After two men spent 14 years in prison for a murder they say they didn’t commit, their freedom came in just five minutes Tuesday.
“You’re free to go,” state District Judge Mark Stoltz told Stanley O. Mozee, 55, and Dennis Lee Allen, 52, who had been serving life sentences for the 1999 slaying of a South Dallas minister. Soon after, the two men walked out of the Dallas County courthouse free on bail, their convictions overturned because of prosecutorial misconduct.
Tuesday’s hearing paved the way for their case to go to the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals. That court will decide whether the men should be exonerated and declared innocent or whether they will simply get a new trial in the killing of the Rev. Jesse Borns Jr.
Supporters of the men didn’t wait on a court ruling to celebrate, though. For the men and their loved ones, it was a day for new suits, for hugs and kisses, for redemption and a glimpse at liberty.
“Freedom, for me, it’s like being in heaven,” Allen said after the hearing. “Heaven is supposed to be a place of blessings, a place of joy and happiness, and that’s what I feel right now.”
Allen and Mozee were homeless and struggling with drug addiction when they were charged with killing Borns, a pastor who made a point to help downtrodden South Dallas residents after his own release from prison.
Borns owned a woodworking shop and paid several homeless people, including Mozee, to help sweep it, records show. When Borns was stabbed 47 times and found dead in the back of his shop, police turned their attention to Mozee and Allen.
According to attorneys from the Innocence Project in Texas and New York, the men were convicted in 2000 on testimony from jailhouse informants who expected reduced sentences in exchange for their cooperation, and an unrecorded confession from Mozee. Mozee later recanted and testified his confession was false. New DNA testing also revealed a third party’s DNA, not from the victim or the defendants, court filings show.
Dallas County District Attorney Craig Watkins agreed that the men’s convictions should be overturned, but Tuesday’s hearing didn’t amount to an exoneration, which comes with compensation from the state. The DA’s office, which has made a name for itself by freeing the innocent, is still looking into whether to recommend exoneration to the Court of Criminal Appeals.
A crowd greeted the men with applause when they entered the courtroom Tuesday. Allen wore a three-piece suit and tie, while Mozee wore a navy collared shirt and dark slacks. At one point, Mozee turned around to survey the audience. His loved ones clapped and waved. One woman blew a kiss. Mozee smiled.
Stoltz set bail at $25,000, payable if the men violate conditions of their release or if they fail to show up to court in the future.
About 15 exonerees attended the hearing, including Michael Morton and Christopher Scott, who were named Texans of the Year in 2012 by The Dallas Morning News for their work to fix the criminal justice system. Stoltz asked each of the exonerees to stand and say how long they had been wrongfully incarcerated: 10 years, 30 years, 24 years and seven months. Almost all said they had been cleared by DNA evidence. About half raised their hands to say that prosecutorial misconduct played a role.
After the brief hearing, Mozee and Allen stood together alongside Watkins before a horde of media and TV cameras. They thanked the district attorney for being an advocate for exonerees and people who had unfair trials.
“You are a legend in prison and I just want to thank you,” Allen told him.
Watkins, a Democrat who is seeking a third term, called the men victims of an old regime that mishandled prosecutions, and he vowed to continue to work to restore public trust in his office. “Ask all these people here if we have public trust, if we’ve done the right thing, if we’ve freed the innocent and convicted the guilty,” he said.
Mozee and Allen planned to dine after the hearing at Ellen’s Southern Kitchen downtown, with their families and members of the Innocence Project. When asked what he wanted to eat, Mozee was candid: “I’d like a salad to flush me out.”
As the crowd dispersed, Allen slipped away without much notice. But by the time Mozee made his way out of the courthouse, cameramen surrounded him. Jurors and lawyers from other cases asked who he was. Mozee, sandwiched in between his attorney and his 33-year-old daughter, just kept walking and smiling.