Dan Vivid didn’t simply survive Demise Row. He survived coming dwelling from it—and that may’ve been the more durable half.

Dan and I met not as free males, however as condemned ones—locked in cages, sentenced to die for crimes we didn’t commit. He was 26. I used to be simply 16. The State of Louisiana needed us each lifeless. Not as a result of we have been responsible. However as a result of we have been poor, Black, and disposable of their eyes.

Dan’s trial lasted at some point. His lawyer was drunk in courtroom. The State hid proof that might’ve freed him—proof of the true killer, proof that their star witness had each purpose to lie. I do know what that seems like. In my case, they hid videotaped proof that proved I used to be harmless. A teenage boy sentenced to die—whereas the true fact sat in a drawer.

Dan spent 9 years, 3 months, and seven days on Demise Row. I spent 3 years and a pair of months on Demise Row—as a toddler. At simply 16 years outdated, I grew to become the youngest individual within the nation sentenced to die. Whereas different youngsters have been preparing for promenade or attempting out for basketball, I used to be making ready for my very own execution. I wasn’t studying easy methods to stay—I used to be bracing myself to die for one thing I didn’t do. The concrete, the silence, the concern—it formed my teenage years. It tried to form my identification. However I held on to the reality. Barely. 

However the sentence by no means actually ends. Individuals assume exoneration is the end line. It’s not. It’s the place the ache begins another way.

Think about strolling out of jail and never realizing easy methods to stay. The world moved on with out you. You’re free, however your thoughts continues to be locked in a cell. You don’t sleep proper. You don’t belief folks. You get up sweating, fists clenched. You consider the individuals who forgot you. You consider the individuals who tried to kill you. You consider what it will’ve felt wish to die in there.

Dan tried to push by all of that. So did I. He gave speeches. He began companies. He tried to like his household, elevate his youngsters, keep related to town he got here from. He fought for different exonerees. He fought for the folks of New Orleans.

However Dan was exhausted. And I do know that weight—as a result of I carry it too. Not with hopelessness, however with the weariness of somebody who’s been holding ache for much too lengthy and refuses to let it break him.

The reality is: Demise Row doesn’t simply steal years—it rewires your soul. It leaves trauma buried in your physique. It isolates you even after you’re launched. Individuals name you “free,” however you’re residing with invisible accidents—no remedy, no constant assist, no actual methods that will help you put your self again collectively.

That’s why so many people flip to medication—to not escape life, however to outlive the echoes of what we’ve lived by. 

I’ve seen it extra instances than I can depend. I’ve lived near it myself. Brothers numbing their ache with heroin, tablets, alcohol—something to quiet the screams that by no means left their heads. Not as a result of they’re criminals. However as a result of they have been caged, forgotten, damaged, and left to determine therapeutic on their very own.

Dan died final week of a drug overdose at 56. However the harm was performed lengthy earlier than that. The State didn’t kill him outright—they simply broke him slowly. Like they attempt to break all of us.

And I’m indignant. Not only for Dan. However for each exoneree who continues to be struggling to outlive after “freedom.” For the nights I’ve cried in silence. For the brothers I’ve buried. For the households nonetheless ready on justice. 

As a result of on this so-called land of the free, you possibly can nonetheless be buried alive in a cage, erased from reminiscence, stripped of your humanity—and left to rot for one thing you by no means did. And even when the reality lastly comes out, nobody is aware of easy methods to provide you with your life again.

Dan Vivid was greater than a case file. He was my brother. He was good. Humorous. Robust. Trustworthy. He may discuss to anybody, and he carried fact like a weapon. We laughed collectively. We cried collectively. We stood on levels and within the streets and informed the world, “We have been harmless, they usually tried to kill us.”

Now Dan is gone. And I’m nonetheless right here. Carrying this ache. Telling this story. Not as a result of I need to—however as a result of I’ve to. As a result of silence lets the system win.

Dan didn’t die after they sentenced him. He didn’t die after they threw away the proof. He didn’t die after they caged him and ignored his fact. He died when the world let him carry all that ache alone.

We are able to’t maintain shedding our brothers to the aftermath of injustice. We are able to’t name it “freedom” if we’re nonetheless dying from what they did to us.

Relaxation in energy, Dan. I’ll by no means cease telling the reality—for each of us.

Shareef Cousin’s conviction and dying sentence have been overturned in 1998. 

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