Sean Tyler proved his innocence, but the trauma of a wrongful murder conviction has become its own sentence

For nearly three decades, Sean Tyler insisted he was innocent of killing a 10-year-old boy. A judge finally agreed with him this week.

Tyler and his brother were granted certificates of innocence Tuesday in the case of Rodney Collins, who was struck and killed by a stray bullet fired in a gunfight between rival gangs in the Back of the Yards.

“It felt unbelievable,” Tyler told the Sun-Times. “It’s truly a blessing.”

But there are other, darker emotions he says he’s still trying to sort out. Dealing with the trauma of spending much of his life behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit is a different kind of sentence.

“I may smile. I may laugh. But the hurt, the pain and the scars are all still there,” Tyler said.

“It’s still a hurting feeling, and I don’t think that’ll ever be gone,” he said. “It’s so many layers and so much hurt wrapped up in it. It doesn’t feel like you can even enjoy it.”

Tyler says he can finally walk down the street knowing no one can look at him and call him a murderer — or worse, a person who killed a child.

After having that terrible accusation hang over his head for 30 years, he says for the court to acknowledge his innocence is a relief that someone who hasn’t experienced it can ever fully understand.

It was the driving force for why he and his brother Reginald Henderson continued to fight to prove their innocence, he said, even after they served their sentences and were released from prison.

But nothing will replace the time he lost with his family, or heal the emotional scars he carries from what he saw in custody.

Andy Grimm/Sun-Times file photo

Tyler told the Sun-Times he was beaten by other detainees at Cook County Jail after guards told them he and his brother had killed a child.

He vividly described seeing a prisoner bleed out at Pontiac Correctional Center after being shot by a guard, and another inmate attempting suicide with a bed sheet.

He says he still finds himself standing with his back against a wall wherever he goes, even church. It’s a survival skill: “You don’t even know why you’re doing it.”

Both Tyler and Henderson served their full sentences in the case — more than 25 years each — while fighting to have their convictions overturned.

They had already been paroled when Cook County prosecutors agreed to vacate their convictions in 2021 and then dropped all charges against the men.

But for years the state’s attorney’s office opposed granting the brothers certificates of innocence, which would officially clear their names, wipe away their records and entitle them to restitution, including counseling services and financial assistance from a state fund for people wrongfully convicted.

It wasn’t until last month that prosecutors announced during a brief hearing that the office would no longer fight against the brothers receiving certificates.

In court filings, the brothers said they were targeted by detectives working for the notorious former Chicago Police Cmdr. Jon Burge because they had testified for the defense in the case of 13-year-old Marcus Wiggins, who claimed he confessed to a 1991 murder after police torture.

Years later, the detectives accused the brothers of involvement in the shooting of Rodney Collins. The brothers said they were handcuffed in interrogation rooms for days and beaten by detectives before confessing.

Since their trials, several witnesses recanted their testimony, and the abuses by Burge and his detectives have become widely known. Burge was convicted in 2010 of lying under oath and sentenced to more than four years in prison. He died in 2018.

Tyler says he doesn’t believe the courts have acted quickly enough to address Burge’s legacy and bring justice for other men who claim they were tortured by police working under his command.

While he thinks he has seen improvements in the justice system since he was taken into custody as a 17-year-old boy, he warns against “mistaking activity for accomplishment.”

Since his release, Tyler says he’s found solace in spending time with his family and speaking with young people about his experiences.

He says he warns them about the company they keep and tells them to be aware that people will judge them by their associations. He also tries to inform them of their rights, particularly the right to remain silent if taken into custody by police.

“None of them should talk without a lawyer,” he said.

He says he has also poured his energy and creativity into his clothing brand, Nuvisean.

“You have to be a work in progress,” he said. “I’m doing the work.”