The Jailhouse Lawyer, Calvin Duncan’s autobiography written with Sophie Cull, was released this week by Penguin Random House. The Lens is honored to publish an excerpt of it here.
Bernard Smith, The Lens: Let me ask you this first. What were the biggest challenges you faced during your time in prison?
Calvin Duncan: My biggest challenge was accepting the fact that I was on my own without any help from the outside world. I needed to, you know, free myself. That was my biggest challenge. And the other challenge was hearing all that the other older guys was saying about the system.
Because in school, you’re taking civics classes and you’re thinking that if you didn’t commit the crime, you know, they was gonna find the right person. That you was gonna get a lawyer. I didn’t even think of a judge being biased.
So, except for the fact that I was gonna be on my own, I had this thing in my head about the courts system that was just being shattered by what all of the old guys was telling me. Guys like Big Dugger, they knew about my judge and my prosecutor. They heard that my victim was white; that my witness was white. They told me that I was gonna get the death penalty.
And I’m asking, “How can I help myself?” They telling me, “Well, you gotta become a lawyer.” And without any law material in the parish prison. When I think about it, that was my greater challenge.
Smith: I know it had to be hard, man, you know, having to endure all that time and being innocent, man. Why do you think wrongful convictions are so common, especially for black men in America?
Duncan: Because of the way the judicial system, the way the criminal legal system is set up, you know, it’s if somebody say you did something,
Smith: As we say, you’re guilty pretty much until proven …
Duncan: … innocent. Yeah. You know, legally, you’re supposed to be innocent until proven guilty, but in actual practice, it’s just the opposite. You gotta prove your innocence and that you didn’t commit the crime.
‘Some Black men in the darkest place in the world rose above our situation’
Smith: What was your motivation for writing this book?
Duncan: I wanted the world to know that some Black men in the darkest place in the world rose above our situation. You never hear stories about what we did to overcome adversity and injustice; how we helped each other, how we met in law class, how we played like we was in law school, with the Socratic method. You don’t hear that about us.
My prayer is that people read the book and ask the question: what motivates y’all to help each other? It’s not so much about innocence and all that. But it is about: how did them judges get away with that? Or how could they pass a law that say those people in prison are not persons? Or how do prosecutors withhold evidence? What motivate them to do that crazy stuff? I’m hoping that people start having conversations about that.
Smith: How did you manage to keep your sanity throughout those 28 years of incarceration?
Duncan: I’ve always enjoyed helping people. As I got older, I realized why I enjoyed it: because I had wanted somebody to help me.
My attitude was that if I want something, I have to give it first. So I’m helping the guys every day, teaching the Saturday law class. And I found teaching the law class was the greatest thing that actually helped people empower themselves, because things happen so fast in prison and they could take everything away from you. You could be locked up, you could be at Camp J, you could get moved. But if you teach people how to do things for themselves, no matter where you send ’em, they could help themselves.
Smith: Are there specific stories, moments in the book that you feel particularly connected to?
Duncan: As a counsel substitute, I think it’s how we dealt with 930.8. (Louisiana Code of Criminal Procedure Article 930.8, which barred applications for post-conviction relief if they weren’t filed within two years of conviction.) See when they came out with 930.8, we learned that everybody was gonna be procedurally barred.
For one day, the whole prison came together to make sure that everybody made the deadline. To me, it was some Lord of the Ring stuff. Like, you know, the guards and the warden realized, “I know that they passed this law to hurt y’all, but we’re not letting them do it.” And we did it. All of the inmate counsels and then we got other people. We went throughout the whole prison on these tiers, helping people fill out the application. And then when we collected all the applications, thousands of them. The warden had the classification signed to make sure that it was still considered filed even if the court said they didn’t receive it. I have a feeling of pride about that moment.
‘People think the system is going to correct itself’
Smith: What message do you hope your story sends to people inside the system now?
Duncan: Well, for the people on the inside, I hope my story serves as a guidance, to guide them through that dark period. That they don’t give up. That they stand fast in their belief that they’re entitled to access to the courts. That is a liberty that we got as a citizen of this country. And you don’t let nobody take that away.
But people think the system is going to correct itself. That doesn’t happen overnight. My journey in prison showed that I was denied at every angle. That’s a harsh reality. The system is diabolical.
Smith: I gotta speak on this. When I first got up there, I felt like, ‘Man, I’m gonna give that time right back.’ I heard a lot of dudes saying it when they first get there. Then you hear, ‘That dude right there, he been down 20 years.” Twenty years. I thought, “Man, there’s no way in the world I’m gonna be up here that long.” That was me. And 23 summers later, I was still in there.
Smith: How do you think the system could better support rehabilitation and second chances?
Duncan: Not the system. Us. We individually taught them classes. substance abuse, and critical thinking.
Smith: That critical thinking. You know, it all starts with your way of thinking. I remember taking that class and Buff asked me, “Man, you took that critical thinking class? I told him yeah. He said, “How many times you took it?” I said, one. “He said, ‘Take it about another one or two more times.”
It helps you to be conscious when the security (the free man) is talking to you crazy, You want to pop him upside his head. Instead, you learn in critical thinking class to think, “Oh this clown. He just don’t know.” So you just say, “Alright, chief.” And you keep it moving.
Duncan: Yeah, man. We taught those classes. We took old material and taught each other. And we did writs for people, I didn’t even know what those people looked like. They just sent me the information. I put it in there, printed that writ out. And the guy gets his writ and his deadline is met. We was helping each other. And if you notice we still hang with each other. We ain’t got no new friends. We still support each other in the same way.
‘We ain’t free from this. They could lock us up any day they want’
Smith: What was the process like, of writing a book? Was it healing or challenging for you?
Duncan: It’s challenging, because it’s trauma that I’m reliving every day: when I think about it, when I write, when I’m talking about these things.
What makes the trauma intensified is that it could happen again. It could happen right now.
Smith: Listen, that’s a fear that lives in me. People don’t understand. That’s like one of my worst fears that it could happen again. I felt like I was literally barely alive. Like I was really buried under dirt alive, trying to get out. That’s how I felt.
Duncan: Yeah, that’s the thing. We have done a lot, but we ain’t changed their system.
Smith: Some people say that writing is therapeutic.
Duncan: It is. I think it is therapeutic when you know that you’re free from it. But we ain’t free from this. They could lock us up any day they want. Just imagine having to go through this again. There are women out there who, if things aren’t working out, might just call the police and say, “Calvin’s got a gun.” We’ve seen it happen to guys we knew.
Smith: I’ve had that happen to me too. That threat.
Smith: What was the most difficult part of reentering society after your release?
Duncan: I think that one of the biggest challenges, and it’s still a challenge, is the way our people look at us. You know, the system has programmed them to look down on us. You know, we went in when we were kids. And when we come out, although we up in age, we still think like a kid. We think everything is possible. Nothing is impossible. But when you come home, they tell you all this “you can’t be.” You can’t get a job, you can’t do this, you can’t go to school. To me, that was the hardest thing.
Technology also. The way I deal with technology? I don’t, really. I get in more trouble about my phone and not answering my emails. I want to look around. I like talking to people.
So I don’t spend my time looking at my phone and looking at my email and all that kind of crazy. I know whatever I want to do on my phone. I pay my bills on my phone; I can do all that. But I’m not staring at my phone all day. I just can’t.
‘Our whole goal as a society is to keep children away from Tulane and Broad’
Smith: I was mentioning to you earlier about my upbringing. My mom had me and my sister when she was young. Me and my sister was at my grandma’s house and my auntie’s house. I learned from reading your book that you know that feeling, bro. That’s not no good feeling as a kid, you know? What kind of support could help aid children in similar situations?
Duncan: It is still happening every day in people’s lives. And who’s saving us? The criminal justice system is saving us. That’s ludicrous. If you notice when we used to go to substance abuse group, we all had the same story, where all of this started back in our house. So I think it’s just that people need to start talking about it. We got to get back to looking out for one another.
I used to get three pairs of pants at the beginning of the year and I was growing. So guess what? I’m busting out them pants. The children are acting up because they’re not being cared for. Their acting out is a cry: “I need some help. They saying, “I’m hungry.”
Smith: From your perspective, what is the biggest flaw in the criminal justice system today?
Duncan: Not knowing the truth. If we accept the truth, then we’ll take steps to keep our children from Tulane and Broad. Because once they’re there, it’s all over.
Our whole goal as a society should be to keep ‘em away from Tulane and Broad. Like if you see children, for example, whose parents are on crack or drugs, try to get them some help, but guess what they got? Bring food to the children. Take ‘em to go get clothes. Bring ‘em to their dental appointment. It’s our job as a society to keep people off of that auction block at Tulane and Broad.
Smith: If you could go back and speak, speak to your younger self before your incarceration, what would you say?
Duncan: I would speak to my younger self at around age 14 or 13, and I would say, “Look, you’re having a rough time. You like school, but you feeling inadequate because you’re wearing the same clothes. Go talk to somebody who could appreciate what you’re going through. Had I done that, I wouldn’t have ruined my life at 14, by getting busted shoplifting. Because if they, if they wouldn’t have had that mugshot, I would’ve never been misidentified.
Smith: Thanks for talking with me. And congratulations on your book, bro.
Duncan: Look at you. I hope you are proud of yourself. When you think about where we come from, you know where we supposed to be at, you and I? On Martin Luther King, circling that tree with some beer in our hands. As the sun hits that way, we go that way. We just coulda said, “Well, it ain’t my fault, it’s the system’s fault.” But we decided to say, “No, this is mine. This is the life God gave me and I’m gonna do something about it.”