It was easy to lose sight of the enormous impact that Craig Watkins had on improving the judicial system in this and other countries as the tales of scandals piled up and the fight for leadership of the Dallas County Democratic Party became heated.
Tragically, 56-year-old revolutionary Craig Watkins passed away this week. If ever a man merited a monument commemorating his civic service, it would be him. The exact location is known to us. Coming up on it shortly.
Since this is the Dallas Observer, we understand that it may come across as somewhat hypocritical. In the end, we drank from the same cup of schadenfreude as other news organizations. The political career and reputation of Watkins were tarnished by a string of scandals and gaffes, which he passed on to us. His personal financial troubles were detailed in our article. The use of his office’s forfeiture monies, including the $50,000 that was paid to settle a claim following his SUV rear-end accident, was the subject of investigations that we covered in our previous articles. In an effort to gain influence within the Dallas County Democratic Party, he coordinated a group of candidates to run against current Democratic judges and the party chair. This campaign was covered by us.
Furthermore, we covered the contempt charge that Watkins was hit with following his criminal case against Al Hill III, which he had accused of forging a loan paperwork. “Hill brought charges against Watkins for faking up the charges against him as a favor to Lisa Blue, a wealthy lawyer, who was trying to get money out of Hill for fees,” alleged Jim Schutze, a former Observer columnist who filed the article in 2013. While on oath, a judge inquired of Watkins whether he had, in fact, initiated charges against the wealthy man in order to assist the wealthy lawyer in extracting money from him. “Watkins would not answer,” he said.
In 2014, Watkins became the only Democrat in a countywide race to lose a bid for re-election, in part because of the weight of all this reporting—ours and others’. Although each of these tales had merit, they paled in comparison to Watkins’ 2007 decision to establish the nation’s first Conviction Integrity Unit, an organization responsible for investigating allegations of unjust convictions. Former president and current board member of the Innocence Project of Texas and criminal defense lawyer Gary Udashen characterize Watkins’ decision as a turning point in the way prosecutors worldwide approach their job.
“He proved that being a prosecutor does not mean giving up the pursuit of justice,” remarks Udashen. That mindset has expanded across the country, thanks to Watkins, who was the “first person as a DA anywhere who put that aspect of the job into effect,” as he puts it.
The fact that the first elected black district attorney in Texas did this in Dallas County, which had a reputation for hard-ass prosecutors willing to tilt the scales against Black defendants and to defend dubious convictions at any cost, gave Watkins’ move extra weight. Udashen notes that such organizations exist in urban counties across the United States and in Texas.
Also, people’s perspectives have evolved. Prosecutors who once routinely fought calls from defense lawyers to re-examine DNA evidence are now more committed to “conviction integrity,” or making sure that those held behind bars deserve to be there. According to Udashen, Watkins displayed courage when he did it. The fact that Dallas County had a policy of keeping evidence after a conviction was made was helpful. During Watkins’ tenure, that led to around two dozen exonerations, according to The Dallas Morning News.)
Russell Wilson II, a Dallas attorney Watkins picked to work on the unit in 2011, helped secure the exonerations of 13 men during his time there. He says the unit faced criticism at the outset.
“This wasn’t always the consensus,” Wilson remarks. “There was heavy criticism from political opponents and other people who didn’t want their prior work criticized. I think today the CIU is widely accepted and not subject to the same types of criticisms you would have received in years past, but early on, there was intense criticism and pushback from what I’ll call stakeholders, but people have come around.”
Watkins’ legacy goes beyond clearing the innocent, Wilson says.
“The lessons of the CIU have translated to the front lines so that no prosecutor would set out to convict the wrong person, or to rely on junk science evidence,” Wilson says. “Nowadays, the overwhelming majority of prosecutors are utilizing these lessons to ensure accuracy in their convictions and prosecutions. You don’t necessarily see as many people exonerated now, but you have seen a wave of policy changes.”
The effect has filtered down to juries, Udashen says. Jurors are often more skeptical when it comes to weighing eyewitness and expert testimony and more aware that prosecutors can make mistakes.
None of this praise for Watkins is meant to overlook the problems that arose during his time as DA, but we all have feet of clay: Let’s not bury the good Watkins did with his bones. Nor do we mean to give short shrift to lawyers like Udashen and Wilson and countless other attorneys, law students and academics who continue to fight on behalf of the wrongly convicted. That work deserves honor, and we’re serious when we say that a statue of Craig Watkins would be a grand way to celebrate both his and their legacy.
As for where this statue might be erected, our vote goes to Oak Lawn Park. Formerly known as Lee Park, it was once home to a huge sculpture honoring Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee until the city of Dallas wised up in 2017, had the statue removed and renamed the park. That means there’s space there now that would be perfect for a statue of Watkins. Something life-size in bronze seems appropriate, maybe with the words, “Craig Watkins: He set the innocent free.”
