“You can’t threaten to kill someone every day year after year and not harm them, not traumatize them, not break them in ways that are really profound.”
—Bryan Stevenson
“They stole my 30s, they stole my 40s, they stole my 50s. I could not afford to give them my soul. I couldn’t give them me.”
—Anthony Ray Hinton1
Ray had just finished a meeting with one of Bryan’s staff attorneys when the attorney came running back.
“Ray, Ray, you have to call Bryan. You have to call him as soon as you get back to the phones.”
Ray wondered what it could be this time. He had been back in county jail for two months awaiting his new trial. A date hadn’t been set yet. They had a few hearings, but things had gotten delayed because the district attorney’s office couldn’t find the gun or the bullets. They had actually accused Bryan of stealing them. It was incredible. Bryan Stevenson had supposedly stolen the most important evidence in his case. Bryan had to pull the transcripts from the 2002 hearing with Judge Garrett to prove they had been admitted back into evidence then after being tested by his experts.
Later, the clerk found a box in a court storage facility off-site that had a bag in it with the gun and the bullets from his case. Lester said he was worried they were going to frame Ray again and send him back to the row, but Ray wasn’t too worried. He had faith in Bryan. He had faith in the truth.
Ray got back to his cell block and went over to the bank of phones on the wall. He called Bryan’s phone collect.
A young guy came up next to him. “What’s going on, Pops?”
Ray pointed to the phone and shook his head at the kid. The guy was supposedly a big gang member. To Ray, he was one of the little wannabe gangsters there, playing at a game they knew nothing about. Ray wanted to sit each one of them down and show them their future if they didn’t choose a better way. Life was precious. Their freedom was precious. They each had the potential to be so much more than whatever had landed them in jail. Ray didn’t want any of them to end up on death row. He tried to tell them what it was like. They all called him Pops, because his hair and beard had patches of gray throughout. Ray had been twenty-nine years old the last time he was in County, not much older than most of these guys.
Ray listened as Bryan accepted the collect call.
“Hello, Mr. Stevenson!” Ray shouted. “I heard you wanted to talk to me, so here I am.”
He smiled at a few of the guys who had looked his way when he yelled his greeting into the phone.
“Ray!” He could hear the excitement in Bryan’s voice. “How are you doing?”
“I’m good.” Ray had been discussing the case with Ben, one of Bryan’s staff attorneys. “Ben told me that Yates said he didn’t see what he saw thirty years ago. I couldn’t believe it, Bryan. Yates changed his opinion about the bullets. He was honest. It’s a miracle.”
“Ray, I have to tell you something. Yes, it’s great news about Yates, but there’s something else.”
“What is it?”
“Well, Ray, I’m up here in New York City, in a hotel. You know I’m speaking at a couple of colleges. I was driving here, and I got a call from Judge Petro.”
“Yeah?”
Bryan sounded breathless. “Ray, I had to have the guy pull over to the side of the road. She told me the district attorney had filed something electronically today. Without a word to anyone, they just filed a document electronically.”
“What was it?” Ray asked.
“Ray, you’re going home.
“They dropped all the charges against you.
“You’re going home, my friend. You’re finally going home.”
Ray couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He crouched down and sat on his heels. Then he leaned his back up against the wall and closed his eyes.
Home.
It had been so long since he’d heard those words.
Home. Ray was going home.
“Pops! Pops! You okay?” He opened his eyes, and the young thug was standing over him, concern on his face.
Ray smiled up at him and nodded.
“Bryan, this isn’t no April Fools’ joke, is it? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you? It’s April 1. That’s not funny.”
Bryan laughed. “It’s no joke, Ray. The judge wanted to release you Monday, but I told her it had to be Friday. You are going to be released Friday morning. I’ll be there, Ray. I’m not sure how I’m going to get there, but I will be there Friday morning at 9:30 a.m., and you and I are going to walk out of that jail, Ray. You’re going to be a free man.”
Ray laughed too. “I’ll see you Friday, Bryan, and you’ll bring me something to wear, won’t you? I can’t be walking out of this jail naked.”
“We’ll take care of it.”
They were both quiet for another minute. There was so much to say; Ray couldn’t find the words. Would he ever know how to thank this man? Bryan had been by his side for fifteen years and behind the scenes for even longer than that. Ray had gone to death row, and Bryan Stevenson had come there to bring him home. There were no words. There was no way Ray could repay him.
“God bless you,” Ray said.
“Thank you, Ray.” He sounded as choked up as Ray was, and they said their goodbyes. Ray hung up the phone, sat on the floor, and cried like a baby in front of all those gangsters.
He was going home.
Bryan was there Friday morning, and he brought Ray a nice black suit and a shirt that was the exact color of the Alabama sky. Ray changed out of his jail clothing and walked over to Bryan.
“How do I look?” he asked.
“You look good, Ray. You look good.” Bryan had a suit on also, and a tie.
“We both look mighty fine. Is Lester here?”
“Yes, he’s waiting for you outside. He’s going to take you out of here, take you to his house. We’ll give you a few days at home, but then I’d like to have you come down to EJI. There’s a whole lot of my staff that have been waiting to meet you.”
Ray nodded at Bryan. He was excited and nervous and just a bit overwhelmed. After so many years imagining this day, it was hard to believe he was going to walk out a door of his own free will.
“Ray, there’s a lot of people out there. There’s a lot of cameras and press. This is big news. I’m sure you’ve seen it. They want you to say a few words. Whatever you want to say, and if you don’t want to say anything, then you don’t have to.”
Ray felt a flash of fear—and then he thought about the guys on the row. They would be watching the news. They would be seeing his release. Ray didn’t know what he was going to say, but he would say something when the time came.
“Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.”
He signed some papers for the jail and then walked to the double glass doors. Ray could see the crowd. He could see the cameras. He reached his hand for the door and then looked back over his shoulder at Bryan.
“You ready?” Bryan murmured.
“I’ve been ready for thirty years.” Ray took a deep breath and walked out those doors with Bryan right behind him.
The crowd swarmed toward him. His sisters. His nieces. Ray could see Lester and Sia. He started hugging them all. His sisters were crying and praising God, and the cameras just kept pop, pop, popping at him. Ray reached out his hand to grab Lester’s shoulder. Lester was in a pretty fancy suit himself.
It took a while for the crying and carrying on to die down. Everyone got silent, waiting for Ray to speak. He looked around at all the faces. He was a free man. There was no one who could tell him what to do or not to do. He was free.
Free.
He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. He said a prayer for his mama. He thanked God. Ray opened his eyes and looked at the cameras. There had been so much darkness for so long. So many dark days and dark nights. But no more. He had lived in a place where the sun refused to shine. Not anymore. Not ever again.
“The sun does shine,” Ray said, and then he looked at both Lester and Bryan—two men who had saved him—each in their own way. “The sun does shine,” he said again.
And then the tears began to fall.
Ray climbed into Lester’s car and buckled his seat belt. It was the first time he had been in the front seat of a vehicle in thirty years.
“Nice car,” he said.
“It’s old and tired. Like us.” Lester laughed. “Where to?”
“I want to go to the cemetery. I want to see Mama’s grave.”
Lester pulled out onto the street and drove toward the highway.
“Take a right in two hundred feet,” said a woman’s voice.
Ray jumped in his seat. He whipped his head around to look in the back seat. He didn’t see anybody. Where was she?
“Turn right,” the voice said again.
“Where is she?” Ray whispered to Lester.
“Where is who?”
“The white woman in the car telling you which way to go?”
Lester looked at Ray blankly for a second and then started to laugh. He laughed for at least two miles. “It’s GPS—the car’s navigation system. There’s no white woman hiding in the car, Ray, I promise you.”
Ray realized that he had a lot to learn.
Ray looked at the gravestone with his mama’s name. It made his heart hurt all over again. “I’m home, Mama. I told you I’d be home. Your baby’s come home.”
Lester stood next to him in silence as he cried for the third time that day. It was weird to be outside. No guards. No fences. Ray felt a weird kind of anxiety he’d never felt before. Lester must have sensed his uneasiness because he put his hand on Ray’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.
They made one more stop before home—this time at a local restaurant with a buffet. Ray couldn’t believe all the different choices. He loaded his tray with barbecue and biscuits and fried okra and banana pudding. He waited for his sweet tea while Lester walked in front of him. Lester stopped and handed a card to the cashier, and she handed it back to him. Without looking back at Ray, he kept walking toward a table.
Ray froze.
He didn’t have any money. He hadn’t seen Lester give the woman any money. Ray started to panic, and then he saw Lester turn around to look for him. Ray met Lester’s eye and just stared at him while the cashier stared at Ray.
Lester walked back to Ray and whispered, “What’s wrong, Ray?”
“I … I … don’t have any money to pay her,” Ray whispered back.
“I already paid her, Ray. Don’t worry about it.”
Ray could feel his chest pounding. Lester hadn’t given her any money. He had been watching the whole time. Ray didn’t understand what Lester was doing.
“Lester, I didn’t see you give her any cash. I was looking the whole time. I’m not going back to jail for stealing some okra!”
“I paid with a debit card, Ray, not cash. It’s okay. We’re all paid up. You don’t need to worry.”
Ray followed Lester to the table and sat down. He could feel a lot of eyes on him. He knew he had been all over the news for days, since his release was announced. He hoped that was why people were staring. Ray hadn’t used a fork in thirty years, so he fumbled with it and tried not to worry. What if people are looking at me as the guy who got away with murder? What if they thought I really did it? What if they said something? What would he say? Ray could feel the panic beginning again.
“Ray,” Lester said quietly. “It’s okay, Ray. Everything’s okay. We’re going to eat and then go home. You’re going to sleep in a real bed tonight. It’s all going to be okay.”
Ray nodded. He wanted to get out of there. It was strange to be around so many people, to have his back to people. It made him uneasy.
He was free. He was really free. He was Anthony Ray Hinton. People called him Ray.
“Welcome home, Ray. Welcome home.” Sia wrapped her arms around him, and Ray knew that before that day was done he was going to cry again.
They stayed up until close to 2:00 a.m. laughing and talking. They watched the late news and talked about how good Ray looked in his suit. When they finally said good night, Ray lay down in the guest room in the softest bed he had ever felt.
Ray knew on the row they would be just getting ready for breakfast. He could hear the sound of the guards walking up and down the tier. The clang of trays against each other. Men yelling good morning. The smell of sweat and grime. He could see and hear and smell it all.
It felt more familiar than the soft pillow under his head and sweet-smelling blankets that he had pulled up to his chin. It was all so strange, and he could feel the anxiety start again. Ray began to breathe heavy and fast. What was happening to him? Should he wake up Lester and have him take him to the hospital? Was this how it ended? The day he gets his freedom, he has a heart attack?
Ray tried to steady his breath, but it was like the walls were moving in and out and the room was spinning. He got out of bed and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, Ray sat on the floor with his head between his knees, and immediately, his heart stopped pounding and his breathing slowed. He lifted his head and looked around. The bathroom was almost exactly the same size as his cell.
Ray stretched out on the bathroom floor, his head resting on the bath mat.
I’ll sleep in here tonight. This feels like home.