[HERE] and [HERE] Nearly 60 years after he says he was forced by police to confess to a rape he never committed, Oscar Walden Jr. stood in a federal courtroom Tuesday as curious jurors gathered around him so he could show them scars from when a police officer bent his hand back, causing excruciating pain.
"Those two scars are still there," said Walden, 79, who buttoned his olive suit before drawing jurors over to study his middle and index fingers. "That's half a century old." In a remarkable trial playing out in the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse in Chicago, Walden, who is suing the city, recounted Tuesday how he says he was beaten and threatened into confessing that he raped a woman on Nov. 24, 1951, on the South Side.
Walden is one of many men pardoned by former Gov. George Ryan. But unlike others, his allegations go back so long ago that he is the only remaining witness to them. The seven officers who are alleged to have abused him are dead. So, too, is the rape victim. The police station where the abuse is alleged to have taken place in part doesn't even exist any longer.
Walden is still seeking justice six decades later in a proceeding that will rely heavily on his memory of the cold day he was arrested while sitting on the back of a bus on his way to his job at an iron works factory and aged transcripts of what others said happened.
He told the jury he had no choice but to be circumcised when he arrived at Stateville prison. Before that he was housed on the long-ago shuttered "death row" at Cook County Jail, which had an electric chair. He also said he was forced to sleep on the jail floor in the basement with other minority inmates, leaving only when he agreed to go to a tier reserved for "dope fiends."
Testifying for a second day at his civil trial, Walden talked of his struggle to understand this "enigma" of his life — why he was having to serve time for such a heinous crime.
"My God," said Walden, his voice rising, "to be accused of that and have to carry that stigma."
Leaning on his cane and moving with slow but steady steps, Walden, who has an advanced degree and is a minister and musician, described his ordeal in detail, including how close the white police officers sat beside him and how he was kicked, slapped, repeatedly insulted with racial epithets and then heard a chilling threat that officers were going to "get the ropes."
"I thought they're going to lynch me," said Walden, who is African-American and was accused of raping a white woman.
Walden was arrested about seven weeks after the rape after someone tipped police to Walden based on a police sketch of the suspect. In court Tuesday, Walden viewed a black-and-white photo of himself next to the sketch. Aside from similar thick glasses he wore, he looked nothing like the suspect, Walden told the jury. A newspaper account from the time said Walden was almost a perfect likeness.
Kamionski, the city's attorney, told the jury that the victim of the rape viewed between 15 and 20 suspects before identifying Walden as the man who assaulted her.
"She did identify Walden," he said. "The only person alive today who can talk about what happened back in 1951 is Mr. Walden, and just because he says it doesn't make it so."
The lawsuit, though, alleged police botched the identification by letting the victim see Walden alone with all the white detectives, not in a lineup with other African-Americans.
In questioning Walden on Wednesday, Andrew Hale, a city lawyer, challenged his description of the scars on his fingers, suggesting the wounds happened when the victim bit him during the rape.
Hale also questioned Walden about why he had pursued two separate pardons over the years, asking Walden if he was after a monetary settlement.
"Sir, they took 14 years of my life," Walden replied. "Sure, I was seeking compensation. And I don't apologize for that."
Much of the day, jurors heard Walden describing how he survived prison and on his release earned advanced degrees, opened a business and earned a Realtor's license.
Walden had filed court petitions to challenge his conviction years ago, but they were denied. His 2002 pardon from Ryan triggered the federal lawsuit. Walden's lawyer, Flint Taylor, a veteran at police brutality cases, said he doesn't believe a case that goes back this many years has ever been tried before in federal court here.
The post-conviction petition that Walden lost years ago had been handled by Leighton, who later served as a federal judge from 1976 to 1987.
Testifying in a clear, strong voice, Leighton said Walden had told him that he was buying musical instruments on Wabash Avenue at the time of the attack — an alibi that Leighton looked into.
The son of a domestic servant and steelworker, Walden was 20 and married when he was arrested. He didn't have a criminal record and had never even dealt with police. His allegedly coerced confession echoed police abuse allegations from more recent decades but at the same time draws an antiquated picture of police practices.
For example, the victim was allowed to be in the room when Walden was interrogated and later he was ordered to apologize to her.
That came, Walden testified on Tuesday, after the repeated beating and the threats. He said he told the victim what police told him to say.
"I'm sorry and forgive me," Walden said he told her. "I continued to tell the lie. It's a lie — that's what it was. Fiction, not fact."
From [HERE] The accused were dead; so too was the rape victim. All the city had left to defend itself against a nearly 60-year-old allegation of police brutality were decades-old court transcripts that were read in court by actors.
Still, on Wednesday, a federal jury found in the city's favor, rejecting a 79-year-old African-American man's civil rights lawsuit contending that he was beaten and physically threatened into confessing that he raped a white woman on the South Side in 1951.
Attorneys for Oscar Walden Jr. sought $15 million in the extraordinary lawsuit, which made it to trial so many decades following the alleged abuse — despite the usual statute of limitations — after then-Gov. George Ryan granted Walden a pardon in 2002.
Walden, now a minister, testified over two days, recounting an interrogation that he said included threats that he'd be strung up in his cell with a rope if he didn't confess. Experts testified that the Chicago police routinely coerced confessions from African-American men in the 1950s.