Rounded up to a 4.5.
As many people do (or simply refuse to), I don’t always enjoy rating memoirs. Especially when it’s clear beyond any reasonable doubt that the individual did indeed suffer the injustices, grievances, horrors, etc., in which was spoken of in said memoir. However, I think I’ve instituted a rule for myself now, in which I will not rate memoirs of this sort if there’s the possibility in giving them anything less than 4 stars. Because 4 stars is obviously still a stellar read.
The only real reason I gave this 4 (well, really 4.5 if we had that option) over 5 stars was nothing the author did wrong. Rather, I do believe the book’s editors and publishers made just a slight error in shortening his story (occurring over the course of 1986-2011, I believe) to a mere 272 pages - 278 counting the epilogue.
Yes, of course his 1,000 page prison diary likely wouldn’t have been well-received by readers and professional literary critics alike. After all, Michael Morton himself maintains that the diary was mostly mundane, a way of reporting the very dull, often very cruel, very crass conditions of a maximum security Texas penitentiary. And these events were recorded more for Morton himself - to maintain his sanity and his sense of time and place - than they were for any future publication endeavors (which he’d never mentioned). However, I do believe it felt slightly rushed and there could have been more time allotted for certain chapters or events.
This is a memoir everyone should read, even if it is so upsetting - rather, PRECISELY because it’s so upsetting. The story of a man who was just starting his life in suburban Texas, with his beautiful wife and college sweetheart, and their 3 year old, now newly healthy young son (he’d had an unspecified condition when he was born in which Michael Morton and his wife, Chris, had to constantly monitor him, make sure he wasn’t overexerting himself during play, make sure he always got all the medications his tiny body needed at the exact time needed... this hawk like monitoring of the child was necessary, because even just one oversight on their part could lead to a premature death). Finally, at 3, he was able to have the live saving surgery needed - before that age, he was determined to have been too young, too small for his body to withstand the intense procedure. Miraculously, he came out of the surgery with no complications. He was finally able to run, play, and enjoy life the same way other little boys his age were doing.
Michael and Chris Morton were overjoyed, obviously, with their new, perfectly healthy son and his ability to play like a normal child, without death always being an imminent threat. Unfortunately this joy was maybe able to last a few months at best, because too soon after the 32 year old couple and their son had finally started their lives, a tragic twist of fate would turn everything Morton and his son knew on its head.
The last night of his wife Chris’s life, Michael and Chris enjoyed a dinner out, celebrating his birthday. When they came home and finally had gotten their son, Eric, to bed, they began to drink wine and it looked as if a night of romance was in store for the couple, a late night “birthday gift” from Chris to Michael. Unfortunately, this missed opportunity wasn’t something that merely led to Morton’s sexual frustration that night (at least not by the “official” record). Apparently, Eric had woken up, and Chris had gone to soothe him back to sleep. By the time that was done, already tipsy on wine and worn out from the day of celebrations and childcare, Chris passed out before any romantic relations could transpire between the couple.
The worst part of this? Michael wrote Chris a note that morning, expressing his hurt and the perceived rejection he’d experienced due to this accidental passing out. He left it in the bathroom for her to read, right before leaving for work. Yes, it was a little mean, but certainly nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would ever indicate he was some type of abusive husband who only saw his wife as an object.
Yet this was exactly what the Williamson County PD turned the note into. A sexually deranged and frustrated man who killed his wife... I’m not sure what their explicit motive was, but something along the lines of that “he was just sexually and physically violent, and could easily lose control if things didn’t go his way.” Which of course, wasn’t at all who he was, but when you’re dealing with a small town police force, you’re dealing with small town courts, small town “justice systems” and worst of all - small town minds.
The sheer incompetence of this amateur police force and the prosecuting DA, which had no solid evidence or motive for Michael Morton to be identified and named as their chief suspect (and soon after, Chris’s killer) was absolutely infuriating. They left out all kinds of exculpatory evidence, evidence his brother-in-law had managed to collect in lieu of the police doing their jobs. Of course, at that time, DNA was not yet THE science experts turned to in criminal cases, especially murder cases. So the blue blood soaked bandanna Chris’s brother had found tossed aside at the house next door (which was a construction site, a house not yet built or occupied by another family) could not yet have led the police to the real killer, since no blood sample database had yet been built. What it certainly COULD have done, at that time, was to create enough reasonable doubt that it was exactly how Michael, his family, and his deceased wife’s family had imagined the crime to have occurred: a random man, a crime of opportunity, killing Chris while Michael had been at work.
The worst bit of exculpatory evidence left out, however (never given to Morton’s lawyers) was the transcription of a telephone call that Chris’s mother (Michael’s mother in law) had made to the top investigating detective of the case while Michael was in jail awaiting his trial. While yes, if a 3 year old child had only once mentioned “a monster killed mommy”, that could certainly be attributed to hearsay, yet what he said to his grandmother that evening (something he had also mentioned to Michael, but not in as much detail - simply asking him, “Who was the man showering in his clothes?”) was too detailed for police to have ignored. But, ignore it they did. It goes like this:
The mother in law began by telling the detective that little Eric - the poor child who had seen the awful brutal murder of his mother in its entirety - had “spread a blanket on the floor, began kicking it, telling his mommy to get up.” It was at this point the mother-in-law said she began to take notes and ask Eric questions. Here is what she wrote down, Eric’s version of the events that had transpired:
Eric: Mommy’s crying. She’s - Stop it! Go away.
Grandmother: why is she crying?
Eric: Because the monster is there.
Grandmother: what is he doing?
Eric: He hit Mommy. He broke the bed.
Grandmother: Is Mommy still crying?
Eric: No, Mommy stopped.
Grandmother: Then what happened?
Eric: The monster threw a blue suitcase on the bed, he’s mad…
Grandmother: Was he big?
Eric: Yeah.
Grandmother: Did he have gloves?
Eric: Yeah, red.
Grandmother: What did he carry in his red gloves?
Eric: Basket.
Grandmother: What was in the basket?
Eric: Wood.
Astonishingly, these were details that only the police knew, and aside from the police, only details the killer would know. And the killer had indeed piled all types of strange objects and furniture on top of the body as if to “hide“ it, including a blue suitcase. He had worn red gloves, and he had bludgeoned Chris Morton to death with large, heavy pieces of wood. Then, Eric’s grandmother told the sergeant the question she’d asked, the one she had been most afraid to hear the answer:
Grandmother: Where was Daddy, Eric?...Was Daddy there?
Eric: No, Mommy and Eric was there.
It wasn’t even just a mother-in-law who had perhaps truly loved her son in law, thus finding it unfathomable he could have killed her daughter, resulting in the fabrication of this tale. Because the child would go on to tell the court appointed psychologist the exact same story! But apparently this was irrelevant, and didn’t indicate Michael’s innocence. Because after all, as the police department pointed out, Michael could have easily “dressed up in his scuba suit”, which would then cause the child to believe he’d seen a monster. As Morton himself said, if this wasn’t his nightmarish reality, it could almost be laughable.
So just imagine not only having the love of your life murdered in cold blood, with her killer having had escaped, and never been pursued (the killer even used the victim’s credit card very shortly after the murder, the San Antonio police reported to the police dealing with the case, offering to bring the evidence TO them, and the Williamson County police declining their offer!). So you’re already suffering the immense trauma that death brings upon a person - and when that death is the result of a violent murder? Just unimaginable pain and suffering. Michael didn’t feel he could go on, but felt that he had to for the sake of his three-year-old son.
However, then imagine being in his place, being unable to process what had happened, then being arrested for that same horrific crime, crucified by the police department and the press while in jail awaiting his trial, allowing for nearly all of his in-laws, former friends, and neighbors to despise him. After all, with no other suspect to direct their anger upon, it was only natural that so many people would buy the insane narrative the police had spun, as a way of attempting to cope with the grief and to get through it. His defense lawyers were railroaded at the trial, evidence was kept from them, the judge was clearly in cahoots with the police and the DA, the jury worshipped law enforcement, their “local heroes.” Every card in the deck was stacked against him. After a very brief trial, Michael was pronounced guilty, and sentenced to life in prison. He would spend the next 25 years of his life estranged from his son, the world, desperately craving and attempting to prove his innocence to no avail.
It was really only when his original lawyers on the case contacted the Innocence Project, in 2002 I believe, that 12 years later, DNA testing and evidence (which had been hidden from the jury during his trial) would prove his complete innocence and finally exonerate him. What’s so upsetting, is that his ordeal did not even end here. Not only did he have to deal with adjusting to an entirely different world, 1986 versus 2014, he also, through the DNA evidence, found out the name of the man whose blood was on that bandanna, which also contained blood belonging to Chris. He had to first sit through a court of inquiry, which was to determine whether the former prosecutor turned judge in his case, Ken Anderson, had violated Morton’s right to due process in his trial (I don’t want to ruin anything, so I won’t say what they ruled, but it wasn’t good for Anderson. It was good, however, for holding the powerful accountable for their actions against defenseless defendants in murder trials and other serious trials like these).
Lastly, he had to finally face the man who, not only took his wife’s life so cruelly 25 years earlier, but in the process, had taken Michael’s own, by incarcerating him and locking him up and away from society for a quarter century. He, his now 28 year old son, and his family and his deceased wife’s family were forced to live out the experience again (for the 3 year old son, whom only had very vague recollections of what happened - he had to witness everything for the first time, as the family had kept the horrific details from his earliest years from him, knowing it wouldn’t help in any real way). And something that is possibly even worse than everything mentioned so far? The police’s incompetence allowed the real killer to murder another woman just two years later - in the exact same manner (with a frighteningly similar appearance to Michael’s deceased wife and the killer’s ex wife) - who also had a 3 year old daughter and a husband.
It’s hard to imagine someone who has been through this kind of living hell could actually make peace with it all, and in the end, reconnect with his son as well as remarry a seemingly wonderful woman, a woman who stood by him throughout his long and often painful/difficult journey back into the real world. It’s hard to imagine he could live a happy life - one in which he now lives to the fullest, taking very little for granted when he can help it.
But I don’t need to convince you. And he certainly doesn’t attempt to, either. It’s all there in the landscape of his writing; so beautiful and so poignant. The events of his life are described in terms that are beautiful, often tragic, even occasionally humorous. But only in one instance do I believe, does he speak of his bitterness, which gave him the fuel needed to survive the hideousness and perverse monotony of prison life. MUST-READ.
(I always say this, but it never happens - I hope to make this review more brief/succinct, but - I generally don’t end up going back to reviews, so my apologies that it ended up being so lengthy when I had intended on the opposite!) lol.