The scar across Michael Austin's right cheek, from an inmate's makeshift knife, is the most visible reminder of his 27 years in a Maryland maximum-security prison for a murder that DNA evidence now says he didn't commit.
The other scars are the memories. How inmates preyed on new arrivals, a practice he once likened to "watching lions chasing one of those gazelles." How he was unable to attend his mother's funeral after her death from cancer. How his freedom so overwhelmed him at first that a routine errand -- going to buy a tube of toothpaste -- caused him to weep.
Virginia lawmakers debated how much to give Marvin Lamont Anderson, who unjustly spent 15 years in prison.
(Michael Williamson -- The Washington Post)
When Austin asks himself what it would take to make him whole, he has no answer.
"If they gave me a billion dollars, a trillion, none of that would buy back one minute -- one second -- of the life I lost," he said.
As DNA testing frees increasing numbers of innocents from prison, Maryland and other states across the country are facing a politically sensitive and morally complex calculus: What is the value of a life unjustly spent behind bars?
Although Austin, freed in 2001, says no amount of money can restore his 27 years, he plans to ask the state for compensation nonetheless. Maryland has a law allowing for compensation of the exonerated -- it has awarded a total of nearly $1.5 million to four wrongfully convicted people -- but no specific guidelines for what constitutes a fair settlement. Elsewhere, jurisdictions that have compensation laws, including 15 states and the federal government, vary widely in their definitions of an appropriate payout.
Earlier this year, Virginia passed a law that compensates wrongly convicted people 90 percent of the state's annual per capita income -- or about $30,000 -- for up to 20 years. Alabama pays a minimum of $50,000 for every year of incarceration. New Jersey provides up to $20,000 per year, or twice the person's pre-prison salary, whichever is greater. Like Maryland, the District has a law that allows compensation but offers no specific guidelines.
The wrongfully convicted can sue states without compensation laws, but such cases are usually time-consuming and difficult to win, legal experts said. As for suing judges, juries, prosecutors and police who were involved in a wrongful conviction, a plaintiff would have to prove malicious misconduct, such as destroying or planting evidence or taking a bribe in return for a guilty verdict, said Michael Milleman, a law professor at the University of Maryland.
The other option is to get the state's legislature to pass an individual compensation bill. "But getting a private bill is a political process, and someone who deserves it might not get it," said Adele Bernhard, a law professor at Pace University who has studied compensation laws. "It depends on what senator you know."
When Virginia lawmakers took up the case of Marvin Lamont Anderson last year, they weren't sure what the state should pay.
He spent 15 years in prison before DNA evidence exonerated him of rape and sodomy charges in 2001. At the time of his arrest, he was 18 years old, with dreams of becoming a firefighter. He was sentenced to 210 years.
Other inmates "wanted to mess me up real bad," he said. "They'd threaten me, try to get me to initiate a fight, to start something to keep me from getting out. . . . You're always looking over your shoulder."
After hearing his story, some legislators thought that he should get as much as $1.5 million. Others said he merited a fraction of that. Finally, they arrived at a lump sum of $200,000 and about $2,000 a month for the rest of his life.
After Anderson's case, the Virginia legislature was accused of playing racial politics with the payouts. Anderson, who is black, and his family said that while the legislature dragged its feet on his case, it approved with little discussion $750,000 for a white man who had spent 11 years in prison -- four years less than Anderson.