of Darnell Houston, the new evidence about the condition of Walter’s truck, and the discovery
of the assistance given Hooks by law enforcement, his testimony was now riddled with
credibility issues. But getting a recantation from Myers would be a much bigger deal. Myers’s
bizarre accusations and testimony were the basis of the State’s entire case.
Having read Myers’s testimony and reviewed the records that were available about him, I
knew that he had a tragic background and a complex personality. Walter and his family had
described Myers as pure evil for the lies he had told during the trial. The experience of being
so coldly lied about at trial by someone you don’t even know was one of the most disquieting
parts of the trial for Walter. When Walter called me at the office the next day, I told him we’d
heard from Myers and that we were going to see what he had to say. Walter warned me:
“He’s a snake. Be careful.”
Michael and I drove two hours to the state prison in Springville, in St. Clair County. The
prison is in a rural area northeast of Birmingham, where the Alabama terrain starts to turn
rocky and mountainous. The maximum-security prison was more recently built than Holman
or Donaldson, the other maximum-security prisons in Alabama, but no one would suggest
that St. Clair was modern. Michael and I cleared security at the prison entrance; the guard
who patted us down said he’d been working at the prison for three months, and this was the
first time he’d had a legal visit during his shift. We were directed down a long corridor that
led to a flight of stairs that took us deeper inside the prison. We were admitted through
several secure metal doors into the large room that served as the visitation area. It was
typical: There were vending machines against the back walls and small rectangular tables
where inmates could meet with family members. The familiarity of the setting did little to
calm us. Michael and I put our notepads and pens on one of the tables and then paced around
the room, waiting for Myers.
When Myers walked into the visitation area, I was surprised at how old he seemed. His hair
was almost completely gray, which made him seem frail and vulnerable. He was also shorter
with a much smaller body frame than I was expecting. His testimony had caused so much
anguish for Walter and his family that I had created a larger-than-life image of him. He
walked toward us but stopped short when he saw Michael and nervously blurted out, “Who is
he? You didn’t tell me you were bringing anybody with you.” Myers had a thick Southern
accent. Up close, his scars made him appear more sympathetic than menacing or villainous.
“This is Michael O’Connor. He’s a lawyer in my office working with me on this case.
Michael is just helping me investigate this case.”
“Well, people told me I could trust you. I don’t know anything about him.”
“I promise, he’s fine.” I glanced over at Michael, who was trying his best to look
trustworthy, before turning back to Myers. “Please have a seat.”
He looked at Michael skeptically and then slowly sat down. My plan was to try to ease him
into the conversation by letting him know that we just wanted the truth. But before I could
say anything, Myers blurted out a full recantation of his trial testimony.
“I lied. Everything I said at McMillian’s trial was a lie. I’ve lost a lot of sleep and have been
in a lot of pain over this. I can’t be quiet any longer.”
“The testimony you gave at trial against Walter McMillian was a lie?” I asked cautiously.
My heart was pounding, but I tried to stay as steady as I could. I was afraid that if I seemed