All language subtitles for TF

This programme contains some
strong language and scenes which
some viewers may find upsetting.

Time.

This is the strangest one.

Do you know that the worst part

and yet the best part of being
in solitary confinement is

time can be a blisteringly fast
thing,

where in the blink of an eye,

you can look, and ten years
are gone from your life.

But the next week is agony.

It's like you
look at your wristwatch

and instead of there being a face,
there's a calendar and it flips.

But then,
if you look out the window,

it takes all day for that
sun to go down.

HE INHALES

I always wanted to tell
somebody that.

We got into the prison
about 11.00am.

They took all the other
prisoners off this bus

and then four men came on.

They lined up against this red brick
wall...

..and here comes Lieutenant Borner.

He walked right up to me,

right up to my face - he was
like very quiet, like...

"There's no speaking in my prison.

"Dead men do not speak in my prison,
especially. Do you understand me?"

Just like that, same tone of voice.
Nothing raised, nothing threatening.

And that Lord quietness...I did,
I went to answer. I was like, "B..."

Backhanded me right in the mouth.

It like stung like you
wouldn't believe.

DOOR SLAMS

And then I was thrown into this
world where there's no sunlight

and it's deadly silent.

You see, the Pennsylvania prison
system was developed by the Quakers.

The doors were cut low, so you had
to stoop and bow to go into them...

..and while you were in the cell,
you were meant not to communicate.

It was part of your punishment.

And it was eerie,

because of almost 140 men at
the time in B Block, no-one spoke.

You'd hear them cough or urinate
and flush the toilet

but there was no real sound.

And that was the worst for me,

especially the first
couple of months.

You still can hear your mother
crying at the trial.

You can still smell the aftershave
on the witnesses, man -

I mean, like it's just every little
detail's just eating your life,

because you've just been put here.

The door was just still ringing
in your ears cos of the slam

and you're just left there,
and you're like...

HE INHALES SHARPLY

And yet, like, you don't
come to your door

and talk to a neighbour,
cos if you broke the speaking rule,

you were struck or
beaten by the guards.

In level five,
you were allowed to exercise

in these dog-kennel like cages,
19 feet long, ten feet wide.

You got an hour to
exercise by yourself,

cos you were a death-row prisoner.

But the guards, being pricks -

if you had a problem with another
guy, and they knew you were enemies,

they'd put you in a cage
together, knowing that

as soon as they'd walked off a few
steps,

you two were going to go at it.

And if that didn't work,
they simply picked out two big guys,

and put them in together.

And they had some fun.

Usually it was a white guy
with a black guy,

Spanish guy with a black guy,
Spanish guy with a white guy.

Gladiatoring, they called it.

SHOWER STARTS

The shower was the most
vulnerable time.

If you were going to get somebody,
that's the place to get them.

You got access to them, there's no
handcuffs, and they're naked.

SHOWER RUNS

I had only been there a few days
and I walked into the shower

and just as I turned the corner,
there was a Puerto Rican boy

and he had sharpened
a pork chop bone

and then stabbed this man
in the back of the liver with it and

the guy started flopping, and then
they just cut all the water off

and just beat all six of us
senseless and drug us back out of
the shower.

And then they served food.

Like they got everything cleaned up
and began serving lunch

and it went on as a routine day.

CANTEEN CHATTER

And two guys were arguing,
cos one guy didn't get enough

bread on his tray and I'm like -
this is crazy!

You're so whacked out of your mind
that you're going to

call down to that guard, "Hey, man!
I only got one slice of bread on my
tray,"

when a human being just died!

I lived in silence.

For two whole years.

The first two years.

And that's when the drugs were
discovered in the choir room.

And everything changed.

These prisoners from the choir
were locked up with us

in empty cells on death row.

And because none of them were going
to tell where the drugs came from,

they were going to ship all of them
to individual different prisons.

To the other eight members of the
choir, it really didn't matter.

But two of the men had a bond that
was special. Wesley and Butch.

Wesley was this fair-skinned,
green-eyed beautiful black guy

who just exuded this eloquence
and sweetness about him.

Everyone liked him.

And he had a voice
that was gravelly and wondrous.

He had met Butch when they were
children in the church

in West Philadelphia,
where Butch was a foster child.

Obviously, Wesley was gay and
they formed this bond that seemed

to like be invulnerable.

And then, Butch began stealing
and getting in trouble

and he was arrested and thrown
into county prison in Philadelphia

and Wesley went nuts without him.

He was the only thing in his life
that protected him

from the scorn of his parents,
the bullies in the neighbourhood,

the people who knew
he was weak without Butch.

So he began committing
deliberate crimes

and getting arrested
so that he could be with Butch

and they found out prison was
the one place they could be normal.

They got themselves
put into the same cell and together,

in the setting of a prison,
where homosexuality is an accepted

form of expression, or just life,
no-one bothered them.

And that's when the drugs were
discovered and the guard

on duty at nine o'clock that night
started tormenting Wesley.

"Hey, faggot, you're going.

"Your boy's going to Western.
I just looked on the transfer sheet.

"You're going to Dallas.

"Opposite ends of the State
of Pennsylvania. Bye, nigger!"

And I guess Wesley went
crazy in the cell.

Cos about 40 minutes later,
just before ten o'clock, there was

like 20 minutes left before shift
change at 10.00pm.

This voice took over.

# Ah, oooh

# Yeah

# I have a dream, the dream
Of every common man... #

Every man on that block
just stood still.

# I have sworn by my blood
as your man, my love... #

We knew the penalty.

# That one day, I promise one day
all of your heartaches
would stop... #

Then you heard the keys.
HE MIMICS RATTLE OF KEYS

The footsteps behind it.

"What the fuck are you doing,
singing in my block?

"I will beat your head in.
If you don't stop that singing right
now, I will beat your head in."

# Oh, thanks to you baby

SINGER LAUGHS
# For just loving a common man... #

More keys.
# I want to thank you this evening,
honey... #

HE MIMICS KEYS SHAKING
Here they come.

Everybody knows what's coming.
# I thought that I'd failed you... #

The lieutenant came running down

and he was this militant asshole
with the brush cut

and the uniform that was
pressed to precision

and he ran down and he ran down
and he said, "Hold it." Like that.

And even Wesley stopped cos
we know, when Lieutenant Norris

raised his hand, that was it.

He said, "I leave in 20 minutes.

"If there is a noise on this block,
from anyone, when I leave this unit,
we will beat every man's head in.

"Do you understand me?" Silence.

"Finish that song, inmate.
Let's go."

The guards looked at him
like he had lost his frigging mind.

They were stunned.

"Let's go. You.
You've got 20 minutes."

And walked off the block.
HE MIMICS KEYS SHAKING

He even had an argument on the way
out of the door.

When the gates shut...
GATE SLAMS

..that big wide B block gate -
when they left the block alone,

we were like...

"Oh, my God! We are totally
and utterly unsupervised."

And he came back right in mid-lyric
like he had never stopped singing.

# You said, "I love you, baby

# I love you for just
being a common man... #

SINGER JOINS ON BASS NOTE

And like you could hear them,
here they come,

the other members that had a little
bit of guts, yeah?

They were blowing, you know?

They were giving bass,
and it was wonderful.

These voices, yeah?

# I thank you, baby, yeah,
for respecting me, yeah

# I want to thank you, baby

# For telling me

# I want thank you for respecting me

# In a time of worry

# Thank you for calming my
troubles... #

GOSPEL-TYPE VOICES CONTINUE

FINGER-CLICKS KEEP BEAT

Then, out of nowhere...

# Ooh... #

..we heard this woman's voice.

Dorothy Moore's Misty Blue.

# Ah... #

I thought, I swear to God, somebody
had gotten a radio in on B Block.

# Ah

# Looks like I'd get you... #

No-one really knew who it was that
was singing and then I figured it
out.

Butch was six foot four and 240lbs.

He had a big jagged scar that ran
down the side of his face,

like from someone trying to cut his
head open.

I was terrified of this man.

# Oh, honey

# Just the mention of your name... #

To hear him sing in this beautiful
voice...

# Turns the flicker to a flame... #

..as his way of showing love for
someone who was being taken from him
the next morning

made me want someone to care for me
in that place so much

that they would sing, knowing that
singing would have gotten their head
beat in.

They shipped Wesley that morning
at 3:55am.

But the next day,

like a few guys were talking outside
of their cells to each other,

like a normal conversation,
and when the guard went by

he didn't tell them that they
was going to beat their brains in,
he just simply said,

"Keep that down, the lieutenant
doesn't like it.

They weren't going to torture us
with silence any more.

CELL DOOR OPENS

BUZZER

Joe Bullen, my first appellate
attorney, God bless him,

got the attention
of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court.

He didn't like me,
but he filed the appeal nonetheless

and got us the hearing
scheduled for February 20th.

I was excited to go to court,
you know.

Two Delaware County sheriffs
were waiting for me.

They come up,
they put the handcuffs on me.

Both men were in their 60s.

Two sweetheart guys who were already
bullshitting about basketball

and football and all this stuff
in Philadelphia.

They're giving me
updates on some things that

I haven't caught up on and people
back down in the county jail

who was going up
to the state prison.

We're talking about how damn
cold it is. It was bitterly cold.

In fact, it was the coldest
day of the year that year.

I'm sitting in the back
and we're driving along.

And we get down there
four-and-a-half hours later.

It's now about 4:30pm, almost
5:00pm, and nearly pitch dark.

We pull in to go to the bathroom.

The driver drives past it
by like 25 yards.

We get out of the car and we're
hit with that blast of cold.

We run right over, the three of us,
to the cubicle and I go in

and the door is being held
open by the taller officer.

And he stands there
while I urinate and watches me.

I'm peeing,
I'm minding my own business,

I'm thinking about getting
back into that warm-ass car.

It's freezing, I turn, I look up,
he's got his hand up,

I put my head under his arm
and I make a left turn

to go back to the car.

What I did not know is that the
officer who was driving

went back to the car and waited.

I came out of the cubicle
and started trotting towards him.

He looked past me
and he didn't see his partner.

He doesn't know
if I've killed his partner or not.

He just knew he was seeing
a death row prisoner

running at him unescorted.

That's when he pulled his gun.

When he did that motion of sticking
his hand on his hip and pulling

the weapon from the holster,
I just turned and started running.

He fired that weapon and it was
like this huge percussion.

GUNSHOT

At 2,700 feet per second,
that bullet went past my ear

and so did anything else that
I was looking behind me for.

I went down and I hit the ground

and ripped all of the skin on my
hands and it's just like... Oooh!

Then they started
this attitude, you know,

"That's it.
I'm going to do what I got to do."

So I just got up and I ran towards
the big plate-glass window

of the restaurant next door.

I figured if I'm running directly
at the window, he can't shoot me.

I ran about 100 yards
across the road and I circled back.

And I came right back
to where I had escaped.

Now, I'm looking at them as
they're yelling at each other

who was the bigger idiot for letting
this happen and then I hear them.

POLICE SIRENS

All the sirens
in the world are coming.

There was cars
coming from everywhere.

They had an escaped
death row prisoner alert.

They pulled out all the stops.

So I took my eye glasses off,

pulled the plastic off the end
of the eyeglasses and I stuck

the eyeglass pin into the handcuffs
and I picked the handcuffs.

I could see the buildings off to
my right and one of them had a flag.

That's a police station.

I said, man, I'm going
to hide behind the police station.

So I navigated down
behind this alleyway

and I got down in this recessed
area and I just huddle

and I just waited.

I was so cold.

When I lost my core temperature
like an hour later, I was shivering.

I was like, oh my God,
this is killing me.

I was going into these bends.
It was hurting.

My ribs were aching from going into
these convulsions like that.

So I was hurting so bad.

I'm going to get up
and get out of here.

I came flying out of that
parking lot and they saw me.

HELICOPTER ROTOR BLADES

This guy came out of nowhere,
just hovered above me.

And the blinding candlelight of this
magnitude, I can't even describe.

And he circled
and he had the whole area lit.

He came back, he lit me up
and lit me up.

This guy chased me for literally
three hours with this helicopter.

My feet split open, my calves
erupted, my hamstrings were pulled.

But I got lucky, didn't I?

The helicopter had a FLIR -
forward-looking infrared camera

and it wasn't working because
it was so cold it malfunctioned.

I ended up on a pair
of railroad tracks

where I walked on broken feet
for five miles.

Until I got to Frazer Pennsylvania
where I stole a car.

It was a 1965 green Mustang.

I found a quarter.

I went over to the coin box
and I called a family member.

I drove over to the house
and they gave me $100,

a handful of bandages and gauze

and then a Philadelphia
green Eagles ski cap.

Like that wasn't going to give
away my city location!

I drove to New York City
and I got a hotel room

in the Bowery in a flophouse
on the lower East Side.

Seven dollars a night.

I paid for a whole week in advance

and then I went to a little bodega
and I got a box of Epsom salt

and went up to my room.

Oh, my God.

Like, I literally had
institutional sock

all threaded into the torn
tissue of my feet.

And I just soaked in it

and I started pulling it out
and it was like...

I would just cry, man.
The first three days...

That's why I didn't even venture
out. I literally couldn't walk.

CAR HORNS

After four days,
I went out one evening.

It was excruciating
to finally go out.

And Macy's had this long display
window of all the electronic

products and there were all these
televisions and on them

were all these different channels
and on some of them was the news

and there was the video footage
of me obviously being hunted.

And in that one moment I was
hit by the reality, I'm not free.

Not by a damn shot.
I am just like...

I'm temporarily out on a leash

and if they catch me
I'm going to catch a bullet.

Like, it was so terrifying
in that moment.

In 1985 you didn't need to even show
photo identification

to get on an aeroplane.

You didn't have to show
who you were or anything.

So I went to this
upscale restaurant.

And I just waited and waited.
I waited by the men's room.

Waiting, waiting.

As soon as I saw a guy go in the
bathroom without a jacket on,

I walked over to his table
and I stole his jacket

and he had his wallet in his jacket.

Then I went to the cloakroom
and grabbed a fur coat.

And I left.

So I simply just used
the credit card,

bought last-minute tickets
to Orlando

and when I got to Orlando
I told the taxi driver

to take me to the pawn shop area.

When I went into the shop
the guy behind the counter,

the owner, was obviously a criminal.

So I told him,

"I don't have any identification
but I want to sell you this coat."

So I negotiated with him to give me
a gun and $100 for the coat,

which was worth $5,000.

A very nice fur coat.

And so after he gave me the gun,
he refused to give me bullets,

he asked me if I was willing
to rob this guy that he knew,

Anthony Manilla, who had a
collection of gold coins

that were worth $350 each.

He said there was at least 100
of these coins in this guy's house.

I met Anthony Manilla just
outside of his house.

I was driving by on a bicycle
I had bought at a flea market.

So when I rode by I pretended that
I recognised him from prison.

Anthony knew he didn't know me

but he pretended he also recognised
me in that fake way some people do.

He asked me what I was up to.

I told him I had these pills
for sale

but I couldn't find anybody
to buy them.

So he told me he could get me
$7 each for them if I waited.

Now, I knew and he knew that
each pill was worth $30 each.

The cops in the area know
he doesn't have a valid licence.

So he actually gave me the wheel.

We drive towards where I tell him
I have the drugs stashed.

I pulled the gun
and I said, "OK, freeze, I got you."

And he was like, "OK, take it easy."

I pulled over
and demanded that he give me

the nod of money he had been
bragging with.

He gave me that.

He had a Rolex watch and he had
diamond jewellery all over him.

I said, "Now I've got to tie you up

"because I've got to go back
into your house and get that money."

He flat out refused.
I said, "What do you mean, no?"

This is like a 140 pound person.

I grabbed him
and I said, "Please hold still."

I tied his hands up, put him in the
trunk, I slammed the trunk deck down

and I don't know that the trunk
deck clasp has gone through

the rope and is now just
stuck but not locked

because three red lights later
he jumps out

and when he jumps out he looks
like a mummy who has unravelled

and he runs up to the car behind and
knocks on the window

and says, "He tried to rob me!
He's trying to rob me!"

And then he ran off.

The two women in my rear-view
were looking at each other

and looking at me and I just gunned
it across the red light and went

flying across to Station Road and
went right up the middle of Orlando.

And I didn't go back to his house.

So I drove all night.

At 2:30am in the morning I get to
Daytona Beach, Volusia County.

And it's Bike Week, March 10th.

I've been an escaped
prisoner for 25 days.

And I'm sitting there and I'm like,
I can't get a hotel room anywhere.

It's booked, everything is solid.

My eyes were all gravelly
and I was just so exhausted.

So I just put the seat back
and went to sleep.

The next thing I know,

three sharp raps right on the window
and there's a cop right there.

My heart is pounding.

He's making the motion like this
so I put the window down.

He said, "Did you hear anybody
screaming?" I said, "What?"

He said "Some woman screaming.

"There's been a call, a domestic
dispute. Is there a problem?"

And I was like, "No."

I was talking to him and I was just
focusing on him trying to answer him

and that's when I heard
from the passenger side

the other officer yell,
"Hey Bert, there's a gun."

And he immediately pulled
his weapon and I said,

"Hold on, hold on. What's up?"

I didn't know this,

but about that much of the pistol
was laying out under a blanket.

So I got out of the car,
I had my hands up.

I gave a false name.

They put handcuffs on me.
They locked me up.

I'm sitting in prison and waiting.

And I said, to hell with this.

TELEPHONE RINGS

My father immediately picked up.

Hello?

I said, "Dad I need you to call
the FBI and tell them where I'm at.

"If they don't come and get me
I'm going to go before this

"judge in the morning and I'm going
to bail out and get out of here."

He hung up the phone.

He called an agent by the name of
Bud Warner, Philadelphia FBI office.

Man, the doors came open.
They came flying in there.

DOOR SLAMS

They added 35 more years
to my sentence for that robbery.

Put me on death row in Florida.

And left me there to swelter
all through that summer.

By the time they came
and got me in September

I was so eager to go back
to Pennsylvania,

even though I knew I was going
to get some serious beatings.

I had made an enemy
of every guard on shift.

I was going to go through
some extreme punishment.

Man, it was hard.

I stewed and I seethed.

I was so angry
I was beating my head on the wall.

So every couple of weeks they would
take me out and patch my head up.

And, erm...

This one officer
when he was escorting me back

from the nurse's station
stopped by this cell

and he said "Go in there
and get them books."

So this guard,
nice guy too turned out to be,

he lets me go in to the cell
and I get these books.

And some of them were just too
hard to read, you know.

You see, by the time I reached the
eighth grade at the age of 13,

school was just an area
to meet up with your friends

to go swimming or fighting,
you know.

So my reading comprehension level
was basic, to say the least.

But patience
and I had all the time in the world.

So I started working
with these books.

In the front of the General
Education Development booklet

was a note, 'Tips Of Learning'.

And it said, "If you take a word

"and write out its spelling 10 times
while covering each previous one

"and then apply each of those
to 10 sentences using that word,

"you will not forget that word."

The 10 times rule.

So I sat there with a pen and
every word I didn't understand

I did the 10 times rule to it.

I remember I would go
through a day

where I would have 50 word days,
40 word days,

I counted days sometimes
on the accomplishments

of being able to sit down
and to orally go and say,

Robert is a triskaidekaphobic.

Robert is afraid of the number 13.

Robert does not understand
that it's just an illusion

that 13 can harm him.

And I would just talk to myself
until I had that one down.

Then I would move on
to phantasmagoria

and I would understand
that phantasmagoria

was the fear of ghosts
and I'd like, boo!

You know, so I just played with it

and it just became this stupid
image of this kid

sitting in a room by himself
entertaining himself with words.

And it was quiet because I was
in the back of the B block

and I was quietly just doing it.

Triskaidekaphobia.

The fear of 13.

And like, it worked.

For some reason, that small
gesture of humanity by that guard

just changed everything for me.

I loved it. I was hooked
on dime store novels.

Series. Detective series.

Jack Higgins, Robert Ludlum,
Elmore Leonard.

The first 1,000 books,

I remember I was so proud
of the accomplishment.

I had written down 1,000 titles
of 1,000 different books

that I had personally read.

It took me three years.

I loved Rudyard Kipling.

I loved tales.

I loved storytelling of tales
like Sinbad and Homer.

Like, true story telling
is the telling of life.

Isn't it?

I loved it. I loved it.

I'm so glad I was a
drug addict in one way.

I was addicted to books and I got
hooked on them in the worst way.

Meanwhile, I was reading law books
and studying serology.

I went to college.

I really opened up all this time
and structure for reading.

And with every new book I found
something wonderful about myself.

I found...

I found myself.
Like, it was wonderful.

I was happy on death row at times
when I shouldn't have been

and it was only because
I became comfortable

with being who I was,
finally, in life.

CELL DOOR OPENS

BUZZER

And that's when I met Jackie.

Jackie Schaefer was
a 31-year-old woman

living in Pittsburgh's Pennsylvania
who was going to visit

some death row prisoners
with her friend Pamela Tucker,

who was the organiser
of an abolitionist group

from Pennsylvania.

They went monthly to
prisons around Pennsylvania

and visited death row prisoners
to check on their mental state,

to see if there were issues
they could get involved with to help

the better treatment of the overall
population of death row prisoners.

They came to the prison
and they visited five men.

I was the fifth one.

The other preceding prisoners
all went out there

and lamented how terrible it was,
the things they were encountering,

the conditions and all that.

I walked in, I sat down
and said hello to my friend Pam.

I asked her about her daughters.

We interacted about a few things
and I turned to Jackie

and I started flirting with her.

I started being gregarious and open.

It was completely unlike all
the other men who came out

with little lists of things to talk
about, while I simply was myself.

She came back the next
week by herself.

Scared to death.

So in this four foot by literally
five and a half foot walled room,

she would walk in and sit down
with a notepad and we'd talk.

Week after week.

She drove 275 miles from Pittsburgh
to Huntington,

through these mountains,
each way, and we'd start talking.

And it was weird.

I started to find out one
true thing about myself

and I think this is true for every
prisoner who goes into prison

at the age of 20 and is ready
to exit in his 30s or 40s.

You can only grow so far as a man
until a woman teaches you

enough about yourself
that you can further develop.

And it's only through the eyes
of that person that you give

yourself openly to
that they teach you

so many things about yourself
that are qualities

that you rely upon and like
and respect

because you've been shown from afar
something no mirror,

and believe me I didn't have
a mirror, could show you.

But at the heart of it,
I kept feeling dirty.

I did not want to be that prisoner
who is serving life

who lets a woman
fall in love with him,

knowing he's going
to suck the life out of her.

I had the death penalty plus 105
years. I wasn't going anywhere.

And then I get a newspaper.

And it's funny how my whole story
and life and this journey

has all been changed by either
photographs or newspapers.

But there it was. Five months
after I'd met Jackie, four months.

Newly developed DNA science makes
a big splash in the crime world.

Criminal convictions being reversed.

People were walking out, left
and right and left and right.

Whoa.

I write a letter to Jackie, I cut
the article, I sent it to her.

She came back on that visit.

As soon as the doors closed, I said,
"I didn't kill that woman."

That was the first thing I shouted.

I was, like... That was the first
time I'd told her.

And I was, like,
"I've got two things to tell you.

"One - I didn't kill Mrs Craig.

"And, two - I think
I'm in love with you, too."

She was, like, "Let's handle
the first one, first."

You know what I mean? Let's deal
with the difficult one first.

I was, like, "Oh, man."

CAR DOOR SLAMS

KID SHOUTS, ENGINE STARTS

ENGINE REVS

In the 1970s, a lot of the vehicles
still didn't have locks

on the steering column,
so you could just stick

a screwdriver into the key slot

and literally just turn
the ignition.

So, my friend Eddie and I
used to steal the early Fords,

and we would joyride them.

This man knew we were
15-year-old kids,

and knew that we didn't own the car,
and knew that it was stolen.

He was, like, "Come here, I'll give
you $200 for the car."

We looked at each other, and $200
was, like, an enormous

amount of money. We figured
we just hit the jackpot.

We knew he owned a collision centre
that fixed and repaired cars.

So we said,
"Can we get you another car?"

And he told us what one
he would need, when he needed it,

and we'd go out and look for it.

PLANE FLIES OVERHEAD

ENGINE TURNS OVER

ENGINE STARTS

So, usually, my friends and I would
go to the Philadelphia airport

and wait for what we called vics...

TYRES SCREECH

..which was somebody who walked up,

took their luggage
out of the rear of the car,

and then walked inside with
the family members to see them off.

And never got a car
when they came out.

I've had several people
in the rear-view mirror

chasing behind you
as you drove off with their car.

You dropped the car off,
you got $200-$300.

And then you took that money
and you bought drugs.

And by the time I was 17,
I was really,

really getting hooked
on methamphetamine.

My favourite vein was right
there on the outside.

I can still feel
the hole in my arm.

I can still taste
the drug in my mouth.

When you inject
methamphetamine into your arm,

you get the burning numbing
sensation shoot up your arm,

and then you get
the taste of...

ethanol in your mouth.

And it's like a cough...

HE BLOWS

..just like that.

And then the other Nicky came out.

The one I didn't
cringe in the mirror from.

The one who wasn't weak.

The one who wasn't afraid.

CHILD PANTS

'I wasn't just hooked on one drug.'

I was a mess of multiple drugs.

And alcohol.

And by December 20th,

I had already been homeless on the
streets for about most of that year.

And that's when I stole
two cars in a row for $500 each,

and I went out,
started partying again.

I was on the binge.
Burning it, they called it.

Every time I think of that night,
I smell wet, burning leaves.

It's almost sweet.

I was driving around
in another stolen car.

LOUD FUNK MUSIC PLAYS

The radio was blasting.

POLICE SIREN BLARES

You must have heard
the radio before you saw me.

When he flew out,
I knew he was going to stop me.

I just...
I just felt it coming right at me.

And...the adrenaline.

HE POUNDS HIS CHEST WITH HIS FIST

His hand's on the butt of his gun.

Here he comes. Now, I'm like,
"Oh, I can't stop it."

HE GULPS

Shit... I can't do anything.

I remember, like,
looking just like that.

HE MIMES

I don't understand whatever he's
saying. His hand's going.

HE MIMES

The door pops, and the vacuum now,
when the door comes open,

and there's all that
quiet on the street, and the noise

on the radio's still going...
IMITATES GUITAR

..that's when I realised
the radio was still on.

LOUD MUSIC PLAYS

"You didn't stop for the light.
Didn't you see the stop sign?"

All those things, but...
I panicked, you know?

Like, I remember I did that.
Like, stand-up.

He was, like, right
against my throat with his forearm.

Bang! Against the car.
When he shoved me back like that,

I remember, like, coming up
with my left arm.

And it was, like, gone,
right for the stick,

and I just followed it along,
grabbed his arm.

He had the stick come out,

I took it right out,
like it was nothing.

Right out of his hand.

He was furious! And that's
when the right-hand came out.

I saw that gun.

I grabbed it. I reached out,
I pushed his arm straight down.

Then you felt the percussion
of the blast.

And then you heard the pop.

GUNSHOT

"OK! OK! OK!"

He stuck the gun right there.
He said, "You son of a bitch!

"You almost got us killed!"
He was, like, "Get in the car!"

And he slammed me in the back,
in the cage area, shut the door.

"Shots fired, officer assist."

I remember just...
He said it four times.

I remember,
I was just sitting there, like this.

What the hell happened?

KEYS RATTLE

HEAVY DOOR CLOSES

They threw me in the intake unit.

And I crashed.

I must have slept at least 16 hours.

HEAVY DOOR OPENS

I was so scared. They pulled me out.

I'd been arrested enough to know
this one's scary, this is serious.

This one's bad.

And the public defender was this
young kid, and he turned to me.

He said, "Look, Mr Yarris,

"do you understand the serious
nature of these charges,

"because if you're convicted of
these charges,

"you face life imprisonment."

I said, "What's my charges?"
He said,

"Kidnapping of police officer.

"Attempted murder
of a police officer.

"Reckless endangerment,
possession of a firearm,

"robbery, resisting arrest,

"possession of a stolen vehicle."

I started crying.

They take me back to the cell,
and there was the newspaper.

The December 16th
Delaware County Daily Times.

The front page was missing, so
the front page on it was page three.

And right there was
the story of Linda Mae Craig.

I swear...

something about that
newspaper kept calling me.

On December 15th, 1981, at 4:05pm,
Linda Mae Craig left work.

She was knocked out of her shoes
in the car park

of the Tri-State Mall,
dragged into a car that she owned,

and then driven into
the state of Pennsylvania,

about two-and-a-half miles away,

where she was taken
behind a church...

..where she was stabbed after being
raped, and dumped in the car park.

The next morning, two children...

..walked up to what they thought

was a mannequin that had been
covered in the newly fallen snow.

One of the boys walked up, and
kicked the snow from the face

of the mannequin, so that
they could see if it was

a boy or a girl mannequin...

..only to discover
the disfigured face of Mrs Craig.

I lived 20-something
miles from the murder scene.

And I said, "Man, if I had
knowledge about a crime this big...

"..I can get out of this.
I bet you they would let me out

"and then I could get out
on bail and I'd run."

Like the stupid mind of a child.

So I sat in my cell.

And I started making up a story.

And I said I would tell 'em...

that somebody did the murder, right?

And then I had to find out
who I could blame.

And the only one I could
think of was Jimmy.

I had met Jimmy Brisbois
in 1980, when I was doing drugs.

And I stole some coins from a car
that I'd gotten from the airport.

1,000 coins? There was
a lot of coins in this big bag.

I made the mistake of showing Jimmy,
and, out of nowhere,

his friend hit me
with this 357 Magnum.

THUMP

I've still got a chip out of my
eyebrow that I can rub at this time.

TYRES SCREECH

And they had an old carpet
in the front room that nobody

used in this house we were
living in on Woodland Avenue.

So, rolled me up in the rug,

threw me into this pick-up truck
that Jimmy had,

and they took me behind
the Westing House warehouse.

And I heard the spliff - PEW! -
like that.

One of them took a 22-calibre pistol
and shot the rug.

But being drug addict
idiots that they were,

they shot it where the folded part
over of the rug was,

about two feet above my head,
way out of range of anywhere I was.

I was enraged.

I went looking for Jimmy.

"Hey, Michael, what happened
to your buddy, Jimmy?"

Cos he knew Jimmy.

"So, what happened to your
old rat-bastard Jimmy?

"I ain't seen him for a while." And
that's when he told me the story.

Jimmy and his friends were over
in Jersey. Jimmy had an overdose.

They weren't taking him to
the hospital to get arrested,

so they dumped him,
stole his drugs, and he's dead.

So you don't have to
look for him no more.

All I wanted them to do
was lower my bail enough that

I was allowed out temporarily,
at which time I could abscond.

Jimmy was dead, they were going to
find out eventually, right?

They took me to the warden's office.

They brought me in, took my
handcuffs off, the warden goes,

"Hey, get him a drink, man.
Get him a cold drink."

So they went out
and got me a Coca-Cola.

I'm sitting in a lounge chair,
no longer in a prison setting, like.

And I'm sitting there,
and he's got my file.

He's, like, "Oh, man,
you're a young guy.

"What are you charged
with all this for?

"You don't have any violence on your
record. What's this bullshit?

"Attempted murder? That doesn't
sound like you, Nick.

"You're a car thief.
What's going on here?"

I tell him my story.

Like a proud parent,
everyone's praising me.

In just a few hours,

I went from sitting there with
$100,000 bail waiting to go

to prison for the rest of my life
to being told

I was going to have a hearing
set up next week in which

I would possibly be
released on my own recognisances

and my charges would be reduced to
nothing more than resisting arrest.

When they found
James Brisbois alive,

you could have knocked me
over with a feather.

Jimmy had gotten off the drugs,
got his life together.

I was screwed.

When they came back to me,
they knew two things.

One - James Brisbois had
nothing to do with that crime.

And I had more information
than anyone else.

It was all guesswork,
but it didn't matter to them.

KEYS JANGLE

CELL DOOR OPENS

I was charged with
the abduction, rape,

and murder of a woman
I'd never met in my life.

I was already sitting
in prison for the attempted murder

of a police officer.

I'm a 20-year-old drug addict,

who's been thrown
out of his own house

onto the streets by his own family.

What chance do I have?

No-one's going to believe me.

In April,
the trial for the attempted murder

and kidnapping of Officer
Benjamin Wright was to begin.

By then, I had already been charged
with the murder of Linda Mae Craig,

so the media was having
a field day with stalker stories

and making me out to be
a complete deranged lunatic.

So, my trial began
and Officer Wright testified.

He got up on the stand,
and he started telling a completely

different story than what
actually happened.

He said that when he pulled up to
the car, I had opened the door,

got out, and punched him
in the face,

and knocked his glasses
off his face.

He then said he was trying
to flail and defend himself

while I pummelled him
a couple more times in the face,

before I reached down
and grabbed his gun

and took his gun from him,
and after which he said I had

the gun pointed directly at his face

when he heroically reached out
with both hands,

and grabbed the gun,
and pulled it from me

as it discharged
right next to his face.

And he had a photograph of his hand
with a 2.5cm scratch on it

to prove all of the things
that he said.

CHAIR SCRAPES

And Sam Stretton,
my defence lawyer, got up

and calmly walked over
with the photograph in his hand,

placed the photograph down on the
bar of the witness box

in front of Officer Wright and said,

"Is it your testimony that
Nicholas Yarris punched you

"in the face three times,
breaking your eyeglasses,

"he then took this pistol
and held it up,"

and said, "Hit you
in the face with it,

"like, a seven pound
metal object twice.

"Why didn't you photograph
your face?"

Officer Wright
knew that the jig was up.

He turned and said,
"I'm a good looking man.

"I didn't want the jury to see
my face all scratched up.

"I don't have to show that."
He got all defiant.

The jury made this snorting,
scoffing kind of noise and, like,

everyone saw in that one moment
that his story was really a lie.

The jury deliberated for a very
short...very, very short time,

and came right back.
Not guilty of attempted murder.

Not guilty of kidnapping
of a police officer.

Not guilty - aggravated assault.

All charges - not guilty.

And then Barry Gross,
the prosecutor,

who is, like, really pissed off,
he was so angry, he tells the jury,

"You just let a murderer go,
you just let him go!"

And the jury foreman was this
woman who stood up and said,

"Excuse me, we didn't try that case.

"We tried this case, and your case
stinks." And my mum said, "Yeah!

"That's right,
tell him again, lady."

And it was the worst thing.

Oh, my God.

The very next week, Barry Gross
takes over the murder prosecution

and begins seeking
the death penalty.

I went from April, when I was
acquitted of all charges,

to the June trial for the murder
of Mrs Craig.

I was so scared.

Arthur Craig, the victim's husband,
was asked to testify.

That first click in the rotation.

IMITATES CLICK

And, there it was,
the portrait photograph.

Mr Craig, Mrs Craig,

and their three adopted children
in a family-type setting.

And the prosecutor asked Arthur
Craig, "Is that it your wife?

"Can you identify the people
in the photograph?"

He did, along with his wife as well.

And then...

IMITATES CLICK

..there was Mrs Craig,
laid out on the autopsy table,

six stab wounds, clearly visible

and her broken teeth
and everything visible.

There was...a gasp, almost.

People were looking away.

IMITATES CLICK

The next one.

The photograph was white and black.

But for when you got closer towards
that figure that was

covered in snow...

you could see the children's
footprints in white snow...

..and then they scattered.

The first steps were
dark and lighter,

so you had to imagine it was
bloody...

and that they must have been
horrified as they looked down

and saw the treads
of their own feet, blood-soaked,

as they ran in different directions.

And the jury...they looked
up at the screen.

They looked at me.

And, like uniform animals
in one of those documentaries,

where they all do an alike thing,
they all went...

And it was the last time
any one of them could look at me.

I had just turned 21.

And they were going to take my life.

The only science that was available
in the early '80s was blood type.

That was the cutting
edge of technology

as far as identifying someone.

That was it.

And there was no real
evidence at my trial.

Not a signed confession,
not an eyewitness testimony,

no murder weapon.

Nothing but speculation
and circumstantial evidence.

But unfortunately, I shared the
same blood group as the murderer.

And at the time, that made me
a near slam dunk

for being probably
the person who did it.

And then in February of 1988,

there was this newspaper article
about DNA testing.

And I'm like blown away.

I can't believe I have the key
to my cell in my hands

because I knew
I didn't kill that woman.

I know none of my biological
materials were anywhere near her.

I wrote to Joe Bullen, my lawyer,

and I asked him
to begin the process of the DNA.

And the phone call,
I can still recall...

All week, just on pins and needles
and then Monday morning

I get taken downstairs at 10:00am,
which is a bad time

because they've got all
the food going.

They brought in the food trucks
and they are just banging

and clanging these metal
plates that they put food on

and they put them in these racks
and run them up these stairs

and it's just noise
and it's all going.

I get a hold of the secretary first

and then I get hold of Joe Bullen
and he says, "I got news for you."

"You've got to slow down."
I was like, "What? What?"

He says, "The coroner
has explained to me

"that they've lost all
the autopsy material."

And there was just
banging and yelling.

I didn't hear them.

I was like, "Slow down.
Say that again. What do you mean?"

I wanted to turn around and just
shout, "Just please shut up!"

I knew that would get
my ass whooped.

So I just stood there shaking
with the phone in my hand

and I said, "What do you mean
the autopsy materials?

"That's the stuff they used at my
trial, the evidence at my trial.

"Is that what you are
trying to tell me?

"All the evidence
at my trial has been thrown away?

"How am I still on death row
if after the trial..."

And I start talking like this
and he's yelling into the phone.

"I said, shut up for a minute
and I'll tell you."

And then in this very
supercilious voice,

he said, "The coroner's office
has looked all week

"and I just got off the phone with
them at 9:28am and he's informed me

"that they've lost all the autopsy
material from the Linda Mae..."

And he's reading from something,
like his notes or his crib notes

of what this conversation was
and it was very deadpan.

I started getting angry
and I said,

"Do you remember when you came
to first visit me?

"You told me I was guilty because
of all the overwhelming evidence.

"Well, where's all the overwhelming
evidence when I want DNA, Joe?"

And he hung up.

I go back up in my cell
and I'm furious.

I wanted to kill somebody.
I was so angry.

I was out of visits for the month.

That meant I had to wait
until March to see Jackie again

and explain to her that
the evidence was lost and...

..we had no hope.

So, erm...

I went, like, completely blank.

But then after a while,
I started to think,

that's not possible because
at my trial they went on and on

about how the killer had
B positive blood, didn't he?

And, like, I said to myself, wait
a minute, who did the test on that?

So I started reading the trial
transcripts and I found out

some material was sent to a
laboratory at the time of my trial.

I wrote to the lab director
and he wrote me back and he said,

"Dear Mr Yarris,
I have searched my files

"and we do have two preparations
that are unstained

and they have high weight
visible DNA from the sperm."

And I was like, oh, my God.

This DNA works,
I not only can prove my innocence

but I can be out of here
in a few years.

And it was like opening up
this flood gate to this woman.

Jackie.

I married her on July 1, 1988,

six years to the day
that I was sentenced to die.

I was so in love.

Oh, my God.

Like, I was into this thing
where music was beautiful.

If it rained outside and I caught
the smell of it through my window,

even though I couldn't actually
see the rain, it was beautiful.

Like, every little nuance
in life was magical.

And I loved this person
in my life so much.

And I was like offering this
person not only hope

that I could prove myself innocent
and get off death row,

but I could be home
and we could begin a life.

And then one year became two.

And three.

It took us five years
to get to the DNA test.

And the results came back
inconclusive.

Inconclusive results
due to degradation.

But then, in a miracle of miracles,
the victim's clothing

was located in a clerk's
office at the courthouse.

My mother had recoiled in horror
at the end of my trial

when my parents were almost
accidentally given a box
marked "Yarris"

and inside of it was the
victim's blood soaked clothing.

And she remembered that
and she told the custodian,

"Don't you remember how you almost
gave me the victim's clothing?"

And he said, "Oh, that's right."

And he went off
and found the victim's clothing.

Those clothes yielded sperm
from the victim's underwear

and it was high weight
and there was a lot of it.

Cuttings were placed
into these tubes

and then they were sent to
Germantown, Maryland, for keeping.

It took me from 1993 to 1997
to finally get court approval

for the foremost authority of DNA
in America to do the DNA testing.

Hallelujah! I got Dr Blake.

He already did the OJ Simpson case,

he's very famous,
very well respected.

He's the man.

They take the new evidence
and they send it down to California.

And they improperly package it
and it burst open in transit.

And Dr Blake says,
"We're not going to test it.

"All it would do is produce results

"that would be contested
by the prosecution.

"I'm not going to test it."

And he just put it on a shelf.

It killed a part of my marriage
and it killed a part of Jackie

and it killed a part of me.

She fought with me for nine years
to get DNA

and she just said,
"Nicky, I can't do this any more."

I said, "Man, go."

I went back to my cell and I was
just sitting there by the window

listening to the radio
and this song came on.

I was listening to the lyrics,
you know.

"They say that you're leaving.

"It comes as no surprise.

"And still I like this
feeling of being left behind."

I was listening to the lyrics
and I was thinking...

You always do that to me.

You always torment me
with words from someone else's song

and suddenly they're my words.

and they are ingrained
in my thoughts.

Even though I was being told
they were leaving,

I still kind of liked that
feeling of being left behind.

It's a strange phenomenon
when you felt good for their leaving

because you knew all along you had
stolen a lot of their life away.

# It's just like going home. #

On a December night,
on a snowing night,

just like the lyrics said,
I just started writing this letter.

I wasn't crying
or upset or anything.

I simply sat down and tried
to tell somebody why I loved them

and why saying goodbye to them
was this wonderful gift.

I knew she didn't have
to fight for me any more.

I knew she didn't have to make
copies of my legal documents

and send them back to me,
call lawyers, chase up new DNA.

She didn't have to go and chase up
my mum or any of these other things.

She could just be free.

One of us.

You see, at the end,

that wonderful gift that
was given to me for so long,

I didn't cling, trying to hold
on to what wasn't mine anyway

because it was a gift.

It was like a ten year
confirmation

that I was becoming that person
that I liked.

I was so proud of that.

I woke up to a different person.

By now,
I had been in prison for 18 years.

And that's when I got sick.

I lost 31 pounds in a month
and a half.

I was really feeling poorly
and then I had blood work done

and they told me what it was.

I'm infected with this strain
of hepatitis C

that all the men who had dental work
at Huntington had contracted.

15 other men had got this hepatitis.

So the first guy to die
was DC, Dale Carter.

He died in the vents underneath me
screaming in agony.

Oh, my God.

So when I found out
I immediately said

"Yes, I'll take the drug treatments.
I'll sign up for it."

But the years of drug abuse
had damaged my kidneys

and after about seven months
I started suffering

all the side effects of this drug.

I was peeing this horrible
coffee-coloured urine.

Everything tasted dead in my mouth.

I was just not right.

And then it was August.

I was out in the exercise yard.

I was so weak.

I was looking directly up
at the sky.

And then...

I couldn't see anything.
It went blank.

I knew what darkness is,
but this was black.

And that's when I found out
I was dying.

I was so afraid that...

I was shaking. I really was.

And so I remember
I stuck to my ritual.

I stood over the top of the
toilet bowl and I bathed

and I was doing the same ritual,
bathing, three days later

and I saw these swirls
around my thighs

and I realised I was seeing swirls.

So if I was seeing swirls,
then I was seeing.

OK.

The very first thing
I did later on that evening

was I sat by a very bright
light at my desk

and I wrote a letter to the judge
handling my appeals.

And another song, Patty Griffin's
"Gonna Let Him Fly".

It's so strange because the lyrics
are obviously a love song,

but to me it was all about me.

"Ain't no talking to this man.

"Ain't no pretty other side."

It's so true.

There was absolutely no pretty side
to hope for any more.

No Jackies, no love, none of those
things that you could have

a pretty other side to hope for.

# Ain't no talking to this man

# Ain't no pretty other side

# Ain't no way to understand

# The stupid words of pride

# It would take an acrobat

# I already tried all that

# So I'm gonna let him fly

# I'm gonna let him fly

# Things can move at such a pace

# The second hand
just waved goodbye. #

"Dear Judge Giles,
as a criminal plaintiff

"I ask that one right
that I have remaining to me

"as a condemned prisoner
be recognised.

"And that is a condemned man's
right to be executed."

# I'm gonna let him fly. #

"I hereby ask that
counsel be dismissed,

"that my record be then transmitted
to Governor Edward Rendell

"for my execution date to be set

"within 60 days
of receipt of this letter."

# Took a while to understand

# The beauty of just letting go. #

"I hereby swear that I am sane
at the time of this writing.

# I've already tried all that. #

"Signed, Nicholas James Yarris.

"August 2002."

# Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

# I'm gonna let him fly

# Fly

# Yeah

# I'm gonna let him fly. #

When the letter was
received by Judge Giles,

he ordered that my lawyers
come to a conference hearing

and he wanted to know why someone
who had been asking

for DNA testing for 15 years
claiming that they are innocent

would now ask to be executed?

And he was really hard pressed

to get them to give up any answer
I guess,

because I didn't copy them in
on the letter

and they didn't even
know I wrote to the judge

so they were hearing
this for the first time.

So the judge, by law, really was
hamstrung in the fact

that he was going to be required to
transmit my record to the governor

as law required for me
to be executed

within 60 days from that point.

Instead he said,

"All right, whatever DNA testing
is remaining in this case

"I'm ordering it now tested."

And that was April.

April turned to May.
May turned to June.

July 2nd, 2003.

I wasn't expecting the results.

For some reason, when he brought
the phone to my cell,

I really wasn't expecting to talk
to my lawyers about Dr Blake.

But he gave me the phone and said,
"Your lawyer wants you to call."

So I dialled the number

and I'm waiting for the collect
phone call process to ring through

and it does and on the other end
was Michael Wiseman,

a lawyer who had been
representing me for seven years.

When I heard Michael Wiseman say...

"I just got off the phone
with Dr Blake.

"The gloves that were left inside
the victim's vehicle

"were found to have DNA
from an unknown male,

"DNA from Mrs Craig and DNA from the
sperm matching the killer's gloves."

That was it.
I didn't have to hear anything else.

I knew.

You didn't have to tell Nick Yarris
what those results meant.

I started screaming,
"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

"It proves me innocent!
Don't you see?!"

The guard came back to collect the
phone and he saw me huddled.

Crying on the bed.

In the foetal position.

And he said...

"Nick, what's up?"

And I lifted my head up
and I just shook my head

because I didn't even have the
strength to say anything, you know.

And he said, "Go down to the shower
and take a shower."

And I got up,
I put on my shower shoes

and I started trudging
towards the shower.

And he opened the gate
down on the end of the block

and he walked into the shower
and he put a chair in there.

And as I got the last
few steps there...

..he grabbed my arm gently
and he sat me down

and he just pushed the button
and left me there.

And I cried.

I cried like you
wouldn't believe, man.

I waited 15 years to cry.

The happiest memory I ever had...

..is that we lived
at 2439 Milan Street.

Just like Italy. Milan.

There was a fibreglass awning
attached to the front of our roof.

And whenever it rained, it gave off
this hollow drumming sound

that just drew me out of wherever
I was and whatever I was doing.

And I would get a blanket

and Jaco my dog, who was
a little black poodle,

and we would go out
and sit on this lounge chair

that was set up like a deckchair.

And there, under this tattered
old green blanket

I would listen to the rain

and play out all these daydreams in
my head of adventures I would have.

And it was like this...

..cocoon.

All I had was that blanket
and the dog

and this...

..feeling that I was on a journey.

I remember as I ran out the door
with Jaco,

the last thing Mum said was,

"Don't you dare get
those school clothes dirty!"

It was still early.
Early, like April.

And in Philadelphia in the
springtime it's just beautiful.

Like 67, 68 degrees and you
just get these very nice days.

So Jaco and I were
just like throwing the stick

and doing the things
that we loved to do.

And I was walking along
deeper into the woods,

when I saw him.

I said, "Damn."

I was so afraid of him.

The hobnail boots, denim jeans,
white T-shirt,

armband rolled up with a pack
of Lucky Strikes in the sleeve.

And he said, "Fuck are you doing?"

Like that, you know.

"Take it."

I looked up towards the houses.

Then I went like that.
And he said, "No, puff."

And I went...

And I just got...

My head went crazy
and I heard this sound.

HE CLAPS

And it was the stone that was
in his hand that he hit me with.

And then I felt him
bend down and he turned me

so that our shoulders were parallel
and my leg was on his arm there.

And he was raping me.

And he was making this, like,
guttural sound.

I started, like, whimpering.

He's like, "Shut the fuck up!
Shut the fuck up!

"I'll fucking kill Jaco and your
whole family if you say to anybody.

"You understand me? I'm not a
faggot! I'm not a fucking faggot!

"You understand me?"

Then he left and I screamed.

I was like, "Jaco!"

I kept screaming for Jaco.

One of the things that he said to me
when he was putting his pants right.

He looked at me and he said, "You
tell everybody you fell off a wall

"with that shopping cart over there.
You hear me?"

He like gave me this quick
rundown of what to say.

And as soon as I told
the first lie,

it was like once it was believed,
it was so hard to undo.

It spiralled.

And then...

..everything changed.

From that day I found out
I was proven innocent from science,

it still took me seven more months.

I went back to death row

and I found out they took everything
out of my death row cell

and then they took me to this unit.

I was beside myself. They took me
to H block, the mental ward.

"What are you doing to me?"
I didn't understand.

I went over and I saw Major Locket,
the major of the guards.

I said, "What's going on?
Why am I here?"

And he said, "Mr Yarris, after
the experience that you had

"we don't want to risk
any of the staff

"being murdered by you in a rage

"in recognition for what
we have done to you."

I went back to my cell.

And I had a plastic milk carton
and that was it.

A plastic mattress,
two sheets, two towels,

a pillowcase for that
plastic pillow and that was it.

They took every book, they took
my artwork, they took every comfort.

And I sat down on my bed

and I said,

"Oh, my God. They did me a favour."

I folded my legs,
I sat straight in my yoga position.

And I started to dream of the life
I was going to have.

I was going to have a great life.

I'm going to meet me a girl,
I'm going to fall in love.

I'm going to have a family and best
of all I'm going to be a great dad.

That's what I'm going to do.

If you're going to take
everything from me,

OK, then instead...

I think I'll give myself everything.