8 February 16-22, 2023 miaminewtimes.com | browardpalmbeach.com New Times | music | cafe | culture | Night+Day | News | letters | coNteNts | Month XX–Month XX, 2008 miaminewtimes.com MIAMI NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | FILM | ART | STAGE | NIGHT+DAY | METRO | RIPTIDE | LETTERS | CONTENTS | That underrepresentation essentially en- sured that a Black juror would not be seated, significantly stacking the deck against Laster. Studies have shown that jurors often find defendants from other racial and ethnic groups guilty at higher rates, particularly in rape trials where the suspect is Black and the victim white. In fact, in the 24 years before Laster’s trial, of the 30 men executed for rape in Florida, 29 were Black. Notably, all 30 of those executed men had been accused of rap- ing white women. Additionally, no white man has ever been executed for the nonhomicidal rape of a Black woman in any U.S. state. Laster avoided execution. But his life sen- tence, handed down in the same era, still stands. GOING THROUGH THE MOTIONS In 2011, Laster found a procedural error he believed negated his conviction. He had de- termined, 48 years after his trial, that his in- dictment didn’t bear a court clerk’s “minute entry” or “notation,” as required by law. Nor does the court docket show the indictment was filed at all. Laster argued that those errors meant the court had no authorization to try him. A judge denied the motion as legally insuffi- cient. An appellate court dismissed it, too, as did the Florida Supreme Court. Over the years, Laster refiled his motions, tweaking them based on new information or laws he learned about. One problem with motions is that they’re notoriously hard for nonlawyers to get right. Failing to invoke the proper rule (or subsec- tion of a rule) often leads to dismissal. Future attempts to refile the same motion are often denied as successive, even though the first motion was never adjudicated on its merits. Laster has written to a handful of lawyers and organizations asking for pro bono help but received no response. He also has written letters to eight Florida governors asking for clemency. Those re- quests were long shots. Since 1980, clemency, an “executive lowering of the penalty,” has only been granted to two inmates convicted of sexual battery. Laster’s most recent request to Gov. Ron DeSantis was filed on June 8, 2021. The Of- fice of Executive Clemency responded, in- forming Laster that the governor had denied the pending clemency applications of “all murderers and felony sex offenders.” Laster will be eligible to reapply for clem- ency in 2026 when he’s 81. “If I’m still around,” he says, “I’ll try again.” WHAT NOW? Laster doesn’t have to work. At his age, it’s no longer mandatory. To stay active, he says, he mops floors and helps elderly or infirm in- mates at the Dade Correctional Institution south of Florida City, where he was trans- ferred last year. On a typical day, though, he wakes up, goes to breakfast, then spends the day listening to a Christian radio station, reading, and writing letters. He writes to churches, ministries, the court, and to me. I get one letter a week, sometimes two. I tried to help things along. I wrote to the University of Miami School of Law’s Inno- cence Clinic and to the Miami-Dade state attorney’s Justice Project, both of which work to overturn wrongful convictions. I asked if they could help Laster. Neither group responded. Laster’s sole path to freedom may lie with the parole board, now known as the Florida Commission on Offender Review (FCOR), a panel of three commissioners that decides which inmates to parole or to release early for other reasons. The last time Laster became eligible for release was in December 2009. At that time, an Alcoholics Anonymous coun- selor named Fred Rebozo, who owns a used- car dealership in South Miami-Dade, pledged to offer Laster a maintenance job at his busi- ness and a place to stay. “He is punctual and polite,” Rebozo wrote in a letter to the FCOR commissioners. “He never misses our meetings... He will be wel- come [at my business] and I would be de- lighted to have his assistance.” The commission declined to release Laster, telling him in a letter, “[We have] been unable to find that there is a reasonable prob- ability that, if you are released on parole, you will live and conduct yourself as a respectable and law-abiding person and that your release will be compatible with your own welfare and the welfare of society.” The decision, they wrote, was based on the nature of his crimes and history of alcohol abuse. (Laster has not had a drink since 1976.) In 2014 and 2021, he was denied again for the same reasons. Those denials reflect a wider pattern. Even though 3,789 inmates were eligible in Florida last year, FCOR issued only 21 pa- roles. Parole, inmates often say, is like win- ning the lottery. Fred Rebozo, the AA counselor who of- fered Laster work and a room in 2009, says his offer still stands. A job and living space are both requirements for parole. “If he gets out,” Rebozo says, “I’ll take him.” MIA There’s one other potential scenario. Now 79 years old and widowed, Mia still lives in Florida. In theory, she could write a letter to a judge, the state attorney, or FCOR in support of Laster’s release, or provide a statement to be used as part of a petition for relief. Alternatively, if Laster can get a lawyer and a new hearing, she could reaffirm what she said at trial more than half a century ago: that she was never certain Boast Laster was one of the men who attacked her. Would she do any of those things? I found Mia’s daughter on social media. She explained that her mother was so trau- matized by the 1963 attack that she has been afraid of male strangers ever since. She added that Mia is in poor health and began shaking and crying when told of my inquiry. It would be best, she said, if I didn’t speak with her. Laster says he doesn’t expect Mia to come forward. And that’s OK. “I don’t blame no one for my situation,” he says. Yet six decades later, he sometimes pon- ders a question: Who has suffered more, him or Mia? “Did I do wrong?” he muses. “Yeah, I went out there and stole. But raping some- body? No. Never. That ain’t me.” After so many years, what would he do if he got out? He says he wants to find out where his par- ents are buried and lay flowers on their graves. He wants to eat ham hocks with rice and black-eyed peas, followed by sweet potato pie. He wants to sit in the stands and watch a base- ball game under a wide-open sky. Mostly, he wants to know one last time what freedom feels like. “It’s been so long,” he says, “I can’t remember no more.” [email protected] Hard Time from p7 The Metro-Dade crime lab found no physical evidence to connect Boast Laster or Reid Bryant, his codefendant, to the assault. Miami-Dade County court files Miami-Dade police file photo Boast “Bo” Laster, inmate No. 010540 Photo by Terence Cantarella
