2 men cleared in 1994 killing that sent them to prison for decades. New DNA tests cast doubt
Brian Boles and Charles Collins served decades behind bars before they were paroled; Collins in 2017 and Boles just last year. They're now free of the cloud of their convictions in the death of James Reid, an octogenarian who was attacked in his Harlem apartment. A judge scrapped the convictions and the underlying charges.
Boles "lost three decades of his life for a crime he had nothing to do with,' said his lawyer Jane Pucher, who works with the Innocence Project.
Collins' lead lawyer, Christopher Conniff, said Thursday's court action righted 'a terrible injustice.'
'While today's order cannot return to him the 20-plus years he spent in prison, he is happy that his name is finally cleared,' said Conniff, who's with the firm Ropes & Gray.
A message was sent Thursday to a possible relative of Reid's to seek comment on the developments.
A maintenance worker found Reid, 85, beaten and apparently strangled with a telephone cord, after noticing the man's apartment door was open, according to a New York Times report at the time. The apartment had been ransacked, according to the newspaper.
Boles lived in the same building, and Collins was staying with him. The teens came under suspicion after they were arrested in a robbery about a week later.
Collins and Boles gave confessions that their lawyers say were false and prompted by heavy-handed and threatening police interrogations. Boles recanted his admission before his trial, but he was convicted of murder; Collins subsequently pleaded guilty. Both were 17.
Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg 's office now says the purported confessions were contradicted by witness statements indicating Reid was alive hours after the teens claimed he had been killed.
The men's trial lawyers and courts never got to see those statements. Nor were they given a lab report that undermined a detective's testimony linking Collins to a footprint found at the crime scene.
Bragg, a Democrat who wasn't in office at the time, demurred Thursday when asked about officers' conduct, instead faulting 'the systems that were in place decades ago.' All the police and prosecutors who worked on the case likely retired or changed jobs years ago.
While these old pieces of evidence proved to be problematic, new technology blew another hole in the case when prosecutors and defense lawyers reinvestigated it. A new round of DNA testing, using techniques unavailable in the 1990s, found that genetic material on Reid's fingernails didn't match Boles or Collins.
It's not clear whose DNA it is, and Bragg said for technical reasons, the sample can't be fed into law enforcement databases to search broadly for a match there. But it could prove very helpful if a lead is developed in some other way, he said, urging anyone with any information to come forward.
'The injustice had many dimensions,' Bragg said. 'Mr. Boles and Mr. Collins — decades in prison. And a family that does not have closure. And a society that has someone at large amongst us for decades for a homicide that remains unsolved.'
Boles, 48, took college classes in prison, earned a sociology degree this May and is building a career in working with marginalized people, his lawyers said. Lawyers for Collins, 49, didn't shed light on his pursuits.
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NIGHT OF THE ATTACK When Kathy was attacked, she was a second-year student at Florida State University, living in Chi Omega sorority house with girls 'who felt like sisters'. She had spent the afternoon at a church friend's wedding but decided to head back early with her dormmate, Karen Chandler, to study for her calculus exam the following Monday. The pair's room was not dissimilar to any other dorm room: two single beds pushed against opposite walls, separated by a small trunk and a large bay window with curtains that remained open 'all the time'. When they turned the lights off at around 11:30pm, Kathy fell straight to sleep. In the early hours of the morning, she awoke to the 'swish' sound of the carpet. 'I remember squinting into the dark, not wearing my glasses, and seeing this black shadow standing above me, looking at me. 'I was just waking up a little bit and he had that log in his hand. "I can close my eyes and I can see my room. And I can see him standing over me. 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I thought I was yelling and screaming for help but all I was doing was making gurgling sounds from all the blood in my mouth Kathy Kleiner Rubin The headlights flooded the room with light, startling Bundy, who ran away. Kathy said: 'I was moaning and groaning and I thought I was yelling and screaming for help but all I was doing was making gurgling sounds from all the blood in my mouth. 'He came back over to my side of the room so I tucked myself into the smallest ball. I thought if he didn't see me, he wouldn't kill me.' 'He looked at me. He raised his arm up over his head, but just as he was about to hit me again, a bright light shone through our window, 'He got real antsy and started moving around. Then he ran out of the room." I thought if he didn't see me, he wouldn't kill me Kathy Kleiner Rubin Whimpering, Kathy tried calling for help but managed no more than a few "gurgling sounds" through all of the blood. Karen was able to stumble to get help as Kathy passed out from the pain. She recalled: 'I woke up and a police officer was standing at the head of my bed looking at me. 'I touched my face and it was warm with blood. I was in excruciating pain – it felt like daggers and knives. But he just told me 'it's going to be OK.'' "I knew, having been so scared that this person was going to take care of me." PATH TO HAPPINESS Kathy never returned to university and spent the next nine weeks with her jaw wired shut at her parents' house in Miami. Therapy wasn't an option for the young girl who was raised by Cuban parents, where sweeping problems under the rug was the "done thing". Instead, her parents did all they could to help her physically recover and protect her from the trauma of what happened. "My mum wanted to shield me from the news and hearing about my sorority sisters so she would take the newspaper and cut all of the articles out that would mention Bundy," she said. Meanwhile, Kathy took "baby steps" to heal from the psychological wounds left from Bundy's attack - but also from the anger and sadness of leaving behind her freedom and friends at university. She said: "I walked outside and felt the sun on my face and looked up at the trees and saw each individual leaf, that's part of the branch, that's part of the tree. "And looking at the bugs on the ground and seeing how they interact. That's life. "And I wanted to be part of life. I wanted to be part of what was so natural." Kathy recognised exposure therapy would be crucial in her path to recovery so she got a job working at a lumber yard, where she would be surrounded by men everyday. 11 11 While she grew progressively less scared, dark thoughts of a figure standing behind her lingered. Leaning on her faith, she imagined herself walking away from the darkness - each day, taking one step closer to the "light" at the end of the road. She has since co-authored a book with writer Emilie Lebau-Luchessi, in which she revisited in painfully vivid detail the events of that night. Although challenging, Kathy said sharing her story with the world has helped her heal and connect with other survivors. "They just need to know that one day they were a victim and the next day they became a survivor. "That survivor has to live the rest of their life and they can talk about it and they can feel it but they shouldn't dwell on it. "They need to move on and and not let this put them in a box but just take baby steps to heal themselves," she said. 11 11
