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Donald M. Carter
Public tax dollars are being misused to keep me in prison for sex crimes the State of Virginia knowingly, falsely convicted me of, and won't investigate or admit.
Instead of using available DNA and other evidence that would have exonerated me, Virginia chose to coerce witnesses and use perjured testimony to dupe a 10 woman jury and make a farce of my trial, and our criminal justice system.
Turning the other way because it isn't happening to you now, not caring about the other guy, is allowing it to happen everywhere. I don't have a family or anyone else to help me, so I'm appealing to YOU, the public at large, please someone help me!
I'm in my fifties and prison has become a form of genocide that is killing me. I was convicted in 1976, but have never been able to prove my innocence. A thorough private investigation would prove it.
I'm asking either an Attorney, Organization or someone who will be kind enough to hire me assistance, to believe in me and help me prove my actual innocence and help me make parole.
Don
Address: Donald M. Carter #110403
1607 Planters Road
Lawrenceville, VA 23868
Birthdate: June 13/1952
Expected Date of Release: Parole eligible. I am enclosing a little poem I wrote in the old Virginia State Penitentiary in Richmond, Virginia in 1978. It was torn down in 1995. In those days us convicts (not inmates of today) were close together and when the man did something to one of us we all felt or knew in some way. I slept in the oldest building which housed that feared "Electric Chair". The walls of the penitentiary were of red brick, 6 feet wide and 25 feet high. If four or five of us stood on each other's shoulders, the last man could just reach the top of the wall. Few men ever did that though. When they did that the guard was always waiting with the butt of a 30-30 rifle to smash your hands and then kick them to the ground. I never tried it, but I've witnessed it many times. For the few who got over the wall, just for the "Devil" of it, the guards usually let them get about 100 yards across I-95 onto a grassy area and then lung-shot them so other convicts and free people could see them fall, bleeding out of the mouth, dying. And so it was, and at nights it would get quiet and eerie as they fired up that electric chair and the Common-Wealth of Virginia legally assassinated and executed a human being. It would get jet black and as the chair sucked all of the electricity from the little 40 watt bulb, I could "feel" and "sense" many of those killed still trying to BE, their spirits clinging, it seemed, to the window leading from this plane into hell! On one of those nights, as 25,000 volts of electricity entered the chair and ran through a human body, as I heard what appeared to be a hum, and everything seemed eerie, I heard a silent voice cry:
Society, hear their Cry!
They speak through the Voice
of my Singing Soul...
That dangle's in Life's Corner.
I in the moment know.
It is past, present, and tomorrow,
NOW.
Here my Singing Soul...
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