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Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
Virginia Beach man awaits governor's decision on absolute pardon: ‘It would make me whole'
VIRGINIA BEACH — The months following Darnell Phillips' 2018 release from prison were a whirlwind. Most notably was the standing ovation Phillips received from Virginia lawmakers after he was introduced on the Senate floor several months after being set free. Afterwards, senators shook his hand. Some even offered their apologies for the more than 27 years Phillips spent behind bars for the rape and beating of a 10-year-old girl that he'd always maintained he didn't commit — and that now even the victim was saying he was innocent of. Hosts of multiple podcasts, radio shows, and streaming TV programs also reached out, inviting Phillips onto their programs to tell his story. Among them was Jason Flom, a nationally known criminal justice reform advocate and a founding member of the Innocence Project who hosts a podcast called Wrongful Conviction. 'It was beautiful,' Phillips said of all the people wishing him well and offering their support in those early months. 'But then nothing happened.' Phillips had gotten his freedom back — and reunited with his family and the fiancee who'd supported him throughout his incarceration — but he was still a felon. He hadn't been exonerated, he'd been paroled, which meant that the convictions a jury issued at the end of his August 1990 trial for rape, sodomy and malicious wounding remained on his record. The convictions also required that he register as a sex offender, severely limiting where he could go, what he could do and whom he could be around. 'Every day it's a reminder that I have to be extra careful,' Phillips said. 'You don't want to do anything or go anywhere that could get you in trouble.' With all the attention his case received after his release, and the strong legal support he was still getting from the Innocence Project Clinic at the University of Virginia School of Law, Phillips felt sure that an exoneration from the governor would be coming. But 6½ years later, he's still waiting. 'I'm absolutely stunned,' Phillips said of his inability to get an absolute pardon. 'I should have never been incarcerated. I was robbed of my whole life pretty much since I was 18. I feel I was robbed of time, opportunities, careers, children, and spending time with my family.' Jennifer Givens, director of UVA's Innocence Project Clinic and one of the lawyers who helped Phillips win his freedom, also is discouraged by the lack of action on his petition. Three different governors have been in office since it was first filed. 'I am disappointed but my experience with the pardon process is that things move extraordinarily slow,' Givens said. 'So, no, I'm not surprised.' The failure to get an absolute pardon also prevents Phillips from getting compensation from the government. State law allows exonerated defendants a base compensation of $55,000 per year of incarceration, adjusted annually for inflation. Extra compensation for intentional acts, such as misconduct by law enforcement, could net more. Now 53, Phillips was 19 when he was sent to prison and 46 when released. Even without an inflation adjustment, his more than 27 years behind bars would mean a payment of at least $1.5 million. ___ The brutal assault occurred in the summer of 1990, in a park in Virginia Beach's Timberlake community. A 10-year-old girl was walking her bike across a narrow wooden bridge when a man she'd seen earlier came up behind her, grabbed her and forced her to the water's edge below, where he raped and beat her. The girl told police her attacker was a Black man, about 6 feet tall, with a heavy build and out of shape. He was wearing a white shirt with a green '42' on it, had a gold tooth on the left side, a hoop earring and a black hat with an emblem she believed was red. The description was soon broadcast to other officers. A short time later, a patrol officer came across Phillips, then 18, and his friend, Michael Norfleet, who were standing outside Norfleet's house, about a half-mile from the crime scene. The officer noted that Norfleet was wearing a white shirt, but there were no numbers on it. Phillips had on a brown and black shirt and black pants. But a few things about him caught the officer's attention: He was about 6 feet tall, had a black hat with a red Chicago Bulls logo, and a gold tooth on the left side. The officer took a picture of Phillips with the hat on, which was shown to the victim at the hospital. She told detectives she wasn't sure about the man, but she recognized the hat. Police later showed her two photo lineups, including one that had Phillips' picture in it, but she never picked a photo. During a 2018 phone interview with The Pilot, the victim said she came to believe Phillips was her attacker based on what detectives told her, including false claims that her blood had been found on his underwear, and that he had a history of doing bad things to children. She also said that when she was asked at trial if she saw her attacker in the courtroom, she pointed to Phillips because that's what she had been instructed to do. Phillips was arrested two days after the attack and brought to a police station for a late-night interrogation. Two detectives spent four hours questioning him but were unable to get a confession. A homicide detective then asked if he could have a go at it. He testified at trial that he got a confession within minutes, but conceded he didn't record it, and didn't get a signed statement from Phillips. Also key to the prosecution's case was testimony from a well-known hair analysis expert and former head of the FBI's microscopic hair comparison unit, who told jurors that a hair found on a sheet wrapped around the victim after the attack was similar to ones taken from Phillips. But DNA testing conducted on that same hair years later proved it wasn't his. Also, the microscopic hair comparison science presented at Phillips' trial — and thousands of others across the country — was later discredited as junk science. Phillips testified in his own defense, and denied raping the girl. Norfleet testified that Phillips was with him at the time, and a plastic surgeon told jurors Phillips couldn't have been wearing an earring that day: His ear had been pierced at one time, the surgeon said, but the hole had been closed for years. The all-white jury convicted Phillips of all charges except attempted murder. The panel recommended that he serve 100 years in prison. ___ The UVA Innocence Project took on Phillips' case in 2015 after a visit from Phillips' sister. The defense team sent the evidence out for testing, and in 2017, a California lab reported that it had located male 'touch DNA' — evidence left by skin cells — on the victim's clothing. The lab ruled out Phillips as the source in three of four samples found, but couldn't definitively exclude him from the fourth. Shortly afterward, one of Phillips' Innocence Project attorneys visited the victim at her home in Georgia and obtained an affidavit from her saying she may have identified the wrong man. The defense team asked a three-member state Court of Appeals panel to declare Phillips innocent, but the request was denied. The Supreme Court of Virginia refused to hear the case because it only considers DNA results obtained from Virginia state labs. The only option after that was to get a pardon from the governor. Terry McAuliffe was governor when the petition was first submitted, and was followed by Gov. Ralph Northam, both Democrats. Neither acted on it. Since governors tend to issue the majority of their pardons at the end of their term, Phillips is praying that Republican Gov. Glenn Youngkin will act on it before he leaves office in January. State records show Youngkin has issued around 160 pardons during his 3½ years in office, far fewer than the 1,200 Northam issued. Most all were simple pardons, which is an official statement of forgiveness but doesn't remove the conviction or convictions from the person's record. Only two of Youngkin's pardons have been absolute pardons, and both were for misdemeanor crimes. Peter Finocchio, Youngkin's press secretary, said in an email to The Pilot that his office can't comment on pending pardon decisions. ___ Phillips received his ministry license while in prison and led Bible studies for other inmates. He earned a doctorate in theology from Tabernacle Bible College after he got out, and started a car detailing and small trucking business that later closed. His doctorate thesis largely centered on his life story, and his efforts to stay positive throughout his incarceration and help others through his ministry. Phillips and his fiancee, Nichelle, got married in May 2021. The two met in December 1990, while he was out on parole. Nichelle supported him throughout his incarceration, writing letters and visiting often. The couple now lives in the Kempsville home where Phillips was raised. 'He's the strongest man I've ever known,' Nichelle said. 'Hardworking, loving. I just have so much respect for him. He's been through so much and I want him to have everything that he deserves — sooner rather than later.' These days, Phillips is mostly focused on his ministry. He tapes his spiritual messages every Saturday at a small church in Norfolk. Nichelle records them using a cellphone and ring light. The half-hour videos are then streamed on the Goodvue Network, a free, faith-based streaming platform that can be found on Roku, Apple TV, Fire TV and others. Pastor Duke White, one of the founders of Goodvue Network, is among Phillips' biggest supporters. The network reaches more than a million viewers, White said, and Phillips' videotaped messages have been popular. 'His program has been in the top 10 five or six times in the past year,' the pastor said. 'He's been a profound teacher and a profound leader and it's only going to grow.' White also has had Darnell as a guest on some of his programs. 'His story is so inspiring and profound,' White said. 'He's been betrayed by so many and yet his level of forgiveness is extraordinary.' Phillips said that while he's extremely grateful for the efforts of his family and lawyers in securing his release — and the bravery of the young victim who came forward several years ago to say that she believed she'd identified the wrong man — his journey won't be complete until he's officially declared innocent. 'It (an absolute pardon) would mean true freedom for me,' he said. 'It would just give total restoration and healing in my life. It would make me whole.' Jane Harper,
Irish Times
4 days ago
- Irish Times
The life and tragic death of Sunny Jacobs: how a US death row exoneree ended up in Connemara
An isolated cottage in Connemara is as far away as one can imagine from an interstate truck stop in suburban Miami, but Sonia 'Sunny' Jacobs could not escape tragedy in either location. There was shock at home and abroad on Tuesday when news broke that Jacobs (77) died in a house fire at her home in Glenicmurrin in Casla – a village in Connemara, Co Galway – along with her caretaker Kevin Kelly (31) in the early hours of that morning. Jacobs, who was originally from New York, had, by her own admission, become a 'poster child' for the worldwide lobby of those opposed to the death penalty, having spent five years on death row in the 1980s. Her life story has been told many times over. READ MORE It featured in a TV drama, In the Blink of an Eye (1996), and in a stage play, The Exonerated (2000), which was turned into a film in 2005 of the same name where she was played by Susan Sarandon. Her story was also told in a documentary, The Sunny Side Up (2019), her own book, Stolen Time (2007), and a book by former Miami Herald journalist Ellen McGarrahan entitled Two Truths and a Lie (2021). Sonia Lee Jacobs Linder was born in August 1947 to Herbert and Bella Jacobs, a wealthy Jewish couple from Long Island, New York. Her parents were hard-working textile merchants, but Jacobs didn't live up to their expectations. She became pregnant as a teenager, leading to a quick marriage to the father of her child, followed by a swift divorce. When her son Eric was two, Jacobs moved to Florida where her parents kept a home. They looked after her child. [ Death row survivor Sonia 'Sunny' Jacobs found 'tranquility' in Connemara before death in house fire Opens in new window ] It was there she met Jesse Tafero, a charmer, but also a violent criminal. At the time, she was a 'hippy flower girl' and a vegetarian. Tafero was her biggest mistake. They had a daughter, Tina, together. On February 20th, 1976, Jacobs, Tafero, her two children and a fugitive named Walter Rhodes pulled over at a rest stop on Interstate 95, the highway that runs the length of the east coast of the United States. Rhodes had agreed to drive the couple and the children from Miami to a house in West Palm Beach farther north along the coast in Florida. They were all asleep in the car when a passing highway patrolman, Phillip Black, spotted a gun on the floor of the car. He ordered Rhodes and Tafero out of the car. Shortly afterwards, Black and a visiting Canadian police officer, Corporal Donald Irwin, were shot dead. Rhodes testified that Tafero and Jacobs shot the two police officers. They were sentenced to death and he, as the chief witness, was spared the electric chair. He later changed his testimony several times and admitted to the killing. Jacobs spent five years in solitary confinement on death row. Her death sentence was commuted to life in prison in 1981. Tafero went to the electric chair in 1990 in a notoriously botched execution in which flames projected from his head. It took an agonising 13 minutes for him to die. Sunny Jacobs admitted to making mistakes in her early life, mistakes for which she paid a terrible price, but never admitted to murder or even being party to murder. Photograph: Joe O'Shaughnessy Two years later, Jacobs won her appeal against her sentence and was released from prison after 16 years and 233 days, but there was a sting in the release. Rather than seeking a retrial, which the Florida state prosecutors were entitled to do, they entered into a special plea bargain known as an Alford plea. Jacobs did not admit guilt, but admitted the prosecutors had incriminating evidence against her. She would later state that she agreed to this plea under duress. The state of Florida was reluctant to admit it made a mistake in convicting her, she believed, as this would leave them open to paying her compensation. In her book Stolen Time, Jacobs recalled spending five years in solitary confinement because there was no death row for women. Her coping mechanisms would serve her well both in prison and when she was released. 'The work that had begun in my death row cell, which I had expanded into my everyday life in prison through yoga, meditation and prayer, now became a way of life and a paradigm for living in the world,' she wrote. She toured the world campaigning against the death penalty. It was while speaking at an event in Galway in 1998 that she met her future husband, Peter Pringle. Pringle, like Jacobs, had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was arrested and convicted of the capital murders of two gardaí, John Morley and Henry Byrne, who were shot dead by a republican paramilitary gang during a bank robbery in Ballaghaderreen , Co Roscommon, in July 1980. He was sentenced to death along with two other men. Their death sentences were commuted in 1981 by then president Patrick Hillery to penal servitude for 40 years. Pringle, though a known republican who had spent time in jail, always claimed he was not involved in the murders and was nowhere near the scene at the time. In 1995, his conviction was deemed to be unsafe and unsound by the Court of Appeal and he was released. He attended Jacobs's 1998 talk in Salthill and she noticed that he was crying during her presentation. They agreed to go for a cold water swim afterwards and fell in love. Sunny Jacobs and her husband Peter Pringle in Connemara, Co Galway, in 2012. Photograph: Joe O'Shaughnessy 'I was 51 years old, in the sixth year of my new life when I met someone with whom I found the deep connection I had been seeking all my life. I hadn't been trying because I don't think I could ever find anyone to live with again,' she wrote in Stolen Time. They eventually married in New York in 2011. They lived in a number of houses in Connemara before settling in a three-bedroom cottage Glenicmurrin with views of the Twelve Pins mountains. 'Life has turned out beautifully,' Pringle told the Guardian in 2013. 'Sure, it's not without its difficulties. We have no money. But we do good work. We are at peace. And we have a great life together. We look forward and we live in the moment.' McGarrahan, the former Miami Herald journalist who wrote a book about Jacobs, was one of the witnesses to the execution of Tafero and was haunted by what she saw. She resolved to get to the truth of what happened on the layby of Interstate 95, given the many different versions of the truth. She concluded Tafero murdered the two policemen, but that Jacobs was not altogether innocent and had fired a taser gun from the back seat, which started the whole tragedy. Having reviewed the evidence, she concurred with the presentence hearing that she and Tafero had lived the 'classic fugitive lifestyle'. 'These individuals simply moved from place to place exchanging narcotics for whatever was available, and living from hand to mouth, day to day,' she wrote. That was then. Jacobs admitted to making mistakes in her early life, mistakes for which she paid a terrible price, but never admitted to murder or even being party to murder. Her husband Pringle died in 2023 at the age of 84. He had been looked after in his final years by Kelly, who also became Jacobs's carer, and who is originally from Moycullen, Co Galway. He was a dog lover who was involved with the local Madra charity. While Jacobs and Pringle lived in Connemara, many exonerees from around the world came to stay and avail of their hospitality. According to Ruairí McKiernan, a friend of Jacobs's, she lived a full life until she died, constantly advocating for victims of injustice. The rough boreen up to her house in Glenicmurrin was closed off this week by gardaí as forensic examinations of her cottage took place. It was a tragic end for a woman who had snatched happiness from one of the worst situations imaginable. Death in Connemara: who was Sunny Jacobs? Listen | 18:42
Irish Times
5 days ago
- General
- Irish Times
Death row survivor Sonia ‘Sunny' Jacobs found ‘tranquility' in Connemara before death in house fire
Sonia 'Sunny' Jacobs and her husband Peter Pringle lived out their lives in a place of breathtaking beauty and isolation. Each morning when they opened their curtains they had views of the blue-tinged Twelve Pins mountain range , rocky bogland and Lough Glenicmurrin. The 1970s-era bungalow where Ms Jacobs (76) and her caretaker Kevin Kelly (31) died in a house fire in the early hours of Tuesday morning is down a rough boreen. The area is now closed off with Garda tape. It seems scarcely believable that a woman who overcame so much in her life would succumb to the tragedy of a house fire along with a young man who had his whole life ahead of him. READ MORE [ Woman who died in Connemara house fire named as former US death row inmate Sunny Jacobs Opens in new window ] Sonny Jacobs pictured at the Cuirt International Festival of Literature in 2007. Photograph: Joe O'Shaughnessy. Ms Jacobs spent five years on death row in Florida and 16 years in prison for a murder she did not commit. While she was in prison, her parents, who were looking after her two children, were killed in a plane crash. She was released in 1992. Six years later, at a meeting organised by Amnesty International in Galway, she met Peter Pringle. He had also been on death row in Ireland for the murder of gardaí John Morley and Henry Byrne in July 1980. He too was exonerated having spent 14 years in jail. They moved twice in Connemara before settling in Glenicmurrin at the end of a row of about a dozen houses. The nearest town, Costelloe, is 15 minutes drive away. Despite their isolation, they regularly received visitors mostly in connection with the Sunny Centre, which she set up with Mr Pringle to campaign against the death penalty worldwide. Mr Pringle died in December 2023 and Ms Jacobs's beloved dog, Barney, died a short time after that. Postman Michael Leainde got to know the couple better than most. 'People are really shocked and it is only now they are coming to grips with what happened,' he said. 'She was very witty. I'd be talking to her every second day. If I said something and she didn't think it was right, she would say, 'Michael, you were wrong about that'. She was a great woman and we had great chats,' he said. Postman Michael Leainde got to know the couple better than most. Photograph: Ronan McGreevy He thought she and her husband found a happiness in the landscape of Connemara that had denied to them for so long in their lives. 'If you look around you, you have peace and tranquillity. When you get a little bit older in age, you want to have some peace in life. They really appreciated what they had here,' she said. Mr Leainde, who is also a local councillor, spoke to her last Thursday and said she was in great form. She had spoken to her son recently via video call, he recalled. A neighbour, Michael Walsh, said he knew her husband Mr Pringle very well and he would call in occasionally. They were a happy couple who moved to the location in their final years to the house their final location locally having rented an adjacent house for many years. She was a 'nice woman. We all felt sorry for her for all the years she spent in prison', he said. Ruairí McKiernan, a former member of the Council of State, a body that advises the president of Ireland, first met Ms Jacobs 18 years ago and they became good friends. Despite being 76, she worked until the end of her life talking, podcasting and advocating for the Sunny Foundation in the United States, he said in an online tribute. 'She never stopped giving, and, in all of this, she kept gratitude at the heart of her practice. Always grateful for beauty, for animals, for nature, for friendship, for life,' he said.
CTV News
6 days ago
- General
- CTV News
Man exonerated of murder charge speaks
Winnipeg Watch A man recently exonerated of first-degree murder charges after spending more than 20 years in prison is happy to be free, but says the stigma will linger.
CBS News
02-06-2025
- General
- CBS News
Antonio McDowell becomes 51st man exonerated in wrongful conviction linked to disgraced ex-CPD detective
Antonio McDowell exonerated after being framed for murder by former CPD detective Antonio McDowell exonerated after being framed for murder by former CPD detective Antonio McDowell exonerated after being framed for murder by former CPD detective A man whose murder conviction was tied to disgraced former Chicago Police Detective Reynaldo Guevara is now free following a judge's decision Monday morning. Antonio McDowell's lawyers said he was sentenced to 103 years in prison after being framed for murder by the now-retired Guevara. McDowell, who spent 23 years in prison, had his conviction vacated last month. On Monday, a judge dismissed the case entirely, exonerating him. McDowell is the 51st person to be exonerated in a case Guevara led. It is also the second post-conviction hearing in a case tied to Guevara since State's Attorney Eileen O'Neill Burke took office, with both convictions being vacated.
