ADVOCATING FOR THE WRONGFULLY CONVICTED
Maria Shepherd & Jordan Carter
Maria Shepherd
My lawyer got Crown disclosure of Smith’s testimony and tried to find a forensic expert to dispute his findings. No one would challenge Charles Smith. He was like a god. I knew that if I went to trial I would almost certainly be convicted. Even though I was innocent, pleading guilty was the only chance I had to keep my family together. A guilty verdict would mean a long sentence in the Prison for Women in Kingston. A plea would allow me to serve a short sentence in a provincial jail near my children.
I was three months pregnant when I pleaded guilty. I made the plea before my mother arrived at Court; she would have been devastated to hear me say that I killed Kasandra. I was advised to tell other prisoners that I had murdered my husband, because my life would be in danger if they knew I was in jail for killing a child. My cell window faced the road to my parents' house, where my children were staying.
I was released to a halfway house in time for the birth of my third daughter. She was taken away a few hours later. My family unit was restored some years later, but I can never make up for the lost time with my children.
I was publicly crucified again by a 1997 inquest into Kasandra's death. I couldn’t risk violating my probation by recanting my confession. My family was together, but the aftermath of the guilty plea was terrible. My entire family was stigmatized by the labels of "baby-killer" and "evil stepmother".
About ten years later James Lockyer contacted me. He explained that he was a lawyer specializing in wrongful conviction appeals, and told me that serious doubts had arisen about Smith's testimony in my case and many others. In 2008 former Justice Goudge of the Ontario Court of Appeal released a report exposing Smith as a fraud. When my conviction was reopened in 2009, I was overjoyed that Smith had finally been discredited – but also devastated. Until then we had never been able to openly grieve the loss of Kasandra.
"I was released to a halfway house in time for the birth of my third daughter. She was taken away a few hours later."
On Leap Day 2016 I was acquitted by the Court of Appeal. Crown Counsel Howard Leibovich apologized to me. It felt like I was watching a movie. Suddenly the media wanted to hear the true story of the "evil stepmother". After 25 years, my family and I were finally free. Sadly, my mother died eight months before I was exonerated of Kasandra's death. In October 2016 I became a licensed paralegal. I am active with Innocence Canada, trying to prevent other families from suffering what we went through. But I have also learned that I will always be stigmatized, especially on social media.
Jordan Carter
I can’t say that I have many memories of what life was like as a "normal" child. As far back as I can remember I knew I was different. But I was made strong – after all, I had my mother as a model.
I was born to young parents who chose to go their separate ways when I was very young. I never knew what it was like to have my parents together. That’s not uncommon in our society. But being the eldest child and only son of a mother who had to make a defining sacrifice in order to preserve our family – that makes things a bit different.
I never understood what was happening. I was so young, and very confused by what was going on. My sister Kasandra was my best friend. Suddenly she wasn’t there anymore. As I grew up I learned that the blame was laid at my mother’s feet, but that was impossible. I know her better than pretty much anyone.
"I never understood what was happening. I was so young, and very confused by what was going on. My sister Kasandra was my best friend. Suddenly she wasn’t there anymore."
I didn’t understand why my mom had to go away. She did her best to explain it to me. She talked about “when people do bad things” – which made no sense, because that person loved and cared for me more than anyone else on this planet.
I didn’t understand why I had to stay with my grandparents instead of my mom – we had never been apart before.
I didn’t understand why I had to go and live with my dad because my mom’s conviction made her “less fit” for sole custody.
I didn’t understand why I was being punished – I didn’t do anything wrong.
I didn’t understand why I couldn’t see my mom, and when I did see her it was in this weird place called jail.
When the family was reunited, I was the older brother to three beautiful sisters. Big brothers protect. I stood firm during my mom’s moments of weakness when it seemed that everything was crumbling around us. No child should have to go through this, especially not my little sisters. I had to shield them from that as much as I could.
I wouldn’t let my sisters feel like they matter less than other kids, because NOT THEM TOO.
I wouldn’t let my sisters grow up quickly in a world that is cruel and cold and unfair, because NOT THEM TOO.
I wouldn’t let their innocence be shattered forever, because NOT THEM TOO.
I wouldn’t let the cameras chase them for a newspaper picture or let them freeze after having been asked a flurry of questions, because NOT THEM TOO.
I wouldn’t let them feel the same sadness, hopelessness and pain that I felt my whole life, because NOT THEM TOO.
I love my sisters endlessly. I wanted more for them than the life I had.
I never thought that I would be as strong as I am today. For much of my life I felt broken, like all the pieces didn’t quite work the way they do for most people. But as I have gotten older I have grown strong.
The Japanese art of kintsugi, "precious scars", uses liquid gold, liquid silver or lacquer dusted with powdered gold to reunite the pieces of a broken pottery item. The technique rejoins the fragments and makes the breaks beautiful. Every repaired piece is unique, because ceramics shatter randomly.
We shouldn't throw away broken objects. When something breaks, it doesn’t mean that it is useless. We should try to repair things because sometimes that produces more valuable objects. This is the essence of resilience. Each of us should look for a way to cope with traumatic events in a positive way, learn from negative experiences, take the best from them and remember that those experiences make each person unique and precious.
Some days are better than others. I won’t tell you that I’m forever strong or that I don’t have days I simply don’t want to get out of bed, because I’d be lying. I challenge myself to simply try to face each day with courage and acceptance for what I have been made to endure.