The proposal passed the Texas House and Senate unanimously, and on May 16, 2013, it was signed into law. Cynthia was there to keep my head from getting too big when the governor and other prominent politicians shook my hand and patted me on the back. She was there to lovingly remind me that, while this might be a life achievement, it was not a lifestyle.
I loved her for that—and so much more.
She was with me at Ken Anderson’s court of inquiry and there beside me a few weeks later, when Judge Louis Sturns ruled that my former prosecutor should, indeed, face a criminal proceeding for his actions in my case.
Soon after the ruling was announced, Ken Anderson was taken to jail, booked, and released on bond. He later resigned his position on the bench and negotiated a guilty plea that forced him to surrender his law license but minimized his time in jail to just a few days. Still, his sentence sends a powerful message to other prosecutors.
Most important to me is the fact that all of Ken Anderson’s cases will be reexamined by Williamson County’s new prosecutor, with the help and guidance of the Innocence Project. They will start by looking at the convictions of people who are still serving time. There may be someone else like me behind bars right now—waiting for truth to set him free.
Cynthia and I were married shortly before Mark Norwood was tried for Chris’s murder. We’d been dating for more than a year. I very much wanted her at the trial with me. I remembered my own trial in 1987 and how alone I’d felt, even though I was surrounded by dedicated lawyers and loving family. I knew the upcoming trial was going to tear open old wounds. I was going to have to relive the very worst time in my life.
I needed help. I needed to have someone there who was closer to me than my attorney or my family. I needed a shoulder to cry on, a calm voice to talk me through. I needed a hand to hold. I needed Cynthia—someone who understood me and where I had been, someone who was willing to help me find my way back home. When I got down on one knee, she said yes.
Today, we live on a beautiful lake with a big deck and a blue heron as a regular visitor.
Life is good.
Eric and I get together as often as we can. I remember being his age and the trouble Chris and I had juggling a new home, our friends, our young kid, and our careers. We had to schedule parental visits weeks in advance. We felt we were so busy.
Now, it’s my turn to push for more time—and I count my blessings that I am here and free and able to see Eric and his precious family as much as I do.
Part of the wisdom that has washed over me in my past two years of freedom is the realization that Eric has had to make a more difficult journey than I have—because, through all the years, I knew some things that he did not.
I knew all along that I was innocent.
I knew all along that I loved him.
And I believed all along that—someday—this would all be set right.
Eric has had to adjust again and again—and again—to different realities. I am grateful for the way he has welcomed me back into his life. He and Maggie have just become parents again—this time to Patrick, a handsome and healthy little boy. Their beautiful little Chrissy is two.
I am hoping in the years ahead I can relive at least a piece of Eric’s childhood by watching their children grow up. I want to be a good grandpa.
For now, I am practicing my parenting skills on the set of baby kittens Cynthia’s formerly feral cat just delivered. The four little fur balls, in an assortment of colors—and probably an equal number of fathers—are still mewling loudly in their warm bed in our home workshop.
Their eyes have just opened, and they are squinting at their blurry and bewildering new world, wondering where they are—and trying to figure out where they fit in. They are shakily beginning their new lives.
I know something about how that feels.
And I know what it is to finally find your way.
On this glorious dawn, Cynthia walks up behind me, reaches out, and takes my hand. I am free. I am home. And I am in love.
Finally, the long night has ended.
The sun is rising.
Author’s Note
This memoir is my recollection of what happened and its impact on me. Memories can be slippery, subjective things. Therefore, whenever possible, I have relied on court records, journal entries, and eyewitnesses to re-create conversations and verbal statements. If I’ve erred anywhere, please forgive me. I did my best to be accurate, but I’m only human.
Acknowledgments
No book is written in a vacuum. First and foremost, I must thank my new wife, CYNTHIA. She is my present. She is my future. And without her this would have been the height of folly.
I can thank no one if I do not thank JOHN RALEY. Had he not spent year after year fighting for me—without pay, without recognition, and with no guarantee of the outcome—I would have a very, very different life. He is my brother.
I am also indebted to the angels, the advocates, and the consummate professionals at the Innocence Project. I cannot measure the magnitude or adequately express my gratitude for all BARRY SCHECK has done. How does one repay such an unfathomable debt?
Mentioning the Innocence Project is pointless without metaphorically kissing the hand of NINA MORRISON. Her penetrating intellect, dazzling smile, and unending, infectious enthusiasm kept me from the abyss more than once.
I am also compelled to thank the Innocence Project’s ANGELA AMEL for smoothing my transition into the free world. No one was sweeter, more compassionate, or as thoughtful. The same is true of RACHEL PECKER, the IP intern when everything came to fruition. There are too many lawyers, staffers, interns, and patrons to list. But I bow before each of you.
An army of attorneys won my release. BILL WHITE and BILL ALLISON, my attorneys at trial, preserved the record—and without that, I’d still be in the pit. JACKIE COOPER and DIANA FAUST did much of the heavy lifting in those dark early years. JERRY GOLDSTEIN and RUSTY HARDIN—as they always do—wowed everyone with their finesse, poise, and stellar lawyering. KAY KANABY and CYNTHIA HEPNER, from John Raley’s office, made the Norwood/Baker connection, long before anyone in law enforcement. KELLY RALEY, John’s wife and fellow lawyer, inspired, assisted, and kept her husband on track. Then, she found Eric. John’s law partner BOBBY BOWICK exhibited patience, tolerance, and grace, while John labored in the vineyard for years. PATRICIA CUMMINGS saw more, did more, and knows more of what happened behind the scenes in Williamson County than anyone. BEVERLY REEVES facilitated more connections than I will ever appreciate. ADRIENNE McFARLAND and LISA TANNER, with the Texas AG’s office, secured the Norwood conviction. And LAURA POPPS made sure Anderson never practices law again.
After all my initial negative experiences, some journalists have made me reassess the profession. PAM COLLOFF did such a thorough job researching my story, I suspect she actually works for the CIA, not Texas Monthly. BRANDI GRISSOM’s integrity and professionalism are unmatched. CHUCK LINDELL showed the Austin hometown folks how print journalism should be done. SHANNON WOLFSON demonstrated that her local TV news reporting was topped only by the size of her heart. And LARA LOGAN, with 60 Minutes, gave me the best interview advice imaginable. Thank you, one and all.
I was dubious when Austin lobbyist THOMAS RATLIFF approached me. But he delivered, walking me through the sausage-making legislative process. Then, SENATOR ELLIS and SENATOR WHITMIRE made it happen. It pays to work with pros.
I am thankful that NELLIE GONZALEZ introduced me to AL REINERT. The documentary was a success. Al made it look easy. The good ones always do.
All personal trials have a spiritual element. On the inside, ANDY BRINK and RANDY SKILES were just two of the gentle souls who shepherded me through the dark years. On the outside, BRUCE WELLS provided the environment, the support, and the love I needed. He does that for everyone.
I cannot forget TOMMY PHILLIPS, my friend on the inside.
From the goodness of his heart, TOM OWEN gave me a vehicle. He’d never met me, until he handed me the keys. His gesture made me weep.
Unbeknownst to almost everyone, JACK ANDERSON kept my ever-growing prison journal for over twenty years. Without that selfless, herculean effort, most of what’s in this memoir would be lost to the vagaries of human memory. Thanks, buddy.
This book never would have happened without editor SARAH KNIGHT or agent PAUL FEDORKO. And then there was MARY MAPES, confidante, guide, aggravator, soother of ruffled feathers, pragmatist, sage, PC filter, counselor, accomplice, and friend.
And saving the best for last . . . my family got me through. Prison can be a soul-killing place. My parents, BILL and PAT MORTON, kept me afloat, literally and figuratively. My sister VICKY WARLICK and her husband MIKE WARLICK did, too. My brother, MATT MORTON, and baby sister, PATTI HODGES, were always there, thank God.
I cannot finish without thanking my son, ERIC, for the strength and the bravery to tackle and accept the complete inversion of everything he thought he knew. I don’t know if I would have done as well. Without the gentle prodding of his wife, MAGGIE, and his angelic mother-in-law, BARBARA MAHONEY, we might still be estranged.
Again, thank you, God.
“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness.”
—PSALM 30:11 (NKJV)
About the Innocence Project
Unable to persuade the Texas courts that the system had convicted an innocent man, Michael Morton turned to the Innocence Project to help clear his name. Founded in 1992, the Innocence Project is a national litigation and public policy organization that is dedicated to exonerating the wrongly convicted through DNA evidence and reforming the system to prevent further injustice.
To date, more than three hundred people in the United States have been exonerated by DNA testing. The Innocence Project has helped in more than 170 of those cases. To learn more about the groundbreaking work of the Innocence Project and what you can do to help prevent wrongful convictions, please visit www.innocenceproject.org.
About the Author
Michael Morton was born in Texas, grew up in California, and moved back to Texas in high school. While living in Austin, Michael was convicted of murdering his wife—a crime he did not commit. He spent almost twenty-five years in prison before being exonerated through the efforts of the Innocence Project, pro bono lawyer John Raley, and advances in DNA technology. Michael Morton is now remarried and lives on a lake in rural East Texas, relishing and appreciating what others may take for granted.
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First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition July 2014
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Interior design by Akasha Archer
Jacket design by Tom McKeveny
Jacket photograph © Rashevskyi Viacheslav/Shutterstock
Author photograph © Jorge Sanhueza-Lyon
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014000148
ISBN 978-1-4767-5682-0
ISBN 978-1-4767-5684-4 (ebook)
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