I spent the better part of this year reporting on Paul Skalnik, who is likely one of the most prolific jailhouse informants in U.S. history.
This fall, days after a man he testified against was given an execution date in Florida, I went to see him.
Here’s what happened:
This fall, days after a man he testified against was given an execution date in Florida, I went to see him.
Here’s what happened:
Earlier this fall, I went to see Paul Skalnik in a nursing home in the East Texas town of Corsicana.
I found him alone in a drab, cluttered room.
The blinds were drawn and the television was on low.
I found him alone in a drab, cluttered room.
The blinds were drawn and the television was on low.
He’d just been released from prison in June.
He sometimes grimaced in pain as he spoke.
“I think I’m going to die,” he whispered.
He sometimes grimaced in pain as he spoke.
“I think I’m going to die,” he whispered.
My impression of him:
He was a master of misdirection: sidestepping hard questions while portraying himself as the unfairly maligned hero.
He insisted he'd been wrongly accused of *both* charges of child molestation.
He was a master of misdirection: sidestepping hard questions while portraying himself as the unfairly maligned hero.
He insisted he'd been wrongly accused of *both* charges of child molestation.
A tattoo on his left shoulder bore the words, “From Texas to Vietnam.”
The thing is, military records I found showed he was never on active duty & never served overseas.
The thing is, military records I found showed he was never on active duty & never served overseas.
Nevertheless, he claimed one scar was from being shot down over Laos during the Vietnam War.
I told him that James Dailey, who he testified against in 1987, could soon be executed.
He seemed unmoved by this information.
“I never lied on the stand,” he told me.
He seemed unmoved by this information.
“I never lied on the stand,” he told me.
And then:
“At least to the best of my knowledge.”
“At least to the best of my knowledge.”
