All language subtitles for Dateline.Secrets.Uncovered.S11E10.720p.WEB.h264-BAE.[eng]

- I'm Craig Melvin,

and this is
"Dateline: Secrets Uncovered."

- Something is wrong here.

The system doesn't want to
acknowledge that

they made a mistake.
But you made a mistake!

- The detective was like,

"You gonna tell us
you did this."

And I'm like,
"Man, I ain't did nothin'."

- You hear the judge
say "guilty."

- Everything just froze.

- Two brothers
convicted of murder

fight back against
the justice system.

- Twice is a pattern.

A pattern of
how to gain a conviction.

- I knew they were innocent,
and the question was

"Do we have enough?"

- You've got
several witnesses saying

their testimony was coerced.
Can they all be lying?

- If I have to die
in this situation,

let it be said that
I would die trying to prove it,

that I was innocent, man.

Never that I gave up.
Never.

**

- Hello, and welcome to
"Dateline: Secrets Uncovered."

The story you are about to hear
is an intensely personal one,

centered around three men
who say they are victims

of wrongful convictions.

The journey to prove
their innocence

spanned three decades
as they withstood

one denied appeal
after another.

Giving up was never an option,

but would their fight
lead to justice?

Here's "The Long Road
to Freedom."

Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Look at a list of
top places to live,

and you'll often find it.

"A city of promise
of a new kind of energy,"

as its motto says.
But look a bit closer.

Just over the railroad tracks

that separate the north
from the south side,

and you'll find
the city divided.

Segregated.

And if you walk deeper
into north Tulsa,

past the boarded-up houses and
the broken basketball hoops,

you'll hear a story
that's all too familiar.

- The truth is, man,
I've had to deal with the pain,

I've had to deal with the anger,
the frustration, sadness, uh,

the misery, you know.

- Like the families
of George Floyd,

Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor,
Michael Brown,

and hundreds of other young

African-Americans whose names
are being chanted

in protests nationwide,

Malcolm Scott
wants his story told.

- Because if we don't know
that it exists,

how can we do anything about it?

- His story starts
like so many other black lives

that have struggled to matter.

Raised in poverty
under the watchful,

suspicious eye of the police,

and destined to a life
of run-ins with the law.

But at its heart,

it's a story about two brothers,
Malcolm and Cory,

and a bond that
could not be broken,

not even in the face of
unimaginable odds.

What was it like growing up
in-in north Tulsa?

- Oh, you feel like
you were always home, you know?

Familiar faces
always surround you.

- Large family too,
as I understand it.

- Twelve brothers and sisters.

- Twelve.
- Yeah.

So, yeah, it was crowded.
[laughs]

I was really big
into sports.

Like, I love, you know,
me getting ahold

to a football in my hand
and running was like,

you know, life.

- Malcolm caught
the football bug from Cory,

who was his older half brother
and best friend.

- We have a beautiful
relationship.

My mama tell me, you know,
"he's crazy about you.

You know.
He'd do everything you do."

- As a young teenager,
Malcolm dealt with a father

who struggled with
alcohol addiction

and sometimes abused him.
Cory was his safe haven.

- I had to protect him.

- Did he kind of start to
play the role of dad?

- I could better
relate to him.

I didn't fear him.

And I felt kinda
safe with him.

- Feeling safe was rare
in north Tulsa.

This was where the poorest
of the poor lived,

a place with very few
social services,

but lots of crack cocaine
and gang violence.

The night of August 3rd, 1990,
was typical.

On the corner
of Atlanta and 4th,

a gun was fired.

Cory says he happened to be
driving through.

- I looked toward
the shot came from,

and I seen the dude fall,
and as we got right there,

and I looked and
seen his chest was still moving,

he was still breathing,
and I was like,

"Man, somebody call
an ambulance for him."

- When police arrived,

they found 29-year-old
James Lane,

a small-time drug dealer,
dead on the sidewalk.

He'd been shot
once in the chest and robbed.

Police stopped Cory
at the scene.

Some of his friends
were known gang members,

and police thought
Cory was, too.

But he had no criminal record.

- And they pulled it us
at the car,

and they searched my car down,
they searched us down,

and, uh, let us go.

- Investigators were not able
to develop any leads,

and the case went cold.

But six months
after Lane's death,

a 16-year-old named Doane Thomas
told police he saw the shooter.

It was Cory.

Police arrested Cory
and charged him

with first-degree murder.

- I was taken to
the homicide division,

and a detective was like,

"You gonna tell
us you did this."

And I'm like, "Uh, man,
I ain't did nothing."

- At trial, Doane Thomas became
the prosecution's star witness,

and prosecutors
had more evidence.

They played
an interrogation video

of Cory's friend, Ben King,
who was with him that night,

in which he, too,
told detectives that

Cory was the killer.

Cory took the stand
in his own defense

and testified he tried to
help the victim, not kill him.

- I could remember the D.A.

He said, "You know,
if they don't believe you,

you going to the penitentiary
for the rest of your life."

And I just-- And I said,

"Yeah, but the truth
gonna come out."

- The jury did not believe him,
and found Cory guilty.

On June 25th, 1991,
he was sentenced to life

and shipped off
to a maximum security prison.

Just like that,
he was out of Malcolm's life.

- Cory left
when I was no more than 13,

and, uh, that was hard.

- To fill the void,
Malcolm started to

hang out more
with De'Marchoe Carpenter,

a lanky basketball player
and neighborhood jokester.

- I was gonna be a comedian.

You know, I used to think
I was so funny.

You know, I always tell jokes
and get the girls

and make 'em laugh.

- But in north Tulsa,
fun could easily turn tragic

in a split second.

Malcolm and De'Marchoe
were at a party spot

late one night in December 1993,

when a drive-by shooter
hit the place.

Malcolm was grazed,

but De'Marchoe
was badly injured.

He was rushed to the hospital,
Malcolm by his side.

- I said, "Just hang in there.
Keep your eyes open."

And, no, he was holding my hand
and I remember him squeeze.

"Hold-Hold on, hang in there."

- Losing his brother to prison,

then seeing his friend
almost die hardened Malcolm.

He inched a bit closer
to the streets.

In fact, police caught him
with a handgun,

something he says probably
would not have happened

if Cory had been around.

- He's always been the one
that said,

"Man, no, you don't-you don't
need to be involved

with none of that.

You need to be in school,

'cause you gonna get
that football."

- Malcolm had always wanted to

follow in
his brother's footsteps,

and he was about to.

Gang warfare explodes in Tulsa,
and young Malcolm finds himself

caught up in it.

- These witnesses said that

they saw Malcolm
and De'Marchoe there,

and they saw the shooting,
they identified them.

- Fingers are pointed
at Malcolm and his friend.

- Everything just froze.

It's like time just suspended
for a second.

- I've seen faces
and people was crying,

but I didn't hear nothin'.

**

Here's an inescapable fact
of growing up

in a violence-ridden,
low-income community

like north Tulsa then, and now:

if you are
a 17-year-old black teenager

like Malcolm was in 1994,
you're on the police's radar,

whether you're
in a gang or not.

- I frequently heard complaints
from kids about

being arrested for no reason,
being hassled, being stopped,

being labeled gang members
when they may have

worn certain color.

- Ziva Branstetter was
an investigative crime reporter

for the Tulsa World Newspaper
for 22 years.

- I think the vast majority
were good cops doing their job,

trying to keep up,
going from call to call,

but there were other reports of,
um, you know,

indiscriminate arrests.

- Branstetter says that
what she saw in Tulsa

reflected the stark reality
all across the country.

- Tulsa was roughly 10%, um,
African-American,

but the arrest rate among
African-Americans is about 43%.

- If you were a kid back then,
it was easier to grow up

in south Tulsa than north Tulsa.
- Absolutely.

I raised two kids,
oh, in south Tulsa,

and, um, I didn't have to
worry about my boys

being pulled over for no reason.

I didn't worry about, you know,
the safety of-of my sons.

- How bad was the gang problem
in Tulsa then?

- The gang problem was bad.
People were afraid.

There were reports regularly
about Crips and Bloods warring,

you know,
the Tulsa police department

was trying to deal with
a very high violent crime rate,

lot of guns in the street.

- September 10th, 1994

was just that kind of day
in north Tulsa.

Another drive-by shooting,
another senseless death.

This time, it was 19-year-old
Karen Summers,

the mother of a baby boy,
who was gunned down

at 2:30 in the morning

as she was hanging with
friends at a party.

- Frankly, this kind of case,

while it did involve
a tragic loss of life

of a young mother
who was an innocent victim,

it was not hi-highly
unusual in Tulsa.

- The murder had all the signs
of a gang crime,

and lots of Crips
were at the party.

So a day later,

Tulsa homicide investigator
Mike Huff

paid a visit
to Michael Wilson,

a well-known member
of the Bloods.

Huff noticed a maroon sedan
parked in Wilson's driveway.

It matched the description
of the drive-by car.

- Mike Huff says,
"Hey, I wanna talk to you

about this shooting;
what do you know?"

And Michael is trying
to hide a gun.

Huff sees the gun
and takes the gun.

Ballistics tests showed that
that was the gun that,

you know, was used
to kill Karen Summers.

- It seemed damning,

but Wilson told detectives
he was hiding the gun

for Malcolm's friend
De'Marchoe

and had given De'Marchoe
the bullets.

Wilson was arrested
for holding the gun,

but his story lined up
with what police were hearing

from two eyewitnesses.

Malcolm and De'Marchoe
killed Karen Summers.

- These witnesses said
that they saw

Malcolm
and De'Marchoe there.

They saw the shooting.
They identified them.

- Suddenly Malcolm was in
almost the same situation

his brother had been in
three years before,

and telling a Tulsa
homicide detective

exactly the same thing,
"I'm innocent."

- I'm like, whoever, you know,
is telling you this,

t-they're obviously
mistaken.

I didn't have nothing
to do with it.

- But despite the fact
that no physical evidence

pointed to Malcolm
and De'Marchoe,

prosecutors believed
they were the shooters.

So they cut a deal
with Michael Wilson.

They allowed him to plead guilty
to a lesser charge

in exchange for testifying
against Malcolm and De'Marchoe.

At trial, the prosecution
presented the two eyewitnesses

and what Wilson
had told them.

Then De'Marchoe said

the prosecutor approached him
about a deal.

"Say that Malcolm did it,
and we'll cut you a break."

- I thought that he was insane
even asking me that.

- You didn't even consider it.
- No, definitely not.

Why would I do that?

Why would I throw him
under the bus?

- De'Marchoe
turned down the deal.

But just nine hours later,
he stood horrified

as the jury delivered
its verdict.

The two friends
were both found guilty

of 1st degree murder.

- I couldn't hear
nothing.

I seen faces
and people were crying,

but I didn't hear
nothing.

- A judge sentenced
Malcolm and De'Marchoe

to life in prison
plus 170 years.

- Everything just froze.

It's like...

time just suspended
for a second.

- Malcolm thought of
his older brother Corey.

Now they were both
serving life

for murders they said
they did not commit,

but they were determined
to stay strong

and to help each other.

- We basically had made
a pact with each other.

We said, man, whoever
gets out of here first,

better come get
the other one.

- The odds Malcolm and Corey
could keep that promise

were next to impossible.

The road to freedom,
if it ever came, would be long,

filled with unexpected twists
and revelations.

- I just kind of imagine
what it must--

you know, to be dropped
in a hole 30 feet deep

and good luck
getting out.

- A private investigator

tracks down
one of the eyewitnesses

who ID'd Malcolm and De'Marchoe
as the killers.

- He couldn't even
look me in the eye.

He said, "man, I've been
carrying around a burden.

Those boys
didn't do that."

**

Corey Atchison
had been in prison

for 28 years
when I sat down with him.

He said he spent
almost every day of it

trying to prove
his innocence.

But he had exhausted
his appeals

and been denied parole
five times.

Was there a point
over the last 20-plus years

where you thought,
"I'm gonna die here"?

- Times when you get
denied in court,

you feel low.

You just wanna say,
give up sometimes.

- What was your
lowest point?

- It would probably
have been in situations

when I wanted to be
out there with my daughter

and help her,
and I couldn't.

- Corey's daughter Courtney
was born a couple of months

after her father started
his life sentence.

- They sent me paperwork
trying to forfeit my custody,

saying I was unfit
because I was in prison.

And, uh, it felt like, uh,
I was failing her.

You know, it felt like
it wasn't even my fault.

- Corey felt that sense of
failure and helplessness again

when he heard
about Malcolm.

What did you think
when you heard that your--

your brother
was convicted?

- My first thought was, like,
this is my fault,

because he followed
in my footsteps.

It felt like
this is my child

being taken away.

- Did you know that
your brother told us

that he feels
partly responsible

for you
going to prison?

- I mean, there's no blame
on my brother at all.

And I definitely can't
hold him responsible

for something that
I didn't even do myself.

- When Malcolm
entered prison,

he thought he'd get out as soon
as he filed his first appeal.

Then his second.

And third.

- Denied. Denied.
Denied.

- So Malcolm
and his friend De'Marchoe

started writing letters.

- Who'd you write to?

- Anybody in the legal field
that you could think of.

- What would you say
in these letters?

- I'm an innocent man.

You know,
I just need somebody

to look at this case,
and they will see.

- They wrote
thousands of letters

day after day
for 11 years.

Finally, in 2006

private investigator
Eric Cullen,

the son of a Tulsa
homicide detective,

took on the case.

- I kind of describe Malcolm
and De'Marchoe's letters

as kinda scratches
on a wall.

I just kind of imagine
what it must be--

you know, to be dropped
in a hole 30 feet deep

a-and good luck
getting out.

There's no such thing
as a criminal justice system.

It's just a system.
It's not always fair.

And it's not
always right.

- Cullen tracked down
the first eyewitness

who identified
Malcolm and De'Marchoe

as the killers.

- And he couldn't even
look me in the eye.

He said,
"Man, I got-I got--

"I've been carrying around
a burden.

"Man, t-those boys
didn't do that."

- The man told Cullen
he'd shot at the drive-by car

as it sped away

and claimed
that detectives

threatened to put him
behind bars

for firing his weapon

if he didn't testify
against Malcolm and De'Marchoe.

- He says that
they told him

he could be charged
with felony murder

for firing that gun,

and that it might've been him
that killed Karen Summers,

who knows?

- Now that he was
making progress,

Cullen needed help.

So he turned to someone
who's been a champion

against wrongful convictions
for years:

Tiffany Murphy
then the director

of the Oklahoma
Innocence Project.

It wasn't
the first time

a Tulsa case had landed
on Murphy's desk.

- I was seeing
a lot of cases

where there were no facts
that supported

what I was seeing
on these convictions.

When you're seeing
that lack over time

involving the same departments,
sheriff's office,

police department,
prosecutor's office,

that's what really
bothered me.

- Cullen
and the Innocence team

tracked down
the second eyewitness

who'd testified he'd seen
Malcolm and De'Marchoe.

But police records showed
he had been shot in the buttocks

and his back was turned.

- Common sense
tells you,

if you got shut in the butt,
you were running away,

you're not gonna be
able to see anything.

- The eyewitness recanted.

And he claimed
detectives had coerced

his testimony, too.

- This is a kid
who got pressured

into saying something
he did not see.

I was just watching him,

and I could tell,
this was a man

who was remembering something
that was extremely traumatic.

And as a Black woman,
I get that.

I understand that,
you know.

The fear of the police
is a real thing.

- Now only one
of the prosecution's

key witnesses remained,
Michael Wilson.

- Michael is it.
Whatever he had to say

had to kind of tie
everything together.

- And the team knew exactly
where to find Michael Wilson,

on death row.

- My name is
Michael Lee Wilson.

- I was incredibly nervous,

because I knew
what was on the line

for Malcolm
and De'Marchoe.

- Michael Wilson's
jaw-dropping admission.

- I wasn't trying
to shoot Karen Summers.

She was at the wrong place
at the wrong time.

- And what he has to say
about the police.

- He asked me,

"did De'Marchoe Carpenter
give you a gun?"

I said, "yes."

That's what I had to say,
and that's what--

[scoffs]
They let me out.

It kinda blew me away

that I got caught with the gun,
and they just let me go.

**

Welcome back to "Dateline:
Secrets Uncovered."

I'm Craig Melvin.

Malcolm Scott
and De'Marchoe Carpenter

were both serving
life sentences

for a murder they insisted
they did not commit.

Nearly two decades later,

with help from
a private investigator,

the race was now on to prove
their innocence,

and time was critical,

because the key witness's days
were numbered.

Back to The Long Road
to Freedom.

By 2013,
Malcolm had been in prison

for 19 years,

his brother Corey
for 22.

- You ready to go, Mama?
- Ready to go?

- The days when their mom
Ruthella came to visit

helped them hold on.

The brothers
drew strength from her.

- Man, that lady
been right there.

I never had to wonder
if she still cared

or if she was still
fighting for me,

still believing in me,
still praying on me.

- And Malcolm was hopeful

his mom's prayers
would be answered.

Two prosecution witnesses
had told his investigative team

that their testimony
was a lie.

That left Michael Wilson,
the man who told police

he'd given
De'Marchoe bullets

and hid the murder weapon
for him.

If he recanted too,

Malcolm thought
they had a chance.

But Michael Wilson
refused to talk,

and he had a good reason.

He was on death row
for the 1995 murder

of a convenience store
manager.

Wilson, seen here
in this surveillance video

while he committed the crime,
was appealing,

hoping he'd get
a lesser sentence

of life
without parole.

- If Michael had--
had been executed

without talking to us,
we don't have a case.

We don't have enough

with what we've got
so far to win.

- I'm hoping that someone
can help me--

- But De'Marchoe wasn't
ready to give up.

- Shoutout to President Obama,
Russell Simmons,

Kevin Durant, Blake Griffin,
Ice Cube, Shaquille O'Neal--

- So you started
making videos--

- Yeah.
- From in prison.

- Yes.

- The last I'd checked,
you-you weren't supposed

to have cell phones
in prison.

- No, but I had to do
what I had to do

to try to regain
my freedom.

I felt like I had
to take this risk.

- While Malcolm
and De'Marchoe waited,

Wilson lost his final appeal
on January 2nd, 2014.

He was set to die
by lethal injection

a week later.

And then,
the phone rang.

It was Wilson's lawyer.

- And so she said to us
if you want to talk to him,

this is the window
you got.

And it was literally
I think

48 hours
before his execution.

- My name is
Michael Lee Wilson.

- When Murphy met with Wilson
in a death row visiting room,

a video
camera was rolling.

- I was incredibly nervous
because I knew

what was on the line
for Malcolm and De'Marchoe.

- Now what might be
their last chance at freedom

came down to whether
a condemned man

would decide
to come clean.

Within minutes,
he did.

- I wasn't trying
to shoot Karen Summers.

I was just-- she was one
of those type of things,

you know, and she was
in the wrong place

at the wrong time.

- Wilson confessed to
killing Karen Summers

and even said he thought
it was all over

when police actually caught him
with the gun he used.

- It kinda blew me away
that I got caught with a gun

and they
just let me go.

All I know is I had
a murder weapon on me

and they let me go.

- Wilson said it seemed

the detective had already
made up his mind

that Malcolm and De'Marchoe
were the killers

and he just played along.

- All I had to do was answer
the questions yes or no.

Did I give some bullets
to Malcolm--

I mean,
to De'Marchoe Carpenter?

I said yes.

- Did De'Marchoe
give you a gun?

- No, he didn't
give me a gun.

That's-- he asked me,
"did De'Marchoe Carpenter

give you a gun?"
I said yes.

That's what I had to say
in that--

[scoffs]
They let me out.

- And that's why he was free

to kill that
convenience store manager,

a murder that never
would have happened

had Wilson been in jail

and charged with
Karen Summers' death.

- You have people
who would be alive,

families not affected,

not destroyed
by this horrible crime,

that doesn't happen
if he's arrested for this.

- Malcolm got the call
soon after Wilson's confession.

It was all there,
captured on video.

- De'Marchoe Carpenter
and Malcolm Scott are innocent.

They didn't
do this crime.

- The words
he'd ached to hear

for 20 long years.

[sniffling]

- I stood on my faith.

I stood on my faith.

- You never lost
that faith.

- I refused to let it go.

- The team presented
its evidence to a judge.

But police
and prosecutors denied

they coerced
any witnesses

and insisted that what Wilson
had said on that video

was a lie.

- The police,
from their standpoint

and the prosecutors,
say this guy's gonna die,

so if he goes out and helps
two of his, you know,

neighborhood friends,
what has he got to lose?

- Would Malcolm and De'Marchoe
have a shot at freedom?

It was all
up to the judge now.

- If I have to die
in this situation,

let it be said
that I died

trying to prove that
I was an innocent man.

- And...
- Twice is a pattern,

a pattern of conduct,

a pattern of how
to gain a conviction.

- A fresh look
at Corey's case,

including new evidence
from three eyewitnesses.

- They all describe
someone 5'7"-ish,

that was an a-ha moment,

'cause Corey Atchison's 6'2".

No one is going to
misinterpret Corey Atchison

for being 5'7", okay?

**

- Tulsa County courthouse,
May 9th, 2016,

a day almost 22 years
in the making.

The last time Malcolm
and De'Marchoe

faced a judge here,

they were sentenced
to life in prison.

Now they hoped another judge
would set them free.

- If I have to die
in this situation,

let it be said
that I died

trying to prove that
I was an innocent man.

Never that I gave up.
Never.

- The judge agreed
with Malcolm and De'Marchoe

that police
pressured witnesses

and that Wilson's
video confession was credible.

- They didn't
do this crime.

- Malcolm and De'Marchoe,
she declared,

were actually innocent
of the murder of Karen Summers.

[laughter]

- You remember
that morning you got out?

- I remember
the skies was beautiful.

I looked up, and it was
right there, the sun.

It was finally
beaming on me.

- The first thing Malcolm did
as a free man, he says,

was to let go
of his anger.

- I had to free my mind.
I had to free my heart.

That felt good.

- 20 years later,
what do you do now?

- Heh, oh, man, I don't--
I'm not sure yet.

[laughing]
No, but I know

I'm gonna go get
an education.

[laughter]

- Actually,
before he did anything,

he called
his brother Corey.

- He said,
"bro, it's over with,"

and I cried, like,
tears of joy.

I felt like
I was getting released.

It's like a burden
being off my shoulders.

Even if, uh, it don't
ever happen for me,

you know, I'm happy that
it happened for him.

- Remember,
they had a pact.

First one out
gets the other one out.

- When I talked to
my attorneys off the top,

you know, what can we do
about getting my brother out?

- They're like, "man,
you haven't even enjoyed

being home yourself."

I won't be
completely able to.

I need him home.

- Private investigator
Eric Cullen

was now working
on Corey's case,

and as he pored over police
and court records,

he noticed that
just like with Malcolm,

there were several allegations
of coercing witnesses.

- Must investigators don't
believe in coincidence.

And I did not believe
that was a coincidence.

- Cullen teamed up with
defense lawyer Joe Norwood,

and he discovered
a 15 year old

testifying
at a preliminary hearing

claimed police had
threatened him with jail time

if he did not say Corey
was the shooter.

- Partway through
his testimony,

he goes, "you know what?
I can't do this.

"What I just testified to
isn't the truth.

"I was told to say it
by these detectives.

I didn't see Corey
do anything."

- Next,
Norwood tracked down

the prosecution's
star witness,

Doane Thomas,

and he told them
he had lied too

when he identified Corey
as the killer.

- Doane Thomas's claim
is that the police

pressured him
to say it,

and then the prosecutor
Tim Harris

got him through the trial,
getting him to say it.

- Then there was
Corey's friend

who had been with him
the night of the shooting,

Ben King, the one who said
in that interrogation video

that Corey did it.

But King said he had
told police twice before

that Corey did not do it.

- I kept telling 'em,
he didn't do it,

he didn't do it.
Corey didn't do it.

They didn't want
to hear that.

They didn't want
to hear the truth.

- And when police
brought him in a third time

and pressured him again,

King said he'd had enough
and just wanted to leave.

- They wouldn't
let me go,

and I didn't have
an attorney or nothing.

After being down there
nine, ten hours, all day,

I thought, well,
I've been telling the truth.

He didn't do it.

So I thought, well,
I'll tell 'em a lie and go home.

- King said that
when prosecutor Tim Harris

asked him to testify against
Corey at trial, he refused.

- Tim Harris kept trying
to get me to say he did it.

And I wouldn't do it,
so then that's--

like, that's when
they went in there

and brought that tape in there
and played it.

And I told 'em that was a lie.
It was a lie.

It was the police's words,
not mine.

It was coerced.

- To Norwood,
that parallels between

Malcolm's and Corey's cases
were unmistakable.

- These teenagers
were threatened

with being charged
themselves

if they didn't say

what the detectives
wanted them to say.

You know, once...
[sighs]

twice is a pattern,

a pattern of conduct,

a pattern of how
to gain a conviction.

- But in Corey's case,

it wasn't just
allegations of coercion.

Norwood found
three different eyewitnesses

who told police someone else
was the shooter.

None of them testified
at Corey's trial.

- They all describe

the exact same physical
appearance of someone,

5'7"-ish, 150-ish.

That was an a-ha moment,

'cause Corey Atchison's 6'2".

He's a big dude.

No one is going to
misinterpret Corey Atchison

for being 5'7", 150,
okay?

- Given all this
new evidence,

Malcolm thought his brother
finally had a chance

- What's up, bro?

- Every time I talk to you,
you know, like,

when we-when we were
talking about you,

you coming home,
I'm like,

I was just on
the other side,

you know what
I'm saying?

- This call will be terminated
in two minutes.

- Right.
That's what it is.

One little piece
at a time, man.

And every little step
we take here

is gonna get us to that final--
that big goal,

you know what I mean,
to that big one

that we're reaching for.
- Yeah.

- Will Corey and Malcolm
finally reunite?

You know there are
also other witnesses

who recanted.

- I don't know that.
Okay?

I don't know
who said what.

- The DA in Corey's case
faces some questions.

But you could see
how someone would say

you've got several
witnesses all saying

their testimony
was coerced.

Can they all be lying?

- If they're present
at the scene,

and they're saying Mr. Atchison
was not the shooter,

then tell me who is.

- When "Dateline: Secrets
Uncovered" continues.

- Welcome back.

After more than two decades
behind bars,

Malcolm Scott
and De'Marchoe Carpenter

were declared innocent
of committing murder,

their defense team
having proved

a pattern
of police coercion.

But Malcolm's brother Corey
was still in prison

for 28 long years,

and it was all about
to boil down

to a single moment

when a judge would
declare his fate.

Now the conclusion of
The Long Road to Freedom.

- Is this-- is it
gonna happen this time?

Just thinking
about everything.

- It's one day before
a judge will decide

whether 47-year-old
Corey Atchison

becomes a free man

or spends the rest
of his life in prison.

But even if
Corey gets out,

life will not
be easy.

Take De'Marchoe.

What's it been like
being on the outside?

- It's been a struggle.

You know, I'm still trying
to figure out

who I am
and what I want to do.

You know, I missed out
on so much.

- Malcolm on the other hand
has adjusted well.

He lives in Texas, where
he works as a personal trainer,

and he's in love.

But Malcolm said his life
would not be complete

until the judge said
those same words to Corey

that she said to him.

- Once she finally makes
that final decision,

you're a free man,

I feel like...
[laughs]

That's when
it's there, man.

- Hey.
- That's Mom right here.

- [indistinct]

How are you?
- Fine.

Been waiting
for this day to come.

I've been waiting
for a long time.

I've been praying
for this.

- Family and friends
assembled

at the Tulsa County
courthouse.

No cameras were allowed
inside the courtroom,

but I was there
to hear the judge's words.

She declared
there had been

a fundamental
miscarriage of justice

and found there was clear
and convincing evidence

that Corey Atchison
did not commit this crime.

- I knew he didn't do it.
I knew he didn't do it.

- His daughter Courtney,
28 years old,

a parent herself,
was overjoyed.

When you heard
the judge say,

"Corey Atchison,
you're a free man"?

- Uh-huh.
- What'd you think?

- There's no words to explain,
like, I'm just so happy.

I'm just ready for him
to come home

and be there for me
and my baby.

- "Dateline" repeatedly asked
the Tulsa Police Department

to respond to the allegations
it threatened teenage witnesses

in both Malcolm's
and Corey's cases.

We also asked the DA's
and the mayor's office

for interviews.
They all declined.

But we did speak
to Tim Harris,

Tulsa's former
district attorney

who prosecuted Corey

and who Doane Thomas
said coerced him

into lying that Corey
was the shooter.

- The allegations
are patently false, untrue.

They're lies.

I says as an elected
district attorney

in this community
for 16 years,

I've never coerced,
I've never forced,

and I certainly never
presented false testimony,

not only in Mr. Thomas,
but in any case in my career.

- What about Ben King?

- I can't remember
what Mr. King said.

That was 28 years ago.

- But you know there are
also other witnesses

who recanted.

- I don't know that.
Okay?

I don't know
who said what.

- But you could see
how someone

who's looking at this case
from the outside

w-who would say you've got
several witnesses

all saying their testimony
was coerced,

can they all
be lying?

- I-I don't know
what they said, okay?

But if they're present
at the scene,

and they're saying Mr. Atchison
was not the shooter,

then tell me who is.

All I know
is I presented the evidence

that was presented to me
at a jury trial,

and 12 citizens listened
to all the evidence

and decided that Mr. Atchison
was guilty of 1st degree murder.

- Although the judge said
had the same 12 jurors

listened to all
of the evidence,

they would have likely reached
a different conclusion.

- You know, that's her opinion.
I respect it.

I certainly
disagree with it.

- The system doesn't
want to acknowledge

that they made a mistake.
But you made a mistake.

You made
a horrible mistake,

and the fact
that it happened twice

in the same family is--
t-there are no words.

- In 2020,
the Oklahoma Innocence Project

worked on a staggering
145 potential

wrongful conviction cases
in Tulsa.

- There is
a problem here,

and it continues
to be a problem.

- And of course,
it is a national problem,

especially for
African Americans.

A 2017 study of the National
Exoneration Registry

showed that innocent
Black people

were about seven times
more likely

to be convicted
of murder

than innocent
White people.

And that police misconduct
was 22% more likely

to play a role
in their exoneration

than with
White defendants.

- Now people are saying
how can we fix it?

But very few people

on the state side
want to sit down

and have an honest
conversation

about how did we
get here?

- In June 2020, just weeks
after George Floyd's murder,

a Tulsa police major said
that the police

are not systematically racist,

citing crime statistics
he said showed

police are shooting
African Americans, quote,

"24% less than they
probably ought to be"

based on the crimes
being committed.

Tulsa's first African American
police chief and its mayor

criticized those remarks.

- What came out
of his mouth

is in no way
reflective

of what we're
trying to accomplish

in the city of Tulsa

or in the Tulsa
Police Department.

- Then this body cam video
of Tulsa police

forcefully arresting
a Black teenager

in North Tulsa for jaywalking
went viral.

- Hey, why are you-- why are you
putting your hands on me?

- Meanwhile,
Malcolm and De'Marchoe

are suing the city
of Tulsa

and the individual
police officers

who they claim
coerced testimonies

used to convict them.

The city and the officers
have denied the claims

and are fighting
to dismiss the lawsuit.

Malcolm says
he's not looking for blame.

He wants
to provoke change.

- My heart is strong

about every single one
of those people

that's going through
that fight and that struggle

to prove their innocence.
I know the pain.

I know the hurt.

That's what this is
about for me,

giving the next man
a chance.

- Hey.
[applause]

- Welcome to freedom.

- Hey.

- Corey's struggle
to prove his innocence

is done.

- My other guy
right here.

- Malcolm, their mom,
family and friends

get ready
to welcome Corey

as he takes his first steps
as a free man

in 28 years.

I would imagine that
you spent many a night

thinking about how
this is gonna go.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah,
I had this dream.

I remember I woke up
with tears in my eyes,

and one of my pod mates
came in my cell,

and he said,
"what's up?"

I said,
"man, I'm going home."

- Here he come,
here he come.

[cheering]

- A little over a year
after his release,

Corey Atchison sued
the State of Oklahoma

for wrongful
conviction.

In June of 2021,
the State settled the claim.

While denying liability,

officials paid Corey
$175,000,

the maximum allowed
under Oklahoma law.

That's roughly $6,250 for each
of his 28 years behind bars.

From 2016 to 2020,

374 people wrongfully
convicted of murder,

61% African Americans,

have reunited
with their families.

Together they spent
over 6,000 years in prison.

Years they will
never get back.

That's all for this edition of
"Dateline: Secrets Uncovered."

I'm Craig Melvin.
Thank you for watching.