269: Plot Twist: How to Advocate for Yourself and Fight for Truth and Freedom with Donald V. Watkins

In this bite-sized Plot Twist episode, Light Watkins shares the extraordinary story of his father, Donald Watkins Sr., an accomplished attorney whose life took a dramatic turn when he was sent to prison on charges of conspiracy and fraud. What could have been a moment of despair became an unexpected calling as Donald used his legal expertise to fight for justice from within the prison system.

During his three years behind bars, Donald worked tirelessly to help 47 fellow inmates gain their freedom, uncovering wrongful convictions and systemic failures. Even under relentless opposition—including being placed in solitary confinement—he continued to mentor inmates, teaching them to advocate for themselves with courage, preparation, and flawless execution.

This inspiring conversation delves into Donald’s resilience, his unwavering commitment to justice, and how his plot twist became a gateway to service and transformation. From mentoring inmates to exposing the flaws in court-appointed defense systems, Donald’s story offers a powerful reminder of the human spirit's capacity to rise above circumstances and create meaningful change.

Tune in to hear how an attorney-turned-inmate became a beacon of hope for dozens of incarcerated individuals and a voice for systemic reform.

Transcript

DW: “ Back in 2012, and I hate to go back in time, but I do need to start there to talk about prison. I was in South Africa, and I went to Robbins Island. That's where Mandela was in prison, for 18 of his 27 years in prison. So I went on a tour to that prison, and then I went to his cell. And then I saw how tiny it was, and this is in 2012. And so when the group moved on, I stayed there at his cell.  There was a bucket on the floor for him to use as a toilet. There was a mat that he slept on, on the concrete floor. And that's what he did 18 years.  18 years. And so, at the cell, when everybody left, I just said a prayer. I said, God, if I'm ever in this situation, just please give me the strength that you gave him. That's all I ask you for. I'm not asking you to free me or nothing like that. Just give me the strength that you gave me.”
 
 

[INTRODUCTION] 

 Today, I've got another bite-sized Plot Twist podcast episode for you, which is a shorter clip from a past episode where the guest shares the story of that pivotal moment in their life that directed them toward what ultimately became their path and their purpose. Sometimes, that plot twist looks like getting fired from a job or maybe losing a bunch of money.

Or in the case of today's guest who happens to be my father, Donald Watkins, his plot twist was being sent to prison. What started as a devastating conviction turned into an unexpected calling, because while serving his own prison sentence, my dad, who happens to be an accomplished attorney, discovered that many of his fellow inmates had been wrongfully convicted or had serious errors in their cases.

And using his legal knowledge, he began helping other prisoners review their cases free of charge. And And over the three years that he served in prison, he helped 47 inmates gain their freedom, working tirelessly even when prison officials tried to stop him by putting him in solitary confinement for a year.

Let's listen in. 

LW: You've been convicted of conspiracy, fraud, a lot of the same charges that some of your personal heroes were also convicted of, or charged with. The Fannie Lou Hamer, Martin Luther King, I think he was charged with what, tax evasion?

DW: He was charged for tax evasion, a felony tax. All of my heroes were charged by this establishment with some felony, all of them. Many of them went to jail for way longer than I did.

LW: Especially back in the sixties, going to jail was like getting a PhD. That's when you knew you would arrive.

DW: It was a credential. When you get to be targeted like that and you know you’ve been railroaded, that's really a credential. The good thing about it, and there are good positive things about it. I'm going to tell you one. Back in 2012, I was in South Africa, and I went to Robben Island. That's where Mandela was in prison for 18 of his 27 years in prison. I went on a tour to that prison, and then I went to his cell. I saw how tiny it was. That’s in 2012. So, when the group moved on, I stayed there in his cell. There was a bucket on the floor for him to use as a toilet. There was a mat that he slept on, on the concrete floor. That's what he did 18 years, 18 years. At the cell, when everybody left, I just said a prayer, I said, “God, if I'm ever in this situation, just please give me the strength that you gave him. That's all I ask you for. I'm not asking you to free me or nothing. Just give me the strength that you gave him.

So, when I was convicted, and I knew that I had to show up for the prison camp. Number one, I wasn't in a prison. I was on a camp. Prison camp was like a little high school campus, except it's got a couple of dormitories on it. I got there. Half are from Birmingham, half from Atlanta, about 80% are Black. All of them knew me, as soon as I walked into the thing. I knew some of them. The guy who came to meet me turned out to be my first roommate. We had met each other in Atlanta, and he was a basketball star. He went to junior college in Phoenix City.

But anyway, we hit it off great. That's when I learned – I didn't even focus on it, but that's when I learned. I have this set of skills that everybody in here knew and they all knew who I was. They knew about the Scrushy case, and they said the word spread so quick. The first thing I have to guard against is, I don't want to come across as I need special privileges. Because they were quick to want to elevate me to a leadership position. I didn't want that. I got shown a lot of respect at Talladega.

After I rested for about two weeks, that was my first vacation in about 10 years. After I rested – it was a good rest, too. After I rested, then I said, “You know what, I probably can help some of these guys.” I'm writing with them and they had computers, so you could do emails. I have the ability to type and edit stuff using the email account. Then, the first guy that I got, he’s out of Memphis, Tennessee, and I used to live in Memphis. I knew where he came from. He actually didn't deserve to be there and I couldn't believe he was there. He had a court-appointed – everybody had a court-appointed lawyer. I don't even want to tell you what I think about court-appointed lawyers.

I worked to get him out and his thing turned out to be good. The judge realized they actually kept him longer than they were supposed to. When the judge realized that, and I wrote the thing that he said to the judge. The judge had a conniption and ordered him released that day.

LW: What did you do exactly to get him out? How did you know that he could even get out?

DW: All of them had their files. So, he brought his file, and he had a state case and a federal case. He got his federal sentence first, then he went and got his state sentence, and the federal judge says, “Look, you got to go to state court. What I want to do is run a concurrent. Just come back and tell me when you got your state sentence and I’ll run both concurrent. I mean, you ain’t going to spend time in two different systems.”

He gets his state sentence. It's actually like less around the same as this federal thing. So, they did let him out. As long as you never did go back, you didn't have to file a motion. You just have to report to the judge what his state sentence was, send a certified copy of it, and the guy served about eight months too much time. Then, I wrote a letter for the judge. There was a motion actually to correct this sentence, that he is - when he got in state court and he found himself pro se. That's the word when you represent yourself, pro se. He actually got sent to detention for some disciplinary violation. They had to come get him out of detention and put him out on the street that day, because she had ordered he'd be released that day.

The judge was so pissed off. He was a federal judge out of Memphis. He was fair. His lawyers, I don’t even know if they went to law school, but it never should have happened the way it did. We were off to a good start.

Second case, was a guy out of Tampa, Sarasota, Florida. The search warrants in his case were not just defected, they were fraudulent. They would never sign off on badges or approve badges. But that's what was used to convict him. The evidence from the search.

LW: Did any lawyer see this when looking at the paperwork? Or is this something that –

DW: If you had any degree, if you had gone to law school past one semester, you would know that this is bad stuff. But these are court-appointed lawyers. They’re just court-appointed. They don't care. They’re just processing you, processing you, processing you. That was so horrible, I couldn't even sleep. I couldn't believe this. How is this going on? I did his thing. Over the course of the three years, I had done – it was 47 of them. I was able to get 47 of them out. After I did my first eight out of my dormitory, that's when they figured out that it was me that was helping everybody, and that's when they framed me on a disciplinary charge so they can take me out of the general population and put me in the hole, where I stayed for about a year. But even in the hole, I was helping people. It was easy to help them, and it makes the time go by.

LW: When people hear this, a lot of people may have seen the movie Shawshank Redemption and Andy Dufresne's character helping people out. There's lines of people waiting to help them with their accounting and stuff like that. I imagine the word spread like wildfire. Got the first couple of guys released because a lot of these guys don't have anybody. Right? They've been completely abandoned.

DW: They have nobody, and then word got out that I was helping, and I wouldn’t charge anybody anything. I didn't need nothing. All I needed is to get to a computer and type your stuff for you. Then, I stumbled a team, actually, it was four great guys who became part of my team, like teams I had –

LW: Like paralegals?

DW: Yes, yes and they were helping proofreading, research, and they were great guys. Then, the Netflix documentary comes out. Now, they get to see what it was I did in the case with the most counts and they couldn't believe it. Now, I'm getting floodgate. I'm getting everybody want help, not just inmates, but everybody want help. They have you right there. You're right there. They have access to you that they’ll never have in the real world and it just made the time fly by. I would work maybe 8 to 10 hours a day, working on somebody's case. My only rule was you got to get in there like Baskin-Robbins, take a number. When I get to you, I'm spending whatever time it takes to get you done and the next guy just got to wait. You just got to wait.

That lasted until 11 o'clock on the night before they released me on August 25, 2022. In fact, they wanted to release me earlier. But I asked them, could they push it back for a couple of weeks because I had two Hispanic guys that promised them, I would not leave until I did their cases. It took about a week on each one of those cases. Those guys were so worried that I was going to leave without getting to their case. They had been waiting. I think one of them waited like six weeks. I promised them that I’ll finish. The last guys came at 11 o'clock the night before they released me at seven in the morning. He was happy. I was happy. When I left, they gave me a standing ovation. They were out in the courtyard just clapping. They were happy for me, but they were sad. They wouldn't let me take my stuff. Two inmates took my stuff out, boxes and stuff. I was sad for them, because I knew they would never have that kind of legal assessment again in light.

LW: Out of the 47 guys that you helped to get released, was it mostly a matter of filing one piece of paperwork or what was like commonality?

DW: No, it was – because the court system is so screwed up now, you can be innocent, and you can show somebody that you're innocent, and they still don't want to let you go. They don't want to admit they made a mistake. You have to press them and you have to shame them, you have to corner the judge, really, it’s more the judge than the prosecutor into doing the right thing. You can only do that by being meticulous, very detailed. You remember, it goes back to the three things –

LW: Courage, preparation, and flawless execution.

DW: Yes.

LW: So, you have to teach them to have courage and prepare.

DW: I had to teach them. First, I had to get them out of the mindset, “You need a lawyer.” You don't need a lawyer. You know more about your case than anybody. You had years to focus on your case. All you got to do is prepare and execute. They know home runs. You just get one inch at a time. You nail it down, though, and you can do it better than anybody. No lawyer is going to ever know all the facts in your case. You just have to know what's important and what's not important.

I would spend the time to get them prepared. This is how the judge is going to come at you. This is how the prosecutor is going to comment. This is what you do. You don't ever get off message. I don't care what they say. You don't get emotional. You just stay on there, pounding it in. Make sure the record shows this. The record shows that. Put this document in. After, these guys turn out to be good lawyers for their own case. They do. When you spend the time to mentor a guy on his case, you don't have to be a lawyer. You don't have to go to law school. You don't have to know everything in law. You already know your facts, you know your facts better than anybody. All you got to know is what strategy gets you from where you are now in jail to freedom. Here's the strategy. Now, execute to perfection, and you’re out of here. Because the prosecution is not going to expect you to be this sharp, this trained, this prepared. They'll never expect you to be – they used to work with court-appointed lawyers never prepare on anything, who are there to just surrender you. It’s sad when innocent people get outmatched, about five truly innocent people. When they get surrendered by a lawyer who's too lazy to do the job, it just galls me. It just galls me.

LW: If someone cuts a “plea deal”, can they not fight their case once they're in prison?

DW: They can, but the grounds are so limited. They're so limited. You have to prove ineffective assistance of counsel. We did that on several of them. But to do that, it's not just that you disagree with the way the guy did it. You have to show about 60 different things that he didn't do that you would have done.

Imagine you're a pilot of a plane, you in the cockpit, and you say they got the little clipboard going down this checklist, this checklist, this checklist. I make a checklist of what a lawyer would do before he even talks to you about a plea deal. I got about 60 supplemental thing he should do before he even fixes his mouth to talk to you about it. Because if he doesn’t know how to do those things, the plane can’t fly anyway. Most of these lawyers don't do anything. They don't do anything.

I say, “Where was your original written defense plan that outlines everything you guys are going to do before you decide to cover these?” The list all of the prosecution witnesses. What are their strengths and weaknesses? What documents are they going to be using? What tape recordings that are going to be used? What video are they going to be reusing? What else do they have out there that they can call, to use, to introduce?

Now, let me assess the strength and weakness and all that. Let me show that to you. Now, you help me build a dispense to discredit every one of these items. Right? I can’t even talk to you about pleading guilty if I haven't done that. I'm going to do that. I don't even know how strong their case is. They may have lost evidence. They may have lost the cocaine, right? They may have lost the bank money or whatever the hell it is. How am I going to talk to you about –how can I do a deal if I can't fight? Who's got to deal with you? Nobody's got to deal with you. You can’t fight. What are you getting? Let’s just surrender. Just call it a surrender. I'm coming in surrendering and throwing myself on the mercy.

Yes, I just approach everybody. I say, “You believe in yourself, you believe in your innocence, you be your lawyer. I teach you what you need. You only need to be a lawyer for a moment in time. Just one moment in time and you'd be unrelenting because your freedom is at stake. You don't care about nobody's feelings. You ain’t trying to spare no judge. You don't give a damn if the hearing is going to last one day, five days. It’s your freedom. Ain't nobody going to jail but you. When you win, you can shake everybody's hand and say I'm sorry, I had to be so hard on you. But I thought you would want me to be hard on you in order to get my freedom.”

LW: What was the criteria for people whose cases you took? How did you know to take this guy's case versus that guy's case?

DW: Well, at first, it was just who wanted me to help them. Then, it still pretty much was that. But you have to think and be in line, because there was so many people. Then, I had to cut it off. I knew my time is getting short and I can’t because I didn't truncate anybody's allocation of time. If it took a week, if it took two weeks, that's how much time I’m taking on your case. I'm not going to give you the documents for you to sign if they ain’t pristine and perfect for my style. All you got to do is execute and I'm going to tell you how to execute. I'm going to tell you how to talk to the judge and you can't be scared when you walk in there. You got to walk in there like you own that courtroom. If you don't know some of the answer, you say, “I don't know what you ask me. Break it down for me so I'll understand what you're saying.”

You say it in a way like this guy is scared to tell you anything but the truth. Break it down, and you don't agree to nothing. You agree to nothing. You ain’t saving nobody no work to prove nothing against you. No, you better bring whatever witnesses you need. I ain’t agreeing to nothing. Nothing, ever. You just wait for the prosecution to make a mistake. Because you’re prepared, you're not going to make no mistakes, you're going to have flawless execution. They’re going to be mad at you. Yes, they're going to slam books down. You don't care. They're not in jail with you. You don't care. You show proof. You don't care about nobody's feelings in that courtroom but you. They're not going to like you, but they'll respect you. They'll know, “Okay, we can't want over this one. Maybe we need to take a look at this. This guy seems to be prepared. He’s lawyering his own case. I wonder what's happening. He seemed to be prepared beyond lawyering. I mean, he knows what he's doing. I wonder, did he take paralegal courses or something like that.” But anyway, that's all good. But it made my time fly by.

LW: You said they found out about it and then on some trumped-up charges and threw you in the hole.

DW: Yes, and transferred, and we got to get rid of him.

LW: What is the hole like? Talk about that experience.

DW: Hole is a tiny room, like about 6 feet by maybe 10 feet. Six feet wide, 10 feet and two bunks in there. One toilet. In Talladega, you couldn't flush the toilet. A guard on the outside had to flush it. You couldn't turn the lights on at all. They had black mold in the vents. It was horrible, filthy. The United States should never talk about or criticize anybody else's prison system, because the United States prisons would rival any third-world prison in the world. Don’t criticize the Russians for how they treat prisons because you do the same thing. All it does is make you a hypocrite to the rest of the world. Everybody knows you do the same thing in the United States. Do not go around criticizing nobody else's treatment of prisoners or their prison conditions. Now, I can say that because I've been in and I've seen it.

LW: In the summer of 2020, you had a simple request to keep the little food slot open. Why were you asking to keep the food slot open?

DW: Because the cell I was in, the air conditioning had broken for the building and there was no air circulating in the cell.

LW: This is an Alabama in the summer?

DW: Yes, in Alabama. The temperature had gone up past 100 degrees and at least they had fans on the outside of the cell, and I asked the warden, Sharon Mash, will she leaves the slot opened. It’s just a little slot. You can’t escape. You reach in there to get the food. She said, “No”, and they slammed the damn thing closed. But that's okay. I had to sleep on the floor because the floor was cool. Then, you wet your towel and put it over your head and your back, and then that keeps you cool. The wet towel is how you stay cool. I don't ever want to hear Biden, Joe Biden, or Donald Trump, or nobody talking about prison conditions. Because their asses were there and they were in charge and they could’ve have changed it and they did not. I don't want to hear any excuses.

LW: How often were you allowed to shower from the hole?

DW: It's like, you shower three times a week. The shower was about as big as a coffin. They lock you in a cage and they turned the water. You hope it's not too hot –

LW: They handcuff you to take you to the shower, right?

DW: That’s correct. They handcuff you to take you to the shower, and then, they push a button and you hope it ain't cold. You hope it ain’t hot. There’s no adjusting of the water. 

LW: It could be cold or hot. You don't know?

DW: Yes.

LW: Is there a room just to let the water come out first so you can see what the temperature is like?

DW: No, there is not. No, you just have to put your ass. Ain’t no face cloth, it’s a rag, the one they mop the floors off with.

LW: What did the guards think of your work with the prisoners.

DW: They loved it and they were very supportive of me. A lot of times, that's how my articles – I kept writing. They wanted me to stop writing and I kept writing articles. A lot of times, the guard got my stuff out for me. Made sure we got mail. You understand what I'm saying? 

LW: So, you've been publishing these articles –

DW: The entire time and never stopped. The prison system has tried to shut me down several times and they couldn't figure out how I was still getting my stuff done.

LW: These articles were about the prison system while you were in the prison system?

DW: Some were about the prison system, politics, national politics, COVID-19. It was about all – what I call significant – subjects of significant public interest.

LW: You've been passionate about independent journalism for years. I remember back into Voter News network days, you've been publishing articles and then a few years before going to prison, you have been publishing articles and becoming quite the journalist.

DW: Because you can't get real news if you’re bought or sponsored by other people. You have to pick your topics. If you got sponsors or advertisers, and I like to just take on the cold hard truth. I don't care who it helps you or it hurts. It's just, here’s the issue and put it out there, and let people deal with the issue.

Yes, I've been publishing for a long time, long time, and I never stopped. Then, I found out that the BOP, the Bureau of Prisons, has a policy that encourages inmates to write and publish. I don't think they anticipated somebody will be doing it like me. They threw me in a cell for three weeks because I was writing some critical stuff. But it’s all right. 

LW: Once you go to the hole, they have to transfer you out of that prison to the next high-level security prison, and you went through the Atlanta, I guess, Atlanta curriculum facility –

DW: To get to – when I left prison, I left out of La Tuna. A prison camp in La Tuna. But to get to that camp, they put me on what they call diesel therapy. Rather than me flying in and getting there like the next day, they took me on like a four-month trip. They took me through the Atlanta penitentiary, where the United, Bloods gang members. Two of them was supposed to kill me. They told me that. They knew who I was when I got there. So, I had to talk to him there to help them with their cases, so that they went from potential assassins to staunch allies because of my legal skill.

I wrote about that, too. I wrote an article about that. Then, I went from Atlanta to – and that was on lockdown the whole time. I went from Atlanta to Oklahoma City. The same thing, I was on lockdown, until I finally made to La Tuna about four months after that I left. I left in November. I got there in March. They call that diesel therapy. When they want to punish an inmate, they drag you. They drag you through all of these prisons, put you in transit. It's what they do. It's designed to punish you, period.

LW: If you didn't have that skill set, you probably would have been eliminated in Atlanta.

DW: I would have been eliminated in Atlanta. They told me in Atlanta. Yes.

LW: The people who were supposed to eliminate you told you?

DW: That’s correct. Yes. I wrote an article about them.

LW: What was their circumstance? They were in there on murder or something?

DW: They’d already been convicted of state murder charges. They were waiting on Federal murder charge. They were awaiting trial. But they were trusting. They had him guarding me.

LW: They had the murderers guarding you?

DW: Trustees, yes. They could get me out –

LW: They could walk all through the prison and where they want to go.

DW: Absolutely, yes, where I was. Through the cell block where I was. When I came out for showers, they were the ones that were walking, handing out food, cleaning up, all this stuff.

LW: What did you say to them, initially?

DW: One of them saw me getting a book and it was a legal book. It was on the book cart down in a common area. He said, “Are you interested in that book, law book?” I said, “I'm a lawyer. If you ever need anything, let me know.” Because he was one of the head trustees. Then, he came to get me for a phone call with my lawyer. Then, on that walk, I told him more about my background. I said, “You don't know me, but there's a Netflix documentary out on me. You got to watch it sometime. You need to come see me, because I can help you.” Only when I did that that I learned all those stuff that they were supposed to do. I said I'm going to help you. I can help you. I'm going to write an article about your story.

That made my stay in Atlanta pretty good and then they got me on out. But La Tuna, I enjoyed La Tuna. La Tuna was my first experience with Spanish-speaking inmates and people, period. I love the Hispanic community, Latino community. It was just they are very different from the Black community. They're very family oriented and they network. I mean, they really network as a community, even in prison they network, and very respectful towards elderly people. They wouldn't let me do anything. Nothing. No laundry, no nothing. They saw me helping an inmate, and then when they saw I was helping every category of inmates, whites, Blacks, Asians, Native-Americans, it didn't matter to me. If you need help, you need help, right? It doesn't matter what your group is.

[END] 

If you'd like to hear how the rest of my dad's story unfolded, including more details about his incredible work helping inmates gain their freedom, continue with part two of episode 156 starting around the 30-minute mark. And be sure to follow him on Instagram @DonaldV.W.  

And if you enjoyed this conversation, make sure to check out part one of our episode where we dive into his early life and the incredible events that helped to shape his path to success towards becoming an attorney. 

And if you know of someone else who's had an incredible plot twist in their life, and they're out there making the world a better place, please send me your guest suggestions. My email is light@lightwatkins.com. Also, please take a few seconds to rate and review the show.

And I'll see you on Wednesday with the next long-form conversation about an ordinary person who's out there doing extraordinary things to leave the world a better place. And until then, keep trusting your intuition, keep following your heart, keep taking those leaps of faith.

And if no one's told you recently that they believe in you,  I believe in you. Thank you, and have a fantastic day.