Pervis Payne is my big brother, but I call him Bubba. And for more than 30 years my family has visited him behind bars for a crime we are confident he didn’t commit.
Tasha (sister), Pervis, and Rolanda. Photo courtesy of Rolanda Holman.
Prior to my mother and sister’s deaths, they would travel throughout the year to visit Pervis and would rarely miss a Christmas holiday. To this day, my dad, in his late 70s, continues this tradition.
My children and my nephew, who has lived with us since my sister’s passing, all love their uncle so much. Even though they’ve only ever known him inside prison, they love visiting him.
You can tell Pervis lights up when he sees them. They love playing Uno or Spades together — the same card games Pervis and I used to play when we were young — and having “feasts” where we eat all the snacks from the vending machine.
But every time we leave, our hearts break a little. And now, with the COVID-19 pandemic, none of us have seen Pervis for months. The kids keep saying, “I miss Uncle Bubba. When can we see him?”
It shouldn’t have to be like this. My brother, who has an intellectual disability, was put in prison based on racist stereotypes that the prosecution used to convince a jury to convict him. He is on death row even though it's unconstitutional to impose the death penalty on individuals with intellectual disabilities.
The State of Tennessee is scheduled to execute him on December 3. And there’s evidence in his case that has never been tested for DNA — testing this evidence could help clear my brother’s name.
The Innocence Project exonerates the wrongly convicted through DNA testing and reforms the criminal justice system to prevent future injustice. www.innocenceproject.org
