The Cost of the Best Defense
Poverty Can Buy.
In the United States, who receives the death penalty often has as much to do with race and resources as with the crime itself. Decades of research show that capital punishment happens disproportionately, falling mostly on people of color, those living with untreated mental illness, the disabled, and the poor.¹
For indigent defendants in Texas, particularly Black defendants, serious gaps in representation exist. Money matters. In essence, it is often better to be rich and guilty than poor and innocent.
Amos’ court-appointed trial lawyers were both former assistant district attorneys who had sought death sentences. They spent tax-payer money on experts who presented fake science, and not on investigating Amos’ life.
They did not contact more than 20 potential witnesses, including neighbors, teachers, and family members who could have provided critical insight into Amos’ upbringing and struggles. Even a corrections officer who was ready to testify that Amos intervened to protect him from an attack was not called to the stand.
As a result, the jury did not hear significant portions of Amos’ life story. They did not hear mitigating information that could have informed their decision.
How Texas Decides Who Lives and Who Dies
Among the 50 states, Texas is unique in how it determines who lives and dies*. In Texas, the Court directs the jury to determine whether there is a probability that the defendant would commit criminal acts of violence that would constitute a continuing threat to society. The jury does not receive definitions for: probability, criminal acts of violence, continuing threat, and society. Asking the jury to predict “future dangerousness” is ridiculous. Yet this statute is behind many death sentences for defendants who have been in prison for decades, despite having not shown to act criminally or pose a threat.
The jury’s answer must be unanimous. If even one juror has reasonable doubt about future dangerousness, the sentence must be life, not death. That safeguard is meant to ensure that one person with the full picture, can prevent an unjust execution.
Amos’ attorneys, two former prosecutors, understood that the central question was the potential for future risk. Tragically, their own strategy played a decisive role in how it was answered.
*Note: Oregon has the same statute as Texas, but currently has a moratorium preventing its use
Junk Science,
Junk Strategy
Amos was represented by two court-appointed attorneys, William Ray and Stephen Gordon. His attorneys advanced a theory that genetic factors caused Amos to behave violently. They had attempted this argument twice before in previous cases, wasting thousands of dollars in tax-payer money on fake scientific evidence they hoped would help their clients. Twice they were proven wrong and both of their previous clients were sentenced to death, this did not deter the attorneys from using the same, failed junk science as part of Amos’ defense.
Ray and Gordon hired an expert who testified that Amos was statistically more likely than average to engage in future violence. This defense expert cited research suggesting reduced impulse control is associated with certain genetic markers.
The prosecutor relied on this testimony in his closing argument, pointing to the expert’s words as evidence of future dangerousness.
What the Jury Never Saw.
The video the jury never knew existed. [LINK]
Within an hour of the crime, Amos walked into the police station and turned himself in. Officers recorded him throughout the night.
The footage captures a remorseful Amos in distress. He struggles to speak through tears. He tells detectives he deserves to die. He asks to apologize to the victims’ families. When he is told all three victims have died, he breaks down. At one point, he asks the detective for a hug, and gets one.
Later that night, Amos gave a seven-minute on-camera interview to a local television station. The raw video shows him weeping throughout.
The prosecution obtained that full interview. The trial court, however, ruled that the video could not be shown to the jury. At trial, the prosecutor, knowing that the jury would never see the video of Amos weeping, then argued to jurors: “You noticed that the Defendant never shed a tear, not a single tear.”
A scholar who studies how juries make decisions in death penalty cases reviewed the video and the trial record. Based on that review, he concluded there was a high probability that at least one juror would have voted for life if they had seen the footage, a single vote that would have prevented a death sentence.
The jury never saw the video. They were told, instead, that throughout the trial Amos showed no emotion, no remorse, no humanity.
The Juror Who Should Never Have Been Seated
A prospective juror wrote on his questionnaire, three times, that anyone guilty of murder should receive the death penalty. But the fuller picture didn’t come out until he was questioned: he was a newly naturalized citizen, still unfamiliar with how U.S. courts worked, worried that failing to serve could somehow jeopardize his wife’s immigration status, and working two jobs on almost no sleep. Typically, a defense attorney would never allow a juror with such background to be seated on a capital jury. Amos’ lawyers, both former prosecutors, didn’t ask the questions that would have surfaced any of this. They let him stay.
Under Supreme Court precedent, a death sentence is constitutionally compromised if even one juror who would automatically vote for death serves on a capital jury. In Amos’ case, that safeguard existed on paper. No one used it.
The jury, including at least one man who said he automatically would vote for death, presented with evidence by Amos’ own defense, ultimately found that Amos Wells would pose a continuing threat. On November 18, 2016, they sentenced him to death.
“Have we proven he will commit future violence? Their own expert says he is going to be dangerous. This is the easy answer, and they conceded it through all their experts.”
– The State v. Amos Wells
A Pattern of Bad Lawyering, Not an Isolated Choice
Three failures. All preventable. All ignored.
This wasn't one bad call; it was the pattern. The same attorneys ran this exact playbook, junk science and all, in other capital cases before Amos'.
They had the evidence. They didn't use it. A defense expert found signs of severe mental illness, PTSD, and major depression. The jury never heard it.
Twenty people could have told the jury who Amos really was. His lawyers never called a single one.
The result: mitigating evidence never reached the courtroom. Junk science built on racial stereotypes did.
A neuropsychologist retained by the defense identified signs consistent with severe mental illness, including paranoia, possible PTSD, and major depression. That information was not fully presented to the jury.
More than 20 witnesses who could have provided firsthand accounts of Amos’ life were never called.