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From: Jean
Date: 11/26/01
Time: 3:53:49 PM
grand jury investigation. WEATHERLY'S ORDEAL Gene Weatherly, 43, knows now that he was a sitting duck for the police in 1984. At 25, he was already an unemployed, divorced father of two who had had at least two brushes with the law as a juvenile. Without a lawyer, Weatherly cooperated with police, giving photographs, hair samples and interviews. He produced three alibi witnesses who said he was cleaning out a shed at the time of the attack. But the police rapidly built a circumstantial case. He agreed to a polygraph, which, according to news reports, showed indications that he was being deceptive. In addition, said a prosecutor recently, "the composite sketch looked like Gene sat for it." And then there was Gilchrist's testimony. "My opinion is that the person wearing that tennis shoe had to have been associated or had to have been in the home of [the victim] either during the crime or after the crime," Gilchrist stated at Weatherly's May 1984 trial. He was convicted of attempted murder. Years later, Weatherly gained access to a police report that referred to identifiable bloody fingerprints at the scene — potentially exculpatory evidence — that were never given to his lawyers. Today, they are nowhere to be found. And earlier this year, the FBI retested the fibers in his case as part of the Gilchrist investigation. "None of the synthetic fibers" on his shoes was a match, the report stated. "The report essentially exonerated him and there was not a thing he could do about it," Autry said. Unless the government acknowledges that it made an error, as it did in the Pierce case, it would be virtually impossible for him to successfully sue, legal experts say. Today family photographs dominate the stark walls and shelves of Weatherly's small house in Hobart in western Oklahoma. But his pictorial family history seems to begin just a few years ago, at age 40. The other years are hidden between the pages of a brown photo album that documents his 15 years in jail through awkward family visits a few times a year. He met a woman toward the end of his sentence, and they married a few months after his release in 1998. She just gave birth to their second child. He landed a decent job at a factory making about $25,000 a year. But inside the little yellow A-frame with peeling paint, Weatherly is not at peace. Piles of papers and files cover the dining table, as he obsessively explains his case to lawyers and reporters and investigators. After years of fighting Weatherly's appeals and claims of innocence, the state has taken a more open-minded public posture. New District Attorney Wes Lane said in an interview that he would support a pardon if Weatherly can present a convincing and comprehensive argument that he is innocent. Weatherly is slightly buoyed by this development — but he won't yet allow himself to relax. "Somehow," he said, "I feel like I'll be dealing with this for the rest of my life.