By Jordan Meadows
Staff Writer
For nearly two decades, the North Carolina Innocence Inquiry Commission has been consequential in finding justice in the state — and a national model for reform. Created by the General Assembly in 2006 and formally established in 2007, the commission has reviewed thousands of claims of wrongful conviction and played a critical role in the exoneration of 16 individuals who collectively served more than 300 years behind bars for crimes they did not commit.
Now, this trailblazing agency is on the verge of being defunded — and dismantled — under a new budget proposal approved by the North Carolina Senate.
The $32.6 billion Senate budget, which passed with a 30-15 vote, would eliminate funding for the commission’s $1.6 million annual operations — a mere 0.005% of the state’s total budget. Supporters of the cut, including Republican leaders such as Senate President Phil Berger and Sen. Danny Britt, argue that the commission’s caseload is too small to justify its cost and that nonprofit legal organizations can step in to fill the gap.
But critics of the move, including legal experts, exonerates, and justice reform advocates, say dissolving the commission would gut a crucial mechanism for correcting miscarriages of justice — one that simply cannot be replaced.
“The folks that are doing that investigation into wrongful convictions have access and have the authority and the power to go into local law enforcement agencies and demand to have the opportunity to search for evidence that could be used to help prove someone’s innocence. Private citizens and private attorneys do not have that same type of leverage,” Dawn Blagrove of Emancipate NC said.
North Carolina’s commission is the only state-run agency in the country with the power to independently investigate post-conviction claims of innocence. Unlike private attorneys or nonprofits, the commission is backed by the authority of the state, giving it unique legal powers such as subpoenaing witnesses, conducting DNA testing, and accessing law enforcement records often withheld from other entities.
“This commission opens up the road when others reach a dead end,” said Laura Pierro, executive director of the commission.
Pierro, a former prosecutor and judge, was so inspired by the commission’s mission that she left the bench to lead it. She said she was “shocked and saddened” by the Senate’s proposal and has been lobbying lawmakers in the House to preserve the commission’s funding.
The commission’s impact is not just measured in case files, it’s etched in the lives of those it has helped free—especially those belonging to African American communities. Take the case of Willie Womble, who spent decades behind bars for a murder he always insisted he didn’t commit.
In 2014, the commission uncovered evidence supporting his claim: Womble said he was beaten by police and coerced into signing a false confession. The commission’s investigation led to his exoneration.
Most recently, Clarence Roberts of Fayetteville walked free after serving more than eight years for a 2017 murder in Robeson County. The commission found that Roberts didn’t match the description of the shooter, and no physical evidence linked him to the crime. A three-judge panel unanimously agreed that Roberts had been wrongfully convicted and ordered his release.
Another hallmark case includes Greg Taylor, who was wrongfully imprisoned for 17 years, and the tragic story of Henry McCollum and Leon Brown — two intellectually disabled brothers coerced into confessing to a crime later solved through DNA evidence. These cases highlight the systemic flaws in the justice system and the commission’s crucial role in correcting them.
Despite its successes, the commission has long faced opposition from powerful quarters. Police unions and some prosecutors have been wary of the agency, as its investigations often expose misconduct, faulty forensics, or coerced confessions.
Senate Republicans, many with close ties to these groups, argue that the commission’s caseload doesn’t justify its continued funding.
“There are other entities out there that do pretty much the same thing,” Sen. Berger said. “They could do that with no expense to the state.”
But advocates push back hard on that notion. The commission has reviewed over 3,500 claims in its lifetime — each requiring detailed investigation. Many of those claims result in confirming a person’s guilt, not innocence, Pierro notes. “We don’t just look to free people — we look for the truth.”
And unlike nonprofits, which are often underfunded and stretched thin, the commission provides the kind of thorough, state-backed investigations that most cases of wrongful conviction require.
With the Senate’s budget now headed to the House, there is still hope the commission can be spared. The House is expected to present its spending priorities in the coming weeks, setting the stage for negotiations between the two chambers.
“What we do is not just important — it’s essential,” Pierro said. “This commission was created because the state recognized that the system sometimes gets it wrong. That hasn’t changed. What has changed is the will to keep fixing it.”
As the budget battle unfolds, the fate of North Carolina’s Innocence Inquiry Commission — and potentially future exonerations — hangs in the balance.
