Life After Death: The Shocking True Story of a Innocent Man on Death Row

press. My father didn’t come. He sent an e-mail through the WM3 website with his phone number, in case I wanted to be in touch.
    We rehearsed our statements. Originally our lawyers were going to enter our pleas for us, but at the last minute Ellington threw a fit, demanding that we accept the plea ourselves, out loud, in front of the family members of the victims, who were nearly all in attendance. Over the years, I’d corresponded with John Mark Byers, and with Pam Hobbs’s daughter, Amanda. I was so tired that I hardly registered individual presences. The crowd and the noise from reporters was overwhelming as we were walked, finally unshackled, into the courtroom. It was over with very quickly. Everything went off just as we had rehearsed. I remember seeing Lorri and Eddie sitting right behind me, and then I was declared free.
    Judge Laser allowed the three of us to be escorted from the courtroom, and then he spoke to the remaining audience. He said that the plea deal was a tragedy on many counts. It wouldn’t bring the children back, and it wouldn’t replace a minute of the time we’d spent in prison. He thanked outside forces—supporters, celebrities, and friends—for getting involved and for their enduring loyalty. When I watched the speech on tape afterward, it was the first time I believed the justice system was anything other than corrupt to the core.

Twenty-nine
    F EBRUARY 15, 2012
    I n three days I will have been out of prison for six months. It’s passed in the blink of an eye. Part of that sensation is due to the shock I felt upon my release, and for weeks afterward. It’s taken a great deal of time for me to begin coming back to myself. It’s still not complete. Anytime I become exhausted or deeply stressed, the shock begins to creep into the periphery of my psyche like a fog rolling in. I have no idea how long it will take before I’m acclimated to the outside world again. Perhaps never.
    People keep asking me what I was thinking the day I walked out of prison. The answer to that is nothing. I wasn’t thinking anything at all, much like the day I walked into prison. The trauma was just too great. I had been in the solitary confinement of that concrete cell for nearly a decade, with few visitors. To be suddenly thrust into a courtroom packed with people, reporters, cameras, and action was overwhelming. Each and every person had their own specific scent and energy. It was pleasant and cloying at the same time, but it was sensory overload. Just wearing real clothes for the first time was disorienting in itself, but then you add in everything else and it felt like someone had set off a grenade in my head. Activity swirled all around me, but it all also seemed very far away.
    The moment it was over and the chains were gone, Jason and I were taken straight to the Department of Motor Vehicles in a small town called Marked Tree and issued ID cards. From there we drove to the Madison Hotel in Memphis. Eddie Vedder met us there, and an aide-de-camp had set up a hotel suite for us. The first thing I saw when I walked in was a buffet table. Cheeseburgers, fries, sandwiches, salad, soup, just about anything you can imagine. My first meal out of prison was a Black Angus burger, a turkey sandwich, fries, and a glass of Merlot. I felt sick immediately afterward, but it was worth it. Eddie sat on a couch, laughing the entire time. It was just a few of us, but there was a huge party going on in the main dining room downstairs—everyone was celebrating. When we went down to say hello, I tasted champagne for the first time in my life.
    That day, Jessie Misskelley returned to his father’s home in a small trailer park in West Memphis. Jason and I were given a rooftop party at the Madison in the evening. Eddie and Natalie Maines sang. It was surreal. For the first time in eighteen years I stood outdoors in the dusk, looking at the Mississippi River and watching the sunset. My heart exploded, over and over. I stared at the bridge between Memphis and West Memphis for a long time. And then the night fell. I was drunk on it.
    The next morning we boarded a plane (my first) with Eddie Vedder, who flew us up to his place in Seattle. It was heaven. I rested, and just spent time with Lorri. My nerves were frayed and raw. Still are, to a certain degree. And Lorri is still my only comfort.
    And then I came to New York. When I walked the city streets for the first time, I was dazed. I walked out in front of cars. I