump sum payment of $25,000 if pardoned by the governor. But Mr. Adams
was ineligible for the money. He had not been pardoned; his case had been
dismissed.
He also did not receive the $200 given to prisoners when they are released
on parole or on the completion of their sentences, Mr. Schaffer said. Again,
Mr. Adams did not qualify.
∼Raised in Grove City, Ohio, in November of 1976, he moved to Dallas to try and find work. In 1977, he became acquainted with David Harris, a drifter. Shortly after they became acquainted, a police officer in Dallas was shot and killed. The investigatation lead to David Harris, who told authorities that Adams had shot the officer. Adams was arrested, tried, convicted and sentenced to death. At one point, he came within 72 hours of being executed, before the Supreme Court overturned the sentence and the Governor of Texas commuted his sentence to life in prison. Errol Morris, a noted documentarian, took an interest in the case and produced the award winning documentary The Thin Blue Line about the case. In it, Morris exposed the sloppy prosecution, repressed evidence and uncovered new evidence that proved Adams' innocence. In 1989, based largely on statements from Harris who admitted that he had lied in the first trial, a court overturned the conviction and ordered a new trial, however, the Dallas District Attorney's Office declined to refile changes and Adams was set free. He returned to Washington Court House, Ohio where he lived quietly until his death from a brain tubor.
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