Killer Tam Richey: My brother Kenny

Published on Thursday 27 August 2009 09:05

THE Richey family story is not a happy one. Three Edinburgh brothers moved to the US to be with their American father – two ended up in prison, convicted of heinous crimes.

Older brother Kenny always denied he had anything to do with starting the fire that killed a two-year-old girl, but when he finally won his freedom from Death Row last year, it was far from the happy ending he'd longed for.

Here, his brother Tam Richey – in jail for a murder he admits committing – gives his unique insight into those rollercoaster months following Kenny's release, and reveals how his brother is finally finding peace.

OVER the years, I've written a book, a screenplay, and numerous articles about my brother's case. I thought I was done with his story. To be honest, I'd decided to be done with him, but here I am with a new story to tell about a man who has become my brother again.

On 8 January 2008, Kenny was finally released by Ohio State authorities after serving 21 years on Death Row. I talked to him on the phone that day from a Washington State prison where I'm serving a sentence of 65 years for shooting two people, killing one, during a bad LSD bender in 1986.

Kenny and I had written to each other regularly but hadn't talked in more than 21 years. Yet, to claim we made up for lost time by filling that fifteen-minute phonecall with incessant chatter would be far from the truth. Our conversation was instead stilted, with periods of dead air between sentences. We were shocked this day had actually come. Privately, I think we'd accepted Ohio's resolve to execute him. I know he'd prepared for that outcome, programmed himself to take that final walk to death house without faltering a step. He'd had to think about that every day.

I remember asking him to send me photos of Edinburgh when he returned, of the streets we grew up in, and he said: "No problem at all, Tam. Consider it done." It was what we promised to do for each other if one of us got out; help the other in any way we could.

When Kenny arrived at the Edinburgh Airport, he was met by an army of media and well wishers, and expectations within the Richey family were high for him. His dreams in prison were often scattered, sometimes whimsical, but they all promised he'd do right by being a stable, responsible person, but Kenny quickly became withdrawn. My letters to him during those first weeks of his release went ignored. The photos I asked for never came. Our dad, who battled cancer in Washington State, waited to hear from Kenny, but his phone didn't ring. Dad had to resort to reading newspaper website postings just to know how Kenny was doing. It became apparent he wasn't doing well. The tabloids delighted in reporting his every misstep. Concerned, dad phoned Kenny, told him to get himself straightened out, but Kenny blew him off, and they didn't speak for several months. When they did, Kenny slammed the phone down in response to dad's criticism of his lifestyle.

Shortly after, it should have came as a little surprise to anyone when Kenny stumbled and landed in HMP Saughton facing charges of assault and robbery.

I wrote a final letter to him there, criticising him for his behaviour, his general attitude, for his broken promises. I resented him for squandering a chance at freedom I only dream of. I didn't intend to talk to him again.

He spent several months in prison on remand. A week before the charges were dropped and he was released, he wrote to me. He apologised for everything and asked me to forgive him. He explained the difficulty he'd had fitting into a society that had passed him by. For 21 years, he'd prepared himself to die, only to suddenly be free. He'd lived each day as if it was his last because that was exactly how he'd programmed himself during his 21 years on Death Row; as if each day would be his last.

His time in Saughton had given him time to reflect and understand the reasons for his fall, and he promised things would be different. I suspected he was giving me lip-service, but he took a step toward following through with his promise when, on 6 April, he flew to Washington State to be with dad before he passed away.

When I talked to him on the phone, the voice of the cocky brother released last year had been replaced by the sombre voice of a man who'd been humbled by reality. It was the first time we'd ever talked so candidly, his frailties exposed.

A few days later, he sat by dad's bedside, holding his hand when dad took his last breath. Kenny stayed in Washington until the end of April, taking care of the responsibilities that come following a family bereavement.

He had to move on. He had other responsibilities – matters of the heart. He had to travel to Minnesota to see his son and ex-wife, Wendy, and see whether his feelings for her were more than remnants of what was. He had to get away from everything and rediscover himself.

Before he left for Minnesota, he told me: "People judged me poorly because they didn't understand what that place did to me. I didn't understand it myself until it was too late. I know it's going to take time for me to recover from the effects of Death Row. Till then, I've got to take things a day at a time."

That's what he's been doing since his arrival in Baxter, Minnesota, a town he describes as "boring", but he admits boring is what he needs. He said: "I still sometimes wake at night with the sounds of Death Row in my head. I know it's going to take time, but I don't think I'll feel truly free until the nightmares stop. Then I'll be ready to move on with my life."

He's taken an interest in landscaping and gardening, but the ailing US economy leaves few opportunities for someone with little experience. It has led him to considering public speaking, sharing his experiences of his life on Death Row and after. He believes it would be interesting, if not educational, for others and therapeutic for himself, but he's made no decisions on his future.

"For now, I'm content with living in anonymity," he said.

&#149 Richey set to lead fight on death penalty

FAMILY TROUBLE

KENNY and Tam Richey left Scotland in 1982 to make a new life in the United States with their father James, after his marriage to their mother Eileen broke down.

Tam was jailed at the age of 18 after shooting two shop assistants, killing one, while high on LSD. He was on Death Row for a year but he was eventually given a prison term after accepting a plea bargain.

He has always felt a degree of responsibility for his brother's conviction, because at Kenny's trial, the prosecutor mentioned the fact that his brother had been arrested for murder in Washington. He has called Kenny his "unseen victim."

In June 1986, three months after Tom gunned down the shop assistants, Kenny was charged with arson-murder, in connection with starting a fire which killed two-year-old Cynthia Collins in Ohio.

Despite repeated claims of innocence and a flawed trial, he was sentenced to death.

After 13 appeals, his conviction was overturned and he was freed in January 2008.