JUST IN:Texas to Execute Black British DEA Agent:Murder Mum and stole her s0n|Death row,Britain Begs

JUST IN:Texas to Execute Black British DEA Agent:Murder Mum and stole her s0n|Death row,Britain Begs

“That’s the only reason I’m fighting, because if I had done this, I would have taken my punishment. But I know—I know in my heart—I didn’t do it. I don’t have the resources. I didn’t have anybody to help me. Had it not been for these tips, like I said, I think I would have been extremely worried—probably skin and bones by now.”

“Somebody in England kept pushing me,” she continued. “He said, ‘You need to put something out there. You never know. These days, everybody has telephones. Everybody takes pictures; people see things. It’s now up to my attorneys to take it to the next level.’” Texas, present day.

A 67-year-old British grandmother sits in a cell on death row. She’s been there for over two decades. Her name is Linda Carty and she’s waiting to be strapped to a gurney and injected with lethal chemicals. She wakes each morning in a 6-by-9-foot cell at the Mountain View unit in Gatesville. The walls are covered in mold. Water runs down the concrete.

She has two grandchildren she has never been allowed to hold. But here’s what makes her case different from every other person on Texas death row. Linda Carty was a government informant. She helped the DEA put drug dealers behind bars for nearly a decade. She wore a wire. She risked her life gathering evidence against dangerous criminals.

She infiltrated Jamaican drug gangs in Houston, one of America’s most active trafficking corridors. Her handler gave her a code name. She attended high-level briefings. She called herself a surveillance girl without a badge. And she says those same criminals she helped put away framed her for murder. The British government believes her.

They have formally declared her conviction unsafe. They filed legal briefs in American courts demanding her release. They sent diplomats to meet with Texas governors. They raised her case at the highest levels of international relations. Human rights organizations have plastered her face across London’s Trafalga Square. They built a replica of her death row cell in the shadow of a famous London church so the public could see how she lives.

Celebrities like Bianca Jagger have demanded her freedom. Former prosecutors have called her trial a disgrace. Yet, Texas says she masterminded the kidnapping of a young mother and her newborn baby. They say she was desperate. Her common-law husband had left her. She had lied to him repeatedly about being pregnant. She needed a baby to win him back.

They say she recruited criminals to break into her neighbor’s apartment just 4 days after that neighbor gave birth. They say she wanted to steal that baby and pass it off as her own. They say the mother, a 25-year-old Mexican immigrant named Joana Rodriguez, suffocated to death in the trunk of Linda’s rental car, bound with duct tape, a plastic bag over her head.

The key witness against her was Chris Robinson, a convicted murderer who claimed he saw Linda pull the plastic bag over Joana’s head. 12 years later, he signed an affidavit saying that testimony was a lie. He said prosecutors threatened to give him the death penalty if he didn’t say what they wanted. The prosecutors denied it.

A judge believed them. The conviction stood. Three men went to prison for physically committing the crime. Chris Robinson got 45 years. Gerald Anderson got life. Carlos Williams got 20. All of them testified against Linda Carty. All of them cut deals. Only Linda got death. So who is Linda Carty? The answer depends on who you believe.

And after you hear this story, you might not be sure yourself. If you’re drawn to stories of justice, betrayal, and the people who reach a point of no return, make sure to subscribe to No Way Out. This is where true crime meets truth. Real cases, real consequences. On October 5, 1958, on the small Caribbean island of St. Kitts, Linda Anita Carty was born. St. Kitts was still a British colony at the time. Her parents were from Anguilla, another Caribbean island, and they raised Linda in the warm, close-knit communities that defined island life in the late 1950s and 1960s. Growing up in St. Kitts, Linda showed early promise as a bright and ambitious young woman.

She attended local schools where she excelled academically and her teachers recognized her intelligence and drive. But it was her voice that first brought her recognition beyond her immediate community. Linda joined the National Youth Choir where her singing talent quickly stood out among her peers. She possessed a clear, strong voice that carried both power and emotion.

Her abilities did not go unnoticed. When Prince Charles, heir to the British throne, visited St. Kitts during a royal tour, local officials selected Linda to perform a solo for the future king. For a young girl from a small Caribbean island, this was an extraordinary honor. She stood before royalty and sang, representing her community and her nation.

Those who knew her during this period would later describe her as confident, talented, and destined for success. After completing her education, Linda pursued her passion for helping others by becoming a primary school teacher. In St. Kitts, teachers held respected positions in society, and Linda embraced this role with dedication.

She was known for going beyond the standard curriculum, frequently holding extra classes for children who struggled with their studies or had special educational needs. Her former students and colleagues would remember her as a passionate educator who genuinely cared about their futures. Beyond the classroom, Linda remained active in her community.

She taught Sunday school at her local church, passing on religious instruction to the youngest members of her congregation. She also led a volunteer social work group, organizing efforts to help those in need throughout her community. Her religious faith was central to her identity during these years, and she attended church regularly, finding comfort and purpose in her spiritual life.

During this period, Linda fell in love with a local policeman. The relationship resulted in a pregnancy, and on September 10, 1979, Linda gave birth to a daughter she named Jovelle. However, shortly after Jovelle’s birth, the relationship ended. The policeman emigrated to New York, leaving Linda to raise their daughter alone. Despite this setback, Linda devoted herself to motherhood, working hard to provide for Jovelle while continuing her teaching career.

By the early 1980s, Linda’s entire extended family began making plans to leave St. Kitts. Like many Caribbean families during this era, they looked toward the United States as a land of greater opportunity. In 1982, when Linda was 23 years old and Jovelle was just two, the Carty family immigrated to Houston, Texas. Linda left behind her teaching career, her choir, her volunteer work, and everything familiar to start fresh in America.

The move to Houston represented both hope and heartbreak. Linda arrived in a city vastly different from the small island community she had known her entire life. Houston was sprawling, urban, and often overwhelming. But Linda was determined to build a better life for herself and her daughter.

She enrolled at the University of Houston to study pharmacology, hoping that a career in the medical field would provide financial stability and professional fulfillment. Not long after arriving in Texas, tragedy struck the family. Linda’s cousin Harriet, with whom she had been extremely close, died suddenly. The loss devastated Linda.

She and Harriet had grown up together, shared secrets, and dreamed about their futures. Harriet’s death left a void that Linda struggled to fill. The combination of grief, cultural adjustment, and the pressures of single motherhood began to take their toll on the young immigrant trying to find her footing in America. Still, Linda pressed forward, attending her classes at the university and holding on to hope that better days lay ahead.

She had no way of knowing that the campus where she sought her future would soon become the site of a trauma far worse than anything she had yet endured. In 1988, 6 years after arriving in Houston, Linda Carty was still working toward her pharmacology degree. She had survived the grief of losing Harriet, adapted to life in a sprawling American city, and continued raising Jovelle on her own.

The University of Houston campus had become familiar ground, a place where she attended lectures, studied in the library, and imagined the career that awaited her. But one evening, that sense of safety was shattered forever. While walking through the university car park after class, Linda was attacked and raped by a stranger.

The assault was sudden and violent, leaving lasting psychological scars. The woman who had already lost so much, her homeland, her cousin, the life she had built in St. Kitts, now lost something else entirely. The campus that had represented her future became a place of nightmares. The rape resulted in a pregnancy. Linda carried the baby to term and gave birth to a daughter on June 23, 1989.

The circumstances of the conception were too painful for Linda to bear, and she made the difficult decision to give the child up for adoption. The shame and trauma of the assault led her to conceal the pregnancy and birth from her family. She suffered in silence, unable to share her pain, even with those closest to her.

Just 2 months before giving birth to this second daughter, Linda suffered another devastating blow. her beloved father passed away. The combination of grief over her father’s death and the emotional turmoil surrounding her pregnancy pushed Linda into a dark period. She was mourning, carrying a child conceived through violence and trying to maintain her composure while raising Jovelle and pursuing her education.

The weight of these burdens would have crushed many people. In the years following the rape, Linda found herself in an abusive relationship. Details about this period remain limited, but court documents and appeals filings would later reference domestic violence as part of Linda’s history of trauma. The pattern of victimization that began with the assault continued as Linda struggled to find stability and safety in her personal life.

Despite these hardships, Linda persisted. She continued raising Jovelle with determination, working to ensure her daughter had opportunities she had never received. Those who knew Linda during this period described her as a survivor who refused to let her circumstances define her. She maintained her faith, attended church, and tried to build a life for herself and her daughter in their adopted country.

At some point during the late 1980s, Linda began dating a man who would prove to be involved in drug trafficking. According to Linda’s later accounts, she was unaware of his criminal activities when their relationship began. However, this relationship would pull her into a world she had never anticipated entering. Through her boyfriend’s connections, Linda came into contact with drug dealers and the criminal underworld of Houston.

It was during this period that Linda’s path first intersected with law enforcement in a way that would permanently alter her life. A friend from the Houston Police Department approached her with a proposition. Given her access to the drug world through her boyfriend, would she be willing to serve as an informant? The work would help take dangerous criminals off the streets, and it might provide Linda with some financial benefits and legal protection.

The offer appealed to Linda’s sense of justice and her desire to contribute to society, much as she had done through teaching and volunteer work in St. Kitts. She agreed to cooperate with law enforcement. What began as an informal arrangement would eventually evolve into a more structured relationship with the Drug Enforcement Administration.

Linda Carty, the former school teacher who once sang for Prince Charles, was about to become a confidential informant in one of America’s most active drug trafficking corridors. This decision would define the next decade of her life. It would bring her into contact with dangerous criminals, require her to deceive people for a living, and ultimately, according to her supporters, make her a target for those she helped put behind bars.

In 1992, Linda Carty’s informal cooperation with law enforcement took a dramatic and unexpected turn. What had begun as casual tip sharing with the police contact suddenly became something far more serious. Linda was arrested and charged with auto theft and impersonating an FBI agent.

She had rented a vehicle by posing as a federal officer and never returned it. The circumstances of these charges remained somewhat murky. Linda would later suggest the incident was connected to her informant work, but the outcome was clear. Linda pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 10 years of probation. However, this sentence came with a significant condition that would shape the next several years of her life.

Rather than serving time behind bars, she would work as a drug informant for law enforcement. What had once been voluntary was now mandatory. The woman who had chosen to cooperate with police now had no choice but to continue. Linda was assigned to work with the Drug Enforcement Administration under the supervision of special agent Charlie Mathis.

Mathis would become her handler for the next 8 to 10 years. He gave her a code name, conducted background checks, and brought her into high-level briefings about drug trafficking operations. Linda’s role as an informant was particularly valuable because of her background. The DEA needed someone who could infiltrate networks of Caribbean drug dealers, particularly Jamaican trafficking organizations that had established a strong presence in Houston during the 1990s. Linda’s St. Kitts origins, her accent, and her cultural familiarity made her ideal for this work. She could move in circles that would be inaccessible to most law enforcement officers. The work was dangerous. Linda would befriend suspected drug traffickers, gathering information about their operations, their suppliers, and their customers.

Sometimes she would make test purchases of drugs, providing law enforcement with direct evidence of criminal activity. She became, in her own words, a surveillance girl without a badge. She walked among drug dealers as one of them, all while reporting their activities to federal agents. According to Linda’s later claims, her work as an informant was highly productive.

She helped secure seizures worth thousands of dollars in narcotics. Her information led to the imprisonment of scores of drug dealers who might otherwise have continued operating. She took pride in this work, viewing it as a continuation of the community service she had performed as a teacher and volunteer in St. Kitts.

She was making Houston safer, one arrest at a time. However, the work also created enemies. The drug dealers Linda helped put behind bars had friends, associates, and family members who knew she had cooperated with law enforcement. In the criminal underworld of Houston, such knowledge could be a death sentence. Officially, Linda’s status as a DEA informant ended in 1994 or 1995 when she was closed out of the system.

This meant she was no longer on the books as an active confidential informant. However, her relationship with agent Mathis continued informally. She would still contact him from time to time with tips about drug activity. Mathis continued to take her calls and follow up on her information, maintaining a connection that had developed over years of working together.

The end of Linda’s formal informant status came under difficult circumstances. At some point, she was arrested on drug charges herself. According to court records, she was observed in the middle of a drug transaction and attempted to flee with a package. A high-speed chase ensued during which Linda allegedly tried to run over a police officer.

When officers finally stopped her vehicle, they found two pistols, $3,900 in cash, and 50 pounds of marijuana. This incident ended Linda’s usefulness as an informant. Her supervising officer concluded that she was uncontrollable. Whatever the full truth of her informant career, it was over. But the connections she had made, both with law enforcement and with the criminal underworld, would follow her into the next chapter of her life.

The years following Linda’s dismissal as an informant remain largely undocumented. What is known is that by the late 1990s, she had moved on from the drug world that had consumed nearly a decade of her life. Her daughter Jovelle had grown into a young woman and Linda was now a grandmother. The former school teacher from St. Kitts, now in her early 40s, was looking for stability and companionship after years of living on the edge.

Sometime around 1998, Linda met José Corona. Corona was Latino, hardworking, and offered the kind of steady relationship Linda had been seeking. The two began dating, and their connection deepened quickly. By late 1998 or early 1999, they had moved in together, renting apartment 38 at the Sandy Glenn Complex on West View near Beltway 8 in Southwest Houston.

It was a modest apartment in a working-class neighborhood, but it represented a fresh start for Linda. The dangerous double life of a DEA informant was behind her. For the first year or two, the relationship appeared to work. Linda and Corona settled into domestic routines.

She continued to maintain her relationship with her daughter and grandchildren. The chaos of her informant years faded into memory. But beneath the surface, old patterns began to reassert themselves. These were patterns that would ultimately lead to tragedy. By the spring of 2001, Linda Carty’s personal life had reached a breaking point.

She had been living with Corona for approximately two and a half years, and their relationship, which had once seemed stable, was disintegrating. Corona had grown increasingly frustrated with Linda and in early May 2001 he made the decision to move out. The source of Corona’s frustration was a pattern of behavior that he found impossible to tolerate.

Throughout their relationship, Linda had repeatedly told him she was pregnant. Each time the pregnancy would supposedly end in miscarriage or simply fail to produce a child, Corona would ask to accompany her to doctor’s appointments, wanting to share in the pregnancy experience. But Linda always had reasons why he could not come. She never appeared visibly pregnant, and no babies ever arrived.

According to Corona, there had been three or four instances where Linda claimed to be pregnant during their relationship. Each claim followed the same pattern. She would announce the pregnancy, usually at a time when their relationship was under strain. Corona would express doubt, and Linda would become evasive.

Eventually, the supposed pregnancy would end without explanation, only for another pregnancy claim to emerge months later. The pattern of false pregnancy claims had eroded his trust in Linda completely. When he finally moved out of their shared apartment in early May 2001, he believed he was ending a relationship built on deception.

He had no way of knowing that within weeks his testimony about Linda’s behavior would help send her to death row. But Linda was 42 years old. The chances of a natural pregnancy at her age were slim. The miscarriages she had claimed over the years, real or invented, had exhausted Corona’s patience.

If she was going to produce a baby to save her relationship, she would have to find another way. And as fate would have it, the answer to her problem was closer than she could have imagined. Just two doors down the hallway, in apartment 36, a young woman was days away from giving birth to a baby boy. Joana Rodriguez knew nothing of the turmoil unfolding in her neighbor’s life.

She was focused on a far happier event, the imminent arrival of her first child. Born and raised in a small town in Guanajuato, Mexico, Joana had grown up knowing Raymundo Cabrera, the boy who would become her husband. Their families were connected through the tight social bonds that characterized small Mexican communities, and Joana and Raymundo’s friendship evolved into romance as they came of age.

By the time they married, they had already known each other for most of their lives. The couple had been married for 2 years when they decided to build their future in the United States. Like millions of other Mexican immigrants, they saw America as a land of opportunity where hard work could translate into a better life. They settled in Houston, Texas, finding an apartment in the Sandy Glenn complex on West View near Beltway 8.

It was a modest beginning, but they were young and optimistic about what lay ahead. Their apartment was number 36, just two doors down from where Linda Carty had been living with José Corona. Joana likely passed Linda in the parking lot or hallways of the complex from time to time. They were neighbors in the most basic sense, perhaps exchanging polite nods or brief greetings.

Joana had no reason to view the older Caribbean woman with suspicion or fear. She did not know about Linda’s years as a DEA informant, her history of trauma, or the false pregnancy claims that had driven Corona away. She did not know that Linda was watching, waiting, and growing increasingly desperate as her own relationship crumbled.

To Joana, Linda Carty was simply the woman who lived in apartment 38, nothing more. In early 2001, Joana and Raymundo received news that filled them with joy. Joana was pregnant with their first child. The pregnancy progressed normally, and as her due date approached, family members noticed how Joana’s anxiety mixed with excitement.

She loved to laugh and looked forward eagerly to becoming a mother. The couple prepared their small apartment for the baby’s arrival, purchasing clothes and supplies and imagining the life they would build as a family of three. On May 12, 2001, Joana gave birth to a healthy baby boy. She and Raymundo named him Ray after his father.

The delivery went smoothly and the new family returned to their apartment at the Sandy Glenn complex to begin their life together. Raymundo’s cousin, Rigoberto Cadenas, lived with them and helped out around the apartment. For 4 days, the household revolved around the newborn, with family members taking turns holding the baby and marveling at this new life.

That same day, May 12, Linda Carty visited a public storage facility where she rented a unit. She told an employee named Sherri Bancroft that she was in labor and expecting a baby boy. The claim was false. Linda was not pregnant, but just next door to her apartment, a baby boy had indeed been born that very day.

Whether Linda already knew about baby Ray’s arrival, or whether the timing was coincidental would never be determined. What is certain is that Linda’s claims about pregnancy were about to escalate dramatically. 3 days later, on May 15, Linda returned to the storage facility. This time she told Bancroft that the baby had already been born and was at home with his father.

That same evening, Linda encountered her neighbor Florence Meyers in the parking lot of the Sandy Glenn complex. The two women chatted and Linda told Meyers she was pregnant and would be having a baby the next day. Meyers noticed an infant car seat in the back of Linda’s car, but something struck Meyers as odd about the conversation.

Linda did not appear to be pregnant at all, for a woman supposedly about to give birth, she showed no visible signs of advanced pregnancy. After Corona left, Linda had apparently made another attempt to save the relationship, using the same tactic that had failed before. She called him repeatedly, telling him she was pregnant again.

This time, she claimed she would give birth to a baby boy. Corona was skeptical, having heard similar claims before, but Linda persisted, calling him many times on May 15 to tell him the baby would arrive the next day. She was desperate to produce a baby to show Corona. And when she could not become pregnant legitimately, she decided to steal someone else’s child.

The baby next door, just 4 days old, Latino like Corona, would be perfect. But Linda could not take the child alone. A home invasion required muscle, men willing to use violence and ask few questions. Fortunately for Linda, her years as a DEA informant had given her access to exactly the kind of people who might help.

The criminal underworld she had infiltrated for law enforcement was filled with men who would do almost anything for the promise of drugs and easy money. All Linda had to do was find the right ones and tell them the right story. To understand what happened in the early morning hours of May 16, 2001, one must first understand the men who participated in the home invasion that left Joana Rodriguez dead.

These were not strangers plucked randomly from the streets. They were men with histories, with criminal records, and with connections to the same underworld that Linda had navigated during her years as an informant. The connections between these men and Linda Carty remained disputed. Whatever the truth, by mid-2001, their paths were about to collide in the most violent way possible.

Chris Robinson was 32 years old at the time of the crime. He had previously been convicted of murder in a drive-by shooting, a fact that would later become significant when evaluating the credibility of his testimony against Linda Carty. Robinson lived in Houston and had connections to the criminal underworld that prosecutors would argue made him an ideal recruit for the home invasion.

His half-brother, Zebediah Combs, owned a house on Vanzant Street that would become the staging area for the crime. Gerald Jerome Anderson, known on the streets as Baby G, was 28 years old. Like Robinson, Anderson had a criminal past that made him familiar with the risks and rewards of illegal activity.

He was part of the same social network as Robinson. Carlos Ray Williams Jr., nicknamed Twin, was the youngest of the group at just 21 years old. Williams was brought into the plan later than the others, recruited by Robinson when additional manpower was needed. His youth and relative inexperience in serious criminal activity did not prevent him from participating in a crime.

Linda Carty contacted Chris Robinson and convinced him to help her carry out what she described as a drug robbery. She told Robinson and the others that her neighbor’s apartment contained large quantities of marijuana and cocaine and that they could take whatever drugs and cash they found. The story was a fabrication. Joana Rodriguez and Raymundo Cabrera were not drug dealers.

They were a young immigrant couple with a newborn baby scraping together money to buy their first car. But the men did not know this. They believed they were targeting a drug stash, not a young family. The first attempt to execute the plan came on May 13, 2001. Linda gathered a group that included Robinson, Gerald Anderson, and Marvin Casten.

They drove to the Sandy Glenn apartment complex to conduct what amounted to a reconnaissance mission and dry run. However, something went wrong. Linda was seen with the group, potentially compromising the operation. They aborted the attempt and withdrew. After the failed first attempt, Marvin Casten became uncomfortable with the plan.

He sensed that something was not right about the operation. The talk had shifted from drugs to babies, and Casten wanted no part of whatever Linda was really planning. He backed out, refusing to participate when the group regrouped to try again. His withdrawal meant the group needed to find a replacement. On May 15, 2001, the planning resumed.

Robinson recruited his friend Carlos Williams to replace Casten. Williams was young and willing, asking only that he be provided with a gun before participating. Gerald Anderson’s cousin Josie had been involved in the initial planning, but also dropped out. Gerald Anderson himself remained committed to the scheme.

The final team consisted of Robinson, Anderson, Williams, and a fourth man who has never been publicly identified. According to the plan, Linda would drive separately to the apartment complex and wait outside in her car. The men would enter the apartment, subdue the occupants, and secure any drugs and money they found. They would then bring Joana Rodriguez out to Linda.

The men believed they were helping with a robbery. Another figure who would play a crucial role in the events was Zebediah Jerome Combs, Robinson’s half-brother. Combs was not a participant in the home invasion itself, but his grandmother’s house at 6402 Vanzant Street would serve as the location where the kidnappers brought Joana Rodriguez and her baby after the abduction.

The early morning hours of May 16, 2001 began like any other night for the Rodriguez Cabrera household. Joana and Raymundo were in bed with their 4-day-old son, Ray between them. Rigoberto Cadenas, Raymundo’s cousin, was asleep elsewhere in the apartment. The only sounds were those common to any home with a newborn, occasional stirring, the rhythm of sleep interrupted by an infant’s needs.

Joana was 25 years old. She had her whole life ahead of her. She dreamed of watching her son grow up, of family gatherings where Ray would play with cousins, of holidays and birthdays, and all the ordinary moments that make up her life. None of those dreams would come true. Shortly after midnight, Linda Carty allegedly drove her rental car, a Pontiac Sunfire, to the Sandy Glenn apartment complex.

She parked near the building and waited. The men traveled separately in Gerald Anderson’s vehicle. According to cell phone records introduced at trial, Linda and Anderson exchanged 11 calls between 12:50 a.m. and 2:50 a.m. that night. Seven of those calls were placed between 1:09 a.m. and 1:14 a.m. This was the precise time window in which the home invasion occurred. At approximately 1:00 a.m., the men approached apartment 36. They wore masks to conceal their identities. Without warning, they kicked in the front door. The sound of splintering wood shattered the night’s silence and jolted the sleeping household awake. Before anyone could react, the masked intruders were inside, armed and demanding drugs and money.

Gerald Anderson secured Rigoberto Cadenas downstairs, binding him with duct tape. Upstairs, Chris Robinson and Carlos Williams burst into the bedroom where Raymundo, Joana, and Baby Ray were awakened from sleep. Robinson held Joana at gunpoint while Williams attacked Raymundo, pistol-whipping him and then binding his hands and feet with duct tape.

The intruders demanded to know where the drugs were hidden. While the men were searching the apartment and demanding drugs, one of them answered a cell phone. Raymundo heard the man say, “We are inside here. Do you want it?” Then the man yelled that she was outside and that they had to go. This phone call was from Linda Carty coordinating the kidnapping from her car in the parking lot.

The men ransacked the apartment searching for the marijuana they had been promised. There was none. They found Raymundo’s savings somewhere between $700 and $1,000 and took it. But the real target was not money or drugs. Despite their initial agreement that they would not commit a kidnapping, the men forced Joana to take her baby and come with them.

Joana Rodriguez was taken from her home at gunpoint just 4 days after giving birth. Her husband lay bound on the floor, unable to help her. Her baby was torn from the bed where he should have been safe. She was forced outside into the night, away from everything she knew and loved, into the hands of strangers who had just violently invaded her home.

Anderson forced Joana into the trunk of Robinson’s car. The baby was placed in Linda’s vehicle. The group then departed the Sandy Glenn complex, leaving behind Raymundo and Rioberto, bound and traumatized, not knowing if they would ever see Joana and Baby Ray alive again. The entire invasion had taken only minutes, but it had destroyed multiple lives.

The group drove to a storage unit where they stopped briefly. They then proceeded to 6402 Vanzant Street, the house belonging to the grandmother of Robinson’s half-brother, Zebediah Combs. It was there, in the pre-dawn darkness, that Joana Rodriguez’s fate would be sealed. The house at 6402 Vanzant Street in northeast Houston served as the staging area where the kidnappers brought Joana Rodriguez and her son after the home invasion.

The property belonged to the grandmother of Zebediah Combs, Chris Robinson’s half-brother. Combs lived there, but had not participated in the kidnapping itself. The group arrived at Vanzant Street in the early morning hours of May 16. The men were angry. They had been promised drugs and money, but the apartment they raided contained neither.

Instead, they found themselves involved in a kidnapping they had not anticipated. Arguments broke out about what to do next. When the vehicles arrived at the house, Linda Carty allegedly demanded that the men tape up Joana Rodriguez. Robinson and Gerald Anderson refused. They had agreed to a robbery, not a murder.

But Carlos Williams complied with the request. He wrapped duct tape around Joana’s limbs, binding her arms and legs. Then he placed her in the trunk of Linda’s rental car, the Pontiac Sunfire. Zebediah Combs came outside when he heard the commotion. He witnessed Carty with the group and heard her make a statement that would become central to the prosecution’s case.

According to Combs, Linda said, “I got my baby. I got my baby.” The words suggested that the kidnapping of baby Ray had been her goal all along and that the home invasion was merely a means to that end. As morning approached, Combs witnessed disturbing scenes. He saw that the Pontiac Sunfire had been moved to another location on the property, and its trunk was open.

Looking inside, he saw Joana Rodriguez’s body. She was bound with duct tape, and a plastic bag was over her head. Combs told Linda and Robinson that they had to leave his grandmother’s property and take the body with them. The hours between Joana Rodriguez’s arrival at Vanzant Street and Zebediah Combs’s discovery of her body were filled with chaos, arguments, and ultimately death.

The men who had participated in the home invasion were angry. They had been promised drugs and money, but the apartment they raided contained neither. Now they found themselves entangled in a kidnapping they had not anticipated, with a terrified young mother locked in the trunk of a car and her newborn baby crying nearby.

According to later accounts, Linda discussed disposing of Joana’s body by burning it in a barrel. Combs refused to allow this on his grandmother’s property. The casual nature of this conversation revealed a chilling disregard for human life. A young mother lay dead or dying in a car trunk, and plans were already being made to destroy the evidence.

At some point during those dark early morning hours, Joana Rodriguez took her last breaths. Her airway was compromised by multiple factors. Duct tape covered her mouth and nose. A plastic bag was secured around her head, and her position in the cramped trunk further restricted her ability to breathe. Death came slowly and painfully.

The 25-year-old mother, who had given birth just 4 days earlier, suffocated in the back of a rental car, alone and terrified, separated from the baby she had only begun to know. Baby Ray had been placed in Linda’s daughter’s car, the black Chevrolet Cavalier. Someone had left the air conditioning running to keep the infant cool in the early morning heat.

Amid all the violence and death, the 4-day-old boy, who had been the object of this entire scheme, remained unharmed. He lay in the vehicle, oblivious to the horror that had befallen his mother just yards away. As dawn approached, the group began to disperse. The men scattered, hoping to distance themselves from what had happened.

The Pontiac Sunfire with Joana’s body still in the trunk and the Chevrolet Cavalier with baby Ray inside remained at the Vanzant Street property. Linda left the scene, but the evidence of what had occurred stayed behind, waiting to be discovered. Back at the Sandy Glenn apartment complex, Raymundo Cabrera and Rigoberto Cadenas had managed to free themselves from their bindings.

Traumatized and terrified, Cabrera’s only thought was of his wife and son. He had watched helplessly as armed intruders dragged Joana from their bed and heard her screams as they forced her outside, unable to do anything to stop them. Now, with his hands still raw from the duct tape, he called the police. Officers responded quickly.

The search for Joana Rodriguez and Baby Ray had begun, though investigators did not yet know that one of them was already dead. Police arrived at the Sandy Glenn apartment complex at approximately 1:15 a.m. on May 16, 2001, responding to reports of a home invasion. They found Raymundo Cabrera and Rigoberto Cadenas shaken and bruised, their wrists marked by the duct tape that had bound them.

Joana Rodriguez and baby Ray were gone, taken by masked men who had demanded drugs that did not exist. Cabrera was frantic, desperate for any news of his wife and 4-day-old son. The intruders had spoken of a woman waiting outside. They had taken his family and disappeared into the night. The initial investigation focused on canvassing the apartment complex for witnesses.

Detectives interviewed neighbors, asking whether anyone had seen anything unusual before or during the home invasion. In kidnapping cases, the first hours are critical. Officers worked quickly, knocking on doors throughout the complex, hoping someone had seen or heard something that could lead them to the missing mother and child.

This standard investigative procedure quickly produced a lead that would direct suspicion toward Linda Carty. Florence Meyers, who lived in apartment 40, told detectives about her conversation with Linda the previous evening. She described seeing Linda sitting in her car in the parking lot, an infant car seat visible in the back. Linda had told Meyers she was pregnant and would be having a baby the next day, but Meyers emphasized that Linda had not appeared pregnant at all.

For a woman supposedly hours away from giving birth, she showed no visible signs of advanced pregnancy. This detail struck investigators immediately. Why would a woman claim to be about to deliver a baby when she clearly was not pregnant? And why did she already have a car seat ready? Detectives telephoned Linda Carty and asked her to come to the police station.

She agreed to meet with them, apparently believing she could explain away any suspicions. When she arrived, investigators noticed she showed no signs of having recently given birth, despite her claims to neighbors that she was about to deliver or had already delivered a baby. During questioning, Linda told police that she had loaned her rental car, the Pontiac Sunfire, to a group of men.

She also said her daughter’s car, a black Chevrolet Cavalier, might have been used in the crime. She claimed not to know exactly what the men had done with the vehicles, but she suggested they might be involved in the kidnapping. At this point, DEA agent Charlie Mathis was called in. Mathis had been Linda’s handler during her years as a confidential informant.

Despite the fact that she had been officially closed out as an informant years earlier, Mathis still maintained contact with her. He arrived at the police station and spoke with Linda, urging her to tell the truth and help find the missing mother and baby. The recorded interrogation captured a revealing exchange between Linda and Mathis. He pleaded with her to help.

“Just tell the truth, Linda. Tell the truth now,” Mathis said. Linda responded, “No, they threatened to kill me if I…” She trailed off, suggesting that she knew more than she was saying but feared retaliation. Mathis pressed: “Tell the truth now. Don’t worry about them. Do you know anything about the baby? Do you know where the baby is?” Linda’s response caught the attention of a Houston police detective who was in the room.

She said, “If anything, if they have the girl, they’re going to have the baby.” The detective noted that this statement came before Linda had been told that both the mother and baby were missing. How did she know both had been taken unless she was involved in the kidnapping? Eventually, Linda directed police to 6412 Vanzant Street.

She told them she believed that was where the people who had her cars were staying. Investigators dispatched units to the location. When police arrived at 6402 Vanzant Street, officers immediately noticed a strong odor. In Houston’s May heat, the smell of death becomes apparent quickly. They found two vehicles on the property. They were the Pontiac Sunfire Linda had rented and the black Chevrolet Cavalier registered to Linda’s daughter, Jovelle. Inside the Cavalier, officers found baby Ray alive and apparently unharmed. The air conditioning had been left running, keeping the infant cool in the trunk of the car.

It was a small mercy in a case defined by cruelty. The 4-day-old boy who had been torn from his mother’s arms was safe, though he would never know the woman who gave him life. In the trunk of the Pontiac Sunfire, officers made the discovery they had dreaded. Joana Rodriguez lay dead, her body bound with duct tape. Her arms and legs were wrapped, her mouth and nose covered, and a plastic bag was secured over her head.

She had been positioned in the cramped trunk space in a way that further restricted her breathing. The cause of death was suffocation. Forensic technicians processed both vehicles looking for evidence that would connect suspects to the crime. They found Linda Carty’s fingerprints in both cars. This was not surprising since one car was her rental and the other belonged to her daughter.

However, it established her physical connection to the vehicles used in the kidnapping and murder. Inside the cars, investigators found items that suggested preparation for a baby. There were baby clothes, baby blankets, and a diaper bag. These items supported the prosecution theory that Linda had planned to kidnap baby Ray and pass him off as her own child.

She had allegedly prepared to receive a newborn, not to commit a drug robbery, as she had told the men who helped her. Cell phone records provided another crucial piece of evidence. Analysis showed 11 calls between Linda’s phone and the cell phone that led investigators to Gerald Anderson. Seven of those calls occurred during the 5-minute window when the home invasion was taking place.

The timing suggested that Linda was coordinating with the men inside the apartment, directing the operation from her position outside. Chris Robinson was arrested and interrogated on May 17, the day after the murder. In his initial police interviews, Robinson repeatedly stated that Linda Carty had manipulated him and the other men.

He said she had conned them into believing they were breaking into a drug dealer’s apartment. When they discovered there were no drugs, Robinson said Carty wanted them to kill everyone in the apartment and take the woman and the baby. Robinson told police that Linda had lied to them because she wanted the baby. He described how she had already purchased baby clothes in preparation.

Most damningly, he claimed that Linda had been trying to suffocate the lady, that she had a bag around her head, and the bag was stuck to her face. This eyewitness testimony from a participant in the crime would become the centerpiece of the prosecution’s case. Based on the evidence gathered, Linda Carty was arrested and charged with capital murder.

Under Texas law, a murder committed during the course of a kidnapping was eligible for the death penalty. Prosecutors intended to seek the ultimate punishment for the woman they believed had orchestrated the murder of a young mother to steal her newborn child. Linda Carty was assigned a court-appointed attorney named Jerry Guerinot.

At the time, she had no way of knowing that this assignment might seal her fate, more certainly than any evidence the prosecution would present. Guerinot’s record in capital cases was unlike that of any other defense attorney in America, and not in a way that benefited his clients. Over a 40-year career, Jerry Guerinot represented defendants in 34 capital murder cases.

He did not win a single acquittal. Of his clients, 21 were sentenced to death row. 10 of those clients were eventually executed. The American Bar Association published a story noting that Guerinot possibly held the record for the most clients sentenced to death in the United States.

Some legal observers called him the worst lawyer in America. Harris County, Texas, where Linda’s case was tried, has sent more people to death row than any other county in the United States. The county repeatedly appointed Guerinot to defend capital cases, despite his dismal record. In 1996 alone, Guerinot handled four separate death penalty trials within a 7-month period.

Legal experts described this workload as unthinkable for adequate representation. Guerinot was appointed to replace Linda’s privately hired attorney just one month before trial. By his own account, he did not meet with Linda until shortly before the trial began. His investigator spoke with Linda for the first time just 2 weeks before the proceedings, and that conversation lasted only 15 minutes.

For a case where a woman’s life hung in the balance, this preparation was grossly inadequate. The failures in Linda’s defense were numerous and well documented. Guerinot never contacted José Corona, Linda’s common-law husband, before Corona testified for the prosecution. Had he done so, Guerinot might have informed Corona of his right under Texas law to refuse to testify against his wife.

This is known as spousal privilege. Corona later swore an affidavit stating he would have refused to testify if this option had been explained to him. Corona’s testimony was devastating to Linda’s case. He told the jury about her pattern of false pregnancy claims, providing the prosecution with a motive for the crime. Without this testimony, prosecutors would have struggled to explain why Linda would orchestrate such a bizarre kidnapping scheme.

Guerinot’s failure to inform Corona of his rights effectively handed the prosecution their theory of the case. Guerinot also failed to contact Charlie Mathis, Linda’s DEA handler of 8 to 10 years. Mathis knew Linda well and did not believe she was capable of murder. He would later sign an affidavit stating, “The Linda I know is not a violent person, let alone a cold-blooded murderer. ” If Guerinot had called Mathis to testify during the mitigation phase, the jury might have viewed Linda differently. Perhaps most critically, Guerinot failed to notify the British consulate in Houston that a British citizen was facing capital charges. Linda was born in St. kits when it was still a British colony, giving her British citizenship.

Under international treaties, Texas authorities were obligated to inform the British government of her arrest. This notification never occurred until after Linda was convicted and sentenced to death. In August 2016, after a career that had sent 21 clients to death row, Jerry Guerinot announced he would no longer accept capital cases.

By then, it was far too late for Linda Carty and the many others whose lives had been entrusted to a defense attorney who never won. Linda Carty’s capital murder trial began in February 2002 in the 177th District Court of Harris County. Judge Carol Davies presided over the proceedings. The lead prosecutor was Assistant District Attorney Connie Spence, working alongside Craig Goodhart.

For Spence, this would be her first and only death penalty conviction in her career. For Linda, it would mean life or death. The prosecution’s case rested on several pillars of evidence. First, there were the witnesses who testified that Linda had claimed to be pregnant in the days before the murder, despite showing no signs of pregnancy.

Florence Meyers, Sherri Bancroft, and José Corona all provided testimony establishing this pattern of false claims. The prosecutors argued this demonstrated Linda’s motive. She was desperate for a baby to save her relationship. Second, the prosecution presented cell phone records showing extensive communication between Linda and the men who committed the home invasion.

The 11 calls logged between Linda’s phone and Gerald Anderson’s number, particularly the seven calls during the 5-minute window of the kidnapping, suggested she was coordinating the operation in real time. Third, and most damaging was the testimony of Chris Robinson. Robinson was the only person who claimed to have witnessed the actual murder.

He told the jury that he saw Linda Carty pull a plastic bag over Joana Rodriguez’s head and suffocate her. This eyewitness account transformed Linda from a conspirator into a killer who personally caused the victim’s death. The prosecution also introduced physical evidence. Linda’s fingerprints were found in both vehicles used in the crime.

Baby clothes, blankets, and a diaper bag were discovered in the cars, suggesting preparation for receiving an infant. The scissors that prosecutors alleged Linda had planned to use to cut the baby from Joana’s womb were displayed dramatically before the jury. However, critics would later point out problems with this evidence. The scissors were bandage scissors with rounded ends, physically incapable of performing the surgical procedure prosecutors suggested.

As a neighbor, Linda would have known that Joana had already given birth 4 days earlier, and fingerprints in cars that Linda owned or had rented proved nothing about her presence at the crime scene. Jerry Guerinot’s defense was minimal. He presented testimony from a clinical psychologist who said Linda would have been incapable of committing such a crime.

But without the supporting evidence of her background, her trauma history, and witnesses who knew her character, this testimony carried little weight. The psychologist’s opinion was simply no match for the prosecution’s mountain of circumstantial evidence. During the mitigation phase, when the defense should present reasons why the defendant’s life should be spared, Guerinot called only Linda’s mother, daughter, and sister.

They testified briefly that Linda was sweet, kind, and had never harmed anyone. They said she had worked hard her whole life to put Jovelle through school. This cursory testimony lasted only a few minutes. Guerinot failed to call friends, extended family members, former colleagues, or community members from St. Kitts who could have painted a fuller picture of Linda’s life and character.

He did not present evidence of her trauma history, her rape, the domestic violence she had suffered, or any psychiatric evaluation. The jury knew almost nothing about the woman whose life they were being asked to end. The jury of eight men and four women deliberated for approximately 10 hours over 2 days.

On February 19, 2002, they returned their verdict, guilty of capital murder. The conviction triggered the penalty phase where the same jury would decide whether Linda Carty should live or die. Under Texas law, jurors in capital cases must answer three special issues before a death sentence can be imposed. First, they must determine whether the defendant would commit future criminal acts of violence that would constitute a continuing threat to society.

Second, they must decide whether the defendant actually caused or intended to cause the death of the victim. Third, they must consider whether any mitigating evidence warrants life imprisonment rather than death. On February 21, 2002, the jury answered these questions in ways that sealed Linda’s fate.

They found that she would pose a continuing threat to society. They found that she had caused or intended to cause Joana Rodriguez’s death. And they found that the minimal mitigating evidence presented did not warrant sparing her life. Judge Carol Davies imposed a sentence of death by lethal injection. In the courtroom, Joana Rodriguez’s family cried and embraced one another.

Raymundo Cabrera, who had watched his wife be taken from their bed and never saw her alive again, spoke through an interpreter. “We feel better that there’s some justice,” he said. “It helps me a lot. I can rest a little better.” Ramon Rodriguez, Joana’s father, said the sentence satisfied him, but did not ease his family’s grief.

Linda addressed the court after her sentence was announced. “I’ve been wrongly accused,” she said. “But I can’t fault the jury.” Even in that moment, facing execution, she maintained her innocence while acknowledging that the jury had done their job based on the evidence presented to them. The evidence, she believed, had been manipulated and her defense inadequate.

The codefendants in the case received drastically different outcomes. Chris Robinson, who had been charged with capital murder like Linda, saw those charges dropped months after trial. He pleaded guilty to aggravated kidnapping in December 2002 and was sentenced to 45 years in prison.

Gerald Anderson pleaded guilty to aggravated kidnapping and received a life sentence. Carlos Williams was found guilty of kidnapping by a jury and sentenced to 20 years. The disparity in sentences raised questions that would fuel Linda’s appeals for decades. Three men who physically entered the apartment, bound the victims, and transported Joana Rodriguez to her death, received prison sentences.

Linda, who was not present during the home invasion, and whose role was based primarily on the testimony of those same men, received death. Her supporters argued this showed prosecutorial overreach and a rush to secure a death penalty conviction. Linda Carty was transferred to the Mountain View unit of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice on March 7, 2002.

She was 43 years old. Her TDCJ identification number was 999406. She joined a small population of women on Texas death row, awaiting an execution that her supporters vowed to prevent through every legal means available. The conviction and sentence made Linda Carty the only British woman on death row anywhere in the world.

This fact would eventually attract international attention and bring her case before audiences far beyond the Houston courtroom where her fate was decided. But first, the appeals process would have to run its course through American courts. Texas law provides for an automatic direct appeal to the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals following any death sentence.

This appeal was filed on Linda’s behalf, arguing that errors during her trial warranted a new proceeding or at minimum a new sentencing hearing. On April 7, 2004, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals rejected the appeal. The first attempt to overturn Linda’s conviction had failed. By late 2004, the British government had finally become fully engaged in Linda’s case.

They hired the Houston law firm Baker Botts to represent Linda in her remaining appeals. Baker Botts, one of the largest and most prestigious law firms in Texas, assigned a team led by civil attorney Michael Goldberg to take on the case pro bono. Over the next two decades, the firm would invest an estimated $1 million in volunteer legal work on Linda’s behalf.

Baker Botts built their appeal strategy around the failures of Jerry Guerinot. They argued that Guerinot had rendered ineffective assistance of counsel, a violation of the Sixth Amendment to the United States Constitution. The specific failures they identified included his failure to inform José Corona of spousal privilege, his failure to contact Charlie Mathis, his failure to present mitigating evidence, and his failure to seek consular assistance from the British government.

The appeals moved to federal court through what is known as habeas corpus proceedings. Linda’s lawyers argued that her constitutional rights had been violated and that she was being held unlawfully. They presented affidavit from Jose Corona stating he would have refused to testify if spousal privilege had been explained to him.

They presented an affidavit from Charlie Mathis saying he would have testified favorably about Linda’s character. On September 19, 2009, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals issued a mixed ruling. The court found that Guerinot’s representation fell below an objective standard of reasonleness, acknowledging that he had failed in his duties as a defense attorney.

However, the court declined to grant Linda a new trial. It ruled that despite Guerinot’s deficiencies, the errors did not sufficiently prejudice Linda’s defense to warrant relief. The Fifth Circuit’s decision was frustrating for Linda’s supporters. The court had essentially acknowledged that her lawyer was incompetent, but concluded that even a competent lawyer might not have changed the outcome.

This reasoning struck critics as circular. How could a court know what a competent defense might have achieved when no competent defense was ever mounted? Linda appealed to the United States Supreme Court, asking the nation’s highest court to review her case. On February 26, 2010, she filed her petition for a writ of certiorari.

The British government filed an amicus brief supporting her petition. On May 3, 2010, the Supreme Court declined to hear the case, denying certiorari without comment. With the Supreme Court’s denial, Linda Carty had exhausted her direct appeals. But her legal team was not finished. They would soon discover new evidence that they believed proved prosecutorial misconduct.

Evidence that would form the basis of a new round of appeals and a dramatic evidentiary hearing. The fight to save Linda Carty from execution was entering a new phase. In 2014, more than a decade after Linda Carty’s conviction, witnesses who had testified against her began to recant their statements.

Chris Robinson, Gerald Anderson, Marvin Casten, and Charlie Mathis all signed affidavits alleging that prosecutors Connie Spence and Craig Goodhart had coerced, threatened, or manipulated their testimony. These affidavits formed the basis of a new appeal. Chris Robinson’s recantation was the most significant. Robinson was the only witness who claimed to have seen Linda Carty kill Joana Rodriguez.

His trial testimony that he saw Linda pull a bag over the victim’s head had been the prosecution’s most powerful evidence. In his 2014 affidavit, Robinson stated that this testimony was false. According to Robinson, prosecutors Spence and Goodhart had threatened and intimidated him. They told him he would receive the death penalty himself if Linda Carty did not get the death penalty.

They said he had to testify at Linda’s trial to avoid execution, and they made it clear what he was supposed to say. Robinson claimed that the prosecutors were “alternating between coaching me and threatening me to get me to say their version.” Robinson’s affidavit stated that he never actually saw Linda place a bag over Rodriguez’s head.

That critical piece of eyewitness testimony, which had convinced the jury that Linda personally committed the murder, was fabricated under prosecutorial pressure. “When we were rehearsing, I would say the story back to them. They would stop me and add something in or take it out,” Robinson stated. Gerald Anderson, who did not testify at Linda’s trial, also signed an affidavit.

He claimed that prosecutor Spence “went through a whole story of what she said happened and what I was supposed to know.” Much of this information was untrue or outside Anderson’s actual knowledge. He was told to testify that Linda said she would cut the baby out, that a pre-existing plan existed, and that Linda had recruited him.

Anderson refused to testify because he didn’t want to lie. Charlie Mathis, the retired DEA agent who had been Linda’s handler for years, provided the most shocking allegations. Mathis claimed that Spence had threatened to blackmail him. She allegedly told him she would question him in open court about an invented affair he was supposed to have had with Linda.

Mathis denied any inappropriate relationship, but feared the false allegation could damage his law enforcement career and his marriage. In his affidavit, Mathis stated, “I was shocked when Spence said this. I was, and still am, in a very happy marriage. Moreover, DEA agents should not have such relationships with their confidential informants. Spence entirely invented the whole concept. I felt Spence was threatening and blackmailing me into testifying.” Mathis also offered his assessment of Linda’s character: “The Linda I know is not a violent person, let alone a cold-blooded murderer.” He did not believe Linda was capable of the crime she had been convicted of.

If he had been allowed to testify freely at trial, he would have said so. Instead, he claimed Spence limited his testimony to a very tight set of facts. These affidavits painted a picture of prosecutors willing to threaten witnesses, fabricate evidence, and manipulate testimony to secure a death sentence. Whether this picture was accurate would be tested in an evidentiary hearing that would bring the witnesses face to face with the prosecutors they accused.

Linda Carty’s case attracted international attention that few death row inmates ever receive. As the only British woman on death row anywhere in the world, her situation became a cause for human rights organizations, celebrities, and the British government itself. Media coverage spanned two continents and kept her story in the public eye for more than two decades.

In September 2009, Linda’s case received dramatic attention in London. Sculptor Anthony Gormley had created an art project allowing members of the public to stand on the empty fourth plinth in Trafalga Square as a living monument. Brian Kapalof, a Scottish government worker, won a slot and decided to use it to highlight Linda’s case.

He placed a life-size cardboard cutout of Linda on the plinth and played a recording of her voice pleading for help. Please listen and tell everyone you know. Linda’s recorded voice told the crowds in Trafalga Square, “Please don’t let me die here.” The image of a British death row inmate’s face overlooking one of London’s most famous landmarks created powerful publicity for her cause.

Media outlets across the United Kingdom covered the demonstration. The following year, the human rights organization Reprieve created an even more dramatic exhibit. They constructed a life-size replica of a death row cell and placed it in the courtyard of St Martin-in-the-Fields Church, also in Trafalga Square. For 3 weeks, members of the public could see exactly the conditions in which Linda was being held while awaiting execution.

Bianca Jagger, the human rights activist and former wife of Mick Jagger, became a prominent advocate for Linda. She posed in the replica death row cell and called on Prime Minister David Cameron to intervene on Linda’s behalf. Other celebrities joined the campaign, bringing additional media attention to a case that might otherwise have faded from public consciousness.

Throughout these media appearances, Linda told her story consistently. She claimed she was framed by the men who committed the crime, that her informant work had made her enemies, and that her lawyer failed to defend her properly. Whether audiences believed her or not, they could not look away from the spectacle of a British grandmother facing execution in Texas.

The international attention served multiple purposes. It kept pressure on American authorities to consider clemency. It educated the British public about capital punishment in America. And it ensured that if Linda Carty were ever executed, the world would be watching. Texas would not be able to carry out her sentence quietly or without consequences.

Linda Carty has spent more than 23 years on death row at the Mountain View Unit of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice in Gatesville. She is now 67 years old. The young teacher who once sang for Prince Charles in St. Kitts has become an elderly woman who may die by lethal injection in a Texas prison. The conditions on death row are harsh.

Linda has described her cell as covered in mold with water running down the walls. She spends most of her time in isolation with limited opportunities for human contact. The small population of women on Texas’s death row means fewer resources and programs than might be available in larger facilities. Visits from family are restricted and conducted under difficult conditions.

Linda’s daughter described the experience: “It is horrible. I have to see my mom in a cage and in shackles. I do not get any contact. I can’t hold her hand.” The inability to touch her mother during visits adds emotional pain to an already devastating situation. Jovelle now has two sons of her own, Jory and Kaden.

Linda’s grandchildren are not allowed to visit her. Texas prison rules prohibit children from visiting if the inmate’s crime involved children. Since Linda was convicted of kidnapping a baby, her grandchildren have been barred from seeing their grandmother. This means Linda has never held her grandchildren, never read them a story, never experienced the simple joys of being a grandmother.

Despite the hardships, Linda has maintained her faith and her insistence on innocence. In interviews conducted over the years, she has never wavered from her claim that she did not kill Joana Rodriguez. “I am innocent, and I would swear on my mom and my daughter’s life,” she has said. “That’s the only reason I’m fighting, because if I had done this, I would take my punishment.”

Linda has also expressed concern for the Rodriguez family, acknowledging their pain, even as she denies responsibility for it. “She’s somebody’s child, too, and she’s somebody’s daughter,” Linda has said of Joana. The recognition that a young woman died, regardless of who bears responsibility, reflects a humanity that her supporters say proves she is not capable of the crime she was convicted of.

Jovelle has stated that she would not attend her mother’s execution if one is ever scheduled. “Just thinking about it makes me sick,” she has said. “It is hard enough that my mother isn’t there, but at least there is a small bit—I get to see her. But knowing that she won’t be on this earth for something she didn’t do makes it harder.”

The emotional toll on Linda’s family has been immense. Her mother, Enid, now elderly herself, has spent decades hoping to see her daughter freed. The family has relocated their lives around prison visits, traveling regularly to Gatesville to spend 2 hours with Linda through glass and bars. Every visit could be their last if Texas decides to set an execution date.

“We haven’t had justice,” Jovelle has said. “My mother is basically a scapegoat.” Whether this assessment is accurate or not, it reflects the profound sense of injustice that has sustained the Carty family through more than two decades of fighting for Linda’s life. Thank you for watching this episode of No Way Out.

The Linda Carty case remains one of the most controversial death penalty cases in modern history, with supporters on both sides passionately arguing their positions. Whether you believe she is guilty or innocent, one thing is certain. This case exposes the complexities and flaws within the American justice system.

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