Have you met Rick Santorum yet?

Before you start Googling him, you should already know that Santorum is the ideologically consistent and unwavering conservative legislator-turned-2012-presidential-candidate-first-name-Rick not from Texas. In fact, the Pennsylvania native’s campaign has outlived a myriad of celebrated Republican figureheads. Santorum even won the first caucus of the season, albeit retroactively.

So how does the winner of the first GOP presidential candidate contest end up fourth on Saturday’s Nevada primary?

A clue might lie in understanding the candidate and his platform, the former of which appears to be the stronger of the two. Santorum doesn’t shy from emphasizing his origins as a Republican senator who represented a heavily Democratic state. Not unlike former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich, Santorum tries to appeal to the pragmatic side of primary voters, specifically those who are flocking to ticket headliner Mitt Romney under the impression that “electability” is what matters this season. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be working.

Santorum appeals to value voters in big way — recently having landing endorsements from Phyllis Schlafly and James Dobson, which helps solidify Evangelical support for the Catholic candidate — but he’s failing to appeal to a post-2010 electorate. Texas firebrand and fellow candidate Ron Paul jumped at the chance to take down Santorum and his non-aversion to big government in advance of the New Hampshire primary.

Since winning Iowa, Santorum lost New Hampshire, beating only Rick Perry’s campaign-suspension-inducing 7 percent. Santorum fared better in Florida, but wasn’t able to recapture his former glory with 13 percent. And Nevada didn’t treat him all that favorably either with the 11 percent of the votes he received, which left him at the bottom.

Santorum may be fighting for first place, but he is struggling for the bronze as it is. Maybe Santorum is vying for a VP slot now, but his battle for third place is striking an interesting chord for the conservative movement.

While Romney and Gingrich cynically duke it out against each other armed with rhetoric du jour, the fight for third place looks to represent an underlying division within the party that pundits tried to pinpoint with 2010′s Republican wave: Ron Paul represents the libertarian-inspired, Tea Party-fueled electorate, and Santorum keeps the neoconservative, value-voting tradition of George W. Bush alive.

The battle of wits and presidential politics might come down to Romney and Gingrich, but the ideological battle between Santorum and Paul could give us the Conservative People’s Champ.

Timmy Wood and Julie Gomez are newlyweds. In their five years together (or six depending on which one you ask), they’ve gone through a period long-distance, a break up and a move to New York during one of the roughest economic climates. Through it all, however, they do the one thing that brought them together: laugh.

Wood is a comedy writer and improv actor, and Gomez is a producer at New York’s Upright Citizen’s Brigade Theater. They met on stage when they were in their late teens in Texas, and continue to share the stage durin their occasional “Timmy Loves Julie” showcase.

Occupy One Police Plaza
The Occupy Wall Street movement protests the New York Police Department and what they see as abuse of power.

Job Interview: Kendall McKenzie
A Brooklyn woman surviving the economy.

Bike Share Comes To Fort Greene
Council Member Letitia James brings affordable transportation alternatives to the neighborhood.

Eliana Jaramillo has worked at the corner of 43rd and 6th for 28 years.

Eliana Jaramillo stands on three-inch sandals on top of a four- or five-inch platform at the intersection of 43rd Street and Sixth Avenue for about four hours a day, and has done so for more than twenty-eight years.

Jaramillo moved to the United States almost thirty years ago from Bolivia, and has seen her corner change a lot. “I used to serve mainly the poor, but these days I’ve got diplomats,” she joked in Spanish while she stood across the street from the glass-paned Bank of America Tower.

She’s worked at the same corner for so long, Jaramillo proudly says she’s garnered a good number of regulars. A couple of them hang out around her cart, sitting and talking to each other whenever Jaramillo gets a break. When they did get a moment to talk to her friends, she pined for easier days.

Jaramillo works on average about four hours a day, every weekday.

“God bless Guliani,” she said, adding that increasing vendor fines and tax rates are the major burdens for her. “I just don’t understand why the poor are taxed more than the wealthy here,” she said. “Taxes are what kill you.”

On average she takes about $60 home a day, and although it fluctuates she said she can’t justify the time for the little profit. She said that she has to keep her prices low in order to compete with neighboring carts, but that the food and supplies she stocks aren’t getting any cheaper. As a result, Jaramillo said that she plans on retiring right after her husband does. “I used to sell a lot in a day, but there’s too much competition these days,” she said.

For now, Jaramillo doesn’t seem terribly worried about losing her regulars, though. “I think no one wants to take them from me.”

Over the course of an hour, she sliced at least 96 buns open. And at a dollar each, it seemed like today was a good day. “And she goes about saying things are too slow,” her friend mused.

Jaramillo at work with a customer.

Last Friday, Texas Governor Rick Perry released a statement on his veto of Texas House Bill 242, which would have penalized adults who are caught texting while driving:

Texting while driving is reckless and irresponsible. I support measures that make our roads safer for everyone, but House Bill 242 is a government effort to micromanage the behavior of adults. Current law already prohibits drivers under the age of 18 from texting or using a cell phone while driving. I believe there is a distinction between the overreach of House Bill 242 and the government’s legitimate role in establishing laws for teenage drivers who are more easily distracted and laws providing further protection to children in school zones.

The keys to dissuading drivers of all ages from texting while driving are information and education. I recommend additional education on this issue in driving safety and driver’s education courses, public service ads, and announcements, and I encourage individuals and organizations that testified in favor of the anti-texting language included in this bill to work with state and local leaders to educate the public of these dangers.

I don’t necessarily disagree with Perry’s conclusion about the micromanagement of adult behavior. Contrary to socially conservative convention of thought, liberalism does not advocate the dreaded Nanny State. Fifty years of progressive actions and movements in American history should be enough proof of that.

While I should try to savor this moment, the moment that Rick Perry and I finally agree on something, context goes and ruins it.

Perry’s just the latest conservative governor to expand the powers of the government by signing into law legislation that forces a doctor of any pregnant woman seeking an abortion to conduct a sonogram—while describing the fetus in detail to the woman—at least 24 hours prior to the procedure.

Looking at this strictly in terms of ethics and policy (i.e., not politics) forcing grown women to undergo and pay for a non-medically necessary intrusive procedure is a Grade-A invasion of privacy, not to mention a case of the government impeding a patient’s right to a legal medical procedure (which usually is signal enough for conservatives to gather their poster board and Uncle Sam hats.) The fact that the legal medical procedure is one that traditional social conservatives are principled against doesn’t legitimize Perry’s double standard, but it does heighten the hypocrisy, which is not to say that it could be mitigated some.

In his release, Perry—like any reasonable fan of a free marketplace of ideas—readily affirms that the best way to prevent government intrusion is to “educate the public.” Bravo. Education is key for individuals to make an informed decision. Enter, and promptly exit: effective sex education.

Perry and the GOP-led state legislature have clearly made efforts to strangle support to half-educate young Texans, not to mention fully eradicate federal funds for a valuable source of information and help for adult Texans.

Last winter, Perry declined $4.4 million from the Department of State Health Services targeted for the state’s already abstinence-only sex education programs. State GOP leadership is attempting to exclude Planned Parenthood from its Medicaid Women’s Health Program despite the fact that not a dime of the program funds allocated to Planned Parenthood goes to abortion.

So, maybe not so much a fan of an informed public.

Rick Perry is clearly invested in the micromanagment the behavior of adults, at worst for the sake of a conservative electorate and at best in congruency with his personal beliefs. To say otherwise is demonstrably false.

Please find the final version of this post on the Innocence Blog, published November 19, 2010.

Anthony Graves was twenty six when he was arrested for the Somerville murder of Bobbie Davis, her daughter and four grandchildren. It was a gruesome murder in what could typically be described as a small, sleepy Texas town (population 1,704) settled between Houston and Austin.

The oldest child of his remarkably large family and a young father himself, Anthony would be found guilty of capital murder two years after his arrest and subsequently sent to death row for a crime that prosecutors as of October 27 admit he did not commit. At the age of forty five and after serving eighteen years in prison, Anthony is poised to rebuild the life that he never had a chance to finish building .

(Video plays automatically after the jump.)

Anthony Graves (via UST Cauldron).

I first learned of Anthony and his struggle during my freshman year of college while working on the student newspaper. A small group of staff members was taking an advanced class titled Investigative Journalism: The Innocence Project. Under the inspiring guidance of Nicole Casarez, the students were working as researchers and investigators with the Texas Innocence Network at the University of Houston Law Center (and later the Innocence Project of Texas based in Lubbock). Professor Casarez, an attorney herself, taught us the ins and outs what causes wrongful convictions and even joined Anthony’s legal team at his request.

As journalism students, we obviously weren’t very well versed in criminal law or the legal system for that matter. Professor Casarez expertly taught us the—hypothetically fatal—flaws of the criminal justice system. We read “Actual Innocence” from cover to cover while learning just how important it was to be thorough and exhaustive in our research into cases that were often prosecuted without ever being thoroughly scrutinized by the prosecution nor the defense. Collectively, we went through a number of cases, but the one that shook us all to our cores was Anthony’s.

I officially worked on Anthony’s case for three years, from 2003 till my graduation in 2006. There were a number of students who worked on the Graves team, spanning a number of years—all of us helping with the case past the class, even past our graduations, when we could. It wasn’t until 2005 that I had the opportunity to visit the Polunsky Unit in Livingston with Professor Casarez. I vividly remember walking through security and being seated, waiting for Anthony to be escorted into the small visiting booth. Professor Casarez was in the middle of helping me make sense of my modern philosophy class when Anthony was brought in wearing his electric smile and brimming with hope at the sight of friendly faces.

Our brief conversation not only sealed my friendship with the man I had gotten to know second hand through transcripts, reports and interviews, but it confirmed for me what everyone who worked on the case already suspected: he was innocent. Meeting him reminded me that Anthony never compromised his integrity; he never admitted guilt for the sake of a lesser sentence. His family, especially his ever-faithful mother Doris, never doubted him and was steadfast in their belief that he wasn’t capable of the crimes for which he was convicted. The facts conveyed a similar conclusion.

Plenty of journalists and broadcasters have reported on Anthony’s case, but to make a very long and complicated story somewhat short: Anthony was charged as a result of testimony by one Robert Earl Carter, father to one of the murdered children and the state’s main suspect. Carter was pressured by investigating officers to name other suspects, since the officers’ theory was that no one person could kill two adults and four children on his or her own. Carter gave officers two unverifiable names and the names of two people that prosecutors would pursue: Carter’s wife and her cousin, Anthony. Prosecutors, namely District Attorney Charles Sebesta, agreed to drop the indictment against Carter’s wife if Carter would testify against Anthony. Carter did.

Sebesta, however, introduced Carter’s testimony at trial without ever disclosing to Anthony’s attorneys that Carter recanted his original claim about Anthony’s involvement. If Carter was consistent with anything in his last years before his execution it was admitting that Anthony was not involved in the murders. So consistent, in fact, that in his dying declaration before his execution he confessed one last time: “It was me and me alone. Anthony Graves had nothing to do with it. I lied on him in court.”

It wasn’t until 2006 (six years after Carter’s execution and fourteen since Carter first admitted he lied) that the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals overturned Anthony’s original conviction and demanded he be taken off death row. The state, however, decided to retry Anthony and shunted him to a Burleson County jail. Judge Reva Towslee-Corbett, daughter of the same Judge H.R. Towslee who presided over Anthony’s original trial, set bail at one million dollars. The state brought in a number of special prosecutors to retry Anthony, including Patrick Batchelor—the former Navarro County District Attorney who secured Cameron Todd Willingham’s death sentence and, in the course of his work on Anthony’s case, attempted to convince Anthony and his attorneys to take a plea in return for a life sentence.

(Note: There’s a slew of jaw-dropping facts outlining the miscarriage of justice that was Anthony’s case that are better explored in other write-ups: from Sebesta intimidating Anthony’s then-girlfriend by announcing that she would be investigated as a co-defendant if she testified as an alibi witness minutes before she took the stand; to a now-retired medical examiner who testified that he “scientifically” matched a knife that Anthony owned to the one used at the crime by placing a duplicate of the knife in one of the victim’s skull caps while on the stand, damaging the evidence; to an alibi witness who refused to testify on Anthony’s behalf since it would mean having to admit that she as a Caucasian was dating his brother, a much younger black man. Read Pamela Colloff’s profile on Anthony’s case from October’s Texas Monthly for what I believe has been the most comprehensive account of the case and directly influenced the prosecution’s sudden change of heart.)

As Anthony’s attorneys continue to point out to this day, there was no new evidence connecting Anthony to the murders. The many prosecutors who looked at Anthony’s case were dealing with the same information that both convicted him and, ironically, convinced District Attorney Bill Parham and special prosecutor Kelly Siegler that Anthony is “an innocent man.” Such an uncompromising statement of Anthony’s innocence is an act by prosecutors that rarely (if ever) happens.

While the facts of the case convinced Parham and Siegler of Anthony’s evidence, it didn’t stop earlier special prosecutors from attempting to pursue a case based on bad science. The Austin Chronicle reported in 2009 that “prosecutors…brought in Fort Bend County Deputy Keith Pikett to conduct a ‘scent lineup’” and allegedly testify to Graves’ guilt based on his basset hound’s ability to pick up smells more than a decade after the crime was committed. Thankfully, the state decided to drop that angle. (The Texas Court of Criminal Appeals actually concluded in late 2010 that dog-scent lineups aren’t adequate enough evidence to secure a conviction in the state on the heels of a report by the Innocence Project of Texas debunking the unvalidated procedure that you can download here.)

Despite his release, Anthony still has a lot to contend with. Men and women who are able to prove their innocence are forced to suddenly readjust to a society that all but forgot them, and they have to make up for years of lost personal and professional experiences. In Anthony’s case, however, he has an enormous support system with an overwhelming number of family and friends standing behind him.

I spoke with him briefly the day of his press conference in Houston; it was four years since I first heard his voice. Not terribly unlike the first time, we spoke by phone, the obvious major difference being we weren’t in a rusty, paint-chipped booth anymore. He was free, and I did what everybody tends to ask men and women who survive what Anthony survived: I asked him how he felt.

“I don’t know,” he responded, the most honest answer I could have expected.

Anthony’s attorneys are working with Siegler and Parham as of mid November in pursuit of compensation for him under the Tim Cole Act. While Texas is home to the largest number of exonerations in the country, it also leads in its exoneree compensation policy. If approved, Anthony is eligible for $80,000 for each year he was wrongfully incarcerated and college tuition. He plans to use the latter to take communication classes in order to help other wrongfully convicted men and women, classes not unlike the one that introduced a group of wide-eyed journalism students to his case.

We weren’t attorneys, nor did we ever have to pretend to be. (Two members of the Graves team have become attorneys since graduating.) I don’t know that our experiences would have the same meaning if we had been law students. Friends and colleagues still ask how I feel about having worked on the case, and I keep responding the same way: It’s utterly surreal for me to not worry about Anthony after doing nothing but for seven years. I don’t have to worry about new junk science being used to convict him, and I don’t have to worry about the state using nothing more than circumstantial evidence as a means to execute him.

Relieved as I may be, the lessons we learned were nonetheless stark and jarring. The students I worked with—my friends—we can laugh about it now, but two of us received threats of litigation, others were chased and threatened with a gun and most of us experienced first-hand the grim racial reality that exists in the small towns that we were pretty much oblivious to every time we drove past them.

We were laypeople, for all intents and purposes—young journalism students digging extensively into a case that the state of Texas didn’t deem worthy of revisiting at the time. Those locals and witnesses who agreed to talk with us usually understood that we were working to prove what so many of them already believed: that Anthony was innocent and that the state made a harrowing mistake. It’s nothing short of humbling realizing that some of the work we did helped prevent it from becoming a deadly mistake.

Nicole Casarez and Anthony Graves moments before his release. (Photo courtesy of Nicole Casarez.)