Taking on the hardest cases — without DNA — and setting the innocent free

The Washington Post article By Barbara Bradley Hagerty Published August 7, 2020 

In early 1979, Jim McCloskey was in his mid-30s, safely home from Vietnam and settling into a successful career as a consultant. Yet his life felt emotionally empty, so he turned to romance, dividing his time between a not-yet-divorced woman and a Times Square prostitute named Brandy whom he genuinely adored. Worried that his personal life was “reaching rock bottom,” he returned to his Presbyterian church and began studying the Bible. But — Augustine’s prayer comes to mind: “Lord, make me chaste, but not yet” — McCloskey ventured into Times Square again and, Brandy being unavailable, picked up another woman, only to awaken later to find his wallet gone. “That was the moment I got up, looked in the mirror, and finally said to myself, what the hell way is this to live your life?”

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