Louisiana man spent 42 years in prison for a murder he didn’t commit. The state still won’t pay him

Elvis Brooks could receive up to $480,000 for his wrongful conviction, but Louisiana’s attorney general is fighting his claim.

Elvis Brooks did 42 years in one of the country’s most notorious prisons for a murder he didn’t commit. Now that a Louisiana court has thrown out his conviction, the state owes him up to $480,000 under its wrongful-conviction compensation program. He hasn’t seen a dime, and the state’s top law enforcement officer is fighting to keep it that way, according to reporting by ProPublica.

Brooks, now 69 and living in New Orleans, was 19 when police arrested him for a 1977 bar shooting. No physical evidence linked him to the crime, and a dozen people placed him at a family gathering when it happened. He was convicted anyway, largely on the word of three white witnesses who identified him, a Black teenager, after a brief glimpse in a dim room. It took more than four decades, and a prosecutor’s admission that fingerprint evidence pointing away from Brooks was never disclosed, for a judge to finally vacate the conviction.

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That should have cleared the path to compensation. Instead, Attorney General Liz Murrill has opposed the claim, insisting in court filings that Brooks is still guilty. It’s not an isolated case. According to a joint investigation by ProPublica and Verite News, Murrill has fought all but one of 23 compensation claims from exonerees since taking office two years ago — even in cases backed by DNA evidence. She’s even threatened one exoneree’s law license if he didn’t drop his claim.

Louisiana requires applicants to prove innocence by “clear and convincing” evidence, a tougher standard than many states use. Legal advocates say Murrill’s office treats that bar as nearly insurmountable, regardless of what the evidence shows.

For Brooks, the fight has meant surviving on a $994 monthly Social Security check while the state relitigates his innocence. He says the ordeal feels like a second punishment, one more barrier standing between him and simply being believed.

If compensation ever comes, Brooks says he knows exactly what he’d do first: buy a bigger headstone for his family’s crowded grave, so all seven names, including the parents and siblings he lost while locked away, can finally be written in stone.