cleanersydney - Cleared of murder, ex-inmate seeks to renew ties

 
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A year ago, when he left prison, he would stay up all night cleaning or rearranging furniture, trying to keep busy to avoid falling asleep."I didn't want to wake up and realize I was dreaming and that I was still there," said Johnson, 38, of Hazelwood.

Speaking publicly about his case for the first time, Johnson says he grew up behind the metal bars and concrete walls of the Greene County penitentiary, where a jury sent him in 1995 for the gangland-style murder of Verna Robinson, 20, of Hazelwood.His release occurred in September when a second jury found him not guilty. He told the Tribune-Review he doesn't know what happened to Robinson that night and that he was at a friend's house.

"I couldn't believe justice turned around like that, but God gives you the power to go on," said Barbara Robinson, 71, who lives on Almeda Street near where her daughter died.She believes Johnson was involved in the murder: "Terrell knows. ... I'm not saying he was the one who pulled the trigger, Regular Residential Cleaning Services, why didn't he say who did?"Although no one tracks how many prisoners gain release with retrials, authorities said Johnson's term was among the longest in Allegheny County.

A witness came forward with information after 13 years, and prosecutors retried the case five years after that."The narrative generally stops when a judge orders a release or a new trial," said Dwight L. Aarons, a law professor at the University of Tennessee who specializes in wrongful convictions. "This one is a little different. After the order of a new trial, the prosecutors went forward with a second trial and used the same evidence."Based on testimony from Evelyn "Dolly" McBryde of Hazelwood, police charged Johnson and three other men with the July 22, 1994, murder of Robinson, a witness to a drive-by shooting who once accused Johnson of beating her up over a $100 drug debt.

McBryde talked to police when she was caught shoplifting. She testified in 1995 that she heard a shot and saw the men surround Robinson on the street. One man shot her twice in the head, she said.

Johnson and two friends testified he was instead at a house, but jurors convicted him of first-degree murder. He drew a life sentence. In separate trials, one of the other men was acquitted of murder but convicted of conspiracy; the other was acquitted of all charges.

At Johnson's retrial, witness Kenneth Robinson — unrelated to the victim — testified that McBryde could not have witnessed the shooting because she was with him when it happened.

Johnson said he chose to be retried rather than accept a deal the district attorney's office offered, in which he would get credit for time served if he pleaded guilty."I wasn't going to plead guilty to something I didn't do," he said.Neither the prosecutor's office nor trial Judge Donald Machen would comment about the case.

The detective in the case could not be reached.Johnson's attorney, Turahn Jenkins, said congratulatory messages filled his voicemail after the verdict. Jenkins now is on staff with the county public defender's office.Johnson said he has spent 11 months renewing relationships with his family.

"It's been very challenging," said his wife, Saundra Cole, 48, whom he married three years into his prison term. "Even though it's been 18 years of visits and telephone calls, it wasn't really like I never allowed myself to believe he was in jail. . He was always here emotionally and spiritually, just not physically."Johnson and Cole run a nonprofit, PoorLaw, out of their home. Between them, they are parents of nine children. Finding his place within the family has been complicated, Johnson said.

"I'm still just trying to get to know everybody. I watched them grow up in the visiting room," he said.Cases like Johnson's demonstrate the need to ensure accurate eyewitnesses, said Brandon Garrett, a University of Virginia School of Law professor who wrote a book about Offering Office cleaning Services.

"You'd hope that cases like this would encourage the push for the adoption of more accurate lineup procedures," Garrett said.Johnson writes to some of the men imprisoned with him and sometimes talks with defendants about their rights.

He's not a man given to self-pity, but anyone who hears what happened to him after he was kidnapped by Doorbal and his accomplices can't fail to feel sorry for him. And now, to compound his problems, a film has been made that depicts him in a far from favourable light.

Pain & Gain, which stars Mark Wahlberg, is a high-tempo black comedy that pokes fun at the bodybuilder gang, but goes out of its way to stigmatise Schiller as well in order, one assumes, to generate some sympathy for its leading man. Schiller's name has been changed, but it would take about two minutes on Google to identify him, since the case was well covered by Miami newspapers at the time and in a three-part serial by the journalist Pete Collins in 1999.

"No one [involved with the film] ever talked to me," he says now. "It wasn't me they put in the movie. When I saw it I thought, 'who is this person?"' On screen, Victor Kershaw (aka Schiller) brags about his money, treats his employees with contempt and drives around with the words "Miami B----" emblazoned on his number plate. In reality, says Alex Ferrer, the judge who presided over the case, Schiller wasn't like that at all.

"In the movie they made him out to look slimier than he was," says Ferrer. "He really wasn't a slimy guy." And besides, he adds, "nobody deserves what he got. Nobody". The man ultimately responsible for what happened to Schiller was a former car salesman called Jorge Delgado. In 1991 he had come to work for Schiller as a sales representative at his accountancy firm, and, over the next 18 months, the quietly spoken Cuban had become a trusted friend, looking after Schiller's house when he and his family went on holiday and working with him on other ventures.

But things started to sour in late 1992 when Delgado joined a bodybuilders' hang-out called Sun Gym. There he met Daniel Lugo (played by Wahlberg in the film), a 6ft 2in muscle-bound personal trainer, the gym's manager and a convicted fraudster. When Lugo heard about Delgado's work with Schiller, he initially wanted to go into business with them both, but Schiller was not interested.

One month later they were in the back of a Ford Astrovan racing towards a warehouse in North Miami with a bruised and bewildered Schiller at their feet. Once there, a blindfolded Schiller was punched, pistol whipped and Tasered again. The gang played Russian roulette against his temple. One of them, Schiller believes it was Doorbal, took a lighter to his arm and burnt his flesh until it sizzled.

After that he was forced to phone his wife and tell her he had gone on a last-minute business trip. She should fly to Colombia with their children for a family event and he would follow in a couple of days. To Schiller's relief, she agreed - at least his family was now out of harm's way - but it now meant his captors had access to his empty house. They started quizzing him about his assets.

"OK," said one of them. "You have a house that's paid for, your wife's family money that you invest, your wife's jewellery, an apartment in Miami Beach, jet skis..." It was obvious immediately that his former friend Delgado was behind the operation; nobody else knew all these details. Schiller also clocked who he was talking to. "This is the Daniel Lugo Show," he thought.

Over the next few days Schiller - still blindfolded - took a series of calls patched through to the warehouse from his home phone. Each time, a gun was placed against his head and he pretended nothing was amiss. He was also called upon to sign dozens of documents. He couldn't see them, but it was obvious what was happening: the gang were transferring everything he had into their name. After a month in captivity - which Schiller spent chained up and blindfolded without a change of clothes and only intermittent food - the gang were satisfied that they'd got as much as they could and revealed the end game. First, Schiller had to phone his lawyer with an outlandish story: he'd been having an affair with a Cuban beauty, his wife had found out and now he was depressed and suicidal.

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