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By Ken Sakamoto, Star-Bulletin
Lepo Taliese, released from prison in 1995 after his
life-without-parole sentence was commuted, enjoys
his time with his daughter, Selena.

Ex-con seizes
life on the ‘outside’

There have been setbacks,
but he's striving to reach
his goals and using his
experiences to help others

Second of two parts | Part One

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By Debra Barayuga
Star-Bulletin

From afar, 6-foot-2, 320-pound Lepo Taliese can appear very intimidating.

But up close, the face of this ex-con softens as he gazes at 16-month-old daughter Selena squirming on his lap during a recent outing.

Once a prison "old-timer" who lashed out verbally and physically when provoked, Taliese tried to describe how the toddler trying to escape his firm grip has changed his life.

Even while busy at work, his thoughts stray to her. "Me and her have a special bond," he likes to say.

This is not the same Lepo Taliese, formerly known as Lepo Utu, who was sentenced to a life term without parole after he and four other inmates were convicted of first-degree murder for killing a fellow inmate in 1980.

In November 1994, Gov. John Waihee reduced Taliese's sentence to life with parole, and he was released six months later. Although he returned to prison for parole violations, he's been out since November 1996. Since then, Taliese has struggled to live a normal life.

With the backing of his family and support from people willing to give him a second chance, Taliese is employed, starting his own family and helping other ex-offenders survive outside the prison walls.

"I've always wanted a family and to do these things," said Taliese, now 41. "Now I'm finally getting a chance."

A second chance was the farthest thing from his mind 18 years ago, when the late Circuit Judge Phillip Chun sentenced him to life without parole.

"I was thinking, I gonna fight it. But after five years, 10 years, 15 years went by, I strongly felt I probably was going to spend the rest of my life in here," said Taliese, who has never wavered from maintaining his innocence.

He felt betrayed by the judicial system, which convicted him despite what he felt was a lack of evidence. He thought about taking his life.

If it weren't for his good friend Sopo Faalafua, convicted in the same crime and experiencing the same turmoil, he might have committed suicide. The two met once or twice a week to encourage and motivate each other.

When both walked out of prison in June 1995, it was a moment they both celebrated and dreaded.

Taliese said he already had two strikes against him: He was an ex-con and a Samoan.

"I don't want to make 'Poor me, poor me,' but that's what happened," he said of the way potential employers treated him when he applied for jobs.

Even more difficult was shedding the attitudes he learned in prison and learning to interact with others besides ex-cons.

"In my mind, I thought I was important. I still thinking people owe me something. Outside, no one cares if you're an old-timer."

He filled out numerous job applications and disclosed his criminal record. Frustrated after no one called back, Taliese said he began to fall back on his old ways.

He began abusing drugs and alcohol until his parole officer gave him an ultimatum: Seek treatment or return to prison.

He opted for treatment and was out in three months "because of my burning desire to do something positive out here," he said.

He began hanging out with an ex-con he met while in treatment who was doing well. They attended 12-step meetings together, and Taliese picked up lessons on how to cope with life on the "outside."

While not a deeply religious person, he tries to deal with problems on a spiritual level rather than in his old confrontational way, he said.

He credits Rags Scanlan, president of Royal Guard Security, with giving him his first real job.

"The timing was perfect, and we had a need for a person like him," Scanlan said.

Taliese came across as sincere and didn't hide behind his past mistakes, Scanlan said. "He's paid his dues to society."

Taliese was assigned to a Royal Guard Security site beset with youth gang problems. Scanlan felt that with Taliese's background and sincerity, he would have some impact on the kids.

"He was very successful at that," Scanlan said.

Scanlan's faith in him boosted Taliese's confidence.

"It showed me I was employable and that people are willing to hire me," said Taliese, who had no formal job training or skills other than those acquired working in the prison print shop.

Role model for ex-offenders

About two years later, Taliese was offered a job as duty staff with Fresh Start Inc., a residential program in Waipahu for drug and alcohol abusers and ex-offenders.

Taliese was a source of strength and encouragement to the residents, said Executive Director Ron Barker.

Taliese oversaw the efficient running of the facility and was a good role model, sharing his struggles and successes with the residents. Ex-offenders were looking up to him, saying if he could survive outside prison, they could, too, Barker said.

Taliese had been working there only a few weeks when he was arrested in April 1999 for wandering into a Diamond Head home where MTV was filming a series, and accused of taking a planner.

Taliese resigned from Fresh Start to avoid any bad publicity to the program.

"It was noble of him to quit," Barker said. "It showed character and a sense of responsibility to say, 'Hey, I have some problems now, and I don't want those problems to reflect negatively on the program.'"

Taliese said he was trying to find the owner of the planner so he could return it when he was stopped by one of the film crew.

Deputy Prosecutor Barry Kemp said the jury believed otherwise when they convicted Taliese of first-degree burglary. But the judge overturned the verdict and granted Taliese a new trial based on ineffective assistance of counsel at his preliminary hearing.

The state appealed the judge's decision, and a decision is pending.

"I think it all comes down to what kind of person you are," Taliese said of the incident. If someone without a criminal record had been accused, they probably wouldn't have been charged, he said.

Not long after he left Fresh Start, Taliese was hired to run residential treatment homes for drug and alcohol abusers in Kaimuki.

Meanwhile, his girlfriend was released from jail. But when she violated her parole, it was Taliese who turned her in. She was two months pregnant at the time.

When daughter Selena was born at Kapiolani Medical Center in June 1999, Taliese was there waiting to whisk the infant away to live with him at the Kaimuki drug treatment house while his girlfriend served out her sentence.

For four months and with the moral support of aunties and uncles where he worked, he changed diapers, soothed his daughter's cries and rejoiced in her toothless grins. He took it hard when he had to relinquish her to her mother when she was released to a residential program.

Symbolic name change

After an unsuccessful attempt to run a drug and alcohol treatment house in Waipahu, Taliese moved to Kalihi and earlier this year got his license to drive taxis.

In April, Bob Naauao, the owner of Tradewind Taxi & Tours, offered him a car to drive after Taliese approached him for a job. Two months later, Naauao promoted him to supervisor, overseeing drivers at the company's three locations.

It's a decision Naauao doesn't regret. "He's a leader -- that's why I made him supervisor. From then he just took off. I didn't have to worry about nothing."

Taliese's name change from the family name Utu is a legacy from his father, who died Aug. 29 after a long illness. Taliese was the elder Utu's first name but was dropped when he became a high chief in American Samoa. He changed his son's last name to Taliese when Lepo got out of prison so his name would live on. In many respects, the switch is symbolic of the changes Taliese has made in his life over the past four years.

Taliese now drives his own taxi -- a 1992 Cadillac -- and lives in a three-bedroom, two-bath home in Salt Lake with his daughter and her mother.

For someone who isn't used to having much, Taliese now wants to share his good fortune and experiences with others.

A cousin of his who has been in prison nearly half his life is expected to be released later this year. He tells Taliese that he's afraid of getting out because life in prison is all he knows.

"I told him he can live with me and we can work together to get him back on his feet," Taliese said.

People like him who make mistakes and end up in prison deserve a second chance, he said. While getting a job is important once someone gets out of prison, its not nearly as important as learning to get along with others in the community you'll be living in, he said. "You cannot bring your prison mentality and deal with people out here."

He continues to sponsor ex-inmates by listening and helping them resolve their problems.

"I been taking so much from society, it's about time for me to contribute," he said.

Daughter Selena has given him a new purpose in life.

"Coconut head," he teases her affectionately when she head-butts him in the chest and explodes into giggles.

"It's a pleasure just to watch her grow up and do things," he said. His dream is emerging slowly. His fears today are not about his past, but that Selena will grow up too quickly and leave him. He dreams one day about owning his own taxi company.

Taliese has another reason to stay on the right path. He recently became a father again, this time to a son: Lepo Taliese Jr. was born on Nov. 9.

New evidence pointed to prisoners' innocence

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By Debra Barayuga
Star-Bulletin

Two men serving life sentences without parole for participating in the fatal beating of a fellow inmate served less than the 20 years required by law before their sentences were commuted.

But their circumstances were unique, according to the attorneys who represented them.

Gov. John Waihee in November 1994 reduced the sentences Sopo Faalafua and Lepo Utu were serving based on evidence indicating they were innocent, said attorney Chester Kanai, appointed to represent Utu.

Both inmates served about 14 years behind bars by the time they were released. Utu changed his name to Taliese after his release.

Evidence showed that the two inmates were in another area of the Oahu Prison yard when fellow inmates Milton Nihipali and Clarence Freitas III were beaten by a gang of prisoners in June 1980. Nihipali died. Freitas survived.

"It wasn't a question of they were guilty and 'please grant us clemency or mercy,' " said Kanai. "It was, 'We've got to do something because they're not guilty.' "

Kanai said he had misgivings when he first looked at Taliese's case.

But after reviewing trial transcripts, talking to inmates and conducting his own investigation, "I became convinced in my own mind that both were telling the truth," Kanai said.

Then-attorney Dan Foley, now a state appeals judge, was drawn into the case when a prison chaplain who felt Faalafua was innocent approached him asking him to look into the case.

Faalafua had been convicted primarily by the testimony of a prison guard who later committed suicide after the trial, Foley said. The guard had testified he saw Faalafua slitting Nihipali's throat from the front.

Nihipali's autopsy reports showed he did not sustain any defensive wounds on his hands and arms, what one would expect to find if someone had attacked him from the front, Foley said.

Also, Faalafua had no blood on himself after the incident.

"If someone was slitting someone's throat in front, he would have had blood on him," Foley said.

Prison staff and inmates alike gave statements that Faalafua didn't do it, Foley said.

What surfaced was a compelling collection of statements and evidence that made people look at the case in a different light, Foley said. Based on the evidence, Foley sought a pardon or commutation for Faalafua.

While Faalafua was no Boy Scout, he should not have been serving a life sentence without parole if he didn't commit the crime, Foley said. "Obviously Waihee leaned toward him not committing the murder, but wasn't convinced 100 percent and so commuted him instead" of pardoning him.

Foley doesn't fault the prosecutor who initially tried Faalafua, saying the state did what it could with the evidence available at the time.

Deputy Prosecutor Kevin Takata supported Faalafua's request for a commutation, an unusual move for a prosecutor. It's the first time in his career as a deputy prosecutor Takata has supported the release of a defendant. But, he said, "In looking into the files, I had a definite concern about what happened.

"As prosecutors, our job is to seek justice and that can mean different things in different cases."

Mistaken identity appeared to have played a role.

At the time, many inmates were sporting Afros, making it difficult to identify those who participated in the beating, Takata said.

One of the key witnesses who testified had recently arrived from the mainland. Studies have shown that identification across ethnic lines is less reliable, Takata said.

Those inside the prison felt that the individuals truly responsible for Nihipali's beating were never charged, Foley said.

"Sopo was a young guy who had just come into prison for robbery. The people who planned this needed a fall guy," he said.

Kanai said it was a "long, painful process" to prepare Taliese's case for review by the paroling authority, but it was worth the time spent.

"You're talking about a person not in the gray area, but falls in the white area of being innocent," he said. "I kind of feel badly they were convicted in the first place, but the system is not flawless."

In March 1995, less than a year after his release, Faalafua was fatally wounded by a shotgun blast to the back when he visited a Waianae drug house.

"Sopo had no employment or skills and he went back to what he knew," said Takata, who was disappointed to hear of Faalafua's demise. "I had hoped Sopo would be on the road to a better life."

Takata had also looked into Taliese's case, but wasn't thoroughly convinced he was not involved.

Takata is happy, however, with the progress Taliese has made since his release and wishes the former inmate the best.

"I've seen him outside of prison and it appears he's getting his life in order."