NYC NOW - They Made a Promise in Prison. It Took 30 Years to Keep It.

Episode Date: April 8, 2026

Jabbar Collins was wrongfully convicted of murder in 1994 and spent years teaching himself the law before winning his freedom in 2010. Before leaving prison, he made a promise to fellow inmate Allen Porter, who was serving time for a double murder in a separate case, that he would help prove his innocence. Porter had been incarcerated since 1995. After his release, Collins kept that promise, continuing the legal fight that ultimately led a judge to vacate Porter’s conviction in January 2025, citing withheld evidence. Now, the two join us to talk about the bond they formed behind bars and the fight that led to Porter’s release. Read Graham Rayman’s full report on Allen Porter and Jabbar Collins on Gothamist: https://gothamist.com/news/exonerated-for-murder-jabbar-collins-is-a-force-of-nature-fighting-for-ny-prisoners​​ ​​​-Got any questions, comments or story ideas? Send us a message at [e-mail]

From WNYC, this is NYC Now. I'm Jenae Pierre. After more than three decades in prison, a queen's man's double murder conviction was tossed out with help from a friend he made while locked up. On today's episode, we share the journey to freedom for Alan Porter and Jabar Collins. But first, here's what's happening in New York City.

Prosecutors say the Long Island architect accused of killing women and hiding their remains in Suffolk County is pleading guilty to seven murders and admitting to killing an eighth woman. The admissions bring to a close one of the most chilling serial murder cases in New York history. 62-year-old Rex Heuerman had previously pleaded not guilty to murder charges. Prosecutors say he killed seven women, many of them sex workers, and buried their remains near Gilgo Beach over a period of nearly two decades. His attorneys were not immediately reachable for comment. Mayor Zoramam Dhani says he may

keep the NYPD's gang database, pointing to reforms made before he took office. The database tracks thousands of people police say are gang members or associates. About 98% are black or Latino. As a candidate, Mamdani called the database a vast drag net and pushed to abolish it. Now, he says changes already made by the NYPD are part of an ongoing review. The NYPD has also implemented a number of reforms as per the recommendation that came through, and the implementation of those reforms and the results of that are part of the active discussion that we're having. An NYPD spokesperson says the changes stem from a Department of Investigation report that found progress, but more reforms are needed.

The New York Transit Museum is marking 50 years, with several events across the city. The museum is based in a decommissioned subway station in Brooklyn. It opened back in 1976 as a temporary exhibit, but since then, it's great, grown into the largest museum in North America dedicated to mass transit. Organizers say the anniversary celebration will include vintage train rides, a citywide scavenger hunt, and a new exhibit on transit history. Events kick off later this month with a nostalgia ride featuring century-old subway cars. Museum leaders say the goal is to highlight the people and stories behind New York's transit

system. The Green Haven Correctional Facility is where Jabar Collins was where Jabar Collins was a high-year-old would meet Alan Porter. The two men would play remarkable roles in each other's lives behind bars and on their roads to freedom. That's ahead after a quick break. Thirty years ago, Alan Porter was convicted of two murders tied to drug crew violence in Queens. He was sentenced to 48 years to life and sent to Greenhaven Correctional Facility where he would

spend nearly three decades. About a year into that sentence, he met Jabbar Collins in the prison chapel. The two men, they had a lot in common. Porter was from the Woodside Houses. Collins was from Williamsburg, Brooklyn. They were both devout Christians, and Collins said he was also locked up for a murder he didn't commit. The two became close friends.

Collins was spending hours in the law library, becoming a self-taught expert in public records requests. I had been railroaded so thoroughly during my trial, and I said I would never trust anyone else to be my safety. I would have to do it myself. In 2010, Collins' conviction was overturned. But before Collins was released, he made a promise to Porter.

Collins said he'd try to help Porter clear his own name, too. I said, Al, I promise you, I'm not going to forget you that I'm going to go ahead and I'm going to bring you home. For the next 15 years, Collins followed through on that promise. He filed records requests, sued agencies for evidence, and pushed for documents that had never been turned over. In January, a judge vacated Porter's conviction, ruling that prosecutors withheld material that could have changed the outcome of the case. Porter had spent nearly three decades in prison.

When he was released from court, Collins was there to greet him. Alan Porter and Jabbar Collins are here with me in studio now to talk about how that promise survived nearly 30 years inside prison and what it took to turn that into freedom. Welcome, gentlemen. Thank you. Thank you. Take me back to 1997. Alan, you're about a year into a 48 year to life sentence. What was Green Haven like for you?

Green Haven was like a totally different world for me because I had spent nearly four years on Rikers Island. And Rikers Island was a madhouse. It wasn't as much of a control environment as the upstate prisons were. So once you get upstate, you kind of know that the atmosphere is different. The seriousness, the level of the violence can be a little bit more exponential. It can be a little bit more severe. So it was a different experience for me in terms of understanding that my life is now seriously altered. Right, because Island, it was altered.

But once you get upstate and you're in a prison setting, you know that there's a distinct difference between being in the county jail. and being in now a maximum security prison. Yeah, let's go back even further before 1997. What was life like for you as a free man before then? Life for me as a free man before then, it was filled with church and church experiences. My mom is a devout Christian. She was an ordained minister and an evangelist. And I grew up going to the church choir and church services, sometimes revivals, etc., etc.

So I had an extensive church experience. Unfortunately, there came a time when in my teens I began selling weed. And after that, there was a guy that came home from prison from upstate. And he kind of took me under his wing. And unfortunately, I began to deal under him. It really was the worst decision I could have made in my life. So the church boy goes left. ends up at Rikers Island, then Greenhaven Correctional Facility, where you met Jabbar.

Can you tell me about that meeting? Yeah, I can tell you a lot about that meeting. I met Jabbar in the chapel services. There are two types of services you have. You have the big service where you're in the auditorium. It's an auditorium-style environment where it's like maybe 200 chairs. Guest speakers come in to speak to us, to minister to us. And then there's a chapel area where it's a much small.

smaller area and it's in that area that many of us congregate and we talk more and get to know each other a little bit better because it's a more intimate area. It was there that Jabbar and I began to talk and to share our different experiences that he's from the Burrinquan houses in Brooklyn and I'm from Woodside houses. We're both from project areas. So we just began sharing our different experiences growing up in New York City. As each week went by and we saw each other in different services, We began talking more, began communicating more, revealing a little bit more about ourselves to each other.

And the friendship just, it blossomed into what it is today. And, Alan, your mom was like a true prayer warrior throughout all of this, even before you met Jabbar. In fact, your mom started a prison ministry at Rikers Island. Can you talk briefly about that? Yes, I can. I was on Rikers Island. It was 1995, the summer of 1995. and I used to attend services regularly in the facility,

this facility called OBCC, commonly known as no facility. And I approached the volunteer services coordinator one day after service. And I said, listen, my mom is a minister. Do you think maybe she can come in and, you know, probably do some ministry here, you know, minister to the men here? And he said, well, give me your information and I'll look into it and I'll see if she can come in. Sure enough, I'm.

I give him the information and my mom begins coming into the facility and ministering to the men there. And after my conviction, she was allowed to come back into the facility. And she began ministering to the men in this facility. And she started a not-for-profit prison ministry called Reach Out and Touch prison ministry, where they also have correspondence course, to my understanding, thousands of men. men have went through the correspondence course throughout the years. The ministry has been running for 30 years now since this time. She expanded from that one facility and went to like, I believe, four or five different

facilities on Rikers Island. And thousands of men and families have been impacted by the ministry. In that respect, you know, God used a bad situation to create something that was really good and something that impacted thousands and thousands of lives. Yeah. Jabar, I understand that you two are close in age. He's older than me. That's true.

Can you tell me what life was like for you before you entered Greenhaven correctional facility? Sure. So similar to Al, I grew up in the church. And after my dad died, we had moved into a housing project in Brooklyn. And my mom put herself through school and became a nurse. but with a lot of free time, I ended up hanging out around the way. I began to smoke weed like Alan. By the time I was convicted, I was a father.

I had three young children. And how old were you around this time? I was 21 years old at the time. And I was traumatized. I was still shell-shocked when I got to Greenhaven because Greenhaven was an absolutely bleak, dilapidated environment. If you could imagine a dirty, beat-up old college campus with bars everywhere and guards.

at every gate. And the misery, I remember looking at these old men and thinking to myself, these old men here, they came in when they were young men and I saw men's lives wasting away. And I was terrified that this was going to be my life. And I said, no, this can't be it. So between the trauma of what I had gone through hearing my mom screaming when I was convicted in court and my kids crying, I was absolutely focused on finding a way out. And I looked around and I saw that there was no one there to help me, and I had to do this on my own. So I knew that it would only be through the grace of God

that I would ever come home. So I was a man on a mission. There was such a burning fury for not only what had happened to me, but what happened to my family, and the prospect of leaving my children without their father. So when I fought, I didn't only fight for me. I fought for my mother, but I fought for my children too. and I had been railroaded so thoroughly during my trial because I saw how my trial attorney was ineffective,

how he was reading through paperwork while witnesses will understand how the prosecutor had suppressed mountains of evidence, how the judge went along with all this. And I said, I would never trust anyone else to be my savior. I would have to do it myself. So that was the difference. And while you were locked up, you'd be. began teaching yourself the law, working on your own case. What did you see in Allen when you met him?

Alan was different from the rest of the prison population. And that's something that always stands out. There's some people who glory in being in prison, glorying what they did. Alan was always the weird one. I was the weird one. I was not to say weird one, but we were both out of place. And it was evident that Alan wasn't supposed to be. It was evident that between his background and everything else.

And when I would speak to Alan, we would have private conversations when Alan had no reason to lie to me. You know, I'd accept him. He was a friend. We had been transparent with each other. And he would tell me with tears in his eyes about how this girl lied on him and how he didn't commit this crime. And what's so shocking about these cases is everyone I spoke to who were from the same area, they came in and they said the same thing. you know, Allen didn't commit this crime. So this was like an open secret with everyone who came from that neighborhood.

And I knew that he was wrongfully convicted and I knew that there was no way that I can leave him there. Alan, in 1998, your first appeal got denied. You've described that as sending you into some sort of tailspin. Can you describe that feeling? Yes, I was immensely disheartened because I thought that once the appeal took effect, that I would be vindicated, that the conviction would be overturned, and I thought that my life would begin to change in a direction that was more favorable to me. And so when it didn't happen, I was very disheartened.

I was very saddened by that. And as Jabbar explained, I was really hurt by the false testimony that took place in my case. So I just, I was paralyzed. And unfortunately, I didn't have the emotional energy or the emotional fortitude to really dig in really hard and double down on my case and fighting my case. But Jabbar saw that there was an insufficiency there for me to be able to tackle it myself. He was willing to come on board and help me navigate the legal system. try to do something to vindicate me and move towards my exoneration. Yeah.

There are tears in your eyes right now. Can you just describe the emotion you're feeling right now? It's very difficult for me to do that. The amount of time that I spent incarcerated was very traumatic for me. It's something that I deal with to this day. So it's very difficult to navigate those emotions. and to even express it. As Jabbar said, there's really no words in the English language

that can capture what it feels like to spend 34 years in prison. I spent more than two-thirds of my life incarcerated in prison. There were times when security guards would retire and then their children would come and work in prison. And now it's not this guard telling me to lock in, but it's his son telling me to lock in. I mean, this was literally the case. And I don't mean in one instance. I mean in several instances where the children of the parents that were security guards and correction officers in Green Haven would come to the prison now.

And there now, I'm under their authority. I'm under their control. And some of them wasn't born when I got to Green Haven. And now they're there and they're the ones giving me the order. So it was very traumatizing for me. Very traumatizing experience. And Jabbar, you're working on your own case. But when Allen's appeal was denied in 1998, you went to him.

And you said that, hey, man, I'm going to take on your case. Why did you take that on? Because by this time, I had loved Al. That was my brother. And I knew that if I didn't step in to do this, no one else would. Because the way that New York State works is after, a defendant receives a direct appeal. He has no entitlement to counsel or any type of representation from that point on.

And unless Allen was able to muster up the time and the ability to pour himself into his case and really be willing to carry that man, so there was no way he was going to get home. So it was one of those situations like, look, if I don't do this for him, he's going to die here. You mentioned that, you know, you had to take on your own case and that you would never put your life anyone else's hands, but you did hire a private investigator from inside prison? I did. Can you tell me how that works? Sure. Well, there were certain things that I couldn't do, obviously, because I was physically limited. I would have to hire private investigators, for example, to go out to attempt to interview a witness or maybe to go out and gather documents that I couldn't.

So I used a number of methods that gave me the ability to gather information from inside. So usually I would draft the memorandum detailing exactly what I wanted the investigator to do. And I would have a telephone conversation with the investigator and then trust him to go out and to execute that plan. This is very admirable to me, you know, to hear you working from inside a prison on your own case, spending so much time in a law library. How much time did you actually spend? And how do you teach yourself to take on your own case? So in terms of time, I went after the study of law in the same way a drowning man goes after air.

I would literally read myself to sleep. I had perfect vision, but within six months of being in prison, I needed glasses because I would literally read myself to sleep. It wasn't uncommon that every light in the prison would be off except my light at three, four o'clock in the morning. So I was fortunate to have a family who helped me. I had to build my own collection of books. And one of the things that I did was to employ some of the skills that investigative journalists would use. So I bought the investigative journalist handbook and books on skip tracing and locating individuals because there was this rich body of literature that talked about how to gain access to public records. We had a New York State Library where I would get briefs of appeals that had been successful,

and I could read over the briefs and see how lawyers structured their arguments. So I used a wide variety of sources. And I had my personal law library, my personal research data bank in my cell. And when I was on Rikers Island, I came by a book by Efflee Bailey, the defense never rests. And he said something that always stuck with me. He said, no matter how well thought out the strategy, no matter how brilliant, attorney, if the defense is not conducting an adequate factual investigation, then the defense is doomed to failure. And that resonated with me because when these witnesses came to testify

against me in my trial, I didn't know who they were. So I knew that I had to find out what had happened behind the scenes. And essentially, all of that worked out for you. Let's fast forward to 2010, you find out that, you know, you're going home after 16 years. What was that feeling like? It was surreal, but it felt familiar. This was something that I had been working on. It was like the Olympic athlete training, and then he finally gets a chance, gets a shot. And that's what it was for me.

It was surreal. It was a vindication that all of the sacrifices I made were worth it, that, you know, to see the joy on my family's faces, to know that my mom and my children's prayers weren't set in vain. And then the results in my case, which ultimately contributed to a new conviction review unit being created in Brooklyn that would ultimately free 40 men and the misconduct that it exposed. And I remember I had emailed my attorney. That was the first time I emailed in 16 years. They didn't have emails in the New York State prison system at the time.

And he said, Jabbar, you know, I just got a call from the DA's office and they're reevaluating the case to see if they can retry the case. case because we were right at the point in my case where the trial prosecutor who had suppressed all of this information was about to take the stand and he would have to testify on the oath and be confronting with this evidence. So we knew that they were trying to wiggle out of this. But he said that the DA's office was reevaluating the case and they weren't sure if they could ever retry the case. If they couldn't retry me that, they would dismiss all the charges. I would agree to that. And a couple hours later, he wrote me back and he said, Jabbar, we just got the word they agreed. So I remember I ran to make that email.

And I drafted an email to my mom and my sister. And I said, it's finally over. I'm coming home. So you're about to walk out of prison, right? Yep. What do you tell Alan? I said, Al, I promise you, I'm not going to forget you that I'm going to go ahead and I'm going to bring you home. And the next day, I came home.

The next morning I called his mom and I told his mom I wasn't going to forget about Al either. Jabbar, you felt vindicated. But, Alan, for you, you know, you've created this brotherhood, right, with Jabbar. What was your feeling when you found out that he was going home? I was immensely happy that he was going home. And I knew from being around Jabbar and like he said, that he would always help other people that he would help me and he would still be there for me. But I was never friends with Jabbar for his legal expertise or for his legal mind or for what I can get from his friendship. I was friends with him because I genuinely liked him and we had generally similar backgrounds.

And I think he was keenly aware of this. And I think that this was one of the motivating factors and why he stuck with me throughout all of the years in terms of being steadfast in keeping his promise. because it wasn't a friendship of convenes. It wasn't because, you know, this guy is good in the law. He knows his way around the law library that I'm his friend. I was happy for him, and I kind of knew that he was not going to, you know, fall on his word and not keep his word. That he would keep his word. So, Jabbar, you got a quick come up after you were freed.

You told me that you received a $13 million settlement for your own wrongful convention. And personally, I could think of a bunch of things to do with that kind of money. I mean, you could have moved anywhere in the world. You could be eating lobster and snow crabs each and every day on your private island, right? But instead, you decided to stay in New York City and you open your own investigations firm, Horizon Research Services. What was the thinking behind that? It's funny. I ended up resigning from my job.

I was working with a brilliant attorney, Joel, rooting and he was kind enough to offer me a job within a week after I was exonerated. So I worked for him for four years and it was an awesome experience. And but my mom died in 2013. And it changed the trajectory of my life because so much of my life had been built around making show my mom was all right. And I said that I was going to take a year off and go ahead and recalibrate. That lasted about six months. And I said, you know what? I love doing this work. There are people who I want to help. So I ended up forming Horizon Research Services because I had built up a skill set that I believe was useful in these cases.

And you indeed helped a lot of people. You contributed to at least 10 dismissals or reductions in prison time, including Allen's. And all told, I mean, your work has played a role in $48 million in legal settlements. How does that make you feel when you hear that? I mean, oh, I'm amazed. I would have never thought for a second that something so meaningful can come out of circumstances so horrible. So when I began my fight, I was focusing on myself and my family, to be honest, just to make it home. So I never realized the extent of the problem, and I never realized how God would use me and use my case to have such an impact.

So I'm amazed by it. Yeah. You went from focusing on one fight, your own case, to focusing on another. You sued the NYPD. You sued the Queens District Attorney's Office. And I'm just curious, like, what were those years like for you? You know, part of it was vindication because now I understood, you know, the first time I had had to go on through a system, I had it going through as a victim.

But now I was coming back as an advocate. So I understood how the system worked and I didn't need anyone to hold my hands. So it gave me a lot more confidence. And I had the benefit of meeting many brilliant attorneys along the way who helped me and who shaped me and who I had the ability to contribute to their practice as well. So it was an incredible experience. What were the differences as you worked on your case and you worked on Allen's? What were the differences in the two? I guess with my case, I always felt like I was a baby taking steps for the first time because there was no precedent for what I was doing.

There was no one I can turn to to ask if I was doing this right. So it was more like I was learning how to do this and finally I'm vindicated. I'm correct. I was right. So when I turned to Allen's case, I knew based on my track record that I was competent, that I wasn't deluding. myself that these strategies worked. I was able to employ them in Allen's case with far more confidence than I did in my case where this was the first time I was trying and creating these strategies. It wasn't like there was anyone I can turn to and say, hey, what do you think about this?

So it was really self-taught and it was my first time doing it with myself. So it was different without it. There was a lot more confidence when I went there. In 2021, you brought Allen's case to the Queens DA's conviction integrity unit. Alan, who had been convicted of two murders in Queens, had been inside for over two decades at this point. And initially, it seemed like the case was moving. Then something shifted. Yes. What happened? Initially, we had a positive reception from the Queen CRU. But then when we appeared for one particular meeting, there was an individual at the meeting who had never been present before. And we found out he was from the court. Appeals Bureau. And it seemed like the tone of the meeting shifted from that point on. And it seems

like they were being much more defensive as opposed to collaborative. And ultimately, we had a meeting with them with it. We had the Allen CRU application before them for two years. And then during this meeting, they told us that they would need an additional two years. And there was no way that they can tell us whether they would be in a position to answer to say, yay or nay, after that two years. period. So there was no way that we can keep Alan waiting for an additional two years in his family. So we made a strategic decision to withdraw his CRU application and to file a motion in court to overturn the conviction. Jabbar, the DA's office files a 175 page brief arguing there was no failure to disclose evidence. Then late August, one page surfaces. The original prosecutor's notes.

And it's showing that the DA knew about another suspect and five additional witnesses before trial and he never said a word. I can't imagine being a friend on the outside, knowing this information. How much did you go back and tell, Alan? Like, how much in the loop? Yeah. So when we finally obtained that one document that demonstrated the prosecutor knew that Al didn't do it, I remember reading it to Allen, he was just silent and he began to cry because I understood that that was the tipping point where we had that conclusive evidence. Al didn't do it.

I wasn't there. We had this written in the prosecutor's handwriting. So I knew that this was a turning point in the case. Alan, you're on the road to exoneration, right? On January 30th of this year, you're sitting in that courtroom. not knowing if you're going to go home, right, or back to that sale. Can you walk me through that day? Absolutely.

So in Green Haven where I was in prison, they wake you up at like 5 o'clock in the morning to take you to court. So it's still dark outside. And they woke me up. They take me down to the draft room where everybody leaves out to go wherever you're going to court or to another facility. They shackle you up and give you the garments, court clothes that they call it court clothes to take you to court. What's court clothes? You had a suit? I had a white collared shirt, brown khaki pants, and normally you would wear your state shoes out.

But in this particular time, this was the first time I'm going to court, and I know that the ruling is going to come down today. The judge had already said that January 30th will definitely be the day that I hand out my rule. So I knew that that day would be the day that I'm either going to come back to that prison cell and have to go through a gruesome appeal process or that I'll be released from prison that day. So they take me to court and I have these, I have a pair of personal shoes on that I have that I used to wear around the yard to jog in all the time. And coincidentally, I had literally imagined myself running in these same shoes in the street, in home. So I said, I'm going to wear these shoes home today. And when I went to the draft room, the officer, I told the officer, listen, I know that we normally

wear, you know, state shoes out there, but I'm wearing these down the court today. And he said, yeah, sure, Porter, no problem, you can wear that. You can wear those down. But just notice that when you come back, you only can come back with those. so my heart kind of sink because he doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know that today's the day that I anticipate. Not to see him again. Not to see him again, exactly.

So my heart sinks, and I don't say it to him, but I say it to myself. I hope that you never see me again. So they take me down to the courthouse. It's about an hour and a half trip, and my lawyer's coming to speak to me and just to tell me what to expect today, you know, what's happening, what's going to go on. and one of the lawyers come in with the judge's decision fresh off the press and I believe one of them took it

Jabbar took the motion from the lawyer he turns to the last page of the motion this is something that we all did in prison whenever you get some type of important court decision we all go to the very last page because that's the most important thing right that's what the judge's findings are He turns to the last page and he reads the last paragraph and that's it. It's the eureka moment that we were waiting for.

What did it say? I bust out in tears. In essence, it said, I don't remember verbatim, but Jabbar, why don't you jump in? I do. And as I read it, I got choked up too. It said that the motion was granted in no respects. And I like to add that Allen had spoken about how he came down with those running sneakers. I just wanted to make sure that you understand that they looked like busted orthopedic running shoes.

I don't know why he's talking about that, but they were just busted all around. Okay. Thank you. The shoes were personal to me. They were personal because these were the shoes that I used to run in the yard to not think about prison. It had more meaning to me than just a regular personal shoe because it because of what it signified. Yeah. So that's how I remember that.

And after this, you know, you two find each other outside of the courthouse. It's a New York City winter day, you know. It's snowing outside. And you two find each other. You embrace. You're emotional. What did you say to each other? You know, finally.

I didn't say one word to him. He didn't say one word to me. There was no need to exchange words. The only thing we can capture that could capture what that was with tears. Now, Alan cried that day. I was holding myself fighting back because, you know, the family was there and I kind of stood back and I saw Alan embrace his mom and everyone else. So I didn't break down until I got to the car and I closed the door and I was by myself

quietly because it was such a relief because not only had I been fighting to get my brother home, but I lived the daily trauma of seeing the anguish of his mother. I'm the one who had all the telephone calls. I'm the one who had to explain why there was another delay. So to finally thank God, this woman is free of that. And I'm free of the burden that I carry. It was released for me too. So I cried more, but I needed to do that personally and privately, you know, when I was

by myself. I understand that the DA has indicated it may appeal the ruling. Alan, you're out on bail. But the next court date is in October. how do you like how do you live with that in some respects I live with it the way I lived with it when I was in prison it's a wait-and-see thing and I'm just I'm just waiting for the day that I can fully have my life back I mean fully and completely so when there's no longer any type of cloud hanging over my head or wait you know it all wait exactly so it's it can be this this

you know, a bit disappointing, but I pray that the day will come when that cloud is fully removed. So we were very disappointing in the DA's decision to appeal. You know, this case had been through the CRU. It had gone through an extensive five-day hearing. The prosecutor himself had made many admissions during this hearing that he suppressed this evidence, that he failed to turn this over. And I think that Judge Johnson captured it. in her decision when she said that she was alarmed at some of the explanations or the ways that the DA attempted to explain this away. And this was such an extraordinary record. So we were very disappointed with the DA's decision to appeal because we believe that after this level of review

and considering the amount of evidence that was brought forth during the hearing that it compelled only one conclusion. And that's the conclusion Judge Johnson reached. Jabbar, you've been appointed twice now to the city's commission to combat police corruption. What does Allen's case represent to you in the larger context of that work? Sure. I think that Allen's case represents some of the failed policies of the early 1990s when the city was overwhelmed with the violence from the crack cocaine epidemic. And many of the local district attorneys essentially impoverimely. implemented get tough on crime policies.

And they were really scorched earth policies that just went ahead and prosecuted across the board. Many of the exonerations you see today, including my case. They were convictions obtained in the early 1990s when judges, prosecutors, and police looked the other way when many mostly poor and African American men were being railroaded. They were deprived of their constitutional rights. And this is the fallout you see from those policies. And it was the policymaker's response to the conditions at the time. So I think that we have to be vigilant that we never go back to those same times because Allen is exhibit A of what happens when a prosecution runs amok.

Alan, do you have anything to add? What are your takeaways? Yeah, my takeaways is that sometimes people are subject to being wrongly accused of things. And when there is an opportunity to correct that, that mistakes should be corrected. And everyone makes mistakes. Everyone is subject to doing that. But once you realize that a mistake has been made, the right thing to do is to own up to that and say, yes, a mistake has been made in this case.

That's my takeaway. That was Jabar Collins and Alan Porter. Thanks, gentlemen, for joining me today. Thank you. Thank you very much for having us. This story was brought to us by reporter Graham Raymond, who helped produce this episode, and he's been following Alan's case on our news site, Gothamist. So check that out when you get a moment.

His latest piece is linked in the description. Thanks so much for listening to NYC Now. I'm Jene Pierre. See you next time.