The mass of Black folks, mostly young, who came from all over the country, engulfing Jena last Sept. 20 empowered all the Mychal Bells and shocked all the Reed Walters in Louisiana. Photo: Alex Brandon, AP

While most of society has moved past those times, Louisiana is the only state that is divided into parishes instead of counties. Down here in the "boot," they put the images of racism and white supremacy up front and in your face. Sometimes it has nooses hanging from trees or trucks; more often you can see it in the "fleur-de-lis" - the slave brand symbol on the Saints helmet - or the rebel flags all over the place.

I am an African-American. I was "captured" in Compton, Calif., on Sept. 18, 1990. I was flown by plane to Louisiana, tried for a shooting I can prove I did not commit, wrongfully convicted and sentenced to life in prison. In the courtroom, a Confederate battle flag flew alongside the stars and stripes.

So I consider myself an expert of sorts on the "injustice of Louisiana's criminal justice system." I imagine that my experience would evoke the same sense of justice, trust and fairness that a Jewish person might feel in a courtroom flying a flag emblazoned with a swastika.

Last month, the nation seemed shocked to find that Jim Crow had sired a son, Jim Crow Jr. Down here we like to call him "Jimbo" or sometimes "Little Jimmy." The civil rights movement may have silenced Jim Sr., but Little Jimmy, with his bachelor degrees and political clout, can legislate discriminatory policy that constitutes "legal lynching" on a scale that dear ol' dad and his cross-burning buddies could only dream about.

Please do not be surprised to find prosecutors like Reed Walters of Jena, La., boasting of destroying Black lives "with the stroke of a pen." They have used that power in the Louisiana criminal justice system since the days they made vagrancy laws to supply plantation labor to support their agricultural economy. The state numbers on Black-white sentencing practices are so lopsided, they have become the subject of political discussions all across the country.

By giving protest to the Jena 6 case, Jesse Jackson, Michael Baisden, Al Sharpton and the more than 60,000 Black people, mostly young, who poured into the little town on Sept. 20 brought greater attention to the institutional racism in Louisiana's criminal justice system. Hopefully all those brothers and sisters from across the nation did not leave without realizing that there are literally hundreds of Mychal Bells and Reed Walters down there.

A life sentence in Louisiana is known by the locals as "death by incarceration." It is sinister and diabolical, but there exists no viable release mechanism for a person sentenced to life for a violent crime. Louisiana has per capita the highest incarceration rate on the planet Earth. This statistic includes comparisons to South Africa, Russia, Saudi Arabia, China, Iran and Egypt.

With 836 per 100,000 of its citizens locked away and 82 percent of those Black, the statistics alone should warrant a United Nations Humanitarian Rights Council investigation to look at it as a rather ingenious form of ethnic cleansing.

I am live from ground zero keeping you aware and awake to the fact that Louisiana's Confederate traditions are working to deprive many wrongfully convicted men and women of our constitutional, civil and human rights. Some might say that arguing over procedure instead of releasing a man who is actually innocent sounds unfair, unjust, draconian or just mean-spirited. However, here in the "boot" it is just business as usual, the good ol' Louisiana way.

If you wish to aide and support Curtis Davis vs. the State of Louisiana, e-mail April Davis at This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it , or write to Curtis Ray Davis II, 320151, Louisiana State Prison, Angola, LA 70712.

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