Associated Press
TACOMA — John Lee Riley is spending Christmas at home with his wife and 16 kids, a free man after serving time for killing a man a quarter-century ago.
In May 1999, a Phoenix, Ariz., judge bluntly spelled out his options: Plead guilty to the 1974 killing of a motel manager during a botched robbery, or face trial where a jury would probably convict him, leading to a life sentence.
Riley, who in the years since had become an ordained minister, took the deal, pleading guilty to second-degree murder. The judge sentenced him to 10 years in prison.
On Nov. 1, Riley walked out of a state prison in Yuma, Ariz., after serving about one-third of his term.
"It feels great to be back," said Riley, 51, in his Tacoma home Sunday, surrounded by Christmas lights, holiday stockings and his family.
One of his daughters, Trina Nazir, 26, said it was difficult to picture her father as a murderer.
"It’s hard to see him like that because he was a model father," she said. "He was the pillar of his community. … It (his release) is a big relief taken off of our shoulders."
Riley said people who think he got off easy don’t realize how brutal life can be in prison — or how he straightened out his life in the years between the shooting and his conviction.
"My life has changed so drastically," he said. "It was so hard to imagine that I had been involved in an incident that took a man’s life. I haven’t lived that life for so long."
Riley was 24 on March 29, 1974, when he and Joseph Gillum walked into the Phoenix Travelodge motel looking for cash. Manager Dale Sechrist pulled out a handgun and began shooting, and at some point, so did Riley. When it was all over, Sechrist lay dying.
Riley said Sunday that he was high on gin and marijuana at the time, and still doesn’t know why he decided to rob the motel. To this day, Riley maintains he had no idea his bullets struck Sechrist.
Detectives in 1974 couldn’t match fingerprints left at the site to anyone. But in 1996, a new computerized system connected the prints to Gillum, then an Arizona inmate.
Gillum admitted his involvement in the shootout and named Riley as his accomplice. But Gillum insisted neither he nor Riley stole anything or knew that anyone died in the gunfight.
Riley has said that two years after the shooting, he found religion and became an ordained minister. He preached around the country but kept a home in Phoenix, never changed his name and began a janitorial business.
In his preaching, Riley sometimes referred to the botched robbery as an example how God had changed his life. In 1984, he settled in Tacoma, eventually becoming pastor at a small Pentecostal church, Bethesda Temple.
In March 1998, his past caught up with him, and he was extradited to Arizona to face the murder charge. Gillum pleaded guilty to the lesser charger of manslaughter.
At the time, Riley’s attorney, Rick Miller of Phoenix, said the decision was clear-cut.
"He chose to plead guilty because he is guilty," Miller said. "He recognizes that, even though it was such a long time ago."
In May of this year, the Arizona Board of Clemency granted parole to Riley. Arizona corrections officials said he had been an exemplary inmate.
Though Riley was sentenced in 1999, more lenient parole laws from 1974 applied in his case, corrections officials said. Had he committed a similar crime today, he would not have been eligible for release until he completed 8 1/2years of his 10-year sentence.
That has upset his prosecutors.
"It was totally inappropriate," said Bill FitzGerald, a spokesman for the Maricopa County Attorney’s Office in Phoenix. "The judge gave him 10 years, and he serves (three) years."
Riley’s response is simple: "Walk a mile in my shoes."
Riley remains under the jurisdiction of Washington’s Department of Corrections and must check in weekly with a corrections officer.
He said he’s exploring the possibility of getting a building contractor’s license. He’s also had several offers to tell his life story at churches, but has no immediate plans to be a pastor again.
Though he has acknowledged the killing, Riley still can’t quite come to terms with a crime he committed 25 years ago.
Thinking of the killing "brought many tears to my eyes. I really felt for his wife," Riley said.
Copyright ©2001 Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
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