Absolved by DNA, Ex-Inmate Ready to Live Again

By Jeffrey Scott, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, January 26, 2007

Willie O. "Pete" Williams said Thursday he wasn't angry about having surrendered about half his life to an injustice, spending almost 22 years in a Georgia prison for a rape he didn't commit.

"Anybody can screw up," he said during a news conference at the Georgia Innocence Project, which pushed for a DNA test that led to his release this week. "We're all human."

Photo by Bita Honarvar/ Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Willie O. 'Pete' Williams, who spent nearly 22 years in prison for a rape he didn't commit, met the public Thursday.

But Williams, 44, said he was "aggravated" about the last five hours of his incarceration. Fulton County sheriff's deputies forced him to wear leg chains and handcuffs during the drive to Atlanta Tuesday from the D. Ray James Correctional Facility in South Georgia.

"They told me it was standard operating procedure," said Williams.

Otherwise, Williams, dressed in an orange knit shirt, black jeans and fashionable boots, was upbeat during his second meeting with the news media in less than 48 hours, during which he even broke into a rendition of "Amazing Grace."

Williams had said Tuesday the two things he said he most wanted as a free man were a steak and potato dinner, and a hot bath. The dinner he's still salivating about. The hot bath is history: "It was quite lovely," he said, to laughter.

He's spent the past two days with his family at his mother's home in metro Atlanta, very little of it sleeping. He said he's not used to a soft bed after more than two decades on hard prison bedding.

Plus, he keeps waking up so he knows he's not dreaming.

"I was making sure I was in the house," he said.

He said his family, his religion, and his knowledge that he didn't commit the rape he was convicted of in 1985 gave him strength. But, even in prison, he was a pariah.

"That type of crime," he said, "you can't really go into prison and talk about, because everybody frowns on it."

Williams took the stand in his own defense during his trial, swearing to his innocence. At least one witness testified that at the time of the rape Williams was at her home playing cards. But the rape victim and another woman, allegedly attacked by Williams a few days later, both identified him in court.

"In the end they jury believed them, and didn't believe him or the alibi witness," said Williams' attorney, Michael Schumacher, this week.

A reporter among the throng jammed tightly into the Innocence Project offices asked Williams if a movie were made of his life, what would be the story. "The man who remained strong," he said. He said the message might be "no matter how old you are, you have a chance."

When he was a 21-year-old kid, he had dreamed of being a performer, a gospel singer. All those years behind bars might have deferred that dream, but not destroyed it, he said.

"I believe now if I want to pursue a career in that, I could do it," he said. When a TV reporter asked him to sing, he paused for a second, then sang the opening words to "Amazing Grace": "Amazing grace / how sweet the sound." Then he stopped.

His voice is powerful.

He had the audience in his hand.

"Don't stop," said a voice.

Williams just smiled.

The first Georgia prisoner exonerated by DNA evidence, Calvin Johnson, sat at Williams' side during the conference. Johnson was released in 1999 after 16 years in prison. He has been coaching Williams on how to deal with the sensations and urges of newfound freedom.

"He's been telling me to slow down, and about women," Williams said. "I'm pretty fired up."

In his brief time on the outside the most troubling thing has been cellphones, he said. "I haven't gotten used to everybody with phones. Everywhere I look there's phones, there's phones."

He said he's reluctant to try to operate one. When it rings he hands it to somebody else to answer. "I don't want somebody to say 'Man, what's with you?' So I try to stay away from that."

So far, he's had one Atlanta man offer him a free suit, another offer him free dental care, and at least two job offers. And he's been adopted by the big Atlanta law firm McKenna Long & Aldridge.

The firm plans to hold a reception for Williams at its offices next week. Meantime, said attorney David Balser, they plan to take care of him. "Our intention is to provide him with anything he needs, including clothing, shelter, job, things like that."

Most important, said Balser, is that the firm will present Williams' case before the Georgia Legislature in the 2008 session, asking for compensation for his 22 years behind bars.

It won't be easy.

Johnson asked for $1.6 million from the state after he was released, but only received $500,000, or about $31,000 for each lost year. Balser said his firm is still doing the computations on what it believe a man's life is worth, when it's taken from him, for 22 years.