DNA might clear man’s name, but authorities refuse to try it

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Updated: January 12, 2012 8:17AM

In recent weeks, Cook County judges have thrown out the convictions of nine juveniles who had been convicted in the 1990s of rape-murders to which they confessed but — it is now abundantly clear — did not commit.

The youths — known as the Dixmoor Five and Englewood Four — were freed because DNA recovered from the victims was linked to known criminals who were left on the streets, free to reoffend.

If DNA hadn’t been available, the nine would have been out of options. From a legal perspective, their convictions were final. Their appeals — many hand-written and sent from prison — had been rejected by a court system that prizes finality over justice. Their cases show there can be no finality as long as DNA testing has the potential to reveal new truths about old crimes.

Such DNA exists in the case of Johnnie Lee Savory, who was charged in 1977, at age 14, with stabbing two Peoria teenagers, James Robinson and Connie Cooper, to death. Based on an oral confession he refused to sign, Savory was convicted and sentenced to spend 40 to 80 years in prison. He was paroled in 2006.

The evidence available for DNA testing includes hairs, fingernail scrapings taken from the victims and hairs found clutched in their hands. Not only could the testing exonerate Savory; it also, as in the Dixmoor and Englewood cases, could identify the actual killer.

No one has ever fought longer or harder for DNA than Savory. He was one of the first to seek testing after Illinois passed a law in 1998 making DNA testing available to defendants. At that time, he asked to test bloodstains on pants that prosecutors had argued he had worn during the crime. The adult-sized pants actually belonged to Savory’s father, and Savory wanted to show that the blood was his father’s, not the victims’. But the Illinois Supreme Court did not allow that testing, finding that the results — which could not have identified the true killer — would not be significant enough to raise reasonable doubt.

Savory turned to the federal courts, expanding his request for DNA testing to include hairs and fingernail scrapings. Unlike the pants, this evidence could have identified the killer. Connie Cooper’s hands bore defensive wounds, showing that she fought her assailant — scratching his skin and yanking out some hairs in the process. But Peoria County prosecutors opposed this request, too. When federal judges asked them why, they responded with one word: finality. Sadly, Savory’s federal request for DNA testing was denied on a technicality — he had missed the deadline for filing it. This outcome could have been avoided if prosecutors had agreed to test the evidence.

Savory was released from prison in 2006 after 30 years. He is still fighting for DNA testing, petitioning Gov. Pat Quinn to use his clemency powers to authorize the tests. He has even offered to pay for testing. Quinn, however, has not responded for several years. Some of the most prominent lawyers in Illinois, including five former United States attorneys, have joined in Savory’s request to no avail. Just this October, Savory also asked Jerry Brady, the new state’s attorney of Peoria County, to agree to testing — but Brady refused, citing finality.

Prosecutors tend to embrace the concept of finality. Once a defendant is convicted, they frequently resist efforts to undo that conviction — even when compelling evidence suggests the defendant may be innocent. Prosecutors often justify their reliance on finality by citing a desire to provide victims with closure.

But what victims deserve most is the truth. Noralee Robinson, the mother of the victims in Savory’s case, deserves nothing less. So do the people of Peoria and Illinois — and, of course, so does Savory. As the Dixmoor and Englewood cases — and 270 others like them — show, DNA does not lie.

Now that the courts and the Peoria County state’s attorney have spoken, it is time for Quinn to break his silence. Using his clemency powers, he should order DNA testing for Johnnie Lee Savory. That will bring real finality to this case.

Steven A. Drizin is the legal director of the Center on Wrongful Convictions at Northwestern Law School and one of Johnnie Savory’s lawyers.