Victim of wrongful conviction forgives accuser

Jennifer Thompson was raped by a man who broke into her apartment. She escaped, and identified Ronald Cotton as her attacker. Ronald insisted that she was mistaken — but Jennifer’s positive identification kept him behind bars. After serving 11 years, Ronald took a DNA test that proved his innocence. Jennifer and Ronald met face to face two years later, and forged an unlikely friendship. Together, they wrote the memoir “Picking Cotton.” An excerpt.

Jennifer
Sadie met me at the police station when they brought me in to do a physical lineup. Detective Gauldin thought it would be a good idea for her to be there. It was August 8, 1984, eleven days after my assault. He called me the day before to say the lineup was set for 2:00 p.m. the next day, and that Sully, the bearded detective I had met during the photo identification, would drive me to and from the station.

I sat in a chair in the detective’s office with Sadie. Detective Gauldin came in. “How are you holding up?” he asked gently.

“I’m fine,” I said. I didn’t want him to see me as weak or unfocused, to be worried that I couldn’t do this.

“Here’s how it’s going to work: You’re going to be shown seven black males of similar appearance. They will be standing in a line, holding a card with a number. Each of them will step forward, turn completely around to the right, say something, and step back. If after viewing all seven you are able to say that one of them was the person who raped you, write his number on the piece of blank paper you are going to be given and hand it to me. If you don’t see the man who raped you, leave the paper blank and hand it to me. If you’re not sure, leave the paper blank and hand it to me. If after seeing all seven you want any of the men to repeat the procedure, just ask me. Don’t feel compelled to make an identification. Make sense?”

I nodded.

“All right then, let’s go in there.”

Sadie and I followed him down a corridor to a basement room. I had only seen stuff like this on TV, where you stood behind a wall with a window in it. Nothing could have prepared me for what I walked into.

I stiffened and tried to suck in air with an audible gasp. There were seven black men lined up against the wall. All that separated them from me was a conference room table. They could see me. Later, I learned that this had been a transitional building — a new Burlington police station was being built near the railroad tracks. But at that moment, I figured that’s the way lineups were really done, that TV had gotten it wrong.

“It’s OK. I will be right here. Nothing can hurt you,” said Gauldin.

Sadie and I stood behind the table. There were maybe six feet between me and the lineup. There were other officers in the room, and some other men I didn’t recognize.

Breathe. Breathe, I told myself. I didn’t want to pass out, but I was sick with fear. If he was here, now he knew what I looked like in broad daylight. He knew my name. If he was here, I couldn’t screw this up.

Starting with the man holding a card that read “1,” each stepped forward, closer to the table, turned to the side, then back to the front, and spoke.

“Shut up or I’ll cut you! Hey, baby, how ya doing? Your man’s over in Germany. It’s been a long time.”

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. Hearing what that man had uttered to me, his face right above mine. I had to make my mind split, the way it had that night. I didn’t want to make eye contact with any of them, despite trying to look at each of them closely. I concentrated on my job — to find him if he was here — even though my mind vividly replayed scenes as each man repeated the lines.

Number four began his turn. He had on a light yellow shirt and jeans. A shudder of recognition went through me. Was this him?

Number five went, next. When he said, “Shut up or I’ll kill you!” I froze. He and number four looked so much alike, so much like my attacker. Why did he say, “I’ll kill you?” I wondered. Was it a trick? He had on a brown and beige mock turtleneck shirt and jeans.

The rest of the men finished. I kept looking at numbers four and five. I turned to Detective Gauldin, “It’s between four and five. Can I see them again?” I whispered.

Number four repeated the procedure. His facial features were so close, but his body didn’t seem right. My rapist had been lankier.

“Shut up or I’ll cut you!”

Number five got it right this time. I looked at his face. He had a light mustache; his eyes looked cold. His body was long and lean. He knew to wear brown, I thought, because he knew he had been wearing dark blue the night of my assault. And he knew to wear his hair differently.

It was him. There was no doubt in my mind.

I knew it. If I didn’t get him, he was going to come after me. The terror simply took my breath away. He was standing right in front of me, and if the police didn’t lock him up, surely he would walk out of there, find me, and finish the job. The next time, I was certain, I would not get away. He would kill me.

I wrote “5” on the piece of paper in front of me, and slid it over to Detective Gauldin. He nodded, and showed it to a few other men in the room. Then they led me back out, into the hallway.

As always, I wanted to know how I had done.

“We thought that might be the guy,” said Gauldin. “It’s the same person you picked from the photos.”

My knees nearly gave out from under me. We got him. Sadie squeezed my hand, proud of me. There were so many others who never even got this far, she told me. So many who would never tell anyone what had happened to them, much less seek prosecution.

Ronald
The week after my arrest, they brought me back to the station for a lineup, where I was told to walk forward, turn 180 degrees to the right, and then read a statement off a card: “Shut up or I’ll cut you! Hey, baby, how ya doing? Your man’s over in Germany. It’s been a long time.” There were seven of us standing there; I was number five. The detectives and my attorney, Phil, stood in the back of the room, while some of the officers were sitting down with Ms. Thompson. There was no partition, and I could see she was young, blond, and trying to act tough. When I walked forward, I was so nervous I messed up and said, “Shut up or I’ll kill you!”

Ms. Thompson whispered something to Detective Gauldin and they asked me and number four, standing next to me, to repeat the process. This time I got it right. “Shut up or I’ll cut you!” I said my bit and then stepped back in line. It was like facing the firing squad. Please don’t pick me, I thought. I know they said she identified me from my photograph, but now that she saw me in person, I thought maybe she’d see I wasn’t the right guy. It would have been all over then.

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