John Grisham - The Innocent Man

None of these methods were used on May 9. Williamson, who was quite literate and had a much wider vocabulary than either of his two interrogators, watched as Featherstone took notes. He said he understood his Miranda rights and agreed to talk. The police version reads as follows:

WILLIAMSON said, "Okay, December the 8th, 1982, I was hanging out at the Coachlight frequently and I was there one night looking at a girl, a pretty girl, and thought I should follow her home."

WILLIAMSON paused, then acted as if he wished to say something that started with the letter F, but then paused again. Then he continued, "Thought what if something bad would happen that night, and followed her home."

WILLIAMSON then paused and talked about when he stole a stereo. WILLIAMSON then said, "I was with DENNIS, and we went to the Holiday Inn, and told a girl that we had a bar in our car, and got her and she jumped."

WILLIAMSON talked in sporadic phrases and Agent ROGERS asked WILLIAMSON to concentrate and get back to talking about the DEBBIE CARTER case.

WILLIAMSON said, "Okay, I had a dream about killing DEBBIE, was on her, had a cord around her neck, stabbed her, frequently, pulled the rope tight around her neck."

WILLIAMSON said, "I am worried about what this will do to my family," and then he said, "My mother is dead now."

Agent ROGERS asked WILLIAMSON if he and DENNIS were there that night and WILLIAMSON answered "yes." Agent FEATHERSTONE asked WILLIAMSON, "Did you go there with the intention to kill her?" WILLIAMSON responded, "Probably." Agent FEATHERSTONE asked, "Why?" WILLIAMSON responded, "She made me mad."

Agent FEATHERSTONE asked, "How do you mean? Mean to you? A bitch?"

WILLIAMSON responded, "No."

WILLIAMSON paused briefly then said, "Oh my God you can't expect me to confess, I've got my family, I've got my nephew to protect. My sister, it will tear her up. It can't hurt my mother now since she is dead. It's been on my mind since it happened."

At about 1938 hours, WILLIAMSON said, "If you're going to try me on this, I want TANNER in Tulsa. No, I want DAVID MORRIS." The mention of a lawyer spooked the detectives, and they stopped the confession. They called David Morris, who instructed them to stop interrogating Ron immediately. The statement was not signed by Ron. It was never shown to him.

Armed with another dream confession, the case was coming together nicely for the cops and prosecutors. They had learned with Ward and Fontenot that a lack of physical evidence should not get in the way of an urgent prosecution. The fact that Debbie Carter was not stabbed was of little consequence. Juries will convict if they can be adequately shocked.

If one dream confession could nail Williamson, then another could put him away. A few days later, a jailer named John Christian stopped by Ron's cell. He and Ron had grown up in the same neighborhood. The Christian household was full of boys, one the same age as Ron, and he was often included in lunch and dinner. They played baseball together in the streets and the leagues and attended Byng Junior High.

Untreated and unmedicated, Ron was far from a model inmate. The Pontotoc County jail is a windowless concrete bunker, for some reason built on the west side of the courthouse lawn. The ceilings are low, the atmosphere cramped and claustrophobic, and when someone screams, everyone hears it. Ron screamed often. When he wasn't yelling, he was singing, crying, wailing, complaining, or either protesting his innocence or ranting on about Debbie Carter. He was placed in one of the two solitary cells, as far away from the crowded bullpen as possible, but the jail was so small that Ron could disrupt it from anywhere.

Only John Christian could settle him down, and the other inmates came to appreciate the changing of the guard. When Christian arrived, he immediately went to Ron's cell and calmed him. They would talk about the old days, growing up, playing ball, friends they had known back then. They talked about the Carter case and how unfair it was for Ron to be charged. For eight hours Ron was quiet. His solitary cell was a rat hole, but he managed to sleep and read. Before Christian punched out, he checked on Ron, who was usually pacing, smoking, getting himself psyched up to begin the racket as soon as the new guard arrived.

Late in the evening of May 22, Ron was awake and knew Christian was at the front desk. Ron called him back and wanted to talk about the murder. He had a copy of The Dreams ofAda and said he might have a dream confession of his own. According to Christian, Ron said, "Now just imagine this, I dreamed this is what took place. Just imagine that I was living in Tulsa, and I'd been drinking and taking quaaludes all day, and I drove to Buzzy's Club (Coachlight Club), and just imagine that I drank some more and got a bit drunker. Just suppose that I ended up at Debbie Carter's door and knocked on the door and she said just a minute I'm on the phone. Just imagine I busted the door in and I raped and killed her."

Williamson then said, "Don't you think if I was the person that killed her, that I would have gotten some money from my friends and left town?"

Christian thought little of the conversation, but did repeat it to a fellow officer. It was repeated again and again, and finally made it to Gary Rogers. The detective saw an opportunity for additional evidence against their killer. Two months later, he asked Christian to repeat what Ron had told him. Rogers typed up a report, added quotation marks where he thought appropriate, and the police and prosecutor then had their second dream confession. Not a single word was included to reflect Ron's many denials of involvement in the crime.

As usual, the facts were not important. Ron was not living in Tulsa at the time of the murder. He possessed neither a vehicle nor a driver's license.

For Annette Hudson and Renee Simmons, the news that their brother had been arrested and charged with murder was overwhelming. Since his release from prison the previous October, they had been deeply concerned about his deteriorating mental health and his physical well-being, but they had no idea murder charges were looming. The rumors had been around for years, but so much time had passed, the family had assumed the police were busy with other suspects and other cases. When Juanita died two years earlier, she was confident she had given Dennis Smith clear evidence that Ron was not involved. Annette and Renee believed this, too.

Both were living frugally-raising their families, working occasionally, paying the bills, and saving money when possible. They did not have the cash to hire a criminal defense lawyer. Annette talked to David Morris, but he had no interest in the case. John Tanner was in Tulsa, too far away and too expensive.

Though Ron had dragged them through the court system many times, they were still unprepared for his sudden arrest and the allegations of murder. Friends backed away. The stares and whispers began. An acquaintance said to Annette, "It's not your fault. You can't help what your brother did."

"My brother is not guilty," Annette shot back. She and Renee repeated this continually, but few people wanted to hear it. Forget the presumption of innocence. The cops had their man; why would they have arrested Ron if he wasn't guilty?

Annette's son, Michael, then a fifteen-year-old sophomore, suffered through a class discussion on current local events, the principal one being the arrest of Ron Williamson and Dennis Fritz for the murder. Since his last name was Hudson, none of his classmates knew that Michael's uncle was the accused killer. Sentiments in the class ran strongly against the two men. Annette was at the school the following morning and got the matter resolved. The teacher apologized profusely and promised to redirect class discussions. Renee and Gary Simmons were living in Chickasha, about ninety miles away, and the distance gave them some relief. Annette, though, had never left Ada, and though she now desperately wanted to flee, she had to stay and support her little brother.