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Tag: O’Brien Fellowship in Public Service Journalism

  • Detroit fire official undermines 2008 murder case in surfaced video – Detroit Metro Times

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    This is the seventh installment in “Exploring Integrity: Reviewing Wrongful Conviction Remedies,” a series examining the impact of conviction integrity units on the American judicial system’s rate of wrongful conviction. Presented by the O’Brien Fellowship in Public Service Journalism, the investigation is supported by Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

    Detroit’s top man at the Fire Department still hasn’t broken public silence about one of his career’s most high-profile cases — but he came closer to it than ever on Thursday.

    Commissioner Charles “Chuck” Simms avoided a subpoena to testify in a hearing for Mario Willis, who’s widely believed to have been wrongfully convicted in a firefighter’s 2008 murder, after a prosecutor said Simms acknowledged conducting an interview that supports Willis’s innocence claim.

    Willis, wearing Wayne County Jail clothing, attentively listened as Amanda Smith said the city official who Willis and his supporters have repeatedly asked to come forward about the 2009 interview finally confirmed the authenticity of a video recording of the interview. Simms was an arson investigator in the death of Walter Harris, a well-regarded first responder, who died after Willis’s employee Darian Dove admitted to accidentally setting 7418 East Kirby ablaze while entertaining a woman. Dove later changed his account, saying Detroit Police detectives threatened him into claiming Willis paid him to set the fire.

    Detroit firefighter Walter Harris was killed in a Nov. 15, 2008 blaze. Credit: Courtesy photo

    During Willis’s second-degree murder trial in 2010 Detective Scott Shea testified that neither Willis nor his wife Megan had offered an alibi for their activities on Nov. 15, 2008, the night of the blaze, but Willis and his defense team say the Simms video proves otherwise.

    “That was not revealed or played for the jury at any time, and that’s the difference,” Willis’s co-counsel Craig Daly told Third Judicial Court Judge Margaret Van Houten on Thursday.

    In the video, Simms identifies himself to Willis before saying, “You remember what you told me, right? … I remember you told me y’all went out that night. Y’all went out to dinner or something.”

    A clip of the exchange can be viewed at the website justiceformariowillis.com.

    Detroit Fire Commissioner Charles Simms. Credit: Bill Proctor

    At root of the discussion between Daly, with co-counsel Wolf Mueller and Smith, the assistant Wayne County prosecutor who said Simms acknowledges conducting the interview, is a possible Brady violation, which occurs when prosecutors hide evidence that could help a defendant. The Simms interview was saved to a police department disc labeled “Megan,” Daly told the court, after detectives recorded a conversation with Willis’s wife. The video camera, aimed over Simms’s shoulder, had not been turned off before Willis sat with Simms in an empty interrogation room that neither man knew Megan Willis had occupied.

    Simms ignored repeated requests to discuss the video in 2022 when Metro Times began investigating Willis’s claims of innocence. Through an assistant, Simms asked Metro Times for details about the footage, but never agreed to be interviewed after learning that his conversation with Willis was recorded.

    Several months later, when WDIV Channel 4’s Devin Scillian reported on Willis’s possible innocence, Simms was silent again. City of Detroit spokesman John Roach instead deflected questions about the video, saying the fire department wasn’t responsible for Willis’s fate.

    Willis disagrees.

    “The prosecution rested on that,” he told Metro Times in an earlier phone interview from Saginaw Correctional Facility. “One of the last things they said was that I tried to deceive the court by telling Megan to lie on the witness stand and say we were together that night.”

    He added, “That hurt me even more than Dove.”

    Willis says he hadn’t remembered what he and Megan had done Nov. 15, 2008, since the interview with Simms took place eight months after the fire, but Simms validated what the couple had already told police. Despite the charge that he’d only paid Dove to start the fire, Judge Michael Callahan even cited “perjury” when sentencing Willis to prison.

    Maxine Willis, Mario’s mother, shared with Metro Times a 2023 letter to Commissioner Simms, directly appealing for his help, in which she wrote: “Post conviction, a withheld interrogation video was discovered between you and my son that shows you were made aware of the exact alibi information provided at trial… In our efforts to have the complete truth established on record, we are calling upon you NOW, to please confirm the information my son provided you. As a fire commissioner, I’m sure you took an oath which includes to accept responsibility for your actions and for the consequences of your actions.”

    Simms never replied, she said.

    Thursday’s stipulation that Simms, 15 years later, has verified Willis’s statement of an alibi followed three days of cross-examination of fire expert Marc Fennell that began in December. The prosecution spent hours of the hearing, questioning dozens of details in Fennell’s testimony that science supports Dove’s confession: An accident, not an arson, killed Walter Harris.

    Maxine Willis believes her son, Mario Willis, was wrongfully sentenced following the 2008 blaze that killed Detroit firefighter Walter Harris. Credit: Kelley O’Neill

    Mueller, who initially called on Fennell to testify, followed the cross-examination by asking the Grand Rapids-based consultant and ex-firefighter if he found credible Detroit Fire Department Captain Rance Dixon’s statements that he’d never heard the name Darian Dove before last month. Fennell described firefighters as “family,” saying their bond compels interest in details of what led to a loss or tragedy within their ranks.

    Despite intense media coverage in 2010, and a heavy presence of firefighters and Harris supporters in and out of the courtroom at Willis’s trial, Dixon — who investigated the scene at 7418 East Kirby — testified last month that he didn’t learn Dove was in the house until Willis’s current hearing began.

    “Did you find that astounding?” Mueller asked Fennell.

    “I was shocked, yes,” Fennell replied. 

    In 2023 the Wayne County Prosecutor’s Office Conviction Integrity Unit reviewed Willis’s case, but denied his request for exoneration.


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    Eddie B. Allen Jr.

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  • Expert testimony casts doubt on 2008 arson case that sent Detroit man to prison – Detroit Metro Times

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    This is the sixth installment in “Exploring Integrity: Reviewing Wrongful Conviction Remedies,” a series examining the impact of conviction integrity units on the American judicial system’s rate of wrongful conviction. Presented by the O’Brien Fellowship in Public Service Journalism, the investigation is supported by Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

    The meeting should have happened in 2008.

    Detroit Fire Department Capt. Rance Dixon’s findings about a deadly eastside blaze could have potentially saved a man from being sent to prison if Dixon had spoken with a single witness.

    But he didn’t know the witness existed.

    Dixon, a former arson investigator, testified this week in a Third Judicial Court of Michigan hearing to determine if Mario Willis, convicted in the 2008 homicide of firefighter Walter Harris, will receive a new trial and possible exoneration. Dixon told Willis’s defense attorney Wolf Mueller that he only learned in court Dec. 10 — during Mueller’s questioning — that Darian Dove had confessed to accidentally torching the house, which caused Harris’s death.

    After stressing the National Fire Protection Association 921 professional guidelines and method of determining fire cause and origin, which Dixon said he observed, Mueller referenced earlier testimony that Dixon wished he’d known about claims that gasoline was stored in the home.

    “Yeah, I wish I would have known about Darian Dove, too,” Dixon said.

    Darian Dove is grilled during a hearing at the Third Judicial Court of Michigan. Credit: Robyn Ussery

    Once a handyman hired by Willis, Dove testified earlier in the hearing, disputing initial confessions that he took a woman to 7418 East Kirby Street and accidentally destroyed the house after starting a small fire to keep warm. Dixon acknowledged that he hadn’t been able to adhere to the highest standard of scientific methodology in fire investigation, since he was unaware that Dove had been in the home, and had no way to test Dove’s original story versus an arson theory.

    Dixon filed a six-page report Nov. 16, 2008, the day after the fire, and made no supplements to his conclusion that the fire was deliberate. He testified that he didn’t even hear the name Darian Dove until three months after Willis’s trial, during which Dove fulfilled a plea bargain by saying Willis paid him to set the blaze, in order to collect an insurance policy payment.

    “An expert’s opinion is only as good as the data to support it. Is that right?” Mueller asked Dixon.

    Dixon agreed, saying that he never located any witnesses at the scene of the blaze, nor inquired whether police detectives located witnesses or suspects. Dove had told detectives he fled 7418 East Kirby and called the fire department. He said he “broke out crying” when he learned that Harris died after battling the flames.

    Detroit firefighter Walter Harris was killed in a Nov. 15, 2008 blaze. Credit: Courtesy photo

    Friday morning, Marc Fennell, an internationally renowned, Michigan-based fire investigator and analyst, testified, pro bono, as an expert in support of Willis, further challenging Dixon’s conclusion of arson.

    “It’s undetermined,” said Fennell. “Absolutely it is, yes.”

    Among several theories, in addition to the lack of Dove’s initial account of the accident, Fennell disputed Dixon’s association with the smell of gasoline at the scene with a deliberate burning. The “mopping up” process that firefighters use, including seeking “hot spots” after a fire is contained, plus other measures, involves gas-powered equipment, Fennell said. Ironically, equipment designed to help rescue Harris, who’d collapsed under the roof, might have even caused the odor, he added.

    “It is mass chaos…faster than NASCAR at a pit stop,” said Fennell, an ex-firefighter.

    Regarding Dixon’s testimony, Mueller asked Fennell: “He didn’t even do the first basic step of the scientific method — consider an alternative hypothesis. Fair?”

    Fennell agreed.

    Also discussed was the lack of an expert at Willis’s original trial. Fennell repeatedly testified that a qualified advisor to Willis’s lawyer, Wright Blake, would have been valuable to Willis’s defense in 2010.

    “Clearly you would be able to tell a jury, based on common sense and your scientific background, that this fire was not incendiary,” Mueller asked.

    “Correct,” Fennell replied.

    Lack of follow-up documentation, such as photographs of certain areas of the 2008 scene, he added, also helped hinder proper conclusions about the tragedy that left Harris dead and sent Willis to prison.

    “That’s why I don’t understand why, investigating fires, there’s such a rush,” said Fennell. “The fire’s not going anywhere. Do it right.”

    Assistant Wayne County Prosecutor Amanda Smith began cross-examining Fennell before the hearing was adjourned until Jan. 7, 2026.

    Since his conviction, Willis, 44, has served at the Saginaw Correctional Facility, where he remains incarcerated, pending the hearing’s outcome.

    In 2023 the Wayne County Prosecutor’s Office Conviction Integrity Unit reviewed Willis’s case, but denied his request for exoneration.


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    Eddie B. Allen Jr.

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  • Wisconsin attorneys weigh in on the possibility of a conviction integrity unit – Detroit Metro Times

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    This is the third installment in “Exploring Integrity: Reviewing Wrongful Conviction Remedies,” a series examining the impact of conviction integrity units on the American judicial system’s rate of wrongful conviction. Presented by the O’Brien Fellowship in Public Service Journalism, the investigation is supported by Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

    In Wendy Patrickus’s 40 years practicing law, she’s taken cases ranging from a traffic ticket to homicide, even serving as “second chair,” or second lead defense attorney for Jeffrey Dahmer’s trial.

    But one of Patrickus’s many cases still sticks out to her — and that’s because of what she considers to be a wrongful conviction.

    She had a client, Michael Hirn, who in 1992 was convicted with five others of murdering their coworker Thomas Monfils at the James River Paper Mill in Green Bay.

    “My client wasn’t even in that area, and I think that he definitely was wrongfully convicted,” Patrickus says.

    In 2018, after more than 23 years in prison, Hirn was granted parole.

    Every year an undetermined number of individuals is wrongfully convicted, according to estimates and research by criminal justice scholars and innocence advocacy organizations. Some, like Hirn, spend a couple of decades in prison, despite doubts about their guilt. Others, like Temujin Kensu in Michigan, spend nearly twice that amount, or more, losing entire portions of their lives due to crimes they did not commit.

    Some states and counties have conviction integrity units, which act as a last hope for the people who have already tried appellate court reviews or failed to get a fresh look at the factors that led to their incarceration. In Wisconsin, including the state’s largest county, Milwaukee, no CIU exists.

    Milwaukee County Circuit Court recorded 4,288 convictions from Nov. 1, 2024 through Oct. 22, 2025. The outcomes of these cases included: found guilty at a jury trial; guilty due to guilty plea; guilty due to no contest plea, and other dispositions. Carl Ashley, Milwaukee County Circuit Court’s chief judge, did not respond to multiple interview requests to discuss potential concerns related to wrongful conviction in the courtrooms he supervises.

    Some attorneys are skeptical about the idea of a CIU in Milwaukee County or statewide. A CIU would take additional tax dollars to put together, says Patrickus, and staff would have to be hired to review cases and determine which petitions have merit — and which don’t. 

    She also says it could be difficult to implement in Wisconsin if the unit is comprised of prosecutors, because most truly believe the individuals they’re prosecuting are guilty.

    “I’m not saying that one of these integrity units wouldn’t work,” says Patrickus, owner of Law Offices of Wendy A. Patrickus. “I just don’t know how feasible it would be, given the circumstances in the state of Wisconsin.” 

    Madison Kelly, criminal defense attorney at Grieve Law, has a different perspective. Though only practicing professionally since June 2024, Kelly has gained prior experience with wrongful conviction during her time at the Wisconsin Innocence Project.

    The Innocence Project at the University of Wisconsin-Madison seeks to exonerate the innocent, but it comes with cutoffs. Kelly says the appeals process can be slow, and due to a lack of time and resources for investigation, the Project only accepts individuals serving over seven years of initial confinement.

    “What that means is that only people who are convicted of very serious felony-level offenses are eligible for innocence projects and for this type of review,” she says.

    So Wisconsin could benefit greatly from a CIU, Kelly says, not seeing any down sides.

    In many situations involving misdemeanors, Kelly says, clients are convinced to agree to a plea or lesser charge, because defending themselves can be costly and they may be scared of what the prosecution can present to a jury. Taking an offer to resolve also eliminates the option to have their decision reviewed.

    “When they do that I think there’s a space where that could also be considered a wrongful conviction,” Kelly says. “If there was a conviction integrity unit, it would be phenomenal if it could review misdemeanor-level offenses, as well.”

    Franklyn Gimbel, founding partner of Gimbel, Reilly, Guerin & Brown, LLP and attorney of 65 years, says CIUs can be assessed based on the personalities of the prosecutors involved in the unit. 

    By and large in Wisconsin and the federal system prosecutors have integrity, he says. However, some look to bolster their personal statistics with convictions, or overcharge certain offenses.

    “If you have a prosecutor or prosecutor’s office where they are engaged in what they believe to be this holy mission of getting convictions against people and they approach their responsibilities in a way that is less honorable or open, it’s going to be hard to do business with those people,” Gimbel says.

    Criminal defense lawyer Scott Wales owns Law Offices of Scott A. Wales, LLC and has practiced for over 30 years. It’s hard to discuss the possibility of a CIU in Wisconsin without an existing model to look at, Wales says.

    On one hand, if the unit were to consist of prosecutors from the same office where a conviction was previously obtained, the CIU would be untenable and there would be no consensus to reopen a case; on the other hand, if the unit actually worked and provided a measure for determining a correct or incorrect conviction in Wisconsin, Wales says it would be “wonderful.” A unit led by retired judges, as an alternative to prosecutors, could be a model worth exploring, he adds.

    But Wales believes the remedy to wrongful conviction already exists in the form of appellate review, though he acknowledges how rarely appeals succeed. A newly formed CIU likely wouldn’t be structured to accommodate the flood of incoming petitions it would receive, he adds.

    “I think the conversational topic is worthwhile,” Wales says. “But I think, candidly, the ability to put together something that really could work is, at best, a pipe dream.”

    Related story

    Do conviction integrity units really work?

    This is the first installment in “Exploring Integrity: Reviewing Wrongful Conviction Remedies,” a series examining the impact of conviction integrity units on the American judicial system’s rate…



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    Mia Thurow

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  • From a life sentence to a life of purpose – Detroit Metro Times

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    This is the second installment in “Exploring Integrity: Reviewing Wrongful Conviction Remedies,” a series examining the impact of conviction integrity units on the American judicial system’s rate of wrongful conviction. Presented by the O’Brien Fellowship in Public Service Journalism, the investigation is supported by Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

    He went to prison an innocent man.

    Kenneth Nixon wasn’t the first to join the fraternity of America’s wrongfully convicted, but today he and the Organization of Exonerees are working to slow the growth of their membership.

    “Honestly, just being real, prison made me who I am,” says Nixon, president and co-founder. “They turned me into this. I read. I studied. I watched. I began to understand how things worked.

    “Prison was college for me. It was conditioning for me. I was already of the mindset, ‘How do I help other people?’ It just took on a mind of its own, once I got into it.”

    Advocacy on behalf of others bound for trial or already behind bars, due to misidentification, faulty investigations or other factors, is part of the Michigan-based Organization of Exonerees’ focus. Additional work is geared toward aiding men and women, post-exoneration, as the Organization stressed at its third annual “International Wrongful Conviction Day Gala” on Oct. 27 in Detroit. Drawing about 200 guests to the Huntington Tower, including judges, attorneys, advocates and other supporters, the event demonstrated success and determination by victims of the criminal justice system, who’ve become survivors and organizers. 

    While Oct. 2 is recognized as “International Wrongful Conviction Day,” the Organization of Exonerees promotes awareness the entire month, Nixon says.

    “Our goal is to advocate for legislative reform, but mainly it’s to help recruit resources for re-entry, and removing barriers,” he adds.

    Formed as a nonprofit in 2022, the organization’s initiatives include a program that lets Michigan exonerees attend Wayne State University, tuition-free. Nixon became the first to enroll, studying political science with the ultimate goal of completing law school. He credits Wayne County Prosecutor Kym Worthy and Valerie Newman, director of the Wayne County Prosecutor’s Office Conviction Integrity Unit, for supporting the effort. Newman attended the Oct. 27 gala.

    Nixon also says Worthy and Newman helped him regain freedom after the night in 2005 when a Molotov cocktail thrown at a window sparked a fire, killing two children. False statements and a feud with another man, about the mother of Nixon’s child, linked Nixon, then 19, to the crime. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole.

    Following an investigation of his case by Western Michigan University’s Cooley Law School Innocence Project, the Wayne County Prosecutor’s Office Conviction Integrity Unit launched a review, ultimately recommending that Nixon’s sentence be vacated in 2021.

    “Yes, I, 100 percent, think the conviction integrity units are extremely helpful,” Nixon says. “They shortcut the process a lot.”

    “The downside,” he says, “is that there are cases that can be extremely difficult to navigate when everything in you is telling you this person is innocent; we just don’t have the evidence to prove it.”

    “We’re literally asking the people who sent us to prison to correct their own errors,” adds Nixon. “But there are people doing positive work, who are doing the best they can.”

    Not bound by legal statutes or courtroom guidelines, the Organization of Exonerees channels its energies into activism, both on front lines and behind the scenes, such as the “Walking Free Fund.” The $1,000 stipend is provided to exonerees, upon discharge from prison.

    “You’re not actually free until you can make your own choices,” says Nixon. “You’re at the mercy of your family and what they can provide you. I can only wear the clothes that somebody else bought me. For us, putting that cash in people’s hands is a first step to restoring their dignity.”

    Organization of Exonerees member Eric Anderson told guests at the Detroit gala, “Advocacy is what keeps us going. Advocacy is what lets us withstand the trauma that has been put upon us.”

    Like Nixon, Anderson was exonerated by the Wayne County Prosecutor’s Office Conviction Integrity Unit; his 2019 release from prison after nine years followed a wrongful armed-robbery conviction. The University of Michigan Innocence Clinic represented Anderson in court.

    Andre Brown, who was wrongfully convicted of two attempted murders in New York, tells guests at the Organization of Exonerees 2025 fundraising gala about support he received from members of the Michigan organization. Credit: Robyn Ussery

    “Traveling the country, we understand that wrongful conviction is not a Detroit problem,” Anderson said at the gala. “It’s not a Michigan problem.”

    He recalled how, not long after the Organization formed, Anderson and fellow exonerees journeyed all the way to New York, navigating city traffic and unfamiliar subway routes, to support Andre Brown in court — only to learn that the proceeding was adjourned. Brown had been a college student when he was arrested and tried for shooting two men on a Bronx street in 1999. Wrongfully convicted due to what a judge deemed ineffective assistance of counsel, Brown told the gala’s audience how the Organization of Exonerees rallied for him after he faced the possibility of returning to prison, due to a legal technicality.

    “It’s only when we all unite together that change happens,” Brown said.

    Organization member Eron Shellman attended the gala in the same spirit of unity.

    “It’s not about my struggles,” says Shellman. “I just want to support the Organization in the way it supported me.”

    Shellman’s case was reviewed, but not accepted by the Wayne County Prosecutor’s Office Conviction Integrity Unit. His book detailing his 32 years wrongfully incarcerated after his best friend’s murder is scheduled for publication in 2026. 

    With just 50 members who support events and activities at various levels of involvement, Nixon says the Organization of Exonerees seeks year-round support and assistance beyond “International Wrongful Conviction Day.” He urges anyone interested to visit the website organizationofexonerees.com to learn how to get involved.

    During its short existence, the Organization has aided about three-dozen people who’ve come home, but Nixon says the numbers of those still wrongfully locked up is disturbing.“Some of these cases keep people up at night. They keep us up at night,” he says. “It’s a torment.”

    Related story

    Do conviction integrity units really work?

    This is the first installment in “Exploring Integrity: Reviewing Wrongful Conviction Remedies,” a series examining the impact of conviction integrity units on the American judicial system’s rate…



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    Eddie B. Allen Jr.

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  • Do conviction integrity units really work? – Detroit Metro Times

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    This is the first installment in “Exploring Integrity: Reviewing Wrongful Conviction Remedies,” a series examining the impact of conviction integrity units on the American judicial system’s rate of wrongful conviction. Presented by the O’Brien Fellowship in Public Service Journalism, the investigation is supported by Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

    The black janitor had disappeared, but it had nothing to do with the white body found during a 1980 girls volleyball tournament.

    Clarence Brandley admitted he’d slipped away to smoke and listen to music, but he maintained that his only contact with 16-year-old competitor Cheryl Dee Fergeson was when he found her, raped and strangled, in Conroe High School’s auditorium in Texas.

    It would be almost 10 years before Brandley was exonerated, having escaped a date with lethal injection by six days, as depicted in the 2002 TV film Whitewash: The Clarence Brandley Story.

    “In the 30 years this court has presided over matters in the judicial system, no case has presented a more shocking scenario of the effects of racial prejudice, perjured testimony, witness intimidation, an investigation, the outcome of which was predetermined, and public officials who, for whatever motives, lost sight of what is right and just,” said Judge Perry Pickett.

    Now, 35 years since Brandley was freed before his 2018 death, much less known wrongful convictions in Texas and much of the country have helped spawn state- and county-operated teams tasked with reviewing cases in which questions of guilt remain. Overseen by attorneys general and prosecutors, conviction integrity units (CIUs) have often become a last hope for men and women who’ve exhausted appellate court reviews, or otherwise failed to attract a fresh look at factors that imprisoned them. Still, CIUs throughout the country progress or stagnate at varying rates, leaving a sweet and sour residual of thrills or devastation for those seeking relief. Criminal justice scholars and attorneys for the wrongfully convicted find value in their presence on the legal landscape, while other advocates for justice say CIUs leave a lot to be desired.

    “Certainly, now we have no way of knowing how many innocent people a year are being convicted, because of this ad hoc way” of investigating, says professor Marissa Bluestine, assistant director of the Quattrone Center for the Fair Administration of Justice at the University of Pennsylvania Law School.

    At the same time, says Bluestine, without CIUs, university-centered initiatives, and independently formed innocence projects, wrongful convictions would continue to stand and potentially increase.

    “The truth is if you don’t have anyone looking for them, you are very unlikely to find them,” she adds.

    Bluestine leads a team of six in supporting innocence organizations and conviction integrity units nationwide, as part of a cooperative agreement with the Bureau of Justice Assistance. Since its formation in 2013, Quattrone Center’s database of CIUs has grown from about 60 to 132, including Santa Clara County, California — the first, established in 2002 — and county units in Virginia and Arizona, formed in 2025.

    In Michigan, there are five CIUs — one at the state level, and one each in Wayne, Macomb, Oakland, and Washtenaw counties.

    “It tends to be after an election,” when new CIUs are launched, Bluestine says, “in the January or February period after an election season.”

    During her six years as Quattrone Center’s assistant director, her staff has offered consultation for newly formed CIUs, and ongoing assistance in matters ranging from case intake to ethical considerations. She traces the evolution of CIUs from the 1989 landmark DNA exoneration by legal partners Barry Scheck and Peter Neufeld, who launched the Innocence Project, to the early 2000s when law schools and collaborators began to follow suit, comprising what’s informally known as “the innocence network.”

    Typically consisting of a director, administrative staff, and case investigators, CIUs most often revisit cases where DNA evidence is not central to a crime.

    Dating back to the 1887 hanging of William Jackson Marion, killed in Nebraska after he was tried for the murder of a business associate, high-profile wrongful convictions have plagued the legal system.

    You are waiting patiently to hear me make some confession,” Marion told the crowd attending his execution, according to the Nebraska State Journal. “I’ve made no confession to nobody and I’ve got no confession to make. All I have to say is God help everybody.”

    Following Marion’s death, John Cameron, the man who’d allegedly been murdered, was found alive and well in Kansas.

    But still, Bill Proctor, a Michigan Journalism Hall of Fame inductee and retired WXYZ (Channel 7) Detroit reporter, found himself targeted for criticism, even by fellow journalists, when he investigated the case of Temujin Kensu in 1993.

    “It’s this guy, Proctor, who’s upsetting relatives of the victim by doing this story on the guy who killed their son,” he recalls hearing.

    Kensu, 62, has served nearly 40 years in prison and remains incarcerated at Macomb Correctional Facility, in poor health, after Michigan’s statewide conviction integrity unit denied his bid for exoneration in 2023. Despite having witnesses who placed him 400 miles away from the shooting of college student Scott Macklem, in broad daylight, Kensu, then known as Fredrick Freeman, has gained international support — but not freedom.

    “Conviction integrity units are the government’s response to proven decades of government misconduct,” says Proctor, a licensed private investigator whose work has contributed to 16 exonerations.

    Lack of action, or even responses, after advocating to CIUs on behalf of clients has left him unimpressed, referring to most units as “public relations.”

    “It is not a mystery that cops lie,” he says. “It is not a mystery that prosecutors accept the lies and con games. It is not a mystery that cops and prosecutors walk the halls of prisons and talk to jailhouse snitches.

    “Yes, I know that human frailty is a part of the formula, but I am sorry, at this stage, understanding the notion that wrongful convictions take place in America, no, I am not excusing the government. The government is supposed to be the gatekeeper.”

    Proctor’s prescription for the greatest use of CIUs involves their collaboration with the wider innocence network: “Their creation and existence has never been enough. They need to help universities develop a reform package that would help the nation move forward.”

    Like Proctor, Bluestine says CIUs are far from a cure-all, setting their own criteria for case reviews, and not typically impactful in and of themselves: 60 to 70 percent of annual exonerations are attributable to innocence organizations.

    But support from CIUs has been beneficial in reducing the length of time involved with exonerations, such as when units provide information from original prosecution files not always available to defense lawyers, Bluestine adds.

    “So a well-functioning conviction integrity unit can save years,” she says. 

    “They join in the motion (for relief), they don’t fight it in court.”

    While complete exoneration isn’t always the outcome, “case corrections” are ethically required when a CIU determines that a defendant is likely innocent, says Bluestine — but case corrections sometimes require the innocent to accept “no contest” pleas or make other concessions that leave them short of the redemption they deserve.

    Clarence Brandley won his freedom, but never received compensation, or even a formal apology, for his conviction.

    “I’ve had to counsel individuals on that very issue, and it’s heartbreaking. As an innocence lawyer, I want to fight it all the way,” says Bluestine. “But it’s not my life.”

    O’Brien Fellowship reporters Mia Thurow, Sofie Hanrahan, and Reyna Galvez contributed to this report.


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    Eddie B. Allen Jr.

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