I was in prison for four months for a crime that I didn’t commit. That may
not sound like very long, but it was more than enough to ruin my life. I
could have stayed for one night, and it still would have been devastating.
I’m not talking about being a person of interest, or even being arrested. I
could have talked that off as a misunderstanding. No, a conviction, and one
that was so highly publicized; that was something that I never came back
from, even when they found the true culprit, and let me go. Because that was
all they did; let me go, and let me fend for myself. I was out of the
country when the murder happened. Yes, I knew her, and yes, we had had sex
recently, but there is no way I could have done it. It took three months for
the authorities to receive the proof! Countries don’t talk to other
countries very nicely, especially not back then, or this all would have been
resolved in a matter of hours. My alibi was caught on camera, it was
completely ridiculous. Even after they received said footage, the police
basically said to me, well, if you didn’t do it, then who did? as if it was
my responsibility to do their job for them. It wasn’t until they reopened
the investigation, and did finally locate him that they set me free. That is
not how it works. You don’t keep someone locked up in case you never find
the killer just because somebody has to go down for this. I worked really
hard to keep my cool, and not become angry about it, because I didn’t want
anything to stand in the way of my exit from that wretched place. I did well
in the beginning. I remember being so happy as that gate opened, knowing
that it meant freedom. I harbored no resentment—not yet. I didn’t know at
the time how bad things were about to get...how much worse life would be on
the outside, not just in some ways, but all ways.
I would come to find out that I was never exonerated. They literally just
escorted me out of prison, and shut it behind me. According to law, I still
belonged in there. None of the proper paperwork was filled out; nothing was
done officially or correctly. There was a news story about it, with a clear
picture of me walking away from the prison, but that was pretty much the
only proof I had. The journalist who took that photo actually gave me a ride
back to the city, because I didn’t have any other means of transport. My
family had all disowned me, and decided to not exonerate me either. It was
impossible to convince them that I didn’t get off on some kind of clerical
error. I didn’t do it! Well, having sex out of wedlock was enough for them,
so they weren’t hearing any of it. Getting a job wasn’t any easier. A
background check showed that I was locked up, but didn’t show that I was
released. I eventually realized that I needed to keep a copy of that news
article on my person at all times. This would give me a few opportunities,
but then a coworker would learn who I was, and that would make them
uncomfortable. Maybe I didn’t commit the murder, but I was in prison, so I
probably did a lot of crimes in there. I didn’t, the other convicts actually
weren’t that bad, but no one believed me. There wasn’t an accurate paper
trail. I’m surprised I wasn’t rearrested at some point. I guess the warrant
was the one thing they did manage to get rid of. Prison was a terrible
place, but at least they had to give me a cot. Now I had nothing. I was
forced to live on the streets, which is where I die here today. I’m young in
terms of years, having aged quickly due to malnutrition, and lack of medical
care. I think I’m dying of exposure, specifically, but there’s nothing
I can do about it. I die as I lived, trapped in a world of injustice.
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