We speak with death row inmate Keith LaMar live from the Ohio State Penitentiary, after the release of The Injustice of Justice, a short film about his case that just won the grand prize for best animated short film at the Golden State Film Festival. “I had to find out the hard way that in order for my life to be mine, that I had to stand up and claim it,” says LaMar, who has always maintained his innocence. LaMar was sentenced to death for participating in the murder of five fellow prisoners during a 1993 prison uprising. His trial was held in a remote Ohio community before an all-white jury. On January 13, 2027, the state intends to execute him, after subjecting him to three decades in solitary confinement. LaMar’s lawyer, Keegan Stephan, says his legal team has “discovered a lot of new evidence supporting Keith’s innocence” that should necessitate new legal avenues for LaMar to overturn the conviction.

This is a rush transcript. Copy may not be in its final form.

AMY GOODMAN: This is Democracy Now!, democracynow.org. I’m Amy Goodman.

We end today’s show with an incredible new animated short film. It’s called The Injustice of Justice. It’s illustrated by the world-renowned artist Molly Crabapple and is narrated and written by a man on Ohio’s death row, Keith LaMar. Keith LaMar will join us live from death row in a moment.

He has long maintained he was wrongfully convicted, and is fighting his pending execution. The Injustice of Justice just won the grand prize for the best animated short film at the Golden State Film Festival. Keith LaMar made history by being the first-ever death row prisoner to call in to speak at his own film premiere and to engage the audience.

This is the full short film, in which LaMar describes how he found himself sentenced to death after the 1993 Lucasville prison uprising at the Southern Ohio Correctional Facility, where he was being held. This is The Injustice of Justice.

KEITH LAMAR: My name is Keith LaMar. I’m a poet, author and musician. For the past 31 years, I’ve been in solitary confinement, buried under the never-ending agony of sensory deprivation. On January the 13th, 2027, the state of Ohio intends to kill me. I’m innocent. Thousands of people around the country and the world have rallied around my cause, joining me in my demand for justice. Here’s my story.

When I was 19 years old and selling drugs, a group of would-be robbers in search of money forced their way into my apartment. A shootout ensued, and, regrettably, I took someone’s life and was myself shot twice in the legs. Facing a long prison sentence and on the advice of counsel, I pled guilty to murder and was sentenced to serve 18 years to life. Determined to redeem myself and make good on my potential, I completed my GED, enrolled in college and became a voracious reader in an attempt to repair myself to society.

I was in the fourth year of my sentence when, in 1993, a riot erupted inside the prison. Apparently, a group of Muslim prisoners on religious grounds refused to submit to mandatory tuberculosis testing and were given an ultimatum: Take the test or else. Amid rumors of a forced inoculation, the Muslims took over the prison in protest, releasing some 400 prisoners from their cells and setting into motion an 11-day standoff that would also reclaim the lives of one guard and nine prisoners.

I was on the recreation yard when it all began. A guard came running out of the building with blood streaming down his face, followed by a masked prisoner who was carrying a weapon and yelling, “We taking over!” Against my better judgment, I went inside to check on my personal belongings. A fatal mistake. It was complete chaos. When I made it to my assigned location, I discovered that it was being used as a holding area for hostages, both guards and prisoners. I was thereafter approached by a masked prisoner, who gave me the option to either participate or leave. I chose to leave.

Hundreds of us gathered on the yard, waiting as the National Guard and Highway Patrol took up watch outside the perimeter fence. Later, when dead bodies were dumped into the yard, they stood by and did nothing. It was as if I was trapped inside a nightmare.

Around 2 a.m. the following morning, we were rounded up and herded into the gymnasium, where we were stripped naked and then violently forced in random groups of 10 into cells meant for one person. Stressed and stretched to the limit, a fight broke out over food. Tragically, I stood back and watched as a man named Dennis Weaver was held down by three prisoners and choked to death. It was a cowardly thing to do. And I can now see and admit that. But at the time, I was worried about my own........

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