False Convictions Read Online Free PDF Page A

her because
she
wanted me to,” Hubbard said, his eyes now on the table. “She sent me the money for the bus ticket. Simple. I took the bus
     up here and went out there to see her. We almost got caught and I had to break a window with my hand to get away.”
    “Then what?” Casey asked.
    Hubbard sat for a moment, scowling before he said, “Then, nothing. I walked back to town with my hand bleeding and some hillbillies
     jumped me outside of their hayseed bar. I cut one of them, but they got me good, four on one, then I tossed the knife, and
     before I knew it I’m down on the floor in the bus station with some cop calling me a murderer and a rapist. The rest is the
     joke you all know about better than me, all that bullshit about a murdered prom queen, and I was the closest black man they
     could find. That’s it.”
    “You knew the girl, though?”
    “The dead girl?” Hubbard asked, raising an eyebrow. “I knew who she was. Everyone did. The queen bee of the East Siders. Country
     club kids. Not that
her
family belonged—the dad flipped burgers at Mickey D’s. You wanted to wipe that smile off her face and watch her freckles
     turn purple? All you had to do was sing the Big Mac song: ‘Two all-beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions
     on a sesame seed bun.’ Rich boys didn’t care about that, though. She was VIP. Tall and blonde and built for speed. Dude had
     to have a fat roll of cash and a sweet ride before he even thought about running with her.”
    “Did you think about it?” Casey asked.
    “What?”
    “Running with her?”
    Dwayne snorted softly and nodded at his own arm. “But I couldn’t have her and like every black man I wanted the white woman
     so bad I took what I couldn’t get and went Freddy Krueger on her. Is that where you’re at? You asked if I knew her. Lady,
     I’m good being black. Katania, my girl? She was black, so don’t give me that
Mandingo
shit.”
    “Did you know where she lived?” Casey asked.
    “After all the diagrams and maps at my trial, I did,” Hubbard said.
    “You said yourself that you went right past the place.”
    “It’s on the way to the bus station,” Hubbard said. “So, yeah, I went right past it. And I’m doing life for it.”
    “Anyone ever ask you if you saw anyone else?” Casey asked. “Or anything else?”
    Hubbard puckered and twisted his lips, scowling. “Like they wanted to know the truth? Girl was like a bitch in heat. Coulda
     been anyone.”
    “Did
you
see anything that night?”
    “Long time ago, lady.”
    “You must remember something.”
    “A lot of rain,” he said.
    “It was raining?”
    “Hard,” he said. “Then it let up. I know because I was wet to the bone.”
    “Nothing else?” Casey said. “No people? No cars?”
    Hubbard gently sucked on his lower lip, staring at the tabletop before he said, “A BMW.”
    “A car?” Casey asked.
    Hubbard nodded slowly.
    “Color?”
    “White,” he said. “In fact, it almost hit me.”
    “That’s something. Maybe.”
    “She’s for real?” Hubbard said, wrinkling his brow at Graham.
    “She is.”

6
    H E’D DO WELL on the stand,” Casey said. “The hatred, though, that’s tough to hide. But we could work on that.”
    The rain had ended and the clouds began to show patches of blue sky beyond the glistening concrete walls. As they approached
     the corner of the block, Casey studied the guard tower, a glass and metal turret where the shadows of men with rifles stood
     watching whatever went on inside the walls. Behind them on the street, Ralph crept along in the Lexus, its tires popping over
     stones and chips of concrete from the broken sidewalk.
    “It looked to me like that doesn’t matter to you,” Graham said.
    “It doesn’t,” she said. “Who wouldn’t be bitter?”
    “I’m glad he didn’t turn you off,” Graham said, opening the door to a storefront deli.
    “It’s like physics with me,” Casey said.
    “Meaning?”
    “Every action