DISGRACELAND - Jennifer Hudson: An American Idol, a Triple Homicide, and Undying Faith

Episode Date: September 20, 2022

Jennifer Hudson shocked her hometown of Chicago when she was eliminated from American Idol in 2004, only to surpass everyone’s expectations when she later raked in awards and rave reviews for her role in Dreamgirls. Yet grief washed over Chicago again when her mother and brother were found slain in their Englewood home, and the smallest member of the Hudson family was declared missing. Their tragic story begins with betrayal and ends with a heartbreak so severe, only Jennifer’s long-standing faith could put it back together.This episode contains themes that may be disturbing to some listeners, including graphic depictions of violence. To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to a monthly exclusive episode, weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at disgracelandpod.com/membership.Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - GET THE NEWSLETTERFollow Jake and DISGRACELAND:InstagramYouTubeX (formerly Twitter) Facebook Fan GroupTikTok To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. This episode contains content that may be disturbing to some listeners. Please check the show notes for more information. Disgrace Land is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about Jennifer Hudson are insane. She grew up on gospel music in Englewood, the most dangerous four square miles in Chicago.

The same four square miles where three members of her family were murdered in one weekend. The killer was someone Jennifer went to elementary school with, someone who once lived under the same roof and broke bread with her family. But before this triple homicide tragedy, and even long after it, Jennifer Hudson made great music. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my Melotron called Young, Dumb, and Baroque, MK, 1.

I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to womanize her by Britney Spears. And why would I play you that specific slice of don't try to front cheese, could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on October 24, 2008. And that was the day Jennifer Hudson got a call that would change the rest of her life and test her faith like never before. On this episode, gospel music. Family traitors, triple homicide in the undying faith of Jennifer Hudson. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is disgrace land.

The gunshots broke the silence on South Yale Avenue between 8 and 9 a.m. First one round, and then a pause, and then another round a few minutes later. No one called 911. No one poked their head outdoors to see what happened. No one prayed. This was Englewood, the south side of Chicago, the most dangerous four square miles in all the windy city. Gunshots were part of the package. Gunshots punctuated space and time like train whistles or clock tower chimes.

Forgetable, background noise, and everyday occurrence. At 7019 South Yale Avenue, two bodies bled out in silence. One in the doorway of the first floor living room, another upstairs in bed. Still tucked under the sheets, dreams draining from his consciousness, inching towards an eternal slumber. The Hudson household went quiet. No music sprang from the radio, no notes floated from happy lungs, and no child hollering from the seat of a tricycle. October 24, 2008. Jennifer Hudson was not home the day her mother and brother were murdered, the very same day that her nephew was kidnapped.

But she would be home again soon, here, standing on the streets of Englewood, praying, pleading for her nephew Julian to return home safely. The words leapt from her lips like a prayer. Julia Kate Hudson stood at the kitchen stove, a spatula in one hand, and the other over her heart as she sang, brushing against the fabric of a matronly flannel nightgown. No bodies on the floor, no cartridges strewn across the carpet, just the heavenly melodies. brimming from Julia's chest and her odd little granddaughter Jennifer listening along. This is how life in the Hudson household was supposed to be. Julia sang hymns the right way, from memory and from the bottom of her lungs. She was a born gospel singer inside and outside of the church choir.

Her vocals shine brighter than a stained glass window on a Sunday morning. At every service, she commanded R-E-C-T, just like the gospel greats who had come before her, Aretha, Sam, Marvin. She belted out more than 100 solos in her family's church over the course of her life. Not for glory, but for God, for God's glory. Julia had no interest in being the next Aretha. Her satisfaction stemmed from singing for the Lord, plain and simple. Little Jennifer took notes.

Julia's raw talent instilled a strong faith in her young granddaughter. There was a saying in the Hudson household, a positive refrain for all happy circumstances. Look at what God can do. And if God could make you sing like this, well, sign Jennifer up. She joined the church choir at just seven years old and followed her grandmother's musical traditions, another quote-unquote old-fashioned girl, as she liked to say.

Jennifer didn't touch modern worship music. She went by the books, literally, and sang straight from the hymnals that lined the pews of her church, just like Julia did. But Jennifer also sensed that, Maybe God had other plans for her, that he wanted her to sing for other people, not just the people crowded together in one building on a Sunday, and maybe not just gospel songs.

Maybe she should sing some of the secular music she overheard the neighbors playing, Destiny's Child, Mariah Carey, Patty LaBelle. That music never played in the Hudson household, though. At 7019 South Yale Avenue, it was all gospel, all God, all the time. For some preteens and teenagers, such a strict musical regimen could potentially create a restless little atheist, eager to rebel against the lifetime of Bible verses and interspers a cuss word into the endless chance of amen and hallelujah. But for Jennifer, in her siblings, Jason and Julia. Yes, her sister was named Julia too. Gospel music kept them spiritually fed and full.

You had a feast on these things if you wanted to feel good living in Englewood, a neighborhood where the statistics were on no. Nobody's side. Located in Chicago's south side, Englewood's poverty rate is double that of Greater Chicago. The median household income is half of that in Chicago. Twenty-eight percent of Englewood residents over age 16 are unemployed. Incidents of violent crime are three times as frequent in comparison to Greater Chicago. The crime rate in Englewood is 276 percent higher than the national average. It's not surprising that, that the Hudson family clung to their faith and to each other. In fact, religion regulated everything in the Hudson household. Bible study was on Monday nights, followed by rehearsals for the adult and youth choirs on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. That meant

double duty for Jennifer, who sang in bold. Saturdays were devoted to folding and stapling the Sunday church bulletins, and Sunday itself was a day-long celebration. First came the morning service, and then the Hudson family's weekly lunch out, a small splurge at either KFC or McDonald's. Food only, no drinks. Drinks made the meal too expensive. Then back to church for the evening service and Sunday dinner at home. Those Hudson Sunday dinners covered every inch of the table like a Christmas day spread. Pork drops, collard greens, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, fried chicken, biscuits.

Jennifer's family was not rich by any means, but they did have everything they needed. Food for the soul and music for the soul as well. But not everyone was fortunate enough to return to a home glowing with familiar. you love. The same light that the Hudson's baston didn't permeate the pall surrounding William Balfour, a classmate of Jennifer and Julius. When William returned home from school every day, he waded into darkness. Knee deep in the violence passed from generation to generation in his family. William's grandma did time for manslaughter, and his dad did time for murder, and William received any leftover aggression in the form

of physical abuse from his own parents. Crime and jail time. were his only hammy downs. William was born into a culture of cruelty, and so cruelty is what William Balfour had to offer the world. As a struggling teenager, he shuffled between foster homes, not because he had been taken away from his family by child protective services, although that should have been the case, but because his mother said she couldn't quote unquote handle him anymore. She surrendered her parental rights on her own volition. William didn't fare much better with his various new families. His family's tradition of trauma loomed behind him like a shadow. In the eighth grade, when most kids were taunting each other and trying on their middle school

graduation gowns, William was zipping up a pint-sized orange jumpsuit. At only 14 years old, he racked up his first criminal charge, and not for dumb teenager stuff like shoplifting from a CVS, but for heroin possession. The big leaks, real adult crime. Next stop, Juvie. news spread through the halls of Jennifer's school fast. William's arrest was the talk of the teens gossiping between classes at their lockers. Such a loner, so reserved, of course he was scheming. It's always the quiet ones. Jennifer knew exactly what they meant. She saw how he carried himself and kept to himself, and he never gave her any trouble personally, but she didn't trust him. Her gut told her not to get near that boy, and if fate brought her near him, it told her to get out of

the way. But William was off to a correctional facility. Steering clear of him would be easy now. Easy, until the day he moved into her home. Jennifer Hudson tried not to make a scene. She didn't want her plea to be obvious. She stood steady on the bright blue American Idol stage next to future Idol winner Fantasia Burino. They clasped sweaty palms and dug their manicured nails

into each other's hands. Jennifer didn't close her eyes like people did in the movies. She looked right at the camera and she prayed. She prayed for her destiny to come together. 2004, Elimination Night. Please God, let me go home tonight. Jennifer prayed. I want to go home.

Ryan Seacrest granted her wish almost immediately. He announced the elimination without any phony reality TV suspense. That person is Jennifer Hudson. Jennifer smiled and took Fantasia into her arms. No tears fell from her eyes. No jitters made her wobble. offstage. This was right. It seemed wrong. Sure, Jennifer had absolutely dominated the Barry Manilow theme the night prior, but leaving was the right move for her. There was no shame in placing

seventh. American Idol was just another talent competition after all, and Jennifer cut her teeth on talent competitions growing up. She had her share of those tacky crowns from her teen years. She didn't need another one, even if it meant losing next a few weeks on air in front of America. When she packed her bags to return to Chicago, Jennifer was content. Chicago, on the other hand, was devastated. When it came to American Idol voting, the efforts of Jennifer's hometown usually went unmatched. Once Chicago had a local woman performing on such a big platform, churches across the region followed American Idol religiously.

Tuesday nights meant congregating at churches across the city who watched Jennifer compete. When the curtain fell on that last contestant every week, the flock dispersed from the pews, rushing home to dial in their votes for their very own Jenny from the block. Just weeks prior, Jennifer received the highest amount of votes that round. But God does indeed work in mysterious ways. On the night of Jennifer's final idle performance, a tornado stormed through Chicago, uprooting the power lines and phone lines as it tore through town. No phone service meant no phone calls, and no phone calls meant no votes for Jennifer.

far too few votes at least. The loss was a blow for Chicago, but not for Jennifer's pride. As she told MTV, I feel like that storm was a sign from God that it was time to remove me, and when he got something to say, I ain't got nothing to say about it.

It gave a whole new meaning to the Hudson's look at what God can do, catchphrase. But reality TV contestant or not, the public still had a lot to say about Jennifer Hudson. She wouldn't be another top 12 contestant who faded into a backdrop of has-been idol contenders famous for a few weeks and forgotten the next, her elimination had the opposite effect.

The shock surrounding America's decision kept all eyes on her, including the eyes of director and screenwriter Bill Condon. He could see that Jennifer was more than just a singer too, although her mountainous vocal chops were central to her charm. Those kind of vocal cords called for a special kind of role. A role like Effie White in his next picture, Dreamgirls, the Motown music flick inspired by the story of the Supremes.

Jennifer beat out Fantasia for the role, along with 782 other women who tried to do their best to recapture the magic of Motown. She didn't beat Beyoncé. She didn't have to. Beyonce was going to play her groupmate, Dina Jones, inspired by Diana Ross. She was going to be co-stars with Beyonce, Miss Destiny's Child, herself. That was a big enough feat for Jennifer. But on top of that, Jamie Ford,

Fox would also be by her side, as her love interest, lip blocks included. When filming wrapped, Jennifer's hype was so huge as she lined up a record deal with Arista Records before Dreamgirls even dropped. Arista founder Clive Davis literally bought out her existing deal to make sure her debut album was released under his label, and that was before she took home an Oscar. That's right. Jennifer Hudson won an Oscar for her first role in a movie, Ever. An accomplishment most Hollywood hopefuls would kill for, and Jennifer did it naturally. God's plan was on point. Jennifer knew it. Chicago knew it too. Even though her time was divided between countries and coasts, as she endured a rigorous schedule of international film festivals, press tours,

and recording sessions for her debut album. But no matter where her newfound fame took her, whenever she could, she spent time in Englewood where her mother, brother, sister, and nephew still shared her home together. When Jennifer was in town, they ate the same meals as she did as a child, recited the same prayers with the same conviction. But one day, when Jennifer returned home, there was a new face at the family dinner table. William Balfour. Jennifer hadn't seen him in at least a decade. He was older now, more muscular. People called him flex because he was so cut. He was also more set in his ways. Jennifer's feelings towards him hadn't changed. and William hadn't changed much either.

After his time in Jury, William rejected his life as a foster kid. The constant motion, the fake families. Fuck that. He was over it, he thought. Instead, he opted for a life on the streets. From there, William took up with the gangster disciples, one of the largest gangs in Chicago. Only three years after his arrest for heroin possession,

he upgraded his criminal record to include vehicular hijacking and attempted murder. At 17 years old, William not only stole a car, but he tried to toss the car's owner to his death while the owner desperately clung to the roof. William swerved and sped his way right into another seven years behind bars. And in a cruel twist of fate, when William emerged from prison in 2006, he waltz straight into the heart of Jennifer's sister, Julia.

Julia was smitten. Jennifer was confused, to say the least, and appalled. She tried to bargain with her sister. What did she want? A house of her own, a new car, a lavish vacation? Jennifer had money now. A-list movie money. She would buy Julia anything she wanted, anything she didn't marry William.

But Julia was unmoved by the material bribes. William was good, she insisted, and a good stepfather to Julia's seven-year-old Julian. He even wrote Proud Parent on his MySpace bio. Her heart insisted upon a wedding, insisted. upon William. And the couple read the room and then got the hell out of that room, eloping in late 2006. William was always welcome at the Hudson's table, of course. Embracing an outsider with acceptance and tolerance was a Christian way. But once William moved into the Hudson household, the Hudson's had a front row seat to his relationship with Julia. The more they saw, the more their opinion of

William shrank. William did not love Julia. He thought he did. He signed marriage papers proclaiming that he did, but what William felt towards Julia was something far more sinister. His feelings bordered on ownership. Jealousy coursed through him like second nature. If Julia was going to love anybody, it was going to be him. End of discussion. He had his happy family now, and he wasn't about to lose it over anything or anybody. In William's mind, Julia owed him her affection. All of it, hugging other people set him off. Kisses made his blood curl. Didn't matter who Julia was embracing. her mother, her sister, even her seven-year-old son that William was supposedly a proud parent of. His heart grew green and his cheeks flushed red at the sight of any affection given to anyone else.

If Julia was loving someone else and she wasn't loving William, and William couldn't accept that kind of traitorous behavior. Mind you, this is how William felt when Julia shared affection with her own family, people she literally could not cheat on him with. Imagine if she hugged a friend, a coworker, another man. What would that push him to do? do. Julia didn't wait to find out. She couldn't afford to. She disregarded their vows and tossed William and his wicked tantrums out on the street. He successfully shot down their whirlwind romance and

cold blood and their marriage was dead. It should have been a moment of relief for the Hudson's. Should have been. But William was a possessive man. Worse, he was a determined one. William moved out and claimed to move on to another woman. But he never strayed far from South L. Avenue to check up on what his wife was doing, who she was doing. If he couldn't catch a good glimpse from Julia's bedroom window on the first floor, he'd ask around town. Was Julia, you know, seeing anybody? His subtlety ended there. He had plans, dark plans. He was going to kill the whole Hudson family if Julia so much has stepped outside with another man. He'd shoot him all one by one, and he'd take care of Julia last, so she'd have to watch them.

pulled the trigger over and over again, repainting the walls, one blood-soaked shot at a time. He told Julia this to her face. He told the neighbors to their faces. His intentions were the worst kept secret in Englewood. William's threats drew closer when someone invaded the Hudson's home in 2008, and the burglar left with no money, no jewels or electronics, just a house key and a 45 belonging to Jennifer's brother, Jason. This had nothing to do with making a quick buck off a break-in. Jennifer couldn't contain her concern anymore. This was even bigger than Julia now. This man planned to gun down, all of them. Jennifer begged her mother to move. She offered her mother darn out a new house, right here in Chicago. She didn't have to go far. She couldn't stay here.

It was a death wish otherwise. Her mother, like all brave parents, appeared unbothered. She said William could touch her family over her dead body. That's a real quote. So William Did. William peaked into Julia's bedroom window for the final time on October 24th, 2008. He spotted Julia before his eyes moved to a bundle of birthday balloons occupying the corner of her room. Hearts on shiny Mylar. Lots of them. William didn't need any additional proof that a new man was in the picture.

He rapped on the window, shouted at Julia, asked her what the fuck she was up to, seeing another man. He harassed her as she walked out the front door on her way to her shift, the school bus driver. William's rage energized him. He spouted off for as long as Julia would humor him. When she ran out of steam, she left him for a second time, abandoned him once again in the front yard. But William hadn't set his peace, not all of it. In his mind, Julia had just started some shit, and he was going to finish it. We'll be right back after this word, word, word. Julia Hudson noticed the bullet hole in the door first. She knew what was waiting for her behind the door before she opened it.

She burst through anyways. Her mother, Darnel Donnerson, faced down on the carpet, bullets buried in her back. Her white nightgown stained, her body gone cold in a pool of her own blood. Once Julia opened her mouth to screen, she couldn't stop, couldn't control the howls coming from the depths of her lungs, shooting up from her stomach. Upstairs in his bed, her brother Jason succumbed to the same fate, shot dead in bed, murdered while he was sleeping when he didn't stand a chance of defending himself. But somehow, the worst discovery was yet to come. In between morning moans, Julia realized she was the only person at home.

Her son Julian had been here when she left for work that morning. She was sure of him. She remembered him tumbling around on his green tricycle, but she couldn't hear his frantic little feet pedaling away, nor his giggle or hurried footsteps down the stairs. The silence of the house shook her. Julian wasn't home. Maybe he was still alive. Please let him be still alive. Jason's white suburban had vanished from the curb too, vehicular hijacking. That certainly sounded familiar. It could be a kidnapping. That was better than murder, at least. Barely. Julia dialed 911. In a day, she spoke and panicked fragments, claiming she didn't know what happened. But deep down inside her,

she knew exactly what happened. She knew who had been there, who had fulfilled his promise. She used to wear his ring on her finger. Julia's tearful next call was to her sister, Jennifer Hudson, who was sunning herself 1,000 miles away in Florida. Jennifer's then-husband, David Otanga, was holed up in the Sunshine State for rigorous pro-wrestling training. Jennifer tagged along on a whim to escape. the October chill of Chicago. It was a whim that saved her life. Jennifer's blood turned to ice when Julia struggled to get the words out over the phone. Mama was dead. Jason dead and Julian missing. Jennifer knew if she had been home that day, she would be a third body on the ground, soaking in a

crimson puddle. While Jennifer raced out of Florida on the next available flight, police raced to the main suspect, William Balfour. Police found William across town on Chicago's west side at his new girlfriend's pad. They arrested him on the spot and carted him downtown for more information, locked him in an interrogation room. William had been the Hudson Household earlier that morning after all. Cops questioned him up and down, and William recited his story with ease. Sure, he had argued with Julia earlier in that day, but came home after, caught the bus and the train to get across town. He'd been here with his new boo ever since.

And the little boy, Julian, he hadn't seen him since that morning either, riding his tricycle around the yard. William said that he hoped the kid was okay. There were no fewer than three lies in this statement. According to public transportation data, William hadn't used his pass for the bus that day, and there was no footage of him on the train platform that afternoon either. Data from William's phone provider even demonstrated that William was in the area of the Hudson household well passed his morning argument with Julia. In fact, he was in that area right around the time those guys,

gunshots rang out on South Yale Avenue. Not a good look for William, but he wouldn't budge on his alibi. When William stuck to his story, hours without Julian ticked away. His absence widened the hole in the hearts of the Hudson family. Amber alerts ran across the bottom of every TV screen in Chicago. In the nearby new Calvary Light Pentecostal Church replaced their lawn signs, usual words of wisdom with help find Julian King in a phone number. Within 24 hours, the FBI joined the Chicago. police in the search for the little boy nickname Juice Box. And there was still hope. Julian was out there somewhere.

Maybe in the back of that white suburban. Maybe breathing. Jennifer and Julia held hands and held out hope. But their spirits have been weakened, brittle, and broken in a matter of hours. They needed strength and security. So they went to the place where they felt safest. They went to church. News anchors set their cameras in the pews at Pleasant Gift Missionary Baptist.

church on October 25th, one day after the murders of Jennifer Hudson's mother and brother. Julia, Jennifer Hudson's sister, stood behind the podium to share her plea with the press. She implored viewers for her son, Julian's life, as tears trickled down her cheeks. I don't care who you are. Just let my baby go. I just want my son back. He doesn't deserve this. The broadcast ended. The search for Julian went on. Another 24 hours crawled by. And that's when Jennifer up the stakes and announced a $100,000 reward for her nephew's safe return. Now, there was nothing left to do but pray. Their hands trembled.

Another our father. One more Hail Mary, just for good measure. They let the recitations sue them, distract them, steady them. In the background, someone read Psalm 19 on repeat, his eyes never wavering from the Bible in his hand. The heavens declare the glory of God. the skies proclaimed the work of his hands, day after day they pour forth speech, night after night they reveal knowledge. White memorial crosses stood tall in front of the Hudson home, each covered in morning messages and endless God bless yous. Photos of Jennifer Hudson's brother

and mother littered the yard. A pile of stuffed animals on the lawn grew into a mountain. The family and friends encircling the Hudson home had been there for days. Their memorial for the Hudson's was alive, living, breathing, praying. But right now, at this very moment, they needed strength from the Lord more than ever before. Police found a white suburban that matched the description of the Amber Alert, and that was the good news. The bad news was that they found a little boy inside,

dead under a shower curtain, two bullets in his brain, shot execution style. Once police made the gruesome discovery inside the van, They scoured the surrounding area and located a gun nestled in a grassy vacant lot. Forensics confirmed it was a match for all three murders. While the crowd at South Yale Avenue clasped their hands in prayer, Jennifer and Julia drove to Cook County Medical Center for the second time that week to identify the body. Jennifer confirmed it.

It was the third body she had to ID in less than a week. Her family's tragedy was now a triple homicide. Triple, the heartbreak. Her mother's words echoed in Jennifer Hudson's ears. Over my dead. Jennifer Hudson saw the police tape on the street before she could even park her car. Her stomach instantly twisted into a knot.

She knew damn well the crowd lining the sidewalk was too big for there to be any good news waiting from the other side of that yellow tape. She bolted from the driver's seat without bothering to lock the car behind her. Jennifer elbowed strangers and neighbors out of the way, forced herself to the front of the bystanders. She froze when she reached the edge of the crime scene.

Her daughter, Patty, rested underneath a bloody white sheet. The sheet did not rise and fall with her breath. It lay still, and so did Patty, just like she would for the rest of eternity. She was the victim of a few stray bullets, authorities told Jennifer, another accidental casualty caught between beefing gangs. Jennifer wailed, not the despairing kind, the irate kind, The blood-boiling kind.

Did no one see anything? Did no one have anything to confess to? She locked eyes with every person in the crowd as she lashed out. Were they just going to stand by as her daughter bled out? Would they just going to stand there? Stupified? Cut! Spike Lee's voice rang out from the director's chair.

From where Spike Lee was sitting, Jennifer's acting chops hadn't been eroded by grief at all. Maybe the heartache had actually emboldened her. The camera crew captured the grip. being seen in a single take, won and done. Jennifer earned the Academy Award in her first role for a reason. At first, Jennifer Hudson couldn't believe it when Spike Lee approached her for a role in his 2015 movie Shirek, and for a role that hit so close to home, too. She played Irene, a local mother who we meet as she mourns the sudden death of her 11-year-old daughter, lost to the gang

violence plaguing Chicago. Irene wasn't real, but her story basically was. Jennifer's fate in Englewood hadn't played out all that differently. It pained Jennifer to step into those shoes again, to feel her blood go cold in an instant, to see a child senselessly murdered, even if it was just pretend this time. But if telling Irene's story meant another person might be saved from a similar fate, it was worth the re-emerction.

Jennifer Hudson didn't want revenge. She didn't crave a cruel fate for William Balfour. She just wanted justice, for her fallen family members, for the senseless bloodshed. She already had secured some of that justice when William Balfour was tried just a few years earlier in 2012. By the time William appeared in court,

four years had passed since he murdered half the Hudson family. Jennifer hadn't forgotten a thing. She remembered the way William had made her uneasy since elementary school, all the times he threw a tantrum over hugs amongst family members. And perhaps worst of all,

she remembered how he had boasted about killing half the Hudson family to Julia, to the neighborhood, and to anyone who would listen. Jennifer requested to testify first at William's trial to ensure that this information was front and center. She needed the jury to understand William's character, his lack of character, actually. In 18 hours, the jury found William guilty of triple homicide, home invasion, aggravated kidnapping, residential burglary, and possession of a stolen vehicle. he'd spend three lifetimes in prison for his crimes, plus another 120 years. As the judge slammed the gavel, he left William with the following assessment.

You have the heart of an Arctic night, and your soul is as barren as deep space. When William went back to his prison cell, Jennifer Hudson went back to her family's graves for the first time since she buried them. She could finally look them in the eyes, so to speak, and tell them William would wither into old age, behind bars. Her mother, Jason, and Julian. She wanted them all to know how she dug up everything she could remember about William's history with her family for that trial. But she remembered some other things about William too.

The way he was raised, the violence that stained his family history, at least three generations deep passed on to him through a cruel childhood. How lucky she was to have never experienced such brutality. To have a faith and family that surrounded her that gave her voice a purpose. that filled her life with warmth so her heart could never ice over. Not even after a murder. Not even after three murders. Jennifer Hudson publicly forgave William Balfour.

He never had a chance, she said. Never had a chance to live anything but a life of violence. So we saw two at the three other people would never have the chance to live long, happy lives themselves. So many people never had a chance. Jennifer Hudson walked back on to set. It was time to film the aftermath of her. one-take crime scene. She knelt down with a bucket of soapy water.

She dumped some suds onto the ground where her fictional daughter was slain. Pain pricked her fingertips as she started scrubbing at the blood-stained pavement. Old wounds reopened. The water deepened to a morbid, shaved red. The stain was starting to come off the pavement. Her work here was nearly done.

So many people never had a chance, she remembered. She needed to make it through this scene so someone else could have a chance. Look at what she could do. Look at what God can help her do. Jennifer leaned back on her knees. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath,

and she prayed. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelandpod.com. If you're listening as a Disgraceland,

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