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- [00:02]
Celisia Stanton
You're listening to a Tenderfoot TV podcast. Ready to level up? Shumba Casino is your playbook to fun. It's free to play with no purchase necessary. Enjoy hundreds of casino style games like bingo, slots and Solitaire anytime, anywhere with fresh releases every week. Whether you're at home or on the go. Let Shumba Casino bring the excitement to you. Plus get free daily login bonuses and a free welcome bonus. Join now for your chance to redeem some serious prizes. Play Chumba Casino today. No purchase necessary. VGW Group void where prohibited by law 18/ TNC supply hi friends, I am thrilled to share a recent collaboration I did with the team here at Tenderfoot TV for their latest series up and Vanished Weekly. This week I joined the up and Vanished team to dig into the tragic story of Mitrice Richardson, a case that's haunted Los Angeles for over a decade. It began on September 16, 2009 when 24 year old Mitrice was acting oddly at a Malibu restaurant. Authorities were called, but hours later she was released from custody in the middle of the night. No car, no phone, no wallet. What happened next is a heartbreaking mix of mystery and tragedy. Up in Vanish Crater, Payne Lindsay discusses the details of Mitrice's case step by step. Then host Maggie Freeling and I break down the case, asking the tough where did the system fail and who should be held accountable to Listen to the full episode, search up and Vanish Weekly in your podcast app or wherever you listen. While you're there, follow the show for more investigative episodes. Hi friends. I'm so excited to share this new Season two episode of Truer Crime with you. If you want an ad Free Listening experience, subscribe to Tenderfoot Plus@tenderfootplus.com or on Apple Podcasts. Hi friends. After the news cycle of the last month, I think we can all agree, like social media, it's just feeling a little bit tenuous between platforms changing overnight and the TikTok ban. It's all just a reminder that like, things are shifting rapidly. So I felt like it was really important that there was another way for us to stay connected. That way, no matter what happens, we can reach each other. So you can head over to Truercrime Substrate and sign up for our newsletter. Don't worry, I promise we're only going to email you if you have something important to share like major updates, new episodes, or big news from one of the cases that we've covered. So it's just another way to make sure that we can reach you no matter what. But that's it for now. Just wanted to give you that little heads up. Let's get into the show. Before we jump in, I wanted to give a quick note that today's episode was created with the support of Lava for Good and the team behind the podcast Ear Witness. Special thanks to investigative reporter Beth Shelburne for her help on this story. And please be aware that today's episode does contain mentions of gun violence and brief references to sexual abuse and suicide. Please take care while listening. Picture this. You're sitting in a small room at your local police station. In front of you is a table, and sitting at the opposite end is a cop. In the middle of the table, there's a tape recorder. But before you have the chance to even take it all in, the cop starts laying out the facts. You're here because we need your help. A few days ago, someone was murdered, and you have information that could help us catch the folks responsible. At this point, you're already feeling a range of emotions. You're scared. This is, after all, an interrogation room. You're stressed, mostly because you're completely alone. No lawyer, no advisor to guide you. Maybe you're even feeling a bit helpless. Someone was murdered. You do want to be cooperative and helpful. They ask you where you were a week ago, and you tell them you spent the day with friends. You detail a night that to you, feels uneventful. But the cop across from you isn't having it. We know you and your friends were there the night of the murder. Tell us what happened. You're insistent. Now you don't know anything. Suddenly, the tone shifts. It seems like no matter what you say, the same question keeps resurfacing.
- [04:50]
Detective Tony Richardson
You are in a position now to be one of two things. Okay, you can either be a witness or you can be a defendant. You know, you can either be a witness or you can be a defendant. Can only be either a witness or you can be a defendant. Okay, it's your choice. You make it. You tell me what you want to do.
- [05:11]
Celisia Stanton
You can be a witness, or you can be a defendant. You tell him what you want to do. I probably don't need to explain the stakes that this question imposes. Two choices. Pick one. It's almost deceivingly simple. And this choice. It's the same one a group of young folks from Alabama faced, one by one in the summer of 1995. But this question Are you a witness or are you a defendant? It raises a second, even more pressing question. What if you're neither? And that's the question at the center of today's episode, because this is the story of DeForest Johnson. I'm Celisia Stanton, and you're listening to truer crime. On July 18, 1995, Deputy Bill Hardy was at his second job. He'd spent the last 23 years working at the Jefferson County Sheriff's office. But at night, he picked up security shifts at the Crown Sterling Suites hotel in Birmingham, Alabama. According to the podcast Ear Witness, Hardy was warm and friendly, rarely uptight. He was nearly always wearing his sheriff's uniform, complete with his wide, brimmed sheriff. His shifts at the hotel were spent making rounds and taking breaks in the hotel atrium. According to Birmingham News, Hardy had been considering quitting his work at the hotel. If all went to plan, the evening of July 18th would be one of his final shifts. But things didn't work out the way he envisioned. And while we don't know everything that transpired that night, we do know that sometime after midnight, Hardy set a still burning cigarette into an ashtray and headed out the hotel's back door. Not long after, two loud popping noises rang out, prompting Barry Rushakoff, the hotel's front desk clerk, to call the police. He told them what he'd heard from several guests, that there was some kind of commotion in the hotel's parking lot, that there were gunshots. When Barry hung up, he decided to check out the scene himself. But before he even made it out the back door, he could see it through the window. Deputy Hardy lying on the asphalt. Running back to his desk, he made a second call to police. Yes, ma'am, this is Barry from crowd of steeling seats Hotel again, I have a pit. What appears to be a Jefferson county police officer shot in the back of our building. He is not moving. People in the car drove away and you say is he in your.
- [07:59]
Yolanda Chambers
He's lying on the pavement.
- [08:01]
Celisia Stanton
I'm a little afraid to go out. Is he in your uniform? Yes, he is a Birmingham police officer, Jefferson County. He is a hired nighttime security for us.
- [08:10]
Yolanda Chambers
Hey, do you know if you can find out anything, like if he's breathing and how much blood? I'm trying, ma'am.
- [08:17]
Detective Tony Richardson
My, my.
- [08:18]
Celisia Stanton
My prom is. I don't know if the people are still out there. Okay.
- [08:21]
Yolanda Chambers
We. We should be there shortly.
- [08:22]
Celisia Stanton
You. Thank you very much.
- [08:23]
Yolanda Chambers
I'm going to go and try to look at him.
- [08:24]
Celisia Stanton
Okay, thank you. Jefferson county deputy has been shot on.
- [08:32]
Yolanda Chambers
The back entrance of the hotel Crown Stone. It is one of us and we are. They have got one down. He has been shot and they said. It looks bad and it looks bad.
- [08:45]
Celisia Stanton
When help arrives. Hardy is transferred to a hospital. Seven hours later, he's pronounced dead. Two bullets, one to the head and one to the jaw, had taken his life. Only 49 years old, his passing rocked the community. He'd been respected by his colleagues at the sheriff's department and deeply loved by his wife and children. And now that he was gone, a new objective surfaced. Justice. For investigators, this case was personal. Hardy was one of their own. For them, finding a perpetrator was inevitable. But to understand all that transpired during the investigation into Hardy's murder, you need to know a few more things about the evening of July 18th. You need to know about what was going on four miles from the Crown Sterling Suites Hotel. Because there, on the other side of Birmingham, sat a nightclub called T's Place. It's important because it's where 22 year old Taforis Johnson and 21 year old Ardregas Ford spent that fateful Tuesday evening. As Taforest's mom would tell journalist Beth Shelburne, it was Tasty Tuesday, the one day of the week when women got into the club without a cover. It was the kind of themed event that attracted a slew of regulars, including our Dragis and Taforest. I imagined the two pulling into their usual parking spot, unsure of what the night had in store for them, but hopeful for a good time. While I couldn't speak with Taforis or Rodriguez for this episode, I learned what I could from the stories of people who knew them. Taforis childhood friend told journalist Beth Shelburne that he was a gentleman, sweet and kind, and quite the ladies man. And while he was still relatively young, he'd already faced a fair share of difficulties. Taforus was born to a teen mom, and when he entered the world, her family rallied around her, pitching in to care for the new baby. But DeForest's father was an alcoholic, and when he got drunk, he was violent. It all disrupted the stability his mom and extended family hoped to create for him. Despite it all, Tafora stepped up, caring for his younger brother when the rest of his family couldn't. In the podcast Ear Witness, Tafora's cousin recalled him at just 11 or 12 years old, ironing his brother's clothes and helping him get out the door for school. Eventually, at 15, Taforce left home and dropped out of school. But the world he entered into was as difficult as the home he just left. The surrounding neighborhoods, reeling from years of poverty and a lack of resources, were riddled with drugs and gun violence. According to WBRC, DeForest was 17 when he became the victim of a drive by shooting, surviving a bullet to the chest. But many folks he cared about wouldn't be so lucky. In fact, seven of Taforis friends, including his girlfriend, were murdered while he was still just a teenager. Now in his early 20s, Taforce was navigating the early stages of true adulthood. He had five kids, and while he was still finding his place in the world, his love for his children was steady, unfaltering. In some ways, the summer of 1995 was a new start for Tiforest. He'd spent the past year in jail on a drug possession charge and was still adjusting to the first few months of freedom, passing his time fixing old cars and playing video games. His life had hit an inflection point. He was figuring out what to do next. Rodriguez had known Taforis since the two were just kids, Though the pair had grown closer as they entered their teen years, Rodriguez too, had been shaped by the violence in his neighborhood. At 15, he was shot while protecting his cousin and her baby from gunfire. It was an injury that left him paralyzed from the chest down, and as a result, Rodriguez became a wheelchair user. But none of it had stopped him from pursuing a sense of normalcy, and at one point, Taforis even helped him customize his car, creating a makeshift system that allowed him to drive with just his upper body. It was this car that the two drove to T's place on July 18, 1995. Multiple witnesses, acquaintances of Taforest and Rodriguez recall seeing the two at the nightclub until at least 1:30am near the end of the night, the friends left to pick up two girls, 15 year old Yolanda Chambers and 16 year old Latanya Henderson. If you remember, Ardregas and DeForest were in their early 20s, and as Beth Shelburne notes in Ear Witness, it's a problematic age difference. DeForest and Ardregas had met the girls at a nightclub that didn't admit minors. So while they may not have been aware of the girl's age, it's still worth mentioning that the age of consent in Alabama is 16, and only Latanya met this metric just barely. But despite this, after picking up latanya and Yolanda, the group of four drove around trying to find an available hotel. Eventually they arrived at a Super 8. But their night came to a halt when their car was stopped by a group of officers. Just hours had passed since Deputy Hardy's murder and police were canvassing the area Ardregas car was searched, but nothing was found that connected the group to the murder. And while officers continued stopping cars across town, they eventually ended the night without any solid leads. The investigation into Hardy's death was led by Detective Tony Richardson. And for Richardson, this wasn't your typical homicide case. He and Hardy had a history. The two worked together at the Sheriff's office for 17 years. And as Richardson would tell reporter Bess Shelburne, Hardy's death hit close to home.
- [14:43]
Detective Tony Richardson
You know, you have a bond with the guys you work with in that uniform. Whether you know him or not, you have a bond. So when I was a deputy sheriff working another deputy sheriff's murder, do you think that was emotional? Yes, it was very. And had it been my decision the day we caught the people that did it, let's put them on death throat.
- [15:15]
Celisia Stanton
But catching the people responsible was going to be difficult. And while a reward was announced just hours after Hardy's murder, the biggest problem was that no one had witnessed the killing itself. While some folks had looked outside after hearing the shots, they didn't see much. Several reported seeing a car pull out of the hotel's parking lot. But for the most part, descriptions of this car varied. A search of the scene had yielded two bullet casings, though, and police were able to conclude that the bullets had been fired from the same gun. It meant that the killer had likely been a single shooter. But these casings were the entirety of their physical evidence. But then, almost miraculously, a tip came in with the potential to really shake up the investigation. A woman named Rosa had told detectives that her 15 year old daughter, Yolanda Chambers knew who killed Bill Hardy. And if Yolanda's name sounds familiar, that's because this is the same Yolanda Chambers that DeForest Johnson and Rodriguez Ford had picked up on that night they spent partying at T's place. Detectives were hopeful that whatever Yolanda knew could help break the case. So they brought her to the station and sat her down for a recorded interview. But what she shared on that tape about the evening of Hardy's murder, it all tipped off. A cascade of events that, once in motion, was nearly impossible to stop.
- [16:51]
Violet Ellison
Escape to a bygone age of mystery, danger and romance as you immerse yourself into the world of June's Journey, a hidden object mystery mobile game that puts your detective skills to the test. Play as June Parker and investigate beautifully detailed scenes of the 1920s while uncovering the mystery of her sister's murder. With hundreds of mind teasing puzzles, the next clue is always within reach. Wouldn't you love to play a game on your phone where you can become a detective and find clues? Figure out scandalous family secrets with each scene leading to a new, thrilling storyline. Solve mind teasing mysteries of the Roaring Twenties. Each chapter uncovers a collection of dazzling hidden object spectacles for you to solve. This game is about a daring young girl, June, traveling to her sister's estate to uncover scandalous family secrets, mystery, danger and romance. Where will each new chapter take you? Collect scraps of information to fill your photo album and learn more about each character. Chat and play with or against other players by joining a detective club. You'll even get the chance to play in a detective league to put your skills to the test. If you're craving a good mystery or just looking for an escape, June's Journey is what you need in your life. I just got through the vault door in the secret tunnel and I'm not going to tell you what's behind it. You'll have to find out for yourself. Discover your inner detective when you download June's Journey for free today on iOS and Android.
- [18:21]
Celisia Stanton
What if there were a medicine that.
- [18:23]
Violet Ellison
Could heal almost anything?
- [18:25]
Celisia Stanton
That would be great, but they didn't.
- [18:27]
Violet Ellison
Want you to know about it.
- [18:28]
Celisia Stanton
Sorry, who's they?
- [18:29]
Violet Ellison
Some people are following me and I brought my tortoise.
- [18:33]
Narrator
From executive producers Mike Judge and Greg.
- [18:35]
Celisia Stanton
Daniels and co creators Joe Bennett and Steve Healy comes an animated comedy thriller.
- [18:40]
Detective Tony Richardson
About what it takes to common side effects. New episodes Sundays at 11:30pm on Adult.
- [18:48]
Narrator
Swim, now streaming on Max.
- [18:55]
Celisia Stanton
Yolanda was questioned by Detective Richardson, and despite being just 15 years old, she was interviewed alone, no lawyer or even her mother in the room to support her.
- [19:08]
Detective Tony Richardson
So I guess the best way for us to proceed is for you to tell me first of all when you learned that Deputy Hardy had been killed.
- [19:15]
Yolanda Chambers
All right, if I'm not mistaken, it was a Friday. Me and one of my girlfriends, her name is Latonya, me and her and two guys were supposed to hook up that night. And you know, they're older than us. One is 21. They call him Dre. He's in a wheelchair.
- [19:36]
Celisia Stanton
Yolanda explained that our Dragis Dre, as she referred to him and his friend who investigators learned was Taforest, picked her and Latonya up at about 3 or 4 in the morning. It's a recollection of events that make sense based on the time that Hardregas and Tafores spent at T's place on the night of Hardy's murder, but it is worth mentioning that in this telling to police, Yolanda had the date wrong. Hardy had not been murdered on a Friday. But despite this, she went on to explain that once she and latonya were in the car, it was immediately apparent that something was off. The two men were on edge. And then suddenly they divulged some shocking information.
- [20:22]
Yolanda Chambers
You know, it's not like, what's wrong? What's wrong? We just gotta get to the room. We need to, you know, go somewhere and just chill out. So, you know, they were riding around, you know, we were talking. She like, man, you nigga smoked the cop. And we in the plane, we're like, huh? You know, at first we thought they was, like, playing y'all got us in the car with y'all and y'all. And then some did a crime.
- [20:46]
Celisia Stanton
According to Yolanda, Hardreguez had accused DeForest of smoking a cop. It's not until the next morning, though, that she says she fully connected the dots. That's when her mom told her about Deputy Bill Hardy's murder on the phone. But then suddenly, the recording of Yolanda's interview, it's cut, just turned off. And while it's impossible to know exactly why Detective Richardson paused the tape or what transpired during this time, when the tape eventually resumed, Yolanda added to her story in this new segment, she said she believed Tafor shot Hardy because he was angry about a previous arrest.
- [21:31]
Yolanda Chambers
You know, because I didn't be here, arrested him or something before, you know.
- [21:35]
Detective Tony Richardson
Where he arrested him at.
- [21:38]
Yolanda Chambers
I think it had something to do while he went to prison.
- [21:41]
Celisia Stanton
Then the tape recorder is cut for second time without explanation. Again, we don't know what is being said during this cut in the recording, but we do know, based on reporting by Beth Shelburne, that there is no documentation to suggest that DeForest and Bill Hardy had ever previously come into contact. And interestingly enough, when the tape resumed again, Yolanda offered an entirely new motive for Hardy's murder. Now, she said that DeForest and Rodriguez were attempting a robbery and Hardy had caught them in the act. At that point, she speculated, the two felt they had no choice but to kill Hardy. But these shifting motives, they weren't the only thing that evolved during Yolanda's questioning. By the end of this interview, Yolanda had also magically determined the correct date of these events. While she initially said this had all transpired on a Friday, after repeated prompting by investigators, she altered the date a few more times before finally settling on the correct date. Officer Hardy was killed when Yolanda was brought in for another recorded interview two days after her. First, she more or less repeated her story, but then, in what seemed to have become a regular intermission at this point, the tape was cut. When the audio resumed, something had majorly shifted.
- [23:12]
Detective Tony Richardson
Hey, Sergeant Richard, I'm restarting the tape. Time is 20 minutes to 2. We took a short break. We gonna get started again. Yolanda, during our break time, we talked some about the incident or the case. Now, I want to ask you now what you have already told me during the times that I have interviewed you, is that the truth?
- [23:41]
Yolanda Chambers
No, it's not the truth, no.
- [23:44]
Celisia Stanton
Yolanda is admitting that those stories from before, they were all lies. And now she's ready to come clean.
- [23:53]
Detective Tony Richardson
Did any of that that you told me, did any of that occur?
- [23:57]
Yolanda Chambers
Can occur, but it was not nothing that I had heard.
- [24:02]
Detective Tony Richardson
Okay, so are you telling me that you didn't get this secondhand, that when this deputy was shot and killed, that you were there?
- [24:10]
Yolanda Chambers
No, I didn't get it secondhand. I was there.
- [24:15]
Detective Tony Richardson
You were there?
- [24:15]
Yolanda Chambers
I was there when he went down.
- [24:20]
Celisia Stanton
Yep. After an unexplained cut in the tape, Yolanda claimed that she was actually there at the Crown Suites on the night of the murder. In her news story, she explained that Tafores and Rodriguez had picked up her and Latonya much earlier than she initially claimed. Not at 3 or 4 in the morning, but at 11:30pm the previous evening. According to Yolanda, once they were all in the car, the two men told the girls that they needed to go to the Crown Suites for some kind of drug deal. So that's where they headed. Once they got there, they pulled up to the side of the hotel and not long after, two new men approached their car. Then, leaving her, Latonya and Andregas behind, DeForest hopped out to join them. It was at this point, Yolanda shared, that she first saw Deputy Hardy as he presumably stumbled upon the in progress drug deal. But now, for some unexplained reason, the whole group, Tiforest, the two men involved in the drug deal, and Deputy Hardy headed towards the front of the hotel, out of sight of where she was sitting with latanya and Rodriguez in the car. Some time goes by and then suddenly Taforist runs back and he's intent on getting out of there as quickly as possible. And while Yolanda never offers up that she heard gunshots, Detective Richardson does. You mentioned to me that you heard shots, he prompts her. Only then do we get confirmation from Yolanda herself. Yes, she heard shots Three, to be exact. A strange thing to be sure about, considering Hardy was shot twice and only two bullet casings were ever found at the scene. But this isn't the only hiccup in Yolanda's new story, because she also claimed that their group had parked at the side of the hotel and that the shooting had occurred at the front. It's a detail that just doesn't match the facts. Hardy was killed at the back of the hotel. Now, you probably won't be surprised at this point to hear that after Yolanda completed this new telling, the tape was cut off again for about an hour. When they come back, investigators tell Yolanda that they want to clarify where the shooting occurred. They prompt her with the correct answer. Y'all drove into the parking lot to the back door, Is that correct? Correct, she responded. But that's not all. No. Yolanda's story is not done evolving. While she said just an hour previous that the shooting took place out of her sight, now her memory has changed. The truth is that she actually witnessed Hardy fall to the ground after being shot. And what's more, when Taforis got back into the car after the murder, he had blood dripping from his hands here. I think it's worth mentioning that according to the Washington Post, police never found blood, or any physical evidence for that matter, linking Tiforest to the crime scene. But unfortunately, this wouldn't be the end of Yolanda's storytelling. Throughout the investigation, 15 year old Yolanda Chambers was questioned at least 25 times. And prosecutors would even eventually concede that she told more than 300 lies about what she knew. And yet, horrifyingly, none of it would stop investigators from pushing forward. They were certain that Yolanda was the key to solving their case, so they questioned her over and over and over again. As Detective Richardson would say on the podcast Ear Witness, it was all intentional.
- [28:08]
Detective Tony Richardson
Yolanda was reluctant. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want. We had to keep at her. We had to pull, like pulling teeth, you know, Yolanda, we need this. And sometimes we'd have to be stern, you know, and firm, trying to shake her. You know, sometimes we'd have to be soft. Whatever will work to get this information out of her.
- [28:30]
Celisia Stanton
And, you know, I think it's really easy to listen to this story and point the finger at Yolanda, to feel outraged that she continued to forward fictitious stories with what seemed like no regard for the very real lives involved. But what I kept thinking about was that through all of this, Yolanda was just a 15 year old kid. For any person, and certainly for any child, police questioning is intimidating and scary. According to the Minnesota Journal of Law and Inequality, children are especially vulnerable during police questioning. Research indicates that kids are, unsurprisingly, more impulsive and emotionally biased in their decision making, that they're more likely to acknowledge and prioritize immediate consequences over long term implications. And because kids generally view police as authority figures, the impact in the interrogation room can be especially pronounced. In one study of wrongfully convicted kids, researchers found that minors falsely confessed twice as often as their adult counterparts. Later, her mom, Rosa, told reporter Beth Shelburne that the police had been relentless with Yolanda asking her questions, like, what you got for us? You gotta tell us something. According to Rosa, Yolanda had blamed her for some of what she'd experienced at the hands of police. Mama, you shouldn't have even said anything, she recalled her daughter saying. But she had. And investigators were narrowed in in hopes of corroborating even one of Yolanda's many stories. Latanya, the friend Yolanda was with the night of Hardy's murder, was brought in for questioning. And just like Yolanda, 16 year old Latanya was questioned alone, without a lawyer or parent present. It didn't take long for Detective Richardson to get down to business, setting up the guidelines for their conversation.
- [30:26]
Detective Tony Richardson
I'm not saying anything to entice you to say something. You tell me what's the truth and tell me, and you tell me that's the truth, and I'm gonna take it like that. But I do want you to know that some people are gonna be witnesses. Some are gonna be defendants. Defendants going to jail. Okay?
- [30:42]
Celisia Stanton
Detective Richardson seemed to be giving Latonya a choice. She could either tell investigators that she saw something the night of Deputy Hardy's murder, or. Or she could risk becoming a suspect herself. But when asked if she was at the Crown Sterling Suites the night of the murder, Latonya stuck to her truth. She told investigators that she wasn't at the hotel that night, that she'd never been there at all, that she didn't know anything about Hardy's murder or who might be responsible. But Detective Richardson wasn't deterred. He kept pressing latonya for more information, reminding her she could be a witness or she could be a defendant. Eventually, it became clear that latonya didn't even understand what Richardson was implying with this threat.
- [31:30]
Detective Tony Richardson
That's a question. Kennedy is defendant. Is someone that's charged with the crime.
- [31:37]
Yolanda Chambers
Well, no, no, I don't want to be a defendant. No.
- [31:39]
Detective Tony Richardson
All right, so you want to be a witness.
- [31:42]
Celisia Stanton
And at this moment, it's hard to forget that Latanya is 16 years old. She was still in high school, still lived at home with her mom, and now she was alone in a room with a cop playing a dangerous game she didn't even understand the rules of. But even after Detective Richardson clarified what a defendant is, a person charged with a crime, she didn't change her story. She stuck to her guns. She didn't know anything. A month later, Detective Richardson's warning came true. Latonya became a defendant charged with a felony for hindering prosecution. She spent the next five months in jail. Not juvenile detention, adult jail. But latanya wasn't the only one forced to choose between self preservation and the truth. Was also interviewed without his lawyer present. And he stuck to the same story as Latonya. He didn't know anything. He wasn't there. After a full day of questioning, investigators prepared to charge Rodriguez for Hardy's murder. Rodriguez's lawyer, Richard Jaffe, learned of these charges and got the prosecution to agree to an immunity deal. If Hardragus was willing to testify against deforestation, he'd walk free. In an interview for the podcast Ear Witness, Jaffe recalled discussing the deal with our Dragis.
- [33:09]
Narrator
He said, Look, Mr. Jaffe, I wasn't there, and I've got a dozen or more alibi witnesses that will testify to that. I know nothing about it. Zero. I said, okay, well, they think that you're not a shooter, but you were there. And they think to Forrest is the shooter. And he looked at me and he said, listen, I'm not going to lie for anybody. Tafarus and I are close, but we're not that close. He's not family. I would happy to give Tafaris up in a heartbeat, except it would be a lie. And I'm not going to lie. I said, all right, well, they're going to take you to jail. They're going to wheel you to jail, and they're going to charge you with capital murder, which is death penalty offense. And he goes, I wasn't there. Tell them to take me to jail. And they did.
- [34:05]
Celisia Stanton
Both DeForest and Ardregas were charged with capital murder. To me, it was an odd choice. Yes. The evidence against them was extremely scant. But investigators had also come across a variety of evidence that seemed to point to Hardragus and DeForest's innocence. Not only had the cops interviewed a series of alibi witnesses who saw the pair at T's place during the time of Hardy's murder. But there were also two folks at the Crown Suites who'd seen something important. Both witnesses had looked out a window of the hotel immediately after they'd heard gunshots and shared two extremely similar accounts. A man quickly slinking through the inky darkness, opening the driver's side door of a light colored sedan and driving off silently. If this man was the perpetrator, he couldn't have been Ardregas or Taforest. Ardregas drove a two door black Monte Carlo, customized with Flowmaster mufflers, An addition that made the vehicle extremely loud. What's more, Rodriguez's driver's side door was broken. It didn't even open. Whoever the witness saw that night, one thing was certain. It wasn't DeForest and it wasn't our Dragis. But despite these leads, by this point, investigators had tunnel vision. Their entire case hanging on Yolanda's testimony. But with her story changing so many times, defense lawyers asked for a pretrial hearing to determine whether Yolanda's testimony should even be heard in court. During the hearing, Yolanda took the stand. It was there that things took a shocking turn. When she's asked by Rodriguez's attorney about whether she was at the Crown Sterling that night, she said she wasn't. That her previous stories, they were lies. When asked why she told investigators something entirely different, she replied, because the pressure they were telling me, don't you know you can go to jail for this? And that's all I was thinking. That's all I had in my mind. Jail. I don't want to go. They were telling me, we know you was there. We can find out evidence that you were there. So after they put all the pressure on me, I went on and said I was there. I said, maybe if I go on and say I was there, maybe all the threats and everything will end about me going to jail as a juvenile. Yet another reminder that Yolanda was a teenager, A kid alone with detectives. Faced with what she saw as a really scary choice, say that she was at the hotel that night or faced jail time. During this hearing, Yolanda also emphasized that she was questioned without her mom or her attorney present, and that she felt pressured to tell the cops whatever they wanted to hear. As I imagined Yolanda in this situation, her choice to lie seemed almost reasonable. But when the hearing ended, the judge chose not to accept Yolanda's recantation and denied the defense's motion to dismiss the charges. By this point, two years had passed since the night of Deputy Hardy's murder, and Rodriguez and Taforis were both facing the possibility of the death penalty. But as Yolanda seemed to be faltering, the prosecution had another secret witness waiting in the wings. They'd come forward shortly after the reward for information was increased to $20,000. This witness, 53 year old Violet Ellison, claimed that she overheard DeForest admit to killing Officer Hardy. Wild. Right. And I'm sure you're wondering how that could be, so I'm gonna get into it. But also, I have to be honest. Violet's story is a little complicated, but it is worth hearing. So bear with me. What you need to know is this. Violet had a 16 year old daughter named Katrina. And Katrina regularly kept in contact with a few men in jail. They would call her to catch up, and sometimes they'd even ask Katrina to start three way calls for them. It was a way to save money. With a three way call, they'd only have to pay for the one call to Katrina instead of multiple calls to lots of different people. And so one day, Katrina got a call from one of these men, a guy named Fred, and he asked Katrina to start a three way call with a woman named Daisy so that a friend of his could speak with her. And that friend who wanted to speak with Daisy, that was Taforest. He was currently in jail awaiting trial. So Katrina did it. She phoned Daisy. And when Daisy picked up, she set down the receiver and walked away with Katrina now in the other room. Violet, remember, that's Katrina's mom. Picked up the phone, started listening in silently. Later, Violet would claim to investigators that she heard DeForest tell Daisy on that call that he had planned to rob someone outside of the Crown Sterling Suites Hotel. And when he was caught by Deputy Hardy, he shot and killed him. According to the podcast Ear Witness, Violet's original interview with investigators included many details that were already public information, things news outlets had reported about the investigation. And some of the things she shared just didn't match up to the specifics of the crime scene. Violet wasn't a perfect witness, but nothing investigators had was. So they kept her in their back pocket just in case they needed her. But they planned to try Hardragus first. And for his case, Violet wouldn't be helpful. This message comes from Greenlight. Ready to start talking to your kids about financial literacy? Meet Greenlight, the debit card and money app that teaches kids and teens how to earn, save, spend wisely, and invest. With your guardrails in place, with Greenlight, you can send money to kids quickly Set up chores, automate allowance and keep an eye on your kids spending with real time notifications. Join millions of parents and kids building healthy financial habits together on Greenlight get started risk free@greenlight.com Spotify as his trial loomed, our Draggas hoped for the best. His family had rallied around him and scraped together enough money to hire an experienced defense attorney, a decision that would cost them tens of thousands of dollars. In contrast, Taforis prepared for trial with a team of public defenders. His family had met with a lawyer who promised he had the skills to gain an acquittal. But those talents would come with a a $10,000 retainer to start. Esther's cousin told journalist Beth Shelburne it was an amount his family just couldn't afford. They considered taking out a loan, but Taforis told them not to. He assured his cousin that he'd be alright. He'd done nothing wrong and believed he could prove that in court. So instead he was given two court appointed attorneys. And while this decision saved his family from the strain of hiring a private lawyer, it also came with severe drawbacks. According to the podcast Ear Witness, at the time, Alabama paid defense attorneys only $20 an hour for work completed outside the courtroom, and even that was capped at $1,000 per case unless an attorney was willing to work for free. This restriction severely limited the amount of time that could be spent preparing for trial. But ready or not, the trials would commence kicking off in November of 1997, was up first. And Yolanda, who'd previously tried to recant her version of events, had changed her story once again. This time she told jurors that she'd seen Andregas shoot Deputy Hardy. The county's chief medical examiner, also testified. He claimed that the bullet wounds in Hardy's head were at an upward angle, an angle consistent with the bullet trajectory you might expect if the perpetrator was sitting in a wheelchair. The defense argued that this didn't even matter. If Hardragas had shot Hardy, there were a lot of logistics that weren't accounted for in the prosecution's story. The whole process would have taken a while, increasing the chances of someone seeing Ardregas at the crime scene. And yet no one had seen a man in a wheelchair fleeing the hotel. The defense also called alibi witnesses, folks who'd seen Andregas at T's place. It was their word against Yolanda's. But when the jury left to deliberate, coming to a unanimous decision proved difficult. They were gridlocked. Eventually, the judge declared a mistrial, but none of it would stop the state from pursuing the same charges. And they set plans to try Rodriguez for a second time. But before they could do that, In December of 1997, Tafores trial began. In the two and a half weeks since our Dragis trial, the prosecution strategy had changed. Now they were saying that DeForest, not Ardragas, was the shooter. Their theory broke down like this. On the evening of the murder, DeForest planned to rob a few prominent hotel guests at the Crown Suites Hotel. But things had gone awry when it was all interrupted by Deputy Hardy. It was then that DeForest shot and killed him. But it wasn't just the general arc of the prosecutor's story that changed. Evidence that two weeks ago clearly pointed to Rodriguez was suddenly less clear. Remember the upward bullet trajectory that prosecutors said pointed towards a seated perpetrator? Well, this go around, they claim that the bullet trajectory couldn't definitively pinpoint the position of the shooter. And hearing all this, it really bothered me. Taforist and Rodriguez were both tried by the same prosecutor. Back to back, no less. It was literally impossible for prosecutors to genuinely believe both versions of the story they told jurors. It meant they had to know that at least one of these men was innocent. For me, it raised a lot of questions. Was this legal? Was this common? Could prosecutors really present two entirely different and mutually exclusive theories about the same crime? Well, turns out they can and they do. It's a practice I'll refer to as oppositional theories. And according to ProPublica, in the last 55 years, at least 29 men have been sentenced to death in cases where prosecutors were accused of doing this exact thing. I found that hard to square. I mean, that data was for capital cases alone, cases where the stakes were literally life and death. Yet somehow, for prosecutors, this seemed more like a game. One where the truth didn't matter as much as persuasion. Was that really legal? ProPublica reports that while the Supreme Court has never ruled specifically on the use of oppositional theories as a legitimate prosecutorial tactic, the lower courts are mixed. There are some cases where judges have overturned a conviction because they found the use of oppositional theories to be a violation of due process rights. But in many more instances, the courts have turned a blind eye, allowing these convictions to stand while simultaneously vocalizing their distaste for the strategy, A consequence that barely amounts to a slap on the wrist for prosecutors. For these judges, overturning the conviction would be a bridge too far. Prosecutors are technically still playing by the rules. And when it comes to the law, that's what matters most. And so there was nothing to stop them from doing the same thing to Taforest and Rodriguez. As the Washington Post writes, prosecutor Jeff Wallace was arguing in front of two entirely different juries. There was nothing to stop him from selling two versions of the truth. The product doesn't have to be good if the salesman is. Since there was no hard evidence to back up this newly presented theory about deforest, and because Yolanda was now saying that our Dragis had committed the murder, prosecutors relied instead on the testimony of Violet Ellison, the same witness prosecutor prosecutors had been holding onto in case they ever needed her. Now they decided they did. While on the stand, she forwarded the same theory she'd told the cops that she overheard Tafores confess to the crime while he was on a call with a woman named Daisy. She did provide a few new colorful details, though. She quoted Tafores as saying, I shot the fucker in the head, and I saw his head go back and he fell. He shouldn't have gotten my business messing up my shit. It was a comment she never made in her initial recorded statement. The quote, she said, was pulled from the notes she claimed to have taken in real time while she listened in on the call. But that story seems questionable for several reasons. Chief among them was the fact that Violet said DeForest had only identified himself on the call by his first name. And yet in her notes, she repeatedly refers to him by his last name, Johnson. Taforis legal team argued that what Violet heard on that call wasn't a confession. Yes, they said Tafores had talked with a woman named Daisy on the phone, but what he'd shared was just an answer to a question Daisy had asked about why he was in jail. Daisy herself was called to the stand, and she backed up the defense's argument, wholly swearing that Tafores had never confessed to her. Not then, not ever. The defense would also rebut prosecutors with a counter story, that DeForest couldn't have committed the murders because he'd been at T's place when it happened. Three alibi witnesses backed that up on the stand. They'd also forward the testimony of the Crown Suite's guest, who looked out his window immediately after the gunshots. He was one of the witnesses who saw the potential perpetrator walk to a car, slide into the driver's seat, and quietly drive off. And as the defense presented, this couldn't have been the car DeForest was in that night. If you remember, the driver, side door of that vehicle. Didn't open, and the added Flowmaster mufflers made the car extremely loud. All of this, the defense argued, meant the only evidence prosecutors had to link DeForest to the murder was Violet Ellison's testimony. But once the jury was in deliberations, they found themselves hitting deadlock after deadlock. They just couldn't agree. And in a replay of what had transpired just a few weeks earlier, the judge declared a mistrial. A Birmingham News article published shortly after read, taforis Johnson might have been found guilty Tuesday of gunning down a Jefferson county sheriff's deputy, except for three jurors who apparently refused to convict him. It was a weird way, I thought, to open an article about a man who had yet to be proven guilty. But if there were folks intent on seeing him convicted, they'd have their second chance. Just eight months later, in August of 1998, Taforis Re entered the courtroom. Violet once again testified for the prosecution, with Daisy countering her story for the defense. But this time, the prosecution had a new witness they'd bring to the stand. Latonya Henderson, Yolanda's friend who'd been with DeForest and Rodriguez the night of Hardy's murder. As you might remember, she had spent the last five months in jail under charges of hindering prosecution, charges that had come forward after she stuck to her story that she knew nothing about Deputy Hardy's murder. But now the state told the judge that they would be dropping their charges in exchange for latanya's testimony when she took the stand. Her story didn't stray that far from what she'd originally told investigators. She hadn't witnessed Hardy's murder. But what latonya did say was that she and Tafores both had guns that night, that they later both hid these guns. And while police never found these firearms, Latonya's testimony connected Taforis to a potential murder weapon. If the jury believed Taforis had a gun that night, they might also believe he used it to shoot Hardy. But if the prosecution had strengthened their case in the eight months since DeForest's first trial, the defense seemed to have weakened theirs. First, they chose not to call the same alibi witnesses from the original trial. Instead, they called a few others, who journalist Beth Shelburne reported seemed ill prepared and flustered. During their testimony. The defense also chose not to call the witness from the hotel, the one who'd seen a man get into the driver's side of a light colored car. Instead, the defense called a new witness, Yolanda Chambers. Yep, you heard that right. The same Yolanda Chambers whose changing stories had helped put DeForest on trial in the first place. But now Yolanda seemed to be sticking to her story that Hardregas was the real killer. And the defense saw an opportunity to shift the blame away from Tiforest. She told the jury she'd seen Andreagas shoot and kill Deputy Hardy. Only problem, she said she'd been at the crime scene with Latonya and DeForest. And if that was true, to force alibi of being at T's place suddenly unravels. The defense had directly contradicted itself. Without one unified story, their whole case began to falter. The jury left to deliberate and returned. After two and a half hours, they had their verdict. Guilty. Convicted of capital murder, Tafores now faced one of two futures. Either life in prison without parole or the death penalty. At a sentencing hearing, members of Taforist's family took the stand. According to ear witness, Taforest's mother, Donna, sobbed so hard she struggled to hold her head up, crying out, just don't give my baby no electric chair. The sentencing hearing that would determine whether Taforest would live or die was over in just 80 minutes. When the jury returned with their decision, it was decisive. A 102 recommendation that DeForest be put to death. According to Bess Shelburne, a newspaper described DeForest sitting motionless, appearing stunned at the decision. His mom yelled out, no, no, no. One of Taforis kids, Shanae, was six years old. Sitting in the courtroom, she told ear witness what she remembers from that day.
- [52:50]
Yolanda Chambers
And I just kept kind of trying to get his attention and blurting out how nice he looked in his suit. And so finally the judge kind of had me escorted out of the courtroom. But there is a little small window and my cousin had me on his shoulders. He escorted me out. He had me on his shoulder so I could just peek through and see my dad through that little small courtroom window. And ironically, so that was my last memory of him in the free world.
- [53:23]
Celisia Stanton
And just like that, Taforis began the next phase of his life. He was transferred 200 miles to Holman Prison. And he spent 23 out of every 24 hours alone in a 5 by 8 foot cell without air conditioning. Roaches crawled everywhere. But DeForest adapted to this new life as best he could on the outside. Audregas second trial began, Yolanda once again the prosecution's star witness. But this time, the defense pushed back during cross examination, exposing Yolanda's many lies. Right there on the stand. Hardragus was acquitted, but even as he avoided prison, the experience seemed to haunt him. Here's his mom, Joyce Ford, in an interview with ear witness.
- [54:09]
Yolanda Chambers
He never talk about it. He was strong. He never talked about it. But you know, you know, he would.
- [54:15]
Detective Tony Richardson
Get quiet at times.
- [54:17]
Yolanda Chambers
He would be rolling in the wheelchair, go sit quiet with his head down.
- [54:21]
Detective Tony Richardson
You know, it took him a while.
- [54:24]
Yolanda Chambers
To try to overcome it.
- [54:26]
Detective Tony Richardson
You never overcome it.
- [54:27]
Yolanda Chambers
But so you know, he had his days.
- [54:32]
Celisia Stanton
In many ways, Rodriguez was the lucky one. His family helped him get an experienced lawyer, and he walked free. Taforest, on the other hand, spent his days on death row doing what he could to clear his name. His legal team looked for avenues for appeal and focused on Violet Ellison. After all, her testimony had been the center of the state's case against him. They knew reward money had been offered, but didn't know if this money had been an incentive for Violet or if she'd ever even received it. The reason all this mattered is because of the Brady rule. It requires prosecutors to disclose any information that could help a defendant's case ahead of trial. Violet, coming forward in hopes of receiving a reward could cast doubt on the validity of her testimony. It was information the defense could have used in their case, information they could have told the jury it was a possible route towards an appeal. So Tafor's team went looking for the money. They spent weeks calling different governmental offices trying to find anything pointing to Violet's pursuit of a reward. Eventually, they found something. A court order signed by the judge that explicitly stated that Violet had come forward pursuant to the public offer of a reward. Later, they'd found more evidence. A copy of a check sent to Violet in 2001. A reward of $5,000 had been paid. But none of these documents had been added to DeForest's file. It was lucky that DeForest team had found them at all. Initially, Alabama court said the payment didn't count as a Brady violation and that they wouldn't even hear the case. So Tafores team appealed, and the case snaked its way through the US Supreme Court for 17 years. Eventually, the Supreme Court ruled that the Alabama courts were wrong. They had to revisit Tafora's claim. During the appeals hearing, Violet testified for the state. She said that while she followed the case closely in the news, she hadn't known about the reward money. When she came forward with the information, she stated that she didn't learn about the reward until 2001, after Tiforis had already been sentenced to Death. It was at that point, she said, that the DA's office reached out to her. Now, this is where it gets a bit murky for me. The DA's office had already claimed that Violet came forward because of the reward. And moreover, Alabama case law says you aren't even eligible for a reward you didn't know about. It feels odd, doesn't it? A state agency reaching out five years later to offer money that no one ever asked for. The judge took nine months to announce her decision. She believed Violet's testimony, calling it clear, consistent, and articulate. She rejected the appeal. To me, it seemed like a decision more concerned with presentation than the facts. Tafora's team tried to appeal the ruling, but they were denied. And then, in 2018, Jefferson county elected Danny Carr as their new DA. Carr, one of only three black DAs in Alabama, had run on a platform of criminal justice reform. His own life had been touched by the long reaching impacts of crime and incarceration, and he hoped to bring progress to the county. As a part of that goal, he pulled together Jefferson County's first ever Conviction Review Unit. Their work involves looking at past cases and determining whether the DA's office might have made some errors. It would all lead to a full review of tafor's conviction in 2019 and 2020. And afterward, after Carr uncovered so much of what we discuss today, after he read the trial transcripts and interviewed key players, he made what we now knew would be an essential call to Deputy Bill Hardy's wife, Patricia Diane Hardy. Carr would later tell the podcast Ear Witness that when they spoke, she affirmed her faith in him. Look, she said, I know your mom. I know you. Been knowing you since you was a little boy. I trust in whatever decision you make. So with that blessing, Carr filed a brief requesting court intervention into Forest's case. His ask was for the conviction to be thrown out and for a new trial to be granted. And that's not all, because remarkably, DeForest's original prosecutor, Jeff Wallace, also supported this ask. As Wallace shared with the Washington Post, I don't think the state's case was very strong because it depended on the testimony of Violet Ellison. And yet, despite these unusual and significant actions from Danny Carr and Jeff Wallace, Tafora's case is no longer in the hands of Jefferson County. Instead, it's the Alabama Attorney General's office that oversees death penalty cases post conviction. And at this juncture, they are continuing to pursue to force execution despite Carr's motion. It all brings us back to 2024, because this story is not neatly wrapped up. And yet, even before it's concluded, so many victims lay in its wake. Ta Forest sits on death row. Our dragus barely escaped it. Latonya served time for telling the truth. And deputy Hardy's family has no accountability from the real killer. But there are also less obvious victims. Even Yolanda Chambers, just a kid when this all unfolded, suffered in the hands of the state. And I know we talked about some of that earlier, the difficulties any kid faces during police interrogation. But Yolanda in particular had had an especially difficult go in her young life. When Yolanda was just eight years old, her mom was sent to prison. It was during this time, she shared later, that she was repeatedly sexually abused by a neighbor, a man her grandmother had enlisted to help her with her homework. At 14, she attempted suicide. And by 15, when Hardy was murdered, Yolanda was in foster care, supposedly under the watch of the state of Alabama. She bounced around between placements, friends, houses, and group homes. If Yolanda was the victim of police intimidation, it wasn't the first time she'd been let down by the same people who were supposed to keep her safe. And while she may not have ended up in prison, the echoes in Yolanda's life were clear. Her mom shared on ear witness that her daughter ended up struggling with addiction, that this addiction was ultimately exploited as she allegedly became paid drug informant for local police and the FBI. Her pattern of snitching on drug dealers was well known in the community. They called her police girl. It was a label that ostracized her. And when she was murdered at just 29 years old, many believed her work as an informant had motivated her killer. And yet, somehow, even amongst all the fallout and suffering and pain, this story isn't over. It's an ongoing case that requires our ongoing attention to Forrest, who has not yet exhausted his appeals, is still fighting for his life. His five kids, who were all under seven when this initially erupted, are now adults, grown ups, intent on justice and hopeful for a future with their father in it, for the ability to sit and laugh together outside prison walls, the opportunity to watch him play with his grandkids, the chance for him to bear witness to their life's milestones. Thinking about all this has me reflecting on where that leaves us. What are our obligations to someone like Tiforest? You and me, as tellers and listeners of true crime stories, consume people's greatest pain, their biggest tragedies. And what is it all for if we don't continue to show up, continue to stay engaged? So often, people like DeForest are swept under the rug. Forgotten, disregarded, left behind. But sometimes, like this time, it's not too late and it's up to us to decide no more. To keep looking when we'd rather look away, to say that if the state of Alabama is going to execute an innocent man, they won't do it behind our backs. Before you jump off, if I could steal just a few more minutes of your time, I would so appreciate it because today's action items are especially urgent. As you now know, this is a story that is still unfolding and to Forest's future it's completely uncertain. I had the opportunity to connect the Taforest team and today's action items are ones that are actually supportive of Tforest. I really want to emphasize here how important it is that we stick to these items as they're the things most aligned with DeForest's current legal strategy. First, take some time to visit deforestjohnson.com and check out the tab labeled Toolkit. Here you'll find downloadable graphics and sample messages to help you share DeForest's story on your own social media. It's extremely important that we work to raise the visibility of Tforst's case. Also, in the top right corner of the website you'll find a button that says how you can help. This will take you to a form where you can add your name to a list of people who support a new trial for Tforrest. To keep up with Tforst's team and hear updates about his case, follow them on Instagram. Forrest Johnson Also make sure to follow Taforist daughter. She goes by her childhood nickname Muffin, and she regularly advocates for her dad on TikTok and Instagram and shares a variety of emotional stories, including letters she received from her dad on death row and what it's been like visiting him in prison. You can find Muffin on Instagram at Underscore Muff Cakes under underscore Underscore Again, that's underscore M U F F C A K E s followed by two more underscores. She's also on TikTok at teaching underscore with Underscore Muffin Finally, I want to give another huge thanks to investigative reporter Beth Shelburne. Her support throughout the creation of this episode was absolutely invaluable. Make sure you check out Beth's full coverage of this story in her eight part podcast Ear Witness. There's so much to this case, so much to DeForest Life and his trial and the lead up. All things that are difficult to cover in just one episode. So please, please please check out Ear Witness for the full deep dive. As always, you can keep up with True or Crime on Instagram and xrewercrimepod and you can find me on Instagram and TikTok, Alicia Stanton or through my weekly newsletter, Sincerely Silesia@sincerelycelecia.substack.com A full list of sources and resources related to today's episode is available on our website@truercrimepodcast.com Truer Crime is created, hosted and written by me, Celisia Stanton and is a production of Tenderfoot TV in association with Odyssey. Additional writing and research by Olivia Hussingfeld. Executive producers are myself, Donald Albright and Payne Lindsay. Additional production by Olivia Hussingfeld and Jamie Albright Editing by Liam Luxon with additional editing support by Sydney Evans and Jaja Muhammad. Our supervising producer is Tracy kaplan. Artwork by Station 16 Original music by Jay Ragsdale Mix by Dayton Cole thank you to Oren Rosenbaum and the team at uta, Beck Media and Marketing and the Nord Group. For more podcasts like Truer Crime, search Tenderfoot TV on your favorite podcast app or visit us@Tenderfoot TV. Thanks for listening thanks for listening to this season two episode of True or Crime. If you want an ad free version of this show and other great shows from Tenderfoot TV, you can subscribe to Tenderfoot plus at tenderfootplus.com or on Apple Podcasts. If you're looking for a true crime podcast that goes beyond the headlines, let me introduce you to 1 minute remaining stories from the Inmates. Host Jack Lawrence takes you inside the lives of men and women incarcerated across the United States, sharing their stories in their own words. From arson to drug dealing to murder, these interviews reveal the human side of cases that are so often reduced to a single verdict. Jack carefully lays out the evidence, the trials, and the convictions. But here's the twist. This podcast isn't about proving guilt or innocence. It's about giving these folks the chance to tell their version of events, whether they claim innocence, admit to their crimes, or reflect on the harsh realities of the system that convicted them. With over 250 episodes and new ones released twice a week, one minute remaining invites you to listen, reflect, and form your own perspective on these complex stories. Find One Minute Remaining Wherever you get your podcasts.