Misrepresented
Allante Anderson
The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people at-risk of, victims of, or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017 this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high quality opportunities that nourish the minds,,expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection to author new life narratives. Since January 2017 ConTextos has partnered with Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narratives of violence and peace building, and help author a hopeful future for human beings behind walls, their families and our collective communities. While each author’s text is solely the work of the Author, the image used to create this book’s illustrations have been sourced by various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into illustrated books. This project is being supported, in whole or in part, by federal award number ALN 21.027 awarded to Cook County by the U.S. Department of the Treasury.
Misrepresented Allante Anderson
He's from the projects where they gangbang; he's a remorseless scumbag; he can't be allowed to walk the streets, the prosecutor screams. There is no need for me to look around her blue eyes staring directly into my brown ones. I’m disturbed that someone who's never been to my neighborhood feels she has the right to negatively describe the people there. I'm baffled that even after the only witness that testified to my innocence, she's insulting my character as if she seen me commit a hundred crimes. My PD just sits there with no objections. It's ok though, she doesn't know me plus everything she's saying is a lie. Nobody’s going to believe her. I think to myself. “We find the defendant Allante Anderson guilty” I thought. wrong.
“No matter what they say don’t show emotion and stay quiet let me represent you.’’ That was the advice my public defender gave me. I'm sitting at the table in the courtroom watching what seems to be an episode of Law and Order. Most of the story is fiction and the whole ordeal seems scripted. I'm supposed to be the main character but the real star is the prosecutor. Right now she's putting on an acting performance worthy of an Oscar. I look at the judge and she seems unengaged and bored like she has seen this same show many times before.
Afterward I asked my PD why she didn't defend me. Why didn't she tell them about my family and my kids? Why didn't she represent the person I really am? The look on her face brought me back to reality; she never asked about my life, we never even had more than a 30 minute conversation at one time. She never even asked me if I was guilty or not. She doesn't know me and never cared to. To her I'm just another name in her caseload.
My journey started April 4th, 1987 at Ingalls hospital in Harvey, Illinois where I was born to a 14 year old girl named Tamora Anderson. She was barely out of 8th grade. By the time she was 20 years old she was a single mother of 6. Our first residence was in Robbins, Il, an underdeveloped town right outside of Chicago. There are no grocery stores or pharmacies, no big chain restaurants and there are virtually no job opportunities in the community. Growing up I honestly didn't know one male who had a legal job. All the men I saw were either drug dealers or drug users. Those were my early examples of manhood, I thought those were my options.
So even then, fresh from the womb, my cards were dealt from a stacked deck. I was a part of a game where the odds of me winning were lower than the lottery. I was never told how high the stakes were. I never knew outside entities controlled the game and were betting against me. I never knew my life was the wager until it was too late.
I never had intentions of being a career drug dealer but I needed money. At the time my girlfriend was 6 months pregnant with my son, so I started selling weed. To me weed was harmless. My logic was that cigarettes and liquor were way more dangerous than weed and those were legal. My only goal was to sell enough weed so I could get a car so I could find a job.
f ut o o n t w h e p ed o u d e p e n. e w h ey h o x , I r a m o s fle tt se l l u n b u n d r e o t r a r a ng tryi t gonn of fea e n' ut s id o u t . I w a s y , so o g l in p a n d l l e d u r e s s iv e t s u s g I w a t iv e s p m e a g y a te c at ed O n e re d e g uns h e ir n o w in g t h nt p oi
W he n th sta r ey f te d in a l ly k ic k sa n i dwi ng m ca ug h c t me h ba th e e , day g o f w h il e I w a th e y w you cra c s g ra on t ere so d ua k a nd ma s a id h e g r o t e .” , “ si u n d d th a t nc e I you cuffed only ha . Th m ad en o d 5 ba e us gs ne c ha se y o f th e o f w e e ou f o d or s fficers . They o me p u ll ed w ee d, to out a day is
I loved school. I was extremely smart and I was heavy into sports but our living conditions were so unstable it affected my grades. I even got held back in 5th grade because of bad attendance. During my senior year on my 19th birthday, I was called to the dean's office which was weird because I had been staying out of trouble and my attendance was near perfect. The dean told me that even though I did well my junior year and so far in my senior year I still would need another year to graduate. He told me that since I was 19 I should just drop out and get my G.E.D. That day school said fuck me, so I said fuck school, I never graduated.
everything. On my first court date I was appointed a public defender. I told her I told her I only Including the fact that I never even touched crack, let alone sold it. officers of the sold weed. Her response was “let me get this straight, you telling me you say you law had nothing better to do but randomly frame you with drugs? And ber thinking don't sell crack but you do admit you’re a drug dealer, right?” I remem “who’s side is she on?”
A few court dates later she tol d me the State was offering pro bation. I asked her why would I cop a plea for something I did not do? She sai d that my case was a 3-7 and since they offeri ng probation it's not worth go ing to trial. She said all I had to do was stay ou t of trouble for 2 years. Little did I know this felony conviction would hove r over my head for years to come.
The birth of my son was one of the happiest days of my life. I mean I actually watched him enter this world, he was my creation, my pride and joy all I ever wanted to do was give him a better life than I had. I live for him.
I was on probation and I knew I had to support my son without risking my freedom so I swallowed my pride and got on the bus and went job hunting. I kept striking out because I was a felon so when I filled out the application for Popeyes I lied on the application and was hired.
5 weeks later my background came back and I was fired. I was broke and unemployed with another child on the way. As a man I'm supposed to provide for my family and I felt I had one option. I started back selling weed.
The last time I had a stable home I was like ten and we were living in a 4 bedroom apartment in Robbins. Until one morning I woke up to these people in suits and ties walking around our apartment with clipboards. I remember thinking they were the police coming to take us away from home.
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One day I was standing on the block trying to sell my weed when a white guy pulled up trying to rent his car out for crack. I didn't deal crack so I gave him $25 in cash. It was right on time, my daughter’s mother had a prenatal appointment. Halfway to the clinic I got pulled over. I had my license so I thought nothing of it. As soon as I raised the window down and tried to hand the cop my license he snatched me through the window and cuffed me.
The guy who gave me the car reported it stolen as soon as he gave me the car, so I was charged with possession of a stolen car and possession of a controlled substance for 12 nickel bags of weed.
I went in front of the judge with a public defender who didn't even talk to me before court. The prosecutor said that I stole the car that morning from in front of the owner's house and when I got caught I was in possession of a controlled substance. When it was my PD’s time to talk she started reading off a paper saying stuff about school and blah blah blah.
I had seen this show before so to defend myself I blurted out to the judge “How did I steal the car if I got the keys? How am I charged with a controlled substance for 12 nickel bags of weed?” Of course I was ignored by the judge. My PD told me she would argue it at the preliminary hearing.
Too bad for me I got grand jury indicted. I was sitting in jail charged with two felonies that were really misdemeanors and I knew if I went to trial it could be broken down to a simple trespass to a motor vehicle and less than 7 grams of weed. Every court date I would tell my PD to demand trial; she would always say she was waiting on the state discovery blah blah blah. Same story, like for real how much discovery you need for a car and some weed? I realized the system is a game.
By the 15th month she comes to me like today's your lucky day. Right now you’re facing 3 to 7 years for the car and 3 to 7 years for the drugs but the State is willing to drop the drugs and give you 3 years at 50%. I told her I'm not copping for the charge because they are supposed to be misdemeanors. “Well with your background if you lose trial you’re facing extended terms, 7 to 14 years. I’m advising you to take the deal.” I knew I was being sold out but I had already did the time, it wasn't worth the risk. I had a 18 month old son and a 6 month old daughter that I’ve never held in my arms. I took the deal.
The first time I held my daughter, my heart melted. I got the same feeling I had the first time I held my son. She was my little princess and I was determined to protect her and provide her with the best life had to offer.
Now I had two kids and the stakes got higher.
This time around I had no illusion of getting a job. My logic was I couldn't get a job with one felony, now I was a double felon on parole. I probably could have eventually found a job but my kids needed things now. I hit the block extra hard.
At first it was all about providing for my kids but then I got lost in the life. The money, the cars, and the women distracted me from my purpose. Not only that, it brought unwanted attention and jealousy and the next thing I knew I was in the hospital shot multiple times.
While I was laid up in the hospital, I found out that one of the bullets lodged in my back stopped right before it penetrated my heart and the other one was sitting in my spine. The doctor told me that only God saved me from death and that I needed to thank him. I thanked him for not taking me away from my kids and I made a promise to live for them.
Me and the first PD I had for this case used to have arguments because he would not demand trial. I told him I was innocent and that my Grandma Nita and my cousin Gail were home with me at the time. He kept saying he had to wait on the State to give him discovery and that I needed to let him work. 5 years later he resigned from my case because of a conflict of interest.
It was found that he helped the State indict me. Yes, this public defender helped the State's only witness get a deal in exchange for testimony against me. The PD’s name is on his plea deal and grand jury testimony. It took 5 years for him to realize he is the reason I got indicted in the first place. How much work did he do in 5 years? Right. The public defender strikes again.
During my pre-trial I watched a lot of big trials: Laquan McDonald, Travon Martin and George Floyd. I even watched an 18 year old white kid get his dad’s AR-15 cross state lines kill two unarmed people and go to trial 18 months later and get acquitted. At that time I was on my 9th year of pre-trial, I wondered what was the difference between their cases and mine?
I was appointed my new PD. I told her I wanted to get home to my family and I wanted to see what the State had against me. She told me the PD policy says she can’t let me see the discovery but all she needed was a year to prepare. That year turned into 5 and I would lose more than time.
My Stepdad came into our life when I was about 8 and he was 18. He always treated us like we were his biological kids and he remains a part of our life. His family is our family.
took us in unconditionally. She often us ed lov e, Fe e Fe a dm an our His mother, my Gr She had so much impact on ily. fam like us d ate tre d during hard times an ch one of my sisters acts like ea y da s thi To us. on off d life that her traits rubbe in peace. her in a different way. Rest
My Grandma Nita was the epitome of love in human form; her love for family and her faith in God was unbreakable. Her doors were always open for family and her cooking was unmatched. I don't think there is any other person other than Jesus who could feed so many people with so little. Rest in heaven.
My cousin Gail was like a mother to me. She stayed on my back about being in the streets to the point that I hated to see her coming. Even though she irritated me, she never let up. She wanted me to live up to my potential. She became one of my favorite people, she only wanted the best for me. After she died, I cried in my cell for a week. Rest in paradise.
When Gail and my Grandma Nita died, my alibi died with them. By the time I went to trial ten years later, I had no alibi or advocates.
A week before trial, my PD told me that due to the lack of evidence the State was willing to drop my murder if I plea guilty to attempted murder and took 18 years at 85%. I told her no way would I cop to another bogus charge. I'd been doing that my whole life. I told her all I wanted her to do was her job and prove my innocence. Wishful thinking.
Another reason why I didn't take the plea is because I had two kids and eight nieces and nephews that needed me at home.
I had already missed most of their childhood and if I took the plea they would be grown. They needed me right now.
On the day of trial my PD blindsided me. She told me that instead of a bench we were going to do a jury trial. Then she said she and her supervisor decided that I would wear my DOC jumpsuit to trial. Her reason being that the state is going to paint me as a drug dealer so she didn't want me in an expensive suit. She added that the jury would have sympathy for me. It sounded weird but I was worn out and exhausted. I agreed. She gambled my life and crapped out. She lost a case, I lost my life.
During the trial the craziest thing happened. The State's only eye witness actually told the truth; he testified that I was innocent and even gave a detailed account as to why he lied. The State having no other evidence started attacking my character pulling theories out of thin air, talking bad about my community and my character.
My lawyer did not object one time during my trial. When the prosecution rested, my PD rested. She did not put up a defense, so it was the State’s story against no story.
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We actually had a defense.
We had experts and I was supposed to testify for myself since my alibi witness was no longer living. At the last minute she said she wasn't gonna call the expert or put me on the stand because I had a criminal background it would look bad. I asked her what do drugs have to do with murder? She told me to trust her; yea right.
The truth is the jury wanted to hear my side of the story which would have probably tipped the trial in my favor. If the PD would have called the expert the state would not have had a chance of conviction. But as usual the Public Defender does the bare minimum, they never zealously represent clients; their loyalty is to the State, the entity who signs their checks, at least that's how it seems.
One day my grandfather Mac was drunk and said, “You think you out here doing something. You look down on me but you're the dummy out there playing a game you can't win.
They gotta cell waiting on you Probably, end up in the same cell your daddy was in.”
I laughed because I figured he was just mad because I didn't give him no money that day. But as I write this memoir in this cell, I realize he was telling the truth. Jails are built for the projected prison population of the future. This cell has always been waiting for me.
The system has evolved over time but still has the same goal. In reality entities such as public housing, Section 8, Medicare and the school system play key roles in ensuring a consistent percentage of black youth become delinquents. No father in the house, poor or no education, and poverty causes poor Mental Health which affects decision making. Desperation leads to bad choices which leads to the court system.
Once you are handed to the Public Defender, who gift wraps you for the prosecutor, who then hands you to the judge to be stamped and sealed for a first class trip down state. It's a team effort.
When we talk about mass incarceration of the poor we often talk about judges who abuse their authority and corrupt prosecutors, when the reality is the Public Defender is the main tool. Mass incarceration would not be conceivably possible without the compliance of the Public Defender. If the Public Defender zealously represented each client, the prison population would decrease dramatically. People always preach reforming laws when the Public Defender is the problem.
What is the difference between a prosecutor and a public defender? They are both members of the same bar association and they both are paid by the State. They are colleagues. Never believe I think there are no righteous public defenders. I just believe that there are not many.
I know the job is hard and the caseloads are overbearing but that is no excuse to make a client plea to a case you could have easily beat knowing the ramifications of a felony conviction just to clear your caseload. Is that the reason to half investigate a case that could send someone to jail for life?
Their innocence or guilt notwithstanding the poor needs you as advocates.
As for me I never claimed to be perfect, I'm from the streets. I lived the life. Right now though, I'm convicted of a crime I did not commit. The worst part is the prosecution did not win the case.
State of Illinois Vs. Allante Anderson Case no: 2013CR2054501
. By the time I I waited 10 long years for trial all because of the public defender's office County 12 years went to trial my main alibi witnesses had passed away. I'm still in the defender. I'm later trying to clean up a legal blunder made by a 30 year veteran public matter what, I'm not bitter though; this story plays out across the country everyday. No if you don't believe going to make it home to my family. They give me strength. Oh yea, me, my transcripts are available.
Allante Anderson I Am From I am from where civilization was born I am from where most kings die young I am from fist fights and hugs From where a 14 year old has a son I am from Robbins, Illinois From poverty and despair I am from Juanita and McHenry From love and care I am from betrayal and unity And from love of community I am from where Dewayne Wade shot his first shot I am from where my brother shot his first shot. But since 16 he been locked I am from where change is necessary I’m from where if you change up you get changed So change is very scary I'm from where street dreams never become reality From where we don't wake up until we’re casualties
Until the lion learns to write their own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb Copyright
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