Raymond Schmitt was definitely a nostalgiac. AdvertisementsRead more "A Past That Never Existed"
There’s something about baseball that suspends time. Whole lifetimes seem to freeze between pitches. And I’m not talking about boredom. Maybe there’s a warm summer rain falling, or you’re being lulled into the cosmic wonder of baseball from the radio while sitting on a front porch. It’s a very reflective, meditative sport. When I look […]Read more "The Last Summer of Baseball"
This month marks 20 years since the Srebrenica Massacre, the genocide committed in southeastern Europe. It happened during the Bosnian War, one of the deadliest modern wars and one that often gets overlooked. I know and worked with a lot of former Yugoslavians–Bosnians, Croatians, and Montenegrins. And they all have one thing in common: that […]Read more "Country Disappeared"
I spent some time with a man who was recently released from jail after over 25 years for a murder he might not have committed. His name is Richard Lapointe, a simpleton with mental disabilities whose supporters say was not capable of pulling off the horrific crime years ago. During my time doing this story, […]Read more "Life On The Outside"
I used to have a summer job at a mini golf course when I was in high school. It was on a stretch of the Berlin Turnpike where the densely populated big box stores give way to the occasional motel or stranded gas station. What was left was some beautiful, undeveloped land, which from the […]Read more "Passing Afternoons"
In 1989, Richard Lapointe, a simple man with mental disabilities, was living in Manchester, Connecticut and working dead-end jobs like washing dishes and bagging groceries when he was arrested for the rape and murder of his then-wife’s grandma. Bernice Martin was stabbed 11 times, tied up, and her apartment was set on fire. A jury […]Read more "Hey Serial, Here’s Your Next Podcast"
One day while I was covering court in a flyover town near the Massachusetts border, I noticed a frequent visitor who prosecutors knew by his first name. His name was Richard, and he seemed like your token backwoods, working class male from these parts: white, worn-out, and completely nonchalant about being a regular at court. […]Read more "Getting Addicted to Dust-Off Cans is Possible, and it Will Ruin Your Life"