HOUSTON — Richard Miles set out to find a job after his release from a Texas prison in 2009 with a collection of newspaper clippings about his wrongful murder conviction as his resume. No one would hire him, including warehouses and fast-food restaurants.
It was a period of painful rejection that is familiar to exonerees. Some see their own struggles reflected in Calvin Duncan, who won elected office in New Orleans after clearing his name but likely won’t serve. Louisiana lawmakers sent a bill to the governor’s desk Wednesday abolishing his job.
“We’re still kind of like looked at as an inmate that did a particular crime. It further deteriorates our ability to believe that the system can heal itself,” said Miles, who eventually found a job through a minister at his church. “When cases like in Louisiana occur, it just shows us that the system is not healing itself.”
The fight in Louisiana has touched a nerve among exonerees in the U.S. who see Duncan’s plight as reflective of the biases and stigmas they have to confront as they try to rebuild their lives.
Duncan served nearly 30 years in prison before his murder conviction was vacated in 2021 after evidence emerged that police officers had lied in court. He was elected to become the Orleans Parish clerk of criminal court in November, vowing to fix the system that failed him. He had been set to take office May 4.
Louisiana Republicans who want to dissolve the office say it isn’t about Duncan’s past but a necessary step toward government efficiency.
“Even if they are seen as somebody who is exonerated, there is still a stigma as somebody who has been in prison,” said Jon Eldan, the founder and executive director of After Innocence, a California-based nonprofit.
On Wednesday, Duncan sued Gov. Jeff Landry and other state officials, accusing them of conspiring to prevent the “Black exoneree and supporter of racial justice” from taking office. Duncan asked a federal judge to let him take office as scheduled on May 4.
A spokesperson for Landry didn’t immediately respond to a request for comment. Lester Duhe, a spokesperson for Louisiana Attorney General Liz Murrill, declined to comment on the lawsuit, saying Murrill “had nothing to do with the bill.”
Nonprofits and others offer help to exonerees
According to the National Registry of Exonerations, more than 3,800 people have been exonerated in the U.S. since 1989.
But unlike those released on parole or probation, exonerees don’t have access to government-provided services such as employment or housing assistance and mental health services.
“I was turned down by many prisoner reentry organizations because they said, ‘Look, you’re not on parole, you’re not on probation,’” said Jeffrey Deskovic, who was wrongly convicted of rape and murder in Peekskill, New York, and spent 16 years in prison before being freed in 2006.
Thirty-eight states compensate wrongfully convicted people, although that process can take years.
After Innocence works directly one-on-one with exonerees nationwide, helping them to get healthcare and dental services, and providing them with financial and job counseling and resume prep. It also tries to clean up their records to accurately represent what happened in their criminal cases, Eldan said.
Miles, who spent more than 14 years in prison, now runs Miles of Freedom, a nonprofit in Dallas that helps formerly incarcerated individuals, including exonerees, rebuild their lives.
The challenges Miles faced as an exoneree looking for employment – including a lack of work history, viable skills and training – are not unusual, but it also appears some employers simply don’t want someone who has been behind bars on their workforce.
There are no government statistics that track the employment rate of exonerees. Multiple studies have shown the unemployment rate for people who were in prison is much higher than the national rate. A 2018 study from the Prison Policy Initiative found that formerly incarcerated people are unemployed at a rate of over 27%. A 2021 Bureau of Justice Statistics study found that 33% of federal prisoners released in 2010 did not find employment for four years. Nationally, the unemployment rate in March was 4.3%.
Finding employment remains a challenge
Deskovic used the compensation he received five years after his 2006 release from prison to start the Deskovic Foundation, a New York-based nonprofit that helps free wrongfully convicted people. He later got a law degree so he could represent them in court.
Exonerees tell Deskovic little has changed since the years following his release when he applied for jobs, including as a doughnut shop worker and a weekly newspaper reporter, but could never find consistent work.
Supporters of exonerees point to Duncan as someone who has rebuilt his life and won elected office but still faces pushback about his innocence and post-incarceration accomplishments.
“If he wasn’t an exoneree, would they be doing this to him? I’m sure that they would not,” Deskovic said.
Groups push for legislative help for exonerees
Eldan’s organization worked with a state senator to help write and pass a law in Delaware that provides compensation for wrongful imprisonment, as well as a stipend and help with housing, food benefits, and health and dental insurance. It also provides exonerees with a certificate from the state saying they were wrongly incarcerated and found innocent.
Eldan said his group is working with legislators in several other states, including California and New Mexico, where lawmakers are focused on passing bills to provide similar innocence certificates and update exonerees’ criminal records.
More states should fund programs to help exonerees after their release, Eldan and Miles said.
“But it’s hard to write into a statute, something that actually translates into real benefit for these people,” Eldan said. “It’s not because the state is bad, but because the state just is not well-suited to deliver those services.”
Ben Spencer spent 34 years in prison for a murder in Dallas he didn’t commit before being exonerated and released in 2021. He applied for jobs at an Amazon warehouse and as an airport baggage loader but failed to secure a position.
Eventually, someone who had taken an interest in his case helped get him a job as a facilities engineer, doing repairs for a company. He’s worked there five years.
“I think I’m kind of settling in a little more now. I’m still trying to figure out the cellphone and computers,” Spencer said. “When I walked out of the jail, it was like waking up out of a coma or a bad dream. And of course, I still had to try to get some financial stability. I guess I won’t say I’m there now, but I’m closer to where I wanna be now than I was.”
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Associated Press writer Jack Brook in New Orleans contributed.
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Follow Juan A. Lozano: https://x.com/juanlozano70
