0812994523.pdf

new Monroe County judges seemed to want to touch our petition, so it was transferred back
to Baldwin County under the theory that the postconviction appeal should be handled in the
same county as the initial trial. This made little sense to us, because a Monroe County judge
had presided over the trial, but there was nothing we could do.
Surprisingly, the Alabama Supreme Court agreed to stay our direct appeal process so that
the Rule 32 petition could proceed. The general rule was that the direct appeal had to be
completed before a postconviction collateral appeal under Rule 32 could be initiated. By
staying the case, the Alabama Supreme Court had signaled there was something unusual
about Walter’s case that warranted further review in the lower courts. The Baldwin County
Circuit Court judge was now obligated to review our case and could be forced to grant our
discovery motions, which would require disclosure of all police and prosecutorial files. This
was a very positive development.
We needed to have another meeting with the district attorney, Tommy Chapman, but this
time we’d be going in armed with a court order to turn over police and prosecutorial files. We
would also finally meet, in the flesh, the law enforcement officers involved in Walter’s
prosecution: the D.A.’s investigator, Larry Ikner; ABI agent Simon Benson; and Sheriff Tom
Tate.
Chapman suggested that we come to his office in the Monroe County courthouse so that
they could turn over all the files together. We agreed. When we arrived, the men were
already there. Tate was a tall, heavy-set white man who had come to the meeting in boots,
jeans, and a light shirt. Ikner was another white man in his mid-forties, wearing the same
outfit. Neither of them smiled much—they greeted Michael and me with the bemused
curiosity to which I was getting accustomed. The men knew that we were accusing them of
misconduct, but for the most part they remained civil. At one point Tate told Michael that he
knew, as soon as he saw him, that he was “a Yankee.”
Michael smiled and replied, “Well, actually, I’m a Nittany Lion.”
The joke died in the silent room.
Undeterred, Michael continued, “I went to Penn State. The mascot at Penn State is—”
“We kicked your ass in ’ 78 .” Tate made the statement as if he had just won the lottery.
Penn State and the University of Alabama had been football rivals in the 1970 s, when both
schools had had successful programs and iconic coaches, Bear Bryant at Alabama and Joe
Paterno at Penn State. Alabama had defeated the number-one-ranked Penn State team 14 – 7
to win the 1978 national championship.
Michael, a huge college football fan and a “JoePa” devotee, looked at me as if seeking
nonverbal permission to say something reckless. I gave him a cautionary stare; to my great
relief, he seemed to understand.
“How much is ‘Johnny D’ paying y’all?” Tate asked, using the nickname Walter’s friends
and family had given him.
“We work for a nonprofit. We don’t charge the people we represent anything,” I said as
blandly and politely as I could.
“Well, you’re getting money from somewhere to do what you do.”
I decided to let that pass and move things forward.
“I thought that it might be a good idea to sign something that verifies these are all the files
you all have on this case. Can we index what you’re turning over to us and then all sign?”