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Wit Misseldine
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This Is Actually Happening features real experiences that often include traumatic events. Please consult the Show Notes for specific content warnings on each episode and for more information about support services.
William Palmer
When you call a man a monster, you are associating this man with Hitler, with Charles Manson. What E I mean like a monster. A human monster has to have qualities and actions to justify that word. I've never been a monster. I've done some wrong things, but I've never been a monster.
Wit Misseldine
From Wondery, I'm Wit Misseldine. You are listening to this Is actually happening.
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Episode 342. What if you suffered decades of excessive punishment.
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William Palmer
I was born on the east side of Riverside. My mother was a interior decorator and she had the biggest heart. Like everybody loved her and she loved everyone and she had begun raising other people's children. Some people stayed with us because their parents was either in jail or on drugs or just in a bad way. And they just became, you know, my brothers and sisters or cousins as they came into our home. My father is a very unique man. He was truly an intellectual, spiritual, powerful man. He was a Marine. You know, he loved his country enough at that time to go to the Marines and fight in the Korean War. And while he was there, he came to a realization that he is fighting a people that ain't never called him a nigga, that had never suppressed him Oppressed him or treated him like a second class citizen. And that was frankly just not his enemy. And those were his pretty much exact words. These people ain't never done anything to me, so why am I fighting these people, trying to kill these people? What solidified it for him was when he came home, he was still treated as a nigger, he was still treated as a second class citizen. And enough was enough. So he joined the black liberation movement. And I knew back in those days that in order to finance the movement, there were things that were done that was not lawful. And so he got in trouble with the law. I remember my mother taking me to jail to visit him a couple of times. And so I knew him behind glass and bars. You know, I used to look out my back window and just make up stories of what my father might be doing. And I gave him all kind of careers. He was an astronaut. He was everything but present in my life. My mother is amazing. She let me climb trees, jump off of roofs, play football in the streets, scared. But because of my father, she gave me that freedom. I was cool. I didn't get involved in any gangs, I wasn't a drug dealer, I wasn't a pimp or hustler. I saw all those things that a kid can see and it just never interested me. It never interested me to live a life of crime. But I think I had a little bit too much freedom. I didn't learn self restraint, discipline. I didn't learn to be cautious. Between my 8th and 9th birthday we packed up the house and moved the prospects. My mother, one day she decided to go back to school. She got her daycare license and foster care license. And my mother opened up a daycare center and a foster care home for the most hard to place children. 13 year old female runaways, abused boys and girls, parents passing away, no one to take you. I remember helping my mother with a crack addicted baby newborn. I didn't even know what was going on, to be honest. I just knew that this baby was crying and was hurting. I didn't understand what crack addicted babies are and what that was. I was not given orientation education or anything when it came to daycare and foster care. They were just thrown on me. I had to cook, I had to clean, I had to hoard the cats, into and out of showers and into and out of cars and into and out of facilities that we would go to. So there was a lot of responsibility placed on my shoulders at a very young age. When I went to school at Elcott Elementary School, that Was the first time I met white people. And when I mean white people, I mean, like white people, they were being dropped off in BMWs, Mercedes Benz, Ferraris, you name it. They were coming to school with mothers who were well dressed. Diamonds. You could just look at them and tell that they were different than my mom. And so I kind of became ashamed. My mom's overweight. She's, you know, black, curly hair. And I was like, whoa, this is different. Rich kids act different, they talk different, they do different things. I was exposed to surfing, smoking weed. I did all the things that most black people don't ever experience. And some would question it because they didn't understand or thought it was me acting white. But I knew at nine years old, I said, I'm going to be a millionaire by the time I'm 25. I'm going to marry my childhood sweetheart. I'm going to design my own home as an architect after I become the running back for the Dallas Cowboys. And it was because I changed schools and saw possibilities. There was a bridge that literally separated the two worlds. So on this side of the bridge, the east side of the bridge, I still had friends of diverse backgrounds. When I went across the bridge and I started hanging out with white people, what I knew and grew up with from the east side, they found fascinating. And what I would bring back from the other side of the bridge, some would question it because they didn't understand or thought it was me acting white. It was a lot to adjust to. I remember in junior high, I got in a fight with, like, five white boys because a white girl invited me to a birthday party and one of them didn't want me there. And on the playground, you know, a fighting curved between me and him. And then four other people jumped into it. And the principal suspended me and not one of the other kids. I was defending myself against five people, you know, why not all of us get suspended? I did not label that racist. I labeled it people just don't like me. There's something about me, you know, oh, well. But even on the other side of the bridge, there were people who loved me and opened doors for me. I don't know what it was about me. I was black. I was not only creative, intellectual, fascinating to whatever degree they found me, but I was also kind.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
I was also very helpful.
William Palmer
I had good manners. I would say, yes, sir, no, sir, yes, ma', am, no, ma'. Am. I would help out wherever help was needed. In 1984, you know, being 14, starting high school, being on the football team, Trying out, going through hell week. My relationship with the home changed dramatically because now I actually have somewhere to be all day and want to be there. Four kids came into the home. I could tell that the oldest one was extremely abused. He verbally attacked my mother and got into her face. That was a shock to me and it wasn't going to be tolerated. So I stood in between him and her and the next day he was out the house. And so the other two siblings, they were promised that they would leave our house and go join him. I think they started to get frustrated that they weren't going to go join him soon enough. So one day I come home from football practice and the house is completely silent. I knew immediately something was wrong. And I was told that the three kids had accused me of physical and sexual assault. And I was like, what? You gotta be kidding me, right? We went to the police station that night. I was interviewed and I cooperated 100%. The two African American kids story was, I think so wild that they pretty much dropped that. But the other nine year old kid, he told the exact same story of his abuse, but just changed my name into it. And you could see that, like I knew his story because he told us all his story. So if anybody would have just looked at his records of how he got here and what happened to him and then listened to what he was saying about me, they could have said, hey, this is too similar. And at this time, I didn't know anything about child molestation or anything like that. Like, I wasn't aware of those things because it never happened to me, nor did I meet anybody in real life other than him who even told me of a story like that. So all that was really pretty brand new. And so we went to juvenile court month after month. And so it came to about eight or nine months of that. And I said, I'm not coming back here. I didn't do anything. You guys are wasting my time. And I really feel that you as an attorney is taking advantage of my mother by charging her all of this money per hour that you're working for her because you have not produced anything. And at 14 years old, I don't know where that came from. I really don't. But once I told him that, he was like, okay, okay. He went into the room, into the courtroom, came back out to us in the waiting room and said, hey, if you're willing to take a lie detector test and pass, they would drop this and you won't have to keep coming back to court. I said, Bet. Come on. So here I am, a 14 year old kid, never been in trouble with the law. I'm in a room with a detective. He hooks me up to the lie detector test, asked me all the questions, and at the end he sits back and he says, hey, I can see that that didn't happen. And I passed. He said, but you can go home if you just say you touched him on the cheek. And so as a person who's been playing with this guy, you know, Wrestlemania and, you know, doing what kids do, yeah, I probably have touched him on the cheek, I've slammed him, picked him up, but it was not with a sexual intent. Like that was the furthest thing from my mind. But I said yes because I wanted to go home. That was the whole point. And so we went to court and they said because of what I said to the detective, that I was guilty of Lewd and Lucille's act. And they sentenced me to 30 days in juvenile hall. I had no idea what happened. And my mother was like, huh? We were stunned. And so I ended up doing 30 days in juvenile hall.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
And, you know, I came home.
William Palmer
They gave my mother a choice. She could either send me away or lose her license. And my mother chose me over her license. We didn't have enough money to keep the house. We lost the house. My mother found a job a little far out for a girls group home. So I wasn't allowed to come. And I was there by myself in my own apartment, cooking, cleaning, living. But once I was arrested, I thought I shook it off, but I became very angry, I became very depressed. I withdraw from the football team, I withdrew from school, I started ditching. I could connect with anybody. Like that was how I grew up. And afterwards I would, you know, shy away from connecting with people close, whether they were children or adults. There was just always this fear, you know, what if somebody says something again? What if somebody says that I touched them wrong or I talked to them wrong or no one's going to believe me. I just started closing people off. I lost my sense of security. I lost a sense of control over my life, of what people thought of me. I lost my innocence. I became very acutely aware of the system. I loved firemen and police officers before this. And now I no longer trusted adults. I no longer trusted police officers. I no longer trusted that the system had my best interest at heart. The school system didn't have my best interest at heart. No one came to me and said, hey, what is wrong? Like you've changed. You're not the same student. I wasn't doing my homework, I wasn't learning. And I'm not in high school and no one's coming to say, well why you ain't in school, man? No one gave a damn. Eventually I got kicked out of school. I think after the 10th grade they finally just said, hey, you're out of here. And my friends changed. They were more radical, fringe criminal. Started smoking weed and experiment with cocaine because I started to see cocaine dealers and these were rich kids. They had the money to buy eight balls and I would be like to look out while they chop up, cook, do all these things. I got a job at Marie Callenders, but you know, it pays minimum wage.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
When I was 16, living on my own, unable to pay rent.
William Palmer
That was the impetus of me then starting to burglarize homes.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
I thought, well, why not break into another home and, and steal some things in order for me to pay rent. I also went across the street and stole food in order to eat from the grocery store. I would break into cars and to see if I could steal something out of cars to see if I can get what I need. So it wasn't a matter of me wanting to break into homes or to hurt people. And matter of fact, I did not break into anything where people were living like they weren't home, they weren't in their car, no one was around. I wasn't looking to be confrontational with anyone. That was the least thing I wanted. My heart was torn whenever I committed a crime, especially when I was confronted, like someone came home early or I just happened to run into somebody that may be there and I didn't know it. I grieved. And there were times when I was burglarizing while it was the holiday season and I just couldn't take people's presence. You know, I couldn't take things that seemed like heirlooms or things like that. I was looking for cash, I was looking for stereos, like something that was just superficial and could be replaced. Maybe people say that doesn't matter, but I did feel bad. And me committing crimes was never a long range plan of earning money.
William Palmer
So I met my friend Jamie. During this time he taught me how to surf, he taught me how to ski. He had an upstairs neighbor named Craig. And Craig invited me to Palm Springs to his father's polo ranch. And his father was the co president of the polo club. That's when I received the opportunity for a second chance at a future. They were teaching me how to become a polo player. And for that I, I would work on the ranch and at the club. I was a referee getting paid $15 an hour at 17. And that's on top of the car they gave me to drive a trailer to sleep in. And their family, his mom and his two sisters and brother in law just like welcomed me like I was, you know, just part of the family. I felt so welcome and part of something way bigger than I even understood it to be. When we went to the polo clubs, there were like movie stars, you know, just wealthy people. So I began to even understand what life really is, what economics really is, what business really is. Because now I'm having these conversations with these people who are super successful. And by the time I looked up, I was a different person. Like I've made it. I don't need to rob and steal in order to survive. I'm not only surviving, I'm thriving. I'm going to be something that is going to be amazing. A polo player, right? And that summer he told me that if I kept progressing the way that I was, I would be able to make a team and make a million dollars. And that just blew my.
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William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
So.
William Palmer
As I was living in Palm Springs part time and in Riverside part time, I mainly was in my new white world and was loving it. And I told Chris, who's African American. I said, man, you know what he said? What? I said, I'm white.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
He looked at me, he said, what? I said, yeah, man, I'm white.
William Palmer
He's like, nah, man, you black. He said, you always gonna be black. You gonna die black. I said, no, you don't understand. I didn't really have the words to articulate it, but what I meant was, I'm not trying to be white like Michael Jackson, like color my skin and like live some type of life. But as a social construct, I knew even back then that white meant privilege and access. And I said, I got that and I love it. We decided to throw a party at the ranch. And the next day Dr. Leary found some of the the paraphernalia of drug use, marijuana and Cristo and beer, and kicked us all off, even his son. And that crushed me. Everything that I had worked for, everything that I had pursued was now just taken away. And I won't say it wasn't my fault, but I just couldn't help but think, like, again, somebody is taking something from me.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
I had actually stopped committing any crimes when I was working on the polo fields, but I just got fired from a high profile job. Like, I was living such a high lifestyle that I knew I needed to have resources to either continue that or to at least land gently.
William Palmer
So I had met a girl, she worked at a men's fashion store. I had took a credit card to her and bought up the whole store. She knew it wasn't mine, but she processed the credit card and I was like, wow, that was so easy and so great. I could just get a whole new wardrobe. So this time I decided to rob someone for their credit cards in order to not only buy some more clothes because I was into fashion, but sell those clothes or sell those credit cards for a lot of money on the black market. And so I made the foolish decision to go to, I believe it was Woolworths and buy a ski mask and use one of the guns that I had acquired from a burglary. It was a.357 bulldog. I had never put bullets in it, have never used it, rarely even picked it up since I took it. And so I decided to take that ski mask and that gun, put on some all black clothes and rob someone for their wallet and Credit cards. And so the first person I met, he looked at me and just ran. And I stood there going, hey, you ain't supposed to be running. But he ran. I didn't chase him. I just turned around, took my ski mask off and left. So the next time I did it, I walked right up on my victim, put the gun in his face, and I said it with more authority so that he wouldn't run away. I asked him for his wallet. He said he didn't have it. Well, do you have an ATM card? Yes. And we ended up getting into his car and driving to the nearest ATM machine. We pulled up to the ATM machine and I told him, get out, I'll be behind you. We're going to withdraw some money and then I'll be gone. And that person was Sergeant at the Riverside Police Department. He was off duty. As he was getting out of his Suburban, he reached under his seat and grabbed his service pistol and aimed it at my face as I was climbing out of the driver's side door behind him. When I saw the gun, I naturally froze. The first shot, I could swear even to today, I saw it come out of the gun and pass right in front of my eyes. I backed up fast back into the middle row seats, and he began to unleash 14 more bullets. @ this time, I was in a fetal position and all I could hear was glass bursting. The tink ting ting of the bullets penetrating the car. And the power of this was so vicious that it was rocking this Suburban from side to side. I had my head in between my knees and my hands over the back of my head. Then there was just silence, deafening silence. I got up and I got out of that car through the driver's side door. I didn't see him or where he had gone. And I ran across a four lane boulevard without looking or hesitating. I ran down the Mission in Riverside. And as I was running, I just felt this liquid running down my leg. And I thought I had urinated on myself. And as I reached down, I felt the hole in my sweats. And I knew. And I realized at that point that I had been shot in the knee. I went to touch the other side of my knee and I felt the bullet centimeters from breaking the skin and coming out on the other side. I decided to hide. And so I took off my black clothes and my mask and my gun and I hid it and I ran to a parking lot that was under construction. I lay there and examined myself and try to decide what I would do next. I wanted to run to my friend Jason's house who lives around Pine street, and then have him take me to a friend of mine whose mother was a nurse. But I never made it. All of a sudden I saw flashlights and heard the barking of dogs coming. The dog kept circling around where he smelt me and where I went, there was some tall grass. And so I tried to just crawl my way through some tall grass very slowly and quietly in between the officers. And one of them saw me out of the corner of the eyes and came after me and put his knee in my back and the shotgun to my head and said, you one lucky ass nigger. He should have killed you in that car, but we gonna get you later. And I'll never forget those words. And so they put me in the ambulance. And when we got to the hospital, they took the bullet out. And he told me, you're a very fortunate man. He said, it hit nothing but fat. They took me to juvenile hall and put me in a holding cell. I didn't want my mother to know I was in juvenile hall. I didn't want to hear the disappointment in her voice. I was more scared of my mother than juvenile hall and correctional officers. But I got on the phone and my mom just said, I just wanted to make sure it was you. I said, yes, me. I said, I think I screwed up real bad this time. She says, don't worry about it, don't say anything. I'll be there to see you. And she came every visiting and tried to nurture me through this process.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
When I was caught, I immediately confessed. I was like, yes, I did it. Apologized, you know, and I was willing to accept my punishment. I just had no clue that by admitting things I was not in position to protect myself from being overly charged and a tough on crime prosecutor who never wanted me to see the light of day again.
William Palmer
So they took me to court and within 70 days, my attorney, she had negotiated a plea deal for life with the possibility of parole in seven years. And as I went to court, the guys in the juvenile hall was like, you don't want to take that deal. Life is a long time. Ask them for 20 years, then you could probably do two. The courts was not interested in me taking back my deal or entertaining anything less than life. They said if I didn't take it, I would get life without out. So I took the deal. They sent me to a reception center for the youth authority and after their evaluation, they told the court, Mr. Palmer is not entrenched in criminal activity and that our programming could save him. And the court said, we don't give a damn. We just want to know, can we house him there until he gets a little older so we can send them to corrections? I didn't kill anybody. I didn't rape anyone. I didn't create great bodily injury. And here I was sentenced to a life sentence with the possibility of parole in seven years, plus two years for a gun. So they sent me to YTS Youth Training School, which was a mini prison. It should have been youth prison school. At that time, my mindset was, okay, I'm going to get out of here. They gave me seven in life. That means after seven years, I can go home. Between eight to 10 years, I should be out of here. And I started mapping my life out to where, hey, I'm just going to focus on what I need to do to improve myself. Youth authority was like college with barbed wire fences. They had, you know, university classes, and I got my ged and I met a teacher who taught me how to use words to create stories. And I fell in love with creative writing. I started studying the dictionary after reading the Autobiography of Malcolm X. She gave me that book, and it changed my life. I had to fight in order to establish my rankings. I got into several altercations in order to prevent from getting hurt, but I was still doing so well. I was the president of the student council. I took baking as a vocation because I knew how to bake since I was probably 7, 8 years old. So everything was going good. And then one day, I was playing pinochle. I was learning how to play pinochle. I didn't know that I had picked a partner that was sabotaging me who were friends with the other two people who I was actually gambling with, as I'm learning. And when I found out, somebody whispered in my ear, and I started to pay attention. And when I brought it to my partner's awareness that I knew that he was cheating for them, he got defensive and he slapped me, and I threw that table on him and got on him in such a way, they locked me up in the hole and transferred me to prison. That's when I knew what hell on earth was like. My first day out on the yard, I saw a guy get hit in the head with a baseball bat. That same day, I was working out with some people who I just met, and I was like, hey, can I work out with you? They were like, sure. Next thing I know, I go sit by my cellmate and these two big dudes. I mean, one was Black and one was Samoan. When they walked up, they blocked the sun. And I was like, what's up? And they were like, where you from cuz? And I was like, riverside. I didn't even know what to say. I mean, I've been through ya. So I knew what they were getting at. My cellmate just said, hey, hey. He's non affiliated, he's with me man, just chill. What you working out over there with them slobs? And I said, hey, I had no idea. I just wanted to work out. I was introduced to what they call prison politics that day. You can't hang out with who you want to hang out with and then just go hang out with somebody else. And somebody else. You had to pick sides, you had to pick a territory, you had to pick a part of the yard and that was going to be your part. That didn't sit well with me, but you know, what was I going to do? My cellmate, he just laid down the rules. He's like, don't do this, don't do that, don't gamble, don't mess with homosexuals and don't get into involved in any drugs. All three of those things will get you into a wreck with somebody else, guaranteed. I had to figure out how I was going to develop not just my mind, but my body in such a way that I won't be a victim. From there we went to old Folsom. The buildings are so old, they look like a castle of some sort. And I was just like, oh my God, what have I gotten myself into? I went into a cell with a guy, he was a housing clerk, his name was Carmouche. He was real cool at first, you know, chilling. Told me, you know, what to do, how to do it. He had a friend named Randy who was homosexual. He would come up to the door and start talking to me. And I remember him telling me, like, man, you don't belong here. I don't know what you're doing here. And I didn't quite understand at the time what he was saying, but he was right. Like, why AM I at 20 years old in Level 4 Folsom State Prison for a botched robbery that basically was convicted of kidnap robbery. You know, these people were what we call short termers. They had five years, two years, even 10 years was short compared to what I was facing. Carmouche, we had become very close friends. Matter of fact, we were so close that when he went home, I cried because I knew that I was going to see a lot of people going home Before I did. And at that point, I sealed myself off from becoming attached to people. I could not invest my emotions in other human beings that I knew I may never, ever see again. So meeting real friends for me was a challenge. And that's when Cleopatra opened up. I was on the second bus, arrived there, January 3, 1992. I had my own cell this time, and I was living next door to a brother named Malik, and he was discussing a lot about Islam. And I was just fascinated. I was blown away. I was invited to jummah service, which is a Friday service for Muslims. I'm listening. I recognize that there's no pictures, no statues, no nothing. And we're just talking about this unseen being. That's great. I just remember this feeling of, yeah, this feels right. The call to prayer was made. We lined up in ranks, as Muslims do, to perform salat. I had never done it before, but I'm adventurous. I just wanted to see what it felt like. And so I found myself in the middle of the room. We went into sajdo, where you prostrate your forehead on the ground, and a light just went off. I said, yeah, that's what a God deserves. He deserves my big head on the ground. I took my shahada, became a Muslim, and they gave me the name Tariq Al Baha Saleem. What I understood when I was reading all these books and learning all these lessons, that being a pan African is not about hating anybody else, but about following my ancestors back to a proper civilization that we created. This information was so powerful. I knew in order to save myself from being subject of this social construct we call black and this oppression that we inherited here in the United States for these people that I had to learn how to be me, the real me. I no longer wanted to be referred to as black. They asked me, well, what are you? And I said, I'm Sudanese, from Balara, Sudan. That is what my history tells me. And that's who I am now. I'm Sudanese. And they corrected it. They moved me out of black cells and the black category and put me in as others. And I transformed myself. I took off in Islam. I became very knowledgeable. I read everything I could get my hands on. I resonated with it. I became an imam, a leader of prayer. I became an emir, a leader of the community. Cleopatra was very vicious. Mexicans, white boys, blacks, you name it, man. All of them were just gang bangers. And I was like, man, you can have all that. And I resigned myself to just block that out. I didn't want to have anything to do with it. I didn't care about it, I didn't ask no questions. And I was selected, I believe in the beginning because I was non affiliated, I wasn't a gang member. And so all the ex gang members who were coming into Islam knew that I was unbiased, like I didn't favor anybody. I was very studious and just living like a guy in a college campus around a bunch of gang bangers. And I decided that I was not going to do anything that maintain the structure of institutional life. I knew I had to find a legal strategy to get me out of prison. And so I started fashioning my key to unlock those prison bars. From there we went to Solano. Solano correctional officers utilized the system knowing that lifers, even a warning of disciplinary action could cause you 3, 5, 17, 15 more years of your life in prison. So they were manipulating this process to scare lifers or to commit revenge against lifers like myself. So when we go to the board, they say, hey, look at what you got here. Five year denial, denial, denial. In 2002, I put a ad on this brand new thing they call the Internet. And it generated a response from a woman from Australia called Linda. She was 24, I was 31, and she saw my ad for pen pal. She was just blown away by how I introduced myself, describe myself. She decided to write me. She was this redhead, five nine, kickboxer, ex model. And when she sent me a picture, I was like, oh wow. I was like, oh my God. She was one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life. We corresponded, I had a typewriter and I would type and send her a damn near a chapter every time I wrote her like almost once a week. So over time we developed a desire for each other, an attraction for each other, and I would say a love for each other. About four years into our relationship, on Christmas 2006, yeah, I didn't know who called me out to the visiting room. And when I looked up to where the visitors entered the room, there she was. And man, my eyes hurt with pleasure. And we spent that whole day just locked on each other. That was it. You know, she came every day that she could. And she went home, got on the computer and found Amnesty International and asked if they could help me. And they said they couldn't. But they knew somebody at O' Melvenia Myers in Washington D.C. and connecting her to that law firm, they took my case on pro bono and just started coming to my parole hearings and writing writs. To the courts, trying to overturn the decisions that the parole board made. And she was coming back to see me once a year, then twice a year. And we were working very close with each other, describing my accomplishments, getting my AA degree, emphasis in business, you know, being on the Mac rep, being a leader in the community. I became an artist and I painted the visiting room, created a crew of artists and painters, and we did both visiting rooms on both sides, and I got books to come in. Being able to get o' Melveny and Meyer on my team was a huge asset. We submitted that document at the end of 2015, in December, and Judge Klein told the board, just let him go. Just let him go. He's been in there since he's 17. Just let him go. The board had waited until the very day of my board hearing, which was months down the line of the judge telling them this, to then decide to appeal, which is going to create more years of litigation. I was crushed. I was angry. I said, how you gonna keep playing these games with my life? You trying to crush my soul, but I ain't gonna let you do it. I'm not gonna let you do it. So I stayed the course, and that was hard for me. When I received the news from Linda that my father had passed, I was numb. When I went to the board hearing soon thereafter, I was composed. I was arguing my release. And then they had the nerve to ask me, what is the one thing that you regret now? I knew the answer was committing my crime, hurting my victim. But it wasn't about that today. I said, the one thing I regret is that my father would never see me free. He would never see me get married. He would never see his grandchildren. And I just started crying. And part of those tears was now anger because I let these people see me break down. Two years later, right before another board hearing in 2010, my mother passes away. I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral. The death of my mother was so severe in the trauma and pain that I understood why people commit suicide. It is deep. It is untouchable. And I didn't know how I was going to get out of that in that process. I was laying on my bunk, and what hit me first and foremost was I had been thinking with emotions my entire life. When you are controlled by your oppressors, to go up against them in their house is a recipe for death. I had not learned and utilized rational or critical thinking. I was able to understand that there were lessons that I hadn't learned that I needed to learn to shape me into the person that I needed to be and that I had to do a number of things, not just to get out, but to stay out and serve my purpose. So after the appeal, the California Supreme Court got involved and told the First Appellate District Court that they had to make a new ruling. You can't just tell the board to release it. You can't do that. And so Judge Klein and other judges, they said, okay, that's what you want. We are going to reward Mr. Palmer with everything he asked for in his writ of Habres corpus. There are 19 points that you have to consider and if he passes enough of them, you are forced to set his term and let him go. The most difficult part of being in prison for me was not being able to get married and have children, to build a home, to build a business and contribute to society. But what battered and bruised my soul was all those years that they took from me and suppressed my knowledge, my creativity, my contribution to the world. Those 31 years and 22 days. It was that 23rd day that I succeeded and beat them. I broke them. I broke their will and their strategy and their desire to break me and to keep me in prison for the rest of my.
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William Palmer
I got out in 2019, and getting released from prison was difficult. 31 years and 22 days difficult, but completing parole was even more difficult.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
My first parole officer, Marco Montano, his.
William Palmer
First phone call to me was, report to my office immediately. Tomorrow. I said, I can't do that. He said, what?
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
Parolees don't talk to parole officers like that.
William Palmer
So I knew he was shot. He said, report to my office. I said, I can't do that.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
He said, why?
William Palmer
Because I have a job interview tomorrow with Checkers. He said, I don't care. Report to my office. I said, I care because a part of the parole conditions that I signed in that office said that I have to have a job, a viable job. I have to get out here and make a living. You don't want me turned back into.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
My old behavior, do you?
William Palmer
He said, well, report to me the following day. I said, I think I could do that. So when I got into the office that day, he said, you cheated your way out, and I'm gonna send you back. And at that moment, when I heard those words, I lost the love. And I decided that I was gonna fight him. I was gonna fight him with everything I got. And everybody told me, don't do it. Just let it go. Just do what they tell you. I said, I can't do that, because he just threatened my life, my freedom. But I calmed down after that, and I said, I got to love this dude. The first love of my life. When I got out, she reminded me. She said, don't nobody like a grumpy old man. I said, first of all, who you calling old? And second of all, I'm not grumpy.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
I'm pissed.
William Palmer
But she reminded me. So I loved him. I went into his office the next time, and I said, montano, I love you, man. You're only doing what you're supposed to do. You're only being the fearful hellfire that God created you to be. And I feel sorry for you, but I love you, and let me know what I can do to, you know, help you change your life. And he looked at me and said, man, who you trying to fool? What game is this? I said, it ain't no game, bro. Love is the most powerful thing on Earth, and it's what got me out, and it's what's going to keep you from putting me back in.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
Marco Montano, he set me up many a times to go back to prison.
William Palmer
But about two or three months after that he was gone, fired, dismissed, no longer able to work as a parole officer ever again.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
Fast forward to November of last year, 2023. I've been out four and a half years. I've had my own business, my non profit, my for profit. I'm on the sheriff department oversight board. I've been on the reentry council. I've done many good things in the community to show where my heart is, where my mind is, where my focus is. I get another pro agent. His name is Jeremy Wilson. So a few months later, I get into a situation.
William Palmer
I went out on a date, a.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
Person who was definitely not in their right mind, and the police got involved. My parole officer came and said, hey, the detectives want to talk to you. And I said, sure, no problem. And so when I talked to the detectives, I cooperated until I realized that they were questioning me to charge me with a crime.
William Palmer
Claims of assault, sodomy and some more charges. There's a lot. And I was just shocked. I was like, you gotta be kidding me. So when I describe what happened and tried to say that, hey, I think that she had some type of either drugs or something in her system that was causing her to have, like, extreme emotions positively and then extreme emotions negatively, she didn't really want to hear that. And at that point, I knew I.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
Better shut this down and ask for an attorney. I also knew that this complaining witness.
William Palmer
Was a puppet law enforcement.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
When I did the discovery and saw the chemical imbalance in the toxicology report, I knew that this person was not functioning in their right mind. And so that allowed me to even forgive and move past looking at the complaining witness and see who was behind this and what was going on. The complaining witness is a victim in this as well.
William Palmer
The news reported that San Francisco Sheriff's department oversight board member Palmer is arrested for the lengthy charges and some charges that are just so outrageous it's even hard for me to repeat. So I was blasted all over the news. I had to fight for my discovery. And what I learned in those documentations and reading them is that Jeremy Wilson facilitated this whole thing. This man called me a monster that had did some good for the community. When you call a man a monster, you are associating this man with Hitler, with Charles Manson, with E. I mean, like a monster. A human monster has to have qualities and actions to justify that word. My criminal action when I was a child was burglaries and two attempts at armed robbery with a gun with no bullets. I've never been a monster. I've Done some wrong things, but I've never been a monster. So I'm in jail fighting these charges. My whole life and future that I had going so well is just eroding.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
They then went ahead and dismissed the case with prejudice and said due to a lack of evidence because there was never no evidence, and due to the witness not being credible because the witness was never credible, we're going to drop the charges with Mr. Palmer. It didn't make the news like it made when I was arrested. It didn't make the papers like it did when I was arrested. They didn't apologize or give me anything that I lost for being in jail for five months. I had to pay $4,000 to get my car out of impound. I lost five months of rent to hold my apartment while I was renting out a jail cell. With my time, with my life, with my stress. See, they don't talk about these things, of what happens when somebody is innocent and then they just drop the case. This is the type of tactical strategy that they use to get at someone who fights a system, to hold a system accountable for what is doing wrong.
William Palmer
The lengths that they will go to, to silence the voices of those who are trying to end the legal practices of mass incarceration, who are trying to save the lives of our children from the pipeline from preschool to prison. The narrative that we are criminals, that we're going back, that it's unsafe. And they have used law enforcement, from the military to the prison guards to the police officers, parole officers, all policing powers are all in place to create a society that makes certain people disadvantaged. I think that's wrong. I'll be 54 this year in August. The amount of development that I have undergone from 17 to 54. There is no policies and laws in place to help youth offenders on that journey. We have policies and procedures for housing for mentally ill and drug addicted people. Where's that for youth offenders who have never lived in society and are challenged by functioning in society. And there's where the pursuit of transformative justice really began in my life. I went to vocation school so that I could work in education so I can teach myself and other people how to escape prison. I was a founding member of Abolished Slavery National Network. I was on the San Francisco Reentry Council as a sentencing commission. I was appointed twice to the San Francisco Sheriff's Department Oversight Board, which I'm still on now. I was a board member for the San Diego Peace Resource Center. I developed an organization called Exodus Coalition to be advocates for youth Offenders and and legal defense litigators to help get more of our youth out of incarceration. I've been a long time member since 2019 with the United Players who Help at Risk Youth. And I started Life After Next, which is a nonprofit agency to help youth offenders with the resources that are uniquely needed for them to come out and be successful. And our motto is, we will walk with you all the way home. I saw people with freedom. When I was incarcerated for 31 years and 22 days, I saw people with freedom to move about, to acquire things. My friends getting married, having children, acquiring homes and cars and things that I thought were valuable. But once I obtained freedom, it did not add to me the way that.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
I thought it would.
William Palmer
Now I know the value of freedom that actually fulfills a purpose in life because of prison and parole. And what I've obtained from being in prison and on parole has become supreme love.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
This ethic of love started out while I was in prison after my parents passed away. I knew that in order for me to revive myself and to get back to who I truly am and my purpose in life and why I spent 31 years in prison because I was being forged by fire for a purpose in life and that I could not get out with a heart full of hate, not one speck of hate. So it was in prison that I decided to love myself and to love everybody else. And do you know how hard it is to love a correctional officer when they are between you and your freedom? That was the hardest thing to even imagine, let alone to put into practice. But I did. And miracle things happened to me. I mean, unbelievable things were happening. Like my mind was able to manifest things now. And I sat on my bunk and I created this vision board, which today.
William Palmer
Everything on that board has come true.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
So the ethic of love is more than just forgiving somebody. It's about tuning into the universal power of connection, abundance of manifestation.
William Palmer
So when I'm out here in the.
William Palmer (Alternate Voice or Reflection)
Community, I'm not doing this. It's not even work. It's not a job. I practice, a way of living.
William Palmer
Love is not the absence of hate. Love is the sacrifice and the devotion for your fellow human brother to love me, my family, friends, and even more importantly, my foes. When I learn to love those oppressing me and suppressing me, I become a love supreme that makes me and all I do valuable. I know it might sound corny, but it's true.
Podcast Announcer
Today's episode featured William Palmer. If you'd like to reach out to him in the show notes. You can find his email, socials and other information about him and his non profit work. William also has a GoFundMe to help in his continued fight for justice. If you'd like to donate, please follow the link in the Show Notes.
Wit Misseldine
From Wondery. You're listening to this Is Actually Happening. If you love what we do, please rate and review the show. You can subscribe on Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music or on the Wondery app to listen ad free and get access to the entire back catalog. In the episode notes you'll find some links and offers from our sponsors. By supporting them, you help us bring you our show for free. I'm your host Wit Misseldine. Today's episode was co produced by me, Jason Blaylock and Andrew Waits with special thanks to the this Is Actually Happening team including Ellen Westberg. The intro music features the song Illibi by Tipper. You can join the community on the this Is Actually Happening discussion group on Facebook or follow us on Instagram actuallyhappening on the show's website thisisactually happening.com you can find out more about the podcast. Contact us with any questions, submit your own story or visit the store where you can find this Is Actually Happening designs on stickers, T shirts, wall art, hoodies, and more. That's thisisactually happening.com and finally, if you'd like to become an ongoing supporter of what we do, go to patreon.com happening even 2 to $5 a month goes a long way to support our vision. Thank you for listening.
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Episode 342: What if you suffered decades of excessive punishment?
Released: December 3, 2024
Guest: William Palmer
Host: Wit Misseldine
This deeply moving episode features William Palmer, who tells the story of his journey from a childhood marked by early responsibility and resilience, through a teenage mistake that led to a life sentence, to three decades spent navigating the U.S. prison system, and ultimately, his fight for freedom and justice after his release. The conversation examines the devastating effects of excessive punishment, the failures of the legal and correctional systems, and the redemptive power of love and purpose.
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William Palmer’s extraordinary story exposes the deep flaws and cruelty of the criminal justice system, particularly as it affects Black youth and those from disadvantaged backgrounds. Despite decades of excessive punishment—including wrongful accusations both as a youth and as an adult—Palmer reclaims his power through education, spiritual growth, advocacy, and a hard-earned ethic of love. His work today is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative potential of refusing to return hate for hate.