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EGACY Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow.
WEDNESDAYS • Dec. 6, 2017
ERICK JOHNSON The last time Roosevelt Myles was a free man was in 1992. George H.W. Bush was president and people communicated with pagers. That year, in the early hours of Nov. 16, Myles was at a friend’s house in Chicago when several blocks away, a couple was robbed at gunpoint. After a 16-year-old was shot twice in the torso, police scrambled to find the gunman. They found Myles, a drug addict, who was walking to the store to buy cigarettes. Today, Myles sits in a cell nearly 200 miles southwest of Chicago. For more than two decades at the Illinois River Correctional Center in Canton, IL, Myles has been serving a 60-year sentence for a murder he did not commit 25 years ago. Broke and scared, Myles, for decades, has been a victim of not only a notorious police interrogation unit in the Chicago Police Department, but also of a criminal justice sentence that has forced him to wait nearly 17 years just for a hearing he was granted back in 2000. Since then, Myles has gone through a string of public defenders who have racked up 70 delays for a hearing, while a judge who had the power
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to move forward with the case did nothing. In the interim, both of Myles’ parents have died, as have several witnesses whose accounts could have helped to free him. Two weeks ago when Cook County State’s Attorney Kim Foxx vacated 15 convictions, Myles’ case was left out —a staggering blow to a man who has suffered and waited so long for freedom. His case has dragged on and on in the Cook County justice system where overworked and underpaid public defenders work under a mountain of cases. Year round they toil under pressure from tight budget constraints while trying to serve poor clients who can’t afford to hire an attorney. Despite being guaranteed a speedy trial by the Sixth Amendment, defendants are often stuck with numerous delays, postponements and continuances that keep them in jail for long periods of time. For Myles, justice delayed is the same as justice denied. Myles’ case shows how bad the problem is, as he has tried for many years to clear his name by having his conviction overturned. With nothing to show for years of effort, his situation may be an extreme case of abuse or neglect in a broken criminal justice system fed by a police department badly in need of reform.
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After drawing criticism from activists who viewed her first year as mixed at best, on Nov. 15, Foxx vacated the convictions of 15 individuals who say they were framed by rogue cops who operated for years on Chicago’s South Side. It was an unprecedented move by Foxx, who ousted her predecessor, Anita Alvarez, promising to reform the justice system in the wake of the Laquan McDonald scandal. While many rejoice over Foxx’s latest move, the clock is still ticking for Foxx to do something about Myles’ case. In September, Foxx announced that the case would be assigned to her newly-formed Conviction Integrity Division, which reviews cases of people who have been wrongly convicted. If all goes well, Myles could soon be a free man, but Foxx hasn’t set a timeline for the review. For Myles, it’s a painful reality that requires more waiting for an uncertain verdict on a wrongful conviction that has ruined his life. A prominent New York lawyer, Jennifer Bonjean, has wrestled Myles’ case out of the hands of Cook County’s web of public defenders, but Foxx’s exoneration would be a much quicker end to his life behind bars and a long, exhaustive legal battle
that seems to have gone nowhere. So far, that possibility seems distant and Foxx remains silent on the case. “I don’t know why this case has gotten this far in the first place,” said Bonjean, the attorney who is representing Myles for free. “He should have never been convicted.” Myles’ problems began on Nov. 16, 1992. Court documents show that prosecutors said at 2:45 a.m., Myles fired two shots into the torso of 16-year-old Shaharian “Tony” Brandon during a robbery attempt at the home of Brandon’s girlfriend, Octavious Morris, who lived on the West Side. Shaharian later died. Sandra Burch, an eyewitness, saw the shooting while sitting in a car, according to reports. Several blocks away, Myles heard the gunshots that killed Brandon as he left the apartment of his friend, Ronnie Bracey. On his way to buy cigarettes from a corner store, police stopped him and took him to the police car where Morris was waiting. Morris said Myles didn’t shoot her boyfriend and police released him. More officers interviewed Burch as Brandon was at the hospital, dying. Morris and Burch repeated
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