The headline on The Denver Post this morning read "Overwhelmed". The article tells the story of Tim Masters, released after a decade behind bars for murder. His conviction has been overturned based on DNA evidence, or more precisely, a lack thereof. I go on to read another columnist's article, Susan Greene, and find out that the Colorado state crime lab will not test evidence for defendants. It took a long process and $67,000 to get DNA samples sent to Holland for analysis. The samples showed zero evidence that Masters was on the murder scene, an ex-boyfriend of the victim's DNA showed up instead.
Obviously, the saga is brand new to me, no one I know, nothing I'm tied to, but evidence of truth intrigues me. It always has. It seems we're more in love with the illusion of order than we are with truth. This isn't a new observation by any means, but those days when once again it hits me in the face always give me pause.
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