Beth Shelburne

This hearing would determine whether Violet Ellison's secret reward payment amounted to prosecutorial misconduct.

I didn't know much about Tafor's case back then, only that he was on death row for a crime that he said he didn't commit and was convicted on the testimony of an earwitness who was paid off the record.

In preparation for the hearing, I met with Taforis' cousin Antonio Green and other family members at their uncle's house.

They all said Taforis was optimistic about the hearing.

On the day of the hearing, I only took a pen and notebook into Judge Pulliam's courtroom because she doesn't allow recording.

I sat next to Taforis' mother, Donna, in a middle row, and I spotted Taforis sitting at the defense table with his attorneys.

This was the first and only time I've ever seen Taforis Johnson in person.

He was wearing an orange and white striped jail jumpsuit and was in handcuffs and leg irons.

At one point, he turned and smiled at his family, and I heard his mom next to me say softly,

Hey, baby.

The courtroom was packed, and much of the crowd was to Forrest's family and friends.

But I also saw Jefferson County's newly elected district attorney seated in the first row, Danny Carr.

He's the first Black man to be elected top prosecutor in Jefferson County.

A month before this hearing, a group of faith leaders who knew about Tafora's case published an open letter to Carr asking him to push for a new trial.

But at this point, Carr had not commented publicly on the case.

The hearing starts at 9 a.m.

Tafora's attorneys present all of the documents that took the state 17 years to turn over.

They argue that the documents show the state suppressed evidence that Violet Ellison initially contacted police in pursuit of the reward money, and then the state hid that she was eventually paid $5,000.

Just after 10 a.m., the state calls only one witness to testify, Violet Ellison.

She's 77 years old and walks to the stand using a cane.