Intern helped win life-changing case

By Beth Warren, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, January 27, 2007

Cliff Williams was as green as they come: 27 years old. Third-year law student. Intern.

But there he stood that day, before a real judge, about to argue a motion in a real case. And not just any case. The case of a man he believed to be innocent. A man who had already served nearly 22 years of a 45-year sentence.

Photo by Jenni Girtman/The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Georgia State University third-year law student Cliff Williams found the rape kit evidence used at Pete Williams' trial and obtained a court order to have it tested.

His hands trembled. He was afraid his voice would quaver. But Williams managed that day to successfully argue for post-conviction DNA testing that would exonerate Willie O. "Pete" Williams.

It was perhaps a defining moment in a career that hasn't even started.

Pete Williams became a free man last week. Cliff Williams, who's not related to his client, became intern extraordinare.

"This is huge," said his mentor, Atlanta lawyer Aimee Maxwell. "It's like hitting a home run at your first time at bat in the major leagues or winning an Oscar for your first movie."

Cliff Williams, an intern with the Georgia Innocence Project, is still trying to process all that has transpired in the last 10 days, since DNA tests essentially cleared Pete Williams of a 1985 rape.

"It really does kind of feel like a dream," said the Georgia State University student, who worked on the case with veteran attorneys Bruce Harvey and Sandra Michaels. "The cameras and everything are kind of weird. But this isn't about me. This is about him spending nearly 22 years in prison."

The intern spent months buried in paperwork and exchanging letters with prisoner Pete Williams, who got his nickname as a youngster when his mother would look at him and lovingly say: "Oh, look at my little Peter Rabbit."

The two men formed a bond, and the law student became convinced the wrong man had been convicted. Still, he would need evidence to convince the courts.

On Nov. 21, he went to Fulton County Superior Court to represent the 44-year-old Williams, his first client. As he stood before Judge Tom Campbell, his hand was shaking as he took an oath that allows third-year law school students to practice law under the watchful eye of experienced lawyers. Quietly, Maxwell and Michaels cheered him on.

The novice persuaded the judge to order the DNA tests. Then he anxiously awaited the results, which finally came in after two months that seemed to crawl by.

Client matter-of-fact

After learning his client's DNA didn't match evidence left by the rapist, Cliff Williams said he "didn't know how to react."

"I was kind of in awe, bouncing off the walls," he said.

When he went to the prison to tell his client, it was the first time the two had met face-to-face.

Told test results had cleared him, Pete Williams seemed matter-of-fact, the student said.

"In my mind, I pictured him either crying or yelling for joy," the intern said.

The prisoner gave a bigger reaction the year before after learning that the advocacy group was looking into his case and would seek DNA testing. Maxwell said her organization has to tell many prisoners that they can't be helped because evidence is often lost as the years go by.

"It was a miracle," Cliff Williams said. "It really doesn't get any better than this."

Maxwell said she understands her intern's range of emotions. She described the incomparable joy of seeing a falsely imprisoned man walk free, but also a lingering sadness over what he's missed out on because of the justice system doesn't always get it right.

"I stop sometimes and think what people do in 20 years," Maxwell said. "They go to college, get married, have children. These are the juicy years of their lives and, for [those wrongly imprisoned], they're gone."

Maxwell was so moved by the plight of victims of misidentifications and inadequate legal representation that in 2002 she helped found the Georgia Innocence Project, modeled after a similar program civil rights attorneys founded a decade earlier in New York. Within a year, Maxwell teamed with other lawyers to score the nonprofit's first major victory — exonerating Clarence Harrison, who served 17 years in prison for rape, robbery and kidnapping in DeKalb County. He was cleared in 2004.

"It's kind of a blur," Maxwell said of her memory of that pivotal moment. "I'm pretty sure we never celebrated."

There wasn't time. She had to get on the phone to begin the process of getting Harrison out.

Cliff Williams understands. His workload hasn't lessened. He still has more paperwork and a final court hearing left before his client is officially exonerated, plus his classes. During recent classes, fellow students clapped, gave high-fives and pats on the back to their overachieving classmate. But within minutes, the star-of-the-moment had to plop down in a chair and hunker down on his classes just like everyone else.

And there are all the other cases that are lined up. Even at the press conference his cell phone kept ringing. A distraught mother was begging for his help to free her mentally disabled son, who has been convicted of murder.

Maxwell has taught her intern that seeing the client walk out of prison is just the beginning. Project attorneys have to keep in touch and help guide the former inmates through the many adjustments to a new life outside the structure of prison walls, things like applying for health care, obtaining a driver's license, preparing for job interviews and all the other numerous necessities of building a new life.

Undecided on career path

Maxwell laughed as she remembered how Harrison, who had never used a cordless phone, kept accidently hanging up on her until he got adjusted to the unfamiliar technology.

Pete Williams describes the law student and others at the project his "angels." But Cliff Williams, whose mom works in insurance and father owns a sporting goods business, didn't set out to be an advocate for people wrongly convicted of crimes. He considered becoming a real estate closing attorney. But he soon learned that civil law bored him.

Criminal law, however, proved exciting and challenging. The student fought his nerves the first time he strolled into the Fulton County Jail past rows of tough-looking inmates. But, when he sat down and talked to them about their cases, he was moved by their plight.

Maxwell said she knows her bright and dedicated protégé will have a number of job opportunities when he finishes law school and passes the bar. Cliff Williams says he hasn't decided on a career yet. After he graduates this May, he said, he may spend some time backpacking around Europe before making a decision.

But his mentor said she's betting he's already addicted to the rush of public service work.

"If I'm not making any money, he's not going to get to [make money]," Maxwell said with a laugh.

"He's not going to get that same human feeling" at a big, lucrative law firm, she said.