Client Stories
The First Family - Leon’s Story
By Douglas Ammar
At Leon’s one-year clean “birthday” party, he paid me the highest compliment. Leon asked me to give him his chip (his one-year clean medallion – a 12-Step tradition). With most of the staff in attendance Leon said that GJP was his first family. GJP had weathered storms with Leon: two cases, one parole revocation, prison time, addiction, working with New Horizon Landscaping, encouraging him to confront his past, holding his hand and loving him all the while. We had been up and down with Leon. That night was a time to celebrate our journey together.
It took a tragic and senseless death to bring Leon and GJP together. Nearly four years ago, on a clear Sunday afternoon in an Atlanta housing project, three teenage boys were horsing around upstairs. Leon and the boy’s mother were downstairs. As the boys got ready to go to the mall, the oldest (Ed,16) found a gun. Ed started playing with it, pointing it around the room, and then the gun went off, accidentally killing his 14-year-old brother Kevin.
By Douglas Ammar
At Leon’s one-year clean “birthday” party, he paid me the highest compliment. Leon asked me to give him his chip (his one-year clean medallion – a 12-Step tradition). With most of the staff in attendance Leon said that GJP was his first family. GJP had weathered storms with Leon: two cases, one parole revocation, prison time, addiction, working with New Horizon Landscaping, encouraging him to confront his past, holding his hand and loving him all the while. We had been up and down with Leon. That night was a time to celebrate our journey together.
It took a tragic and senseless death to bring Leon and GJP together. Nearly four years ago, on a clear Sunday afternoon in an Atlanta housing project, three teenage boys were horsing around upstairs. Leon and the boy’s mother were downstairs. As the boys got ready to go to the mall, the oldest (Ed,16) found a gun. Ed started playing with it, pointing it around the room, and then the gun went off, accidentally killing his 14-year-old brother Kevin.
Bonner’s Story
__By David Rocchio__
Locked up at age 16 and sentenced to five years, he had already served three when we met. He was a convicted armed robber, the first prisoner that I met in Georgia. In the car on the way to the prison, I learned of the particulars regarding his case: after finishing work he had gotten drunk and robbed a woman walking down the street. He didn’t know her. It was a random act of violence. His mother contacted Georgia Justice Project (GJP) soon after he was arrested. We agreed to represent him believing that our holistic approach could make a difference in his life. He failed three lie detector tests before breaking down and admitting that he committed the crime. As is our practice, we continued the relationship with him, regardless of the outcome of the case. This would be a standard visit—one of about 25 that I would perform that year. My stomach was churning.
__By David Rocchio__
Locked up at age 16 and sentenced to five years, he had already served three when we met. He was a convicted armed robber, the first prisoner that I met in Georgia. In the car on the way to the prison, I learned of the particulars regarding his case: after finishing work he had gotten drunk and robbed a woman walking down the street. He didn’t know her. It was a random act of violence. His mother contacted Georgia Justice Project (GJP) soon after he was arrested. We agreed to represent him believing that our holistic approach could make a difference in his life. He failed three lie detector tests before breaking down and admitting that he committed the crime. As is our practice, we continued the relationship with him, regardless of the outcome of the case. This would be a standard visit—one of about 25 that I would perform that year. My stomach was churning.
Darrick’s Story
The crime occurred at 9:00 pm. A neighbor saw Darrick standing by a car. Ten minutes later the police arrested him as he walked around the neighborhood. He was charged with breaking into the car. It seemed like an open and shut case…except that he was merely at the crime scene, which is not a crime. Except that Darrick was innocent. Except that Darrick was mentally retarded. Yet, the system threatened to roll over him like it does so many.
Usually a two-page police report is the Court’s sole source for the alleged facts of a crime. One side of a story hurriedly scribbled down. Not because the Court or the prosecutors can’t get more information—it is because they don’t. Deals are made in the blink of an eye, based on limited information and hardly any investigation. And with 80%-90% of those in the criminal justice system being poor, few middle or upper class citizens are exposed to this injustice.
The crime occurred at 9:00 pm. A neighbor saw Darrick standing by a car. Ten minutes later the police arrested him as he walked around the neighborhood. He was charged with breaking into the car. It seemed like an open and shut case…except that he was merely at the crime scene, which is not a crime. Except that Darrick was innocent. Except that Darrick was mentally retarded. Yet, the system threatened to roll over him like it does so many.
Usually a two-page police report is the Court’s sole source for the alleged facts of a crime. One side of a story hurriedly scribbled down. Not because the Court or the prosecutors can’t get more information—it is because they don’t. Deals are made in the blink of an eye, based on limited information and hardly any investigation. And with 80%-90% of those in the criminal justice system being poor, few middle or upper class citizens are exposed to this injustice.
Cedric’s Story
__By Douglas Ammar__%%%
Originally published in “Matters of Justice,” Spring 1998
Five years ago, Cedric called GJP. In jail for his umpteenth drug related case, he wanted legal help. His drug addiction had landed him in jail and prison more times than he could count. He was tired. There was a problem . . . and he didn’t have the answer.
We conditioned our representation on Cedric getting help. If he were willing to get clean, then we would be his lawyers. In jail, faced with little hope, not surprisingly he agreed. We filed a bond motion, argued for his release, and arranged a spot for him in a treatment center.
__By Douglas Ammar__%%%
Originally published in “Matters of Justice,” Spring 1998
Five years ago, Cedric called GJP. In jail for his umpteenth drug related case, he wanted legal help. His drug addiction had landed him in jail and prison more times than he could count. He was tired. There was a problem . . . and he didn’t have the answer.
We conditioned our representation on Cedric getting help. If he were willing to get clean, then we would be his lawyers. In jail, faced with little hope, not surprisingly he agreed. We filed a bond motion, argued for his release, and arranged a spot for him in a treatment center.
Lose By Winning - Juliana's Story
__By Douglas Ammar__%%%
Originally published in “Matters if Justice” August 20 & September 3, 1993
The fall dew covered her face and arms making her think, when she woke up, that it had rained during the night. Her hands reached for the pain in her neck and throat—sore and burning from the rope. Her aching body informed her that she had been unsuccessful—she was still alive. She rose from the grass. It was 5:30 a.m. and still dark. The horror of the night before was not fiction. It was not a bad dream. She had fallen asleep on the grass three miles from her apartment. She had walked there. A quarter was all she had in her pocket. There was only one person to call, her identical twin sister Juliette.
__By Douglas Ammar__%%%
Originally published in “Matters if Justice” August 20 & September 3, 1993
The fall dew covered her face and arms making her think, when she woke up, that it had rained during the night. Her hands reached for the pain in her neck and throat—sore and burning from the rope. Her aching body informed her that she had been unsuccessful—she was still alive. She rose from the grass. It was 5:30 a.m. and still dark. The horror of the night before was not fiction. It was not a bad dream. She had fallen asleep on the grass three miles from her apartment. She had walked there. A quarter was all she had in her pocket. There was only one person to call, her identical twin sister Juliette.
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