Puerto Rican flags were in abundance as Jon-Adrian “JJ” Velazquez emerged from the Manhattan courts this past Monday, Sept. 30, newly recognized by the law as an innocent man. In a packed hearing that lasted a New York minute, he was cleared of a 1998 murder conviction that landed him in prison for 23 years, seven months, and eight days.
While Velazquez was released in 2021 through executive clemency granted by the departing ex-Gov. Andrew Cuomo, he remained on parole for almost three years in what he called “another punitive sanction after a wrongful conviction.” Last Tuesday, the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office — the same agency that prosecuted him — filed a joint motion to vacate his conviction and dismiss his indictment.
Monday’s hearing was a formality. Judge Abraham Clott granted the motion.
On the eve of his exoneration, Velazquez told the AmNews he hoped the news would serve as a platform for others going through the same thing.
“It’s important to keep hope alive for that many people, because we have hundreds of thousands of people potentially that are innocent, languishing in prisons right now,” he said over the phone on Sunday. “It’s been about me [getting] here, and I appreciate it, but it’s really about the movement. It’s about the people, it’s about the injustices, and it’s about how we can leverage our voices and come together to really try to demand change that’s necessary.”
As for himself, Velazquez was a “mix of emotions” before the official vacatur. He was certainly anxious, but knew he would be elated.
Yet, the moment was also bittersweet in what he coined an “unveiling of a tragedy.” The conviction stems from the 1998 murder of retired police detective Albert Ward during the robbery of a Harlem gambling parlor.
Two previous motions to vacate were dismissed by the court and opposed by the Manhattan D.A.’s Office under Cyrus Vance Jr. But Velazquez re-filed in 2022 following the election of Harlem’s own Alvin Bragg, who launched his Post-Conviction Justice Unit shortly after taking office.
Technology developed after the original trial showed Velazaquez’s DNA was absent on a betting slip handled by the shooter. And the Manhattan D.A.’s reinvestigation found no evidence connecting him to the murder and that “eyewitnesses provided inconsistent descriptions.”
“JJ Velazquez has lived in the shadow of his conviction for more than 25 years, and I hope that today brings with it a new chapter for him,” said Bragg in his statement. “I am grateful to our Post-Conviction Justice Unit for its commitment to impartially uncovering the facts and evidence in this case.”
Cheering from the sidelines were old pals, including Clarence Maclin, one of the stars of the film “Sing Sing,” in which Velazquez plays a supporting role as himself. The two go back far further, serving time together in the eponymous Ossining-based maximum security prison.
“We [were] inside for a long time together,” said Maclin to the AmNews. “I knew he didn’t belong there. I’m glad that he got what he was supposed to get, I’m glad he got recognized as an innocent man.”
Playwright Brent Buell — who co-produced “Sing Sing” and volunteered for prison arts program Rehabilitation Through the Arts during Velazquez’s incarceration — also showed up for his longtime friend.
“From the minute I met JJ, I knew that he had a dedication and determination to help other people, even as he fought to prove his own innocence,” said Buell. “That was the most strengthening thing that he had. He was so in tune with the plight of other people and what needed to be done to rectify situations … what we’ve been able to do working together and in this time is just such an indication of what we’re losing as a nation by holding people inside.”
So while the pun “end of an error” was stitched onto Velazquez’s baseball hat on Monday, it was hardly a fresh start for the longtime criminal justice reform advocate. He built a reputation as a prolific “jailhouse lawyer” while incarcerated, educating himself on the “language of law,” down to the deficiencies in DNA science used for exonerations. Through his studies, he not only fought his own conviction but helped others challenge theirs.
He continues his work today as program director of the Frederick Douglass Project, which organizes face-to-face conversations in prisons between the public and individuals incarcerated.
Although clemency freed Velazquez, the motion to vacate creates a critical distinction, says expert attorney Jeffrey Deskovic. While the governor can pardon someone on innocence grounds, clemency often indicates mercy rather than vindication.
“The difference between [clemency] and vacating a conviction is now his innocence is established in court,” said Deskovic, a former exoneree himself. “Before that, his innocence was not established, because he only had received clemency. It’s very important, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, to have a court recognize that you’re innocent. That way, you don’t have this charge still on your record.”
Velazquez isn’t alone in the process. In 2019, the Queens County court approved a motion to vacate Felipe Rodriguez’s murder conviction three years after Cuomo commuted his sentence. Deskovic explains that executive clemency authorities allow the governor to release someone incarcerated when “the injustice is clear,” so they can work out the legal process.
But Velazquez fears time is running out for many wrongfully convicted New Yorkers. Research suggests incarceration accelerates aging. Yet even with a case mitigated by executive clemency and consistently platformed by NBC “Dateline” producer Dan Slepian, Velazquez waited for nearly three years for closure.
“Glad [my motion to dismiss] came down to the right resolutions, but they don’t understand that you’re playing with people’s lives, and everybody [doesn’t] have the same length of time,” said Velazquez. “I know people who have been exonerated and died within a year. They really got to get how serious this is … because [in prison] you don’t have access to quality health care, you don’t have access to quality mental health care, and you’re being put under all these conditions that create anxiety and increased stress in your body [and] face.
“People really don’t get what it’s like to be in prison. And there’s nobody who could actually make somebody understand what it is until you actually go through it yourselves.”
Tandy Lau is a Report for America corps member who writes about public safety for the Amsterdam News. Your donation to match our RFA grant helps keep him writing stories like this one; please consider making a tax-deductible gift of any amount today by visiting https://bit.ly/amnews1.