The neighboring opinion on status was partly decided by your location. Those located going up and on the hill felt their status was much higher than those living in the bottom. My father had a younger brother, Cliff. He, my two cousins, and myself played together almost daily. We played marbles probably more than any other game. Some of the marbles were very colorful: a mixture of bright colors.
Think of an abstract painting with bright orange, red, green, blue, and yellow colorings all intertwining with one another.
They came in different sizes; large ones big joker , small ones pee wee , and the regular-sized ones were just called marbles. We were surrounded by empty fields with numerous fruit trees, bushes, and vines. There was always a berry or fruit available to grab, wipe off against your clothes, and eat at will. We got apples and peaches there. Further down and up the street, we got blueberries and blackberries. Some trees reminded me of a Weeping Willow tree.
Their branches drooped and there was a flat banana-shaped fruit hanging from the tree. Inside the fruit was a sweet, brownish, thick, pasty, filling.
We bit it at one end, then squeezed and sucked at the same time. It tasted just like honey. We all loved those fig-like plants. The real prize was the big, red, juicy strawberries that grew in Mr. He owned an ice cream shop on Herman Street—the street over from our house. You could see clusters of strawberries hanging over the top of the fence: this enhanced the temptation. I agreed; the decision was unanimous. Whatever it took, we were going to eat some of those strawberries. Up I went to sit on two shoulders—as I was lifted up—to grab those strawberries and throw some down to the gang.
We, narrowly, missed getting caught a few times. He was a wise old man. He really liked me a lot. When a few of us would go into the ice cream shop—to buy ice cream of course—he would give me an extra scoop. He even made some of his own ice cream. No shop around had ice cream as good as Mr.
They pulled a pair of roller skates apart—the toe from the heel—and put one wheel under each corner of the cart when it was completed. A plywood board was used for the center piece. Then, long narrow pieces of wood were attached; one across the front end and one across the back end. Somehow, two pieces of rope were put through hand-made grooves on the front end.
They were used to steer the cart. To ride, we all piled up on top. Then, two of them pushed to get us rolling along good. When the cart got to the very tip of the downward slope, they quickly jump on. The ride—from the top of the hill to the bottom—was exhilarating and scary at the same time. Down we went screaming, hollering, and laughing from sheer joy and excitement. What fun we had. We were too young to think about possible dangers—just little kids enjoying the innocence of play.
I slept at one end—to keep them from peeing on me—and the two of them slept at the opposite end together. A new arrival, Chattie, had been added to our family of girls.
I was sound asleep when I felt someone shaking me. Right away, I was afraid. Even though I was only eight years old, I knew in my heart this was not a good thing. As I walked behind him, my mind focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Our help is in the name of the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.
Prior to catching it, he observes and studies his behavior. Then he snares it based on what it typically does. In like manner, Satan is our fowler. The truth of the matter is that Satan is a liar. The doors to our cages our fears are open. We have been set free. We can fly anytime, anywhere: if we believe and have faith in God. Through His love—you and I are free.
As a child, I sometimes felt as if my home was like a cage and I was trapped with no way out. His case had been drawing increased national attention, especially after Dobbs and Skeen announced that they intended to try him the following September for an unprecedented fourth time. After his release, Cook had moved to Dallas, where he worked as a paralegal and began speaking publicly about his case, lecturing to a Texas government class at Brookhaven College, in Farmers Branch, and at fund-raisers for Centurion Ministries and the Innocence Project.
Cook also visited a deep-trauma expert named Rycke Marshall, the former chief psychologist at Terrell State Hospital. Cook was the most broken person she had ever seen.
Cook, she decided, had severed his penis not out of savagery but despair. Cook and Mayfield gave blood samples, and Dobbs filed a motion to delay the trial to finish the testing. But the defense lawyers, who had lined up eight forensic witnesses and figured the DNA results would come in before the end of the trial anyway, pushed to keep the original date. Meanwhile, Dobbs proposed trying to work out a no-contest plea deal, offering first a forty-year sentence, then a deal where the judge could sentence him to less. Cook refused both.
Finally, on the morning of jury selection, Dobbs offered a take-it-or-leave-it bargain: plead no contest to murder, get twenty years, and because of time already served, be free—though not exonerated. The judge gave Cook thirty minutes to decide. Terrified of losing again in what he felt was a rigged fight, Cook accepted the deal. Two months later, the DNA results came back: the semen belonged to Mayfield.
He brushes aside testimony from the NCIP attorney that Cobbs could not have seen the shooters from her apartment, as well as all the evidence that the police improperly influenced Cobbs—not only moving her out of the projects but also by paying for a trip to Disneyland. The worst thing that can happen to an innocent business is uncovered corruption or deceit. Just ok I was looking for a better story the setting was amazing. View 1 comment. Edward Scott Jackson, himself charged with murder, told investigators and A.
Speaking to reporters, Dobbs expressed a new understanding. Many outside observers agreed. Energized, Cook took his story even farther into the world, delivering speeches on capital punishment and overcoming adversity at events in Paris, London, and Rome. In Strasbourg he led five thousand anti—death penalty protesters through the streets, holding hands with Bianca Jagger.
In Cook testified before the Texas Legislature in favor of a moratorium on the death penalty; his story also became part of The Exonerated , a play that was made into a movie in he was played onstage by Tim Robbins and Richard Dreyfuss, among others; Aidan Quinn played him in the film. Bruce Springsteen gave him a Jack Russell terrier puppy.
Hillary Clinton asked him to help bring the play to Washington, D. Dobbs and Skeen, meanwhile, grew increasingly incensed with their portrayal as unprincipled prosecutors. Cook still had a murder conviction on his record, and in their eyes his fame was an affront to the justice system. They sued the Houston Chronicle for libel over its story on Smith County, a bitter lawsuit that dragged on until , when the state Supreme Court threw it out by unanimous vote.
As far as they were concerned, Cook was not only not exonerated, he was also clearly unstable. In fact, Cook was showing signs of volatility. After so many years in despair and isolation, he found an outlet on a new platform: Facebook. Though he was traveling the world, from Ireland to Dubai, and delivering speeches about never giving up—youth groups frequently gave him standing ovations—in Texas, Cook was still a killer. With the murder conviction on his record, Cook had trouble finding a job or signing a lease.
He had been acquitted in the eyes of the public, but that was not enough. What Cook really wanted was to be exonerated in the eyes of the law. I spent a day with him in his North Dallas neighborhood, following along when he went to pick up KJ, then eleven years old, from school. When we arrived at the campus, classes had just let out, and several kids squealed and ran toward Cook when they saw him. One little girl squirmed away from her mother.
We know what kind of man he is. Cook was fast-talking and neurotic, returning again and again to the same subject: his wrongful conviction. He still suffered from PTSD and depression, he told me, and repeated himself with the same well-worn phrases, often hyping his case as the worst of all time.
But he was also sweet, funny, and charming, often looking to Pressey for help finishing his sentences. He was excited because his case had come to the attention of the Innocence Project, a national nonprofit that had, with the help of DNA testing, successfully secured the exonerations of more than three hundred people.
The idea made Cook practically giddy, and he compared his plight to that of two other men who had recently been exonerated after wrongful murder convictions: Anthony Graves, released in , and Michael Morton, released in But when the DNA motion was approved, and officials began looking for crime scene evidence, they discovered that law enforcement had destroyed the hair in December The Smith County DA by this time was Matt Bingham, a law-and-order prosecutor who had served as assistant district attorney under both Skeen and Dobbs.
The state insisted the detective had made a mistake and transposed the names, a fact the detective himself affirmed in a later affidavit. As to why the defense never saw the original report, Dobbs insisted he shared it with Rosen in Wanting to question Mayfield, Udashen and Morrison pestered Bingham.
To their surprise, the DA, who had never spoken with Mayfield either, suggested they go see him together.