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A photo illustration shows a broken wooden gavel over the silhouette of the state of Louisiana.
Photo Illustration by Sarah Rogers. Photos from Adobe Stock

For decades, Louisiana used nonunanimous jury verdicts, a practice rooted in racism and long rejected by nearly every other U.S. jurisdiction. Although the U.S. Supreme Court ruled this system unconstitutional in 2020, the decision did not apply retroactively to cases already decided. 

This year, it looked like that might change. State Senate Bill 218 advanced through a legislative committee — the furthest a bill like this had ever made it — before dying an ignominious death in the state Senate. 

The bill was rejected, in large part, because of pressure from the Louisiana District Attorneys Association, which believed it would be “impractical to try old cases when witnesses may have died” and evidence might have been destroyed, ​​according to reporting from The Advocate. They also argued that these “cases would clog the courts.”

But I believe Louisiana has again failed to confront one of the most shameful relics of its Jim Crow past. In this country, guilt must be proven “beyond a reasonable doubt,” which effectively means that verdicts should be unanimous. Nonunanimous verdicts are problematic because they often allow juries with white majorities to override those from other communities that disagree. 

Louisiana cannot move forward while it is still clinging to this legal relic of racial exclusion. SB 218 offered a path to justice, but lawmakers decided not to take it.

As an alternative path, the Senate commissioned a study to determine the extent and number of individuals affected by nonunanimous verdicts. It is expected to make recommendations by Feb. 1, 2026. What those recommendations will be is anyone’s guess.

Louisiana voters had amended the state constitution in 2018 to abolish nonunanimous jury verdicts. But the change was only applied to future cases. In the 2020 case Ramos v. Louisiana, the U.S. Supreme Court affirmed the unconstitutionality of nonunanimous jury verdicts, but the following year, it ruled in Edwards v. Vannoy that the decision would not be automatically retroactive, and it left it to states to decide whether to revisit old convictions.

SB 218 would have allowed people convicted by split juries before 2019 to challenge those convictions through a new review process. 

According to the Associated Press, an estimated 1,000 people, many of them Black, remain incarcerated under verdicts that would be illegal today. The bill would have marked a modest but necessary step toward justice in a state long plagued by systemic racial bias in its legal system.

Amin Amin is one person at my prison who would have potentially benefited from the legislation. Back in 2001, when he was convicted of second-degree murder by a nonunanimous jury, he didn’t quite grasp what had happened — even as an attorney tried to explain it to him.    

“The language she was speaking was kind of foreign to me,” Amin said. “This was the first time I can remember hearing the jargon ‘nonunanimous.’”

As he did more research and educated himself on Louisiana history and law, Amin filed multiple post-conviction appeals on his own behalf.

When he learned of SB 218, Amin said he became “cautiously optimistic.” When the bill was passed out of committee, he was “even more optimistic, but extremely measured.” Then the bill failed. 

“Unfortunately,” he said, “it’s still politically risky … to do what’s clearly the right thing.”

Anthony Boult, an incarcerated legal advocate who remains behind bars due to a nonunanimous verdict, said he felt like the state’s inaction was insulting. 

All who were convicted under the law deserve review, said Boult, who co-leads the Louisiana 10-2 Committee for Equal Justice at the state penitentiary and also works with both the Promise of Justice Initiative and Reform Alliance, a project started by rapper Jay-Z.  

Serge Sherman, chairman of the 10-2 Committee, who was convicted of second-degree murder in 1991 through a 10-2 split-jury decision, remembers being angry when he learned the Supreme Court ruling would not apply retroactively. 

“What they were saying was we didn’t matter,” Sherman said. “Even as incarcerated people, we buy into the concepts of righteousness, of right and wrong. … What righteous person would not correct an injustice, something they know is wrong?”

Still, even in the face of SB 218’s failure, Sherman believes progress is being made. From his perspective, the movement has achieved visibility and “momentum.” He is confident that eventually a “just remedy” will be made available to everyone.

“You can’t have a fast-food mindset,” he said, pointing to the women’s suffrage and Civil Rights movements, when gains were measured in decades. 

Opponents of SB 218 have cited high court costs and the burden on victims. The idea of a person who committed a violent crime avoiding accountability due to a procedural flaw is understandably distressing, particularly for victims and their families. But correcting wrongful convictions is also necessary to ensure that justice is fair and accountable for everyone. 

State Rep. Randal Gaines told The Lens in 2021: “The fact that they were convicted by a nonunanimous jury does not conclusively establish that they were wrongfully convicted or that they were not guilty.” 

Gaines is not wrong, but misses the point. In 48 states and every federal court, these cases would have resulted in mistrials, requiring prosecutors to retry, dismiss or renegotiate. Louisiana took a shortcut that denied defendants the full protections of justice. Failing to uphold the constitutional requirement to prove guilt “beyond a reasonable doubt” undermines the integrity of the entire criminal legal system. 

SB 218 would not have erased past harm, but would have acknowledged it. For a state with a legacy that includes Plessy v. Ferguson and the infamous Angola prison, a former slave plantation, reckoning with history is more than symbolic; it’s essential. 

Boult and others understand the objections but contend that most cases would likely be resolved through plea bargains, which would reduce cost and trauma while restoring fairness. 

“I think decades from now, we’re going to look back and feel shame that it took us so long to fix such a morally bankrupt issue,” Amin said. “It’s obvious it’s wrong.”

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Trevor Reese writes from Louisiana.