“I’ve never been to Wisconsin,” Arthur told them, his voice steady despite the fear. “In 1992, I was teaching high school English in Ohio. I was grading essays on the night you’re talking about.”
The officers produced a flight manifest. There was an “A. Patterson” on a flight to Milwaukee. They had an eyewitness. For two hours, Arthur sat in a cold interrogation room, his holiday dinner cooling on his dining table miles away.
But while Arthur was trapped in a system that had failed him, a different system was starting to move.
The Knock at the Police Station Door
The door to the precinct slammed open.
“Who arrested Mr. Patterson?” a voice boomed.
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