I still remember the day, Aug. 17, 2017, when we got to pick our clients. As one of two 3Ls in the Parole and Reentry Clinic, I got first pick from all the clients. One of the clients, Henry Montgomery, was an instant hit with all of the students because of his historical importance.1 However, the client that stuck out the most to me was Frederick Thomas. He was a hard worker, extremely trusted and liked by the prison staff, stayed out of trouble, but otherwise there was nothing extraordinary about Frederick on paper.
Shelby Carroll
Before I first met Frederick, I only knew who he was on paper; more specifically, his prison record. What the record told me was Frederick and his brother, Roderick, both took a plea for second degree murder in 1974. The two brothers, together, were involved in a robbery gone bad that resulted in two people being shot: one of whom later died. Frederick was only 17, Roderick was only 16 years old, and both were originally sentenced to life without parole.2 The two brothers had spent the last 43 years together in Angola. They were even in the same dorm and worked in the carpentry shop together.
The first time I went to visit Frederick at Angola, I remember being so nervous and asking myself if I really thought this man even deserved a chance at parole. I was able to answer my question within the first five minutes of our meeting. Once we introduced ourselves, the first thing Frederick asked me was why we, the Parole and Reentry Clinic, did not take his brother’s case and if I would take his brother’s case instead of his. After 43 years, this man was so concerned about his brother that he was willing to give up his chance at release for his brother. This genuine act made me realize that this man, whom I was initially scared of, was probably one of the most unselfish people I have ever encountered. The kind and thoughtful 61-year-old man that I met was nothing like the 17-year-old I read about on paper.
The day of Frederick’s hearing, Nov. 9, 2017, I got to meet Frederick’s mother. At over 80 years old, she had spent almost half of her life visiting her sons at Angola. Even after 43 years, she never gave up on her sons. To say I was nervous the day of his hearing would be an understatement. For the first time in my legal career, however, I was not nervous because I thought I might mess up and embarrass myself. Instead, I was nervous that after 43 years, this man and this family were going to be let down once again, and his mom might not ever see her son outside of the walls of Angola. It was no longer about me winning; it was about giving this man a second chance at life and giving this family some hope for the future.
Once Frederick was granted parole, we went back to the family visiting area where Roderick, the brother whose case Fredrick wanted us to handle instead of his own, was waiting to hear how the hearing had gone. When Frederick told him he had been granted parole, Roderick hugged him and began crying tears of joy. Roderick was never jealous or angry that Frederick was getting to go home before him. As I left Angola on Nov. 9, I remember looking back over my shoulder at the Thomas family. They were sitting together, as a family, talking and making plans for Frederick’s release. There is no other feeling like the one I got that day knowing I got to give a family back one of their loved ones. However, there was still one piece missing: Roderick.
Frederick, left, and Roderick Thomas are reunited outside of the Angola State Penitentiary as free men for the first time in 43 years.
Since the Parole and Reentry Clinic is only offered in the fall, I signed up for a field placement with the Louisiana Parole Project for the spring semester because I knew that Roderick had his hearing date set for Feb. 8. I met with Roderick several times and soon found out that he was as genuine and kind as his brother. When Feb. 8 came around, we entered the hearing knowing that the odds were stacked against us. The board had already denied several other individuals who were convicted of less serious offenses than Roderick, who had plead to second degree murder stemming from the same offense as Fredrick. Once we entered the hearing room, we had to wait 10 minutes before the Board would address us. In those 10 minutes I saw Roderick’s nerves were getting the best of him, so I placed my hand on his arm and reassured him that he had earned this second chance. I thought to myself I have never wanted something for someone else so badly.
The picture of the Thomas brothers together outside of Angola, as free men, tells an extraordinary story about redemption, second chances, and hope. What the picture does not depict is everything I learned and experienced throughout their journey. During my clinic and field placement, I was given the rare opportunity, as a student, to appear in front of a government agency and advocate for my clients — cases only I worked on (under a licensed attorney’s supervision, of course). While the mandatory Trial Advocacy class helps, it is not able to replicate the feelings and pressure that comes along with representing a real client and knowing that your actions will likely affect this individual and their family for the rest of their lives. As a law student, we are not taught how to interact with clients and their families. There is no class on how manage client expectations, how to build relationships with clients, or how the simple act of placing your hand on their arm can calm their nerves. These are only things that you learn through experience.
On a personal level, my clinic and field placement taught me not to judge people based on their past, but instead to look at who they are now. They made me believe and that we, as humans, should not be defined by our worst actions, but instead should be defined by the good we have caused. Frederick and Roderick taught me the power of hope and familial love. But most importantly they gave me the privilege of being able to give two men a second chance at life and make a family whole once again after 43 years.
