Next Case for D.A.: Free Arthur Carmona

On the big screen these days, “The Hurricane” tells the story of former boxer Rubin “Hurricane” Carter’s 20 years in prison on trumped-up murder charges.

On Friday, Orange County Dist. Atty. Tony Rackauckas called for the release of a 39-year-old man who’d spent 18 years in prison for a murder authorities now doubt he committed. Ironically, Rackauckas tried the case as a deputy district attorney in 1982 and asked for the death penalty.

Also last week, Rackauckus’ counterpart in Los Angeles announced he would move to toss out 10 more criminal convictions tainted by police misconduct. That would bring to 21 the number of cases overturned since a renegade LAPD cop told how he and other officers in the Rampart Division framed suspects.

Take 30 seconds to ponder how you’d fare if you spent one year, two years, 10 years, 20 years in prison for something you didn’t do. Imagine what every additional hour or day--not to mention month or year--would be like. Ask yourself how you’d survive it.

Friday was a tough day for Rackauckas, but he has one more gutsy decision to make.

Next Saturday, Arthur Carmona, a former Costa Mesa High School student, turns 18. He’ll do so at the Preston Youth Correctional facility in Northern California, after being sentenced last June out of Orange County to 12 years on two armed robbery convictions. He was arrested Feb. 10, 1998--five days after his 16th birthday--and has been locked up ever since.

For his 18th birthday, Carmona gets an impending transfer to Mule Creek State Prison up the road in Ione.

I have serious doubts that he committed either robbery. More to the point, equally unsure now are two jurors who voted to convict him, as well as one of the star witnesses who testified against him. All three publicly stated their second thoughts about his guilt last year, but well after his trial.

No one thinks local police or prosecutors set out to get Carmona. Rather, I’m convinced he was done in by a series of mistakes and false assumptions that, once in motion, engulfed him.

Many of the issues echo those in the case involving Dwayne McKinney, the convicted murderer Rackauckas asked to be freed last week.

Some were things police did. Some were things the prosecutor did. Some were things his defense lawyer did. Some were things witnesses did. Some were things jurors did.

A Second Chance to Right a Wrong

Virtually all of those issues are raised in an appellate brief filed for Carmona. The state attorney general’s office, no doubt aided by Orange County prosecutors, has several weeks to respond.

Presumably chastened by the McKinney experience, Rackauckas has the chance with the Carmona case to make a gallant choice and not vigorously oppose the motion to overturn the conviction.

In the meantime, as the justice system grinds on with incredible slowness, Carmona’s life slips by.

I don’t have room to enumerate all my misgivings. I laid out many of them in a series of columns last year. One of the appellate briefs asking for his release runs 321 pages.

But indulge me a few generalities, which all go to the only question that should matter: Does Arthur Carmona belong in prison?

* Why do we put ultimate trust in jurors, but then disregard them when two of the 12 say, as they did in the Carmona case, that they buckled under peer pressure when voting to convict?

* How can a prosecutor tout a witness’ credibility to the jury but later discount sworn statements by that same witness?

“People are human beings, but they have no reason to lie to you. They are telling you what they saw. They are telling you what they experienced.” So said Deputy Dist. Atty. Jana Hoffman of her witnesses, in closing arguments to the jury. But when one of those witnesses--and a critical one, at that--later signed a sworn affidavit saying her testimony may have been improperly influenced by Hoffman, how did the prosecutor and trial judge react?

The judge said he didn’t think Hoffman would do something like that; Hoffman simply said the witness was mistaken. So much for belief in her own witness’ credibility.

* How could police put a distinctive piece of clothing used in the robberies but not linked to Carmona--namely, a Laker cap--on his head and not think that would unfairly influence witnesses’ identification of him?

* How could Carmona’s trial lawyer--knowing his learning-disabled client had given police two slightly different routes of foot travel just before being arrested--not call a witness to explain why that may have happened?

Hoffman made hay of Carmona’s apparent waffling. “He gives them [police] two different pathways,” she said in closing arguments. “He is going to walk over to somebody’s house who he had been to only once before, yet he doesn’t know the street this guy lives on. That’s not reasonable.”

Oh? Carmona’s appellate lawyers took a sworn affidavit from one of Carmona’s high school teachers, who explained that Arthur had a learning disability. The teacher’s affidavit said, in part:

“I have reviewed a copy of the police interrogation of Arthur taken after his arrest. Based on my experience with Arthur, it is not unusual that he could not remember exactly how he had traveled from his house to his friend’s house or that he couldn’t remember street names. When I would drive Arthur home from school, he would not remember the names of streets from school to his house. He would get his lefts and rights confused.”

In my heart of hearts, I keep thinking the Orange County D.A.’s office will review the reality of the Carmona case and do the right thing.

No, it doesn’t have the pizazz of a false murder conviction. No, we can’t produce the real robber in Carmona’s place. In truth, we can’t prove Carmona didn’t do it.

This isn’t about ego or reputation. It’s about an 18-year-old kid about to be sent up the road to a men’s prison solely because of eyewitness accounts--most of them as flimsy as tissue.

It’s about a shy, quiet kid who, if we are to believe the verdict, made his criminal debut as an armed robber with an accomplice twice his age and to whom he had no known connection.

It’s about a kid to whom not a single stitch of physical evidence was linked--either from the crime scene or the accomplice who later pleaded guilty.

It’s about a kid who, for his 18th birthday, will sit and wonder some more about what prison life has in store for him.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.

Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821, by writing to him at The Times’ Orange County edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail at dana.parsons@latimes.com.