Victor Burnette thinks $800,000 isn't enough to compensate Thomas E. Haynesworth for decades of wrongful imprisonment, but he advises him to take the money anyway.
In 2010, Burnette was awarded $226,000 after serving eight years for a rape he did not commit. He was to get 20 percent up front with the rest paid monthly over the next 25 years, if he lives long enough to collect it.
Expecting a far larger sum, Burnette refused to accept his first check for $45,000 until last year, when he realized he might not get anything.
The initial payment covered his legal fees and the cost of a new water heater and a used car. He has $15,000 left, but the self-employed painter can't spend it. "I don't know how much money I'll need to pay my taxes," he said.
"They're giving me money in one hand and taking it out of the other," he complained. "I'd hoped to get a trip out of this, but it looks like that's not going to work out."
Wrongful imprisonment wrecked the lives of the two Richmond-area men. Burnette was convicted in 1979, paroled in 1987 and pardoned in 2009; Haynesworth was convicted in 1984, paroled last year and exonerated last month.
Haynesworth, jailed when was he was 18 and now 46, spent 27 years in prison, the longest stretch of any of the 14 Virginians proven innocent by DNA testing and one of the worst cases of misidentification yet documented in the U.S.
Like Burnette, Haynesworth is disappointed by his proposed compensation package, potentially worth more than $800,000 over 25 years.
According to the Innocence Project, Virginia is one of 27 states that provide compensation for wrongful imprisonments.
Exonerated people are not entitled to compensation for wrongful imprisonment in Virginia — it must be appropriated by the General Assembly.
Under Virginia's formula, adopted in 2004, a wrongfully convicted person can receive 90 percent of Virginia's per capita personal income for each year of incarceration and tuition of up to $10,000 in the state community college system.
That works out to roughly $40,000 a year for each year in prison but is capped at 20 years — seven years short of what Haynesworth served.
If awarded, 20 percent of the total is paid in a lump sum up front, and the rest is used to buy an annuity from which the exonerated person is paid equal monthly installments over a period of 25 years.
The annuity cannot be sold, discounted or used as security to obtain a mortgage, and should the exonerated person later commit a felony, he or she would lose any unpaid amount.
Rebecca Brown, with the Innocence Project, said a favorable aspect of Virginia's compensation law is that an exonerated person can get a transition assistance grant of $15,000 (to be deducted from any compensation award) to help adjust from prison.
Nevertheless, she said there are aspects of Virginia's law that could be improved. "We would say that it falls short of our recommended amount of at least $50,000 per year — that should be the baseline," she said.
And capping awards at 20 years is unfair to anyone who served more than 20 years, said Brown, the senior policy advocate for state affairs. "One should be compensated for each year served."
Also, just giving 20 percent initially can be a problem. "That can prove burdensome for the exoneree who may not have adequate funding to get back on his feet," she said.
State Sen. Henry L. Marsh III, D-Richmond, has introduced a bill in the General Assembly that would give Haynesworth $796,428, of which nearly $160,000 would be paid up front and $637,142 would be used for the annuity.
Marsh's office said last week that he is exploring the possibility of amending Haynesworth's bill so he can be compensated for the full 27 years.
Haynesworth, who was hired as an office assistant by Virginia Attorney General Ken Cuccinelli after his release last March, said he hopes to start a car repair business.
He was wrongly convicted in three 1984 attacks on women in Richmond and Henrico. DNA testing in recent years convinced authorities the attacks were committed by a former neighbor now serving life for other attacks.
Haynesworth was exonerated last month.
"I wish him the best," said Burnette.
Burnette, convicted of a rape in Richmond, said that when he was pardoned in 2009, he had plans to renovate houses and sell them but had to put them on hold when his compensation package limited his initial payment.
"If I had got all that money up front, I could of bought a home and fixed it up," he said.
Burnette was 26 when he was locked up and lost eight years he might have used to establish himself in a career or job. His hearing was damaged when he was assaulted in prison, he said.
Paroled in 1987, he found it difficult to get a good job as a convicted felon and sex offender. He started his own business and has remained there even after his name was cleared by DNA testing and he was finally pardoned in 2009.
His elation at clearing his name after three decades was short-lived. "I'm (almost) 60 years old, I have a disability in my hearing and nobody wants to hire somebody like me," he said.
Burnette complains that it took him 30 years to clear his name, and now the state wants him to wait 25 more years to be compensated.
"I haven't thrown in the towel yet," said Burnette, who still hopes to win health care from Virginia.
He would also like to receive the rest of his compensation in a lump sum rather than in $844 a month payments for the next quarter century. He does not, however, have a lawyer or legislator to assist him.
The bill approving his compensation passed in the 2010 General Assembly, but Burnette was so upset by the amount and the strings attached that he would not take it. He said financial pressure forced him to do so last year.
On Feb. 25, he and a friend drove to the Virginia Department of the Treasury in downtown Richmond to get his check for $45,213.
"When I went and picked up that money, I was so shook up about it I was riding past the state Capitol and I ran a red light. I almost got slammed into and the state Capitol Police stopped me," he said.
"They didn't give me a ticket. I told them I was just upset. I explained the situation and they let me go."
"It just seemed like a sad ending," Burnette said. "It should have ended better."
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