CINCINNATI - When Gary Reece walked out prison doors after serving 25 years for a rape he had said all along he didn’t commit, he thought he’d have at least 25 years to make up for his loss.
He was 45. The years stretched before him.
Now he’s lying in an intensive care ward at Christ Hospital as his wife contemplates moving him to hospice for his final days.
Reece was a young “punk” – his words - in 1979 when a neighbor in his apartment complex called police to say she’d been raped and stabbed. There was no physical evidence and a former boyfriend says she’d made up stories before. When police asked who did it, the woman pointed out Reece, who says he'd never met her before.
Reece told me in interviews starting when he was in prison, continuing after his release, "I maintained my innocence from that point all the way through. I complied with everything they asked for. They asked for head hairs, pubic hairs, fingerprints, all of that, and without even having seen an attorney I gave all that up (because) I was innocent."
Tests on the physical evidence bore him out. There were no other witnesses. But Reece was an eleventh grade dropout who’d gotten in minor scrapes with the law before. The jury believed the woman’s word against his.
He was 20 years old when he started serving a 75-year sentence. At first he was angry, but eventually he realized, this would be his life, so he accepted his reality. He got his GED, then a bachelor's degree, then spent two decades mentoring fellow prisoners, teaching the illiterate to read and write. He became a model prisoner, according to the wardens in charge.
Still, he wondered how his life had come to this. He told me in 2004, "There were nights where I lay in my bunk and I would think that this is never going to end, that this nightmare odyssey is just not going to end."
But it did. While in prison, Gary Reece met a woman and married her. Rita Reece pushed him to connect with the University of Cincinnati Innocence Project. He became their first success story, the first man released due to efforts of law students who convinced the parole board the only evidence came from a woman who their research showed to be less than credible.
Six years ago, in February 2005, those prison doors swung open. Gary walked into Rita’s arms, and they began their life outside prison walls. Gary moved into Rita’s home in Amelia, Ohio, where he joined two dogs he had raised from puppies while still in prison.
He became a motivational speaker, turning the lessons he learned behind bars, into rousing, inspirational talks he shared around the world, speaking to associations, churches, and former prisoners he now worked to find jobs.
Among his messages: "If you want to be free, I mean truly free, you've got to forgive the other person. You've got to let it go. You don't forgive someone for them. You forgive them for you. You no longer let them have power over you."
"Years before they ever put me in prison, I was already locked up. And years before they released me, I was already free. Before you can seek freedom on the outside, you have to seek freedom on the inside," Reece said.
Three and a half years ago, Gary Reece was diagnosed with cancer. It spread wildly through his body. He endured months of chemotherapy, refusing to let the disease defeat him. He opted for a risky bone marrow transplant at the Mayo Clinic, and that seemed to work. "A few weeks ago, we were told he was cancer-free and we started celebrating again,” Rita says, “Now he's dying."
A week ago, Gary Reece took a turn for the worse. Rita brought him to Christ Hospital, where he deteriorated. Doctors moved him to a bed in the intensive care unit. Rita is sitting by his side, remembering the years they’ve shared, their marriage strengthening after his release. "He's just been a great person, a good friend to a lot of people and always there when I needed him. He's definitely been an inspiration to anybody he's met. Anybody that needed, churches or anybody that needed a lifting up or inspiration, he was right there."
Their faith brought them through trials and tests before, and provided a giant miracle in his release from what would have been a life term. Rita won’t give up on Gary to beat these odds too.
Because Gary was incarcerated they’ve been unable to get life or medical insurance for him. Most companies won’t write policies on an ex-con. Those who will charge so much as to make it prohibitive. The couple has churned through all of Rita’s life savings to pay for medical bills and are in the midst of bankruptcy. Rita says they borrowed against her home and now she – and the dogs – will lose that too.
But for now, she can only stroke her husband’s arm and remember the years they did get. She’s trying not to be bitter. Gary would hate that.
As he told me a few years back, “When people ask me, 'Am I bitter about having been in prison for crimes I haven't committed?' I explain to them all the blessings that came my way, and I would have
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