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Published: September 18, 2007
TALLAHASSEE - They strike him at the strangest times - little culture shocks stemming from nearly a quarter century of isolation from the outside world.
Like after a meeting with his advisers, when a lawyer suggested the group retire to the local Starbucks. 'I said, 'OK,'' Alan Crotzer says with a smile. 'Then I waited a couple of minutes and asked, 'What's a Starbucks?''
Prison mud has given way to frothy lattes in Crotzer's new life, after a 24 1/2 -year stint behind bars for a crime he didn't commit.
Now, in addition to familiarizing himself with high-end coffee, cell phones and washroom motion sensors, Crotzer is renewing his efforts to have the state compensate him for his missing years.
Bills have been filed in both legislative chambers putting a price on the injustice - $1.25 million. Bills also have been filed that would ensure any wrongly incarcerated person would be compensated by the state, to the tune of $50,000 a year.
Crotzer is one of at least six Florida men freed from prison since 2000 after being exonerated by DNA evidence. There have been 207 such exonerations in U.S. history, according to The Innocence Project.
'I've never been a political person, but I realized after going through what I went through for a quarter of a century, there needs to be some reforms made,' he says. 'They should do the right thing.'
In 1981, three armed men robbed the occupants of a Tampa apartment and raped two of them, a 38-year-old woman and a 12-year-old girl. The woman identified Crotzer's mug shot - he had been arrested as a teen on a minor theft charge - and he was charged with kidnapping, robbery and rape. Convicted by an all-white jury, he was sentenced to 130 years.
Crotzer maintained his innocence, insisting he was with his girlfriend at the time and didn't even know the other suspects. The Innocence Project took up his cause, and he was exonerated and released in 2006. 'Twenty-four years, six months, thirteen days,' he ticks off the time by rote.
He re-entered a world he barely recognized. Crack cocaine had become a scourge of his St. Petersburg neighborhood. He was befuddled by the motion sensors in public restrooms. 'Everything's so new to me,' he says. 'I'm still learning how to use my cell phone.'
Crotzer also was introduced to the strange and hyperpolitical claims bill process in Tallahassee.
Senator Confident In Claim
Florida's Constitution makes it immune to lawsuits - the state will pay a maximum of $200,000 per incident if there is wrongdoing on its part. It takes a new law to make an exception to that provision, and that new law is created by what is known as a claims bill.
At least 30 such bills have been filed for the 2008 legislative session, seeking compensation for dozens of people wronged by everyone from law enforcement to highway workers to doctors at state hospitals.
State Sen. Dave Aronberg, D-Greenacres, introduced Crotzer's claim bill, as he did the previous session.
'I'm confident this year we can make it happen,' Aronberg says. 'This is such a compelling case.'
Last year, amid an outcry from activists over the death of teenager Martin Lee Anderson at a Bay County boot camp, lawmakers took up a $5 million claims bill on behalf of Anderson's family. Crotzer supporters tried to tack his claims bill onto the higher-profile Anderson bill, but it was stripped off. Like dozens of other claims bills, Crotzer's fell by the wayside as the Legislature adjourned.
'There are many ironies and inconsistencies in the system,' says Aronberg. 'That's part of democracy. Ultimately, justice will be done in the Crotzer case and I think he will receive compensation this coming session.'
Crotzer Treasures Simple Freedoms
Meanwhile, Sen. Arthenia Joyner, D-Tampa, says she will reintroduce what is being referred to as a 'global' bill providing automatic compensation of $50,000 per lost year to anyone wrongly incarcerated. Should such legislation pass, victims would not have to go through the individual claims bill process.
'This is an egregious act,' Joyner says. 'Somebody took that much time of your life? My God, no amount of compensation could give me back the years I wasn't able to enjoy life. Just having the ability to make a phone call, or catch a bus somewhere.'
It is those simple freedoms that Crotzer says he cherishes. Walking along Lake Ella in Tallahassee, where he now lives with his new wife and her two children. Riding a bike. Holding a job.
'Just to go take a water break, to not have to ask anybody. It's something most people take for granted,' he says.
This month, Crotzer stopped in to the Leon County elections office. Drenched with sweat on a break from his job at Tallahassee Nurseries, he registered to vote after having his civil rights restored.
There have been some trials, as well. Crotzer is seeing a counselor for post-traumatic stress disorder. 'They say it can really wear me down,' he says.
He is obsessive about 11 p.m. lights-out and the orderliness of inmate life.
His wife occasionally chides him: 'She's always saying, 'Al, we're a family. There are going to be times when things aren't neat.' I'm so used to that routine where I have to get up, clean. Iron clothes. Do something.'
Despite his acknowledged lack of political prowess, he vows to be his own strongest advocate when the Legislature convenes next spring. He has appeared at committee hearings, in the House and Senate galleries, and received encouragement from Gov. Charlie Crist.
'I don't get nervous, but I wonder if they'll do the right thing,' Crotzer says. 'There's some good people up there in Tallahassee. But there's a question mark in my mind.'
Reporter Jerome R. Stockfisch can be reached at (850) 222-8382 or jstockfisch@tampatrib.com.
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