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My Midnight Years: Surviving Jon Burge's Police Torture Ring and Death Row
In the Margins Book Award Winner
Ronald Kitchen was walking to buy cookies for his young son on a summer evening in 1988 when Chicago detectives picked him up for questioning. As the officers’ car headed toward the precinct, the twenty-two-year-old called out the window to his family, “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes.”
It took him twenty-one years to make it home.
Kitchen was beaten and tortured by notorious police commander Jon Burge and his cronies until finally confessing to a gruesome quintuple homicide he did not commit. Convicted of murder and sentenced to die, he spent the next two decades in prison—including a dozen years on death row—before at last winning his release and exoneration.
Written with passion and defiance, My Midnight Years is more than just a memoir—because Ronald Kitchen’s ordeal is not his alone. Kitchen was only one of scores of victims of Jon Burge and his notorious Midnight Crew, a group of rogue police detectives who spent decades terrorizing, brutalizing, and incarcerating men—118 have come forward so far—in Chicago’s African American communities.
Overcoming overwhelming difficulties, Kitchen cofounded the Death Row 10 from his maximum security cellblock. Together, these men fought to expose the grave injustices that led to their wrongful convictions. The Death Row 10 appeared on 60 Minutes II, Nightline, Oprah, and Geraldo Rivera and, with the help of lawyers and activists, were instrumental in turning the tide against the death penalty in Illinois. Kitchen was finally exonerated in 2009 and filed a high-profile lawsuit against the Chicago Police Department, Jon Burge, Mayor Richard Daley, and the Cook County state’s attorney.
Kitchen’s story is outrageous and heartbreaking. Largely absent from social justice narratives are the testimonies of the victims themselves. The atrocities of the Midnight Crew were brought to light through Kitchen’s actions, and he is a rare survivor who has turned his suffering into a public cause. He is poised to become a powerful spokesperson who will play a major part in the ongoing discussion of institutional racism.
Ronald Kitchen was walking to buy cookies for his young son on a summer evening in 1988 when Chicago detectives picked him up for questioning. As the officers’ car headed toward the precinct, the twenty-two-year-old called out the window to his family, “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes.”
It took him twenty-one years to make it home.
Kitchen was beaten and tortured by notorious police commander Jon Burge and his cronies until finally confessing to a gruesome quintuple homicide he did not commit. Convicted of murder and sentenced to die, he spent the next two decades in prison—including a dozen years on death row—before at last winning his release and exoneration.
Written with passion and defiance, My Midnight Years is more than just a memoir—because Ronald Kitchen’s ordeal is not his alone. Kitchen was only one of scores of victims of Jon Burge and his notorious Midnight Crew, a group of rogue police detectives who spent decades terrorizing, brutalizing, and incarcerating men—118 have come forward so far—in Chicago’s African American communities.
Overcoming overwhelming difficulties, Kitchen cofounded the Death Row 10 from his maximum security cellblock. Together, these men fought to expose the grave injustices that led to their wrongful convictions. The Death Row 10 appeared on 60 Minutes II, Nightline, Oprah, and Geraldo Rivera and, with the help of lawyers and activists, were instrumental in turning the tide against the death penalty in Illinois. Kitchen was finally exonerated in 2009 and filed a high-profile lawsuit against the Chicago Police Department, Jon Burge, Mayor Richard Daley, and the Cook County state’s attorney.
Kitchen’s story is outrageous and heartbreaking. Largely absent from social justice narratives are the testimonies of the victims themselves. The atrocities of the Midnight Crew were brought to light through Kitchen’s actions, and he is a rare survivor who has turned his suffering into a public cause. He is poised to become a powerful spokesperson who will play a major part in the ongoing discussion of institutional racism.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published August 1, 2018
3 people are currently reading
742 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
October 21, 2024
Gonna need some copies for my library
May 10, 2019
Excellent True Crime Memoir (TW torture/ suicide)
This was so good I ended up listening to the audiobook in one day–Prentice Onayemi is an excellent narrator–and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Ronald Kitchen was a low level drug dealer in Chicago in the ’80s when he found himself arrested– which as a drug dealer wouldn’t seem odd, except nothing the police were saying made any sense. He hadn’t murdered people. But they were certain they had their murderer–or who they wanted to be their murderer–and so they tortured him until he agreed to the confession statement they wrote. It’s heartbreaking to see how the justice system failed Kitchen–and many others–at every single level leading him to be placed on death row. Here he tells his story of his childhood, his wrongful arrest, life on death row, studying law in prison, and his appeals. I didn’t have to like Kitchen to see the injustice and root for him but it was a bonus, and I love memoirs where people are able to lay bare the good, bad, and ugly accepting that we’re all human and here it is. Highly recommend for fans of true crime memoirs and also nonfiction readers of our (in)justice system and racism.
--from Book Riot's Unusual Suspects newsletter: https://link.bookriot.com/view/56a820...
This was so good I ended up listening to the audiobook in one day–Prentice Onayemi is an excellent narrator–and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Ronald Kitchen was a low level drug dealer in Chicago in the ’80s when he found himself arrested– which as a drug dealer wouldn’t seem odd, except nothing the police were saying made any sense. He hadn’t murdered people. But they were certain they had their murderer–or who they wanted to be their murderer–and so they tortured him until he agreed to the confession statement they wrote. It’s heartbreaking to see how the justice system failed Kitchen–and many others–at every single level leading him to be placed on death row. Here he tells his story of his childhood, his wrongful arrest, life on death row, studying law in prison, and his appeals. I didn’t have to like Kitchen to see the injustice and root for him but it was a bonus, and I love memoirs where people are able to lay bare the good, bad, and ugly accepting that we’re all human and here it is. Highly recommend for fans of true crime memoirs and also nonfiction readers of our (in)justice system and racism.
--from Book Riot's Unusual Suspects newsletter: https://link.bookriot.com/view/56a820...
February 15, 2021
I have never heard of Jon Burge, and his police torture ring, that was run in Chicago, but it was horrible. Ronald Kitchen tells his story, of how on his way to buy some milk, he was picked up by police, beaten, and made to sign a confession that he committed murder to a woman and her children. This was NOT an isolated incident. He served 21 years in prison, 13 of those on death row before being exonerated, he does not appear to be hate-filled, and provides great background on Chicago during this time of history, and the neighbourhoods he lived in. White police officers that believed it was okay to persecute people because of the colour of their skin is nothing new. Those that knew about it and did nothing, is not new. Such a sloppy mess that was presented to DA, and the jury. This must stop.
June 12, 2020
This is a story of Chicago Police Department terror and brutality. Sound familiar? It's told by Ronald Kitchen who is brave as hell. The story is just heartbreaking. It's one paragraph of white racism after another it's a disgrace the city of Chicago has this much hate against Black people going back and up through now still going on.
Kitchen was grabbed by cops in 1988 and BRUTALLY tortured for 24 hours at Area 3 CPD police station by Commander Jon Burge and some other sociopaths. They kept torturing Kitchen until he signed a pre-written confession to a murder they needed "solved." Kitchen was then whisked through the entire IL legal system, with his injuries from torture and all, to death row. It's just a terrible story. But it's not just him. This exact thing happened to over 120 men over 2 decades here in Chicago, every single one of the men Black. Some are still in jail today even though the torture program has been exposed.
Kitchen, being a badass resourceful guy, learned law from his cell and started a movement with others on the Row called The Death Row Ten. With great help from his mom Louva and other moms and activists, the movement brought attention to our perverse death penalty system and to the CPD torture ring which among others Mayor Richard Daley knew all about and covered for 100%. If you were around in the 90s the work of The Death Row Ten is what triggered the huge backlash against the death penalty and got the Gov. George Ryan, a Republican, to cancel all pending executions in IL. Kitchen was finally released after 20 years in jail and dealt with more racism trying to get back on his feet.
If you're a Chicagoan do this man the respect of reading his story, knowing his name. Stories like this need to be told and known because it's not something that happened in a far off country or a long time ago. You see a CPD vehicle drive by, it's them.
Kitchen was grabbed by cops in 1988 and BRUTALLY tortured for 24 hours at Area 3 CPD police station by Commander Jon Burge and some other sociopaths. They kept torturing Kitchen until he signed a pre-written confession to a murder they needed "solved." Kitchen was then whisked through the entire IL legal system, with his injuries from torture and all, to death row. It's just a terrible story. But it's not just him. This exact thing happened to over 120 men over 2 decades here in Chicago, every single one of the men Black. Some are still in jail today even though the torture program has been exposed.
Kitchen, being a badass resourceful guy, learned law from his cell and started a movement with others on the Row called The Death Row Ten. With great help from his mom Louva and other moms and activists, the movement brought attention to our perverse death penalty system and to the CPD torture ring which among others Mayor Richard Daley knew all about and covered for 100%. If you were around in the 90s the work of The Death Row Ten is what triggered the huge backlash against the death penalty and got the Gov. George Ryan, a Republican, to cancel all pending executions in IL. Kitchen was finally released after 20 years in jail and dealt with more racism trying to get back on his feet.
If you're a Chicagoan do this man the respect of reading his story, knowing his name. Stories like this need to be told and known because it's not something that happened in a far off country or a long time ago. You see a CPD vehicle drive by, it's them.
January 23, 2021
This book is sort of divided into segments. There is a point where Ronald is getting arrested, and then there is a rewind of his younger life leading up to that point. There is, of course, everything else that transpires after that. The writer does a thorough job of helping the reader visualize life inside of prison.
I cannot think of how many times I stepped away from this book thinking about how glad I was to simply be free and not confined to a cell. I can't imagine spending most of your adult years, in the prime of your life, behind bars for a crime that you didn't commit. I didn't have to. Ronald takes you there and keeps you there as you transition with him into his death row years.
I will say that there are points, however, where the author seems to drag too long into the story of Jon Burge and Chicago politics. I know that Burge is relevant, but I debated, to a point, on how much was relevant to the life of Ronald Kitchen. Burge is definitely a dominant figure here, but there are a several elements in play that tend to get less attention than deserved.
I feel like his release from prison was glossed over and almost somewhat anti-climatic. It was just like another line in the book, not the jubilant moment that provided some relief from life on death row. I will say that I was motivated to finished it in a little over a day, and at 8+ hours of an audiobook I will say that it kept my attention.
There are points where his life story drags, but it is tolerable because you know that there will be another event coming that keeps you engaged. Overall, I found this to be an interesting account of survival in a place that could have broken down many others.
I cannot think of how many times I stepped away from this book thinking about how glad I was to simply be free and not confined to a cell. I can't imagine spending most of your adult years, in the prime of your life, behind bars for a crime that you didn't commit. I didn't have to. Ronald takes you there and keeps you there as you transition with him into his death row years.
I will say that there are points, however, where the author seems to drag too long into the story of Jon Burge and Chicago politics. I know that Burge is relevant, but I debated, to a point, on how much was relevant to the life of Ronald Kitchen. Burge is definitely a dominant figure here, but there are a several elements in play that tend to get less attention than deserved.
I feel like his release from prison was glossed over and almost somewhat anti-climatic. It was just like another line in the book, not the jubilant moment that provided some relief from life on death row. I will say that I was motivated to finished it in a little over a day, and at 8+ hours of an audiobook I will say that it kept my attention.
There are points where his life story drags, but it is tolerable because you know that there will be another event coming that keeps you engaged. Overall, I found this to be an interesting account of survival in a place that could have broken down many others.
February 26, 2022
I enjoyed the memoir, but it works off the same broken narrative:
(1) my people (ie mother, grandmother, auntie) were hard working people that sacrificed so I could have a better life (ie I came from a good family);
(2) because the lackluster teachers in my urban school could not motivate me to remain in school, I left school in the 9th or 10th grade;
(3) school had nothing relevant to teach me, and besides I wanted to work to help the maternal figures in my life who were struggling;
(4) because of racism the only avenues open to a young black male were stealing or selling drugs, so I sold drugs to take care of my family, after stealing made me too nervous;
(5) BUT I had a viable plan to get out of the drug game, and I was two minutes away from getting out when the racist cops snatched me up and framed me; and
(6) Anyone that knew me well, knew I could never commit this crime (eg I am allergic to metal so I cannot carry a gun, in fact I only eat with plastic utensils), because I am a good person. A good person that just happened to steal, sell cocaine/drugs, throw hot water on prison officials and spit on prosecutors who had convicted me.
Racism dominates the story, but there is always a black cousin or other relative that provides the racist police officer with the protagonist’s name to get the ball rolling. There is also always a disconnect between drugs and violence for the protagonist drug dealer. In this story, our protagonist hates men that beat on women, but he sells cocaine. I suspect he has never been in court when the perpetrators of domestic violence exclaim that they were only arrested because they were on, coming down from or trying to get cocaine, meth, heron, OxyContin when they beat their wife, girlfriend, sister or fiancé. The drug/cocaine took them out of their character. If those black men are to be believed, then those who sell cocaine are helping to perpetrate violence against women. So, if anyone truly abhors violence against women, he cannot sell drugs to men who might beat women when high, PERIOD.
Of course, the larger society plays an instrumental role in his false incarceration, because the racist society needs black men to be demonized. Huh? Who choked and killed the two Hispanic women and the three children? The white police? A group of white CEOs? A gaggle of white Mennonites in black face? Nah. The probability is that the five people murdered were murdered by someone brown because 88% of murders are committed by someone of the same race. So, if the author acknowledges that the murders were terribly gruesome (so gruesome that they illustrate some depravity by the killer) and the probability is that someone black or brown did it, given the neighborhood and statistics, society doesn’t need to manufacturer black and brown violence, it already exists.
Ronnie ONeal, III in Florida doesn’t need to be manufactured by society. He exists. he kills his girlfriend and daughter and attempts to kill his son is a gruesome manner. Of course, the fact that he exists is also the fault of racism if you ask the protagonist.
My favorite part: the protagonist retained an attorney (no bashing the public pretender in this memoir) that told the author what he wanted to hear about the case, and wants the reader to believe that he paid the attorney, who had limited trial experience, $100,000 in 1990. Criminal defense attorneys don’t charge that in 2022. Where did that money come from when the mother was living in the projects? Most importantly, why would anyone in their right mind that knows they are innocent and thinks the case is soft as baby shit pay an attorney $100,000 to defend them. Totally unbelievable.
The back half of the book is just a lengthy pamphlet for anti-death rhetoric: attorney are lazy, the system is corrupt, etc. Still overall it is an interesting take on an old paradigm.
(1) my people (ie mother, grandmother, auntie) were hard working people that sacrificed so I could have a better life (ie I came from a good family);
(2) because the lackluster teachers in my urban school could not motivate me to remain in school, I left school in the 9th or 10th grade;
(3) school had nothing relevant to teach me, and besides I wanted to work to help the maternal figures in my life who were struggling;
(4) because of racism the only avenues open to a young black male were stealing or selling drugs, so I sold drugs to take care of my family, after stealing made me too nervous;
(5) BUT I had a viable plan to get out of the drug game, and I was two minutes away from getting out when the racist cops snatched me up and framed me; and
(6) Anyone that knew me well, knew I could never commit this crime (eg I am allergic to metal so I cannot carry a gun, in fact I only eat with plastic utensils), because I am a good person. A good person that just happened to steal, sell cocaine/drugs, throw hot water on prison officials and spit on prosecutors who had convicted me.
Racism dominates the story, but there is always a black cousin or other relative that provides the racist police officer with the protagonist’s name to get the ball rolling. There is also always a disconnect between drugs and violence for the protagonist drug dealer. In this story, our protagonist hates men that beat on women, but he sells cocaine. I suspect he has never been in court when the perpetrators of domestic violence exclaim that they were only arrested because they were on, coming down from or trying to get cocaine, meth, heron, OxyContin when they beat their wife, girlfriend, sister or fiancé. The drug/cocaine took them out of their character. If those black men are to be believed, then those who sell cocaine are helping to perpetrate violence against women. So, if anyone truly abhors violence against women, he cannot sell drugs to men who might beat women when high, PERIOD.
Of course, the larger society plays an instrumental role in his false incarceration, because the racist society needs black men to be demonized. Huh? Who choked and killed the two Hispanic women and the three children? The white police? A group of white CEOs? A gaggle of white Mennonites in black face? Nah. The probability is that the five people murdered were murdered by someone brown because 88% of murders are committed by someone of the same race. So, if the author acknowledges that the murders were terribly gruesome (so gruesome that they illustrate some depravity by the killer) and the probability is that someone black or brown did it, given the neighborhood and statistics, society doesn’t need to manufacturer black and brown violence, it already exists.
Ronnie ONeal, III in Florida doesn’t need to be manufactured by society. He exists. he kills his girlfriend and daughter and attempts to kill his son is a gruesome manner. Of course, the fact that he exists is also the fault of racism if you ask the protagonist.
My favorite part: the protagonist retained an attorney (no bashing the public pretender in this memoir) that told the author what he wanted to hear about the case, and wants the reader to believe that he paid the attorney, who had limited trial experience, $100,000 in 1990. Criminal defense attorneys don’t charge that in 2022. Where did that money come from when the mother was living in the projects? Most importantly, why would anyone in their right mind that knows they are innocent and thinks the case is soft as baby shit pay an attorney $100,000 to defend them. Totally unbelievable.
The back half of the book is just a lengthy pamphlet for anti-death rhetoric: attorney are lazy, the system is corrupt, etc. Still overall it is an interesting take on an old paradigm.
June 28, 2020
A crushingly detailed, honest and heartbreaking telling of what it's like to be Black in America. While not every story ends (or starts?) with a wrongful conviction, the systems in place in America (in the 70, 80s and today) mean what happened to Ronald could happen to any Black man - and would never happen to a white man.
A particularly impactful paragraph sums it up well:
"The truth is that everyone is in on the lie. Until we—all of us, white, black, rich, poor—can look past the stereotypes to recognize that everyone, and I mean everyone, is capable of good and bad—nothing is going to change. Until we can look past the myths of our history and see that our country was founded on the backs of people of color, that as much as white people have worked hard for what’s theirs, their successes have at least in part come at the expense of others, black people, poor people, women, immigrants—until then, crime, violence, and police abuse are going to continue."
I wish the best for Ronald and his family, but I don't think Ronlad really sees this as his story alone. There remain hundreds, if not thousands, of others in Chicago and all over America who are fighting against a racist system for justice. Thank you for sharing your story, Ronald.
A particularly impactful paragraph sums it up well:
"The truth is that everyone is in on the lie. Until we—all of us, white, black, rich, poor—can look past the stereotypes to recognize that everyone, and I mean everyone, is capable of good and bad—nothing is going to change. Until we can look past the myths of our history and see that our country was founded on the backs of people of color, that as much as white people have worked hard for what’s theirs, their successes have at least in part come at the expense of others, black people, poor people, women, immigrants—until then, crime, violence, and police abuse are going to continue."
I wish the best for Ronald and his family, but I don't think Ronlad really sees this as his story alone. There remain hundreds, if not thousands, of others in Chicago and all over America who are fighting against a racist system for justice. Thank you for sharing your story, Ronald.
March 6, 2022
Jon Burge (December 20, 1947 – September 19, 2018) was a detective and commander in the Chicago Police Department who was found guilty of having "directly participated in or implicitly approved the torture" of at least 118 people in police custody in order to force false confessions. This is a memoir of one young man being victimized by this racist criminal and his transition back into society after being freed from incarceration. In 1999, lawyers for several death row inmates began to call for a special review of convictions that were based on evidence and confessions extracted by Burge and his colleagues. These inmates: Aaron Patterson; Madison Hobley; Stanley Howard; Leonard Kidd; Derrick King; Ronald Kitchen (the author); Reginald Mahaffey; Jerry Mahaffey; Andrew Maxwell, and Leroy Orange, became known as the "Death Row 10". Kitchen describes what life is like beyond the settlement he received in living a life where so much time was taken from him. This covers reintegrating into his family specifically and a post-institutionalization relationship with society.
January 28, 2021
Hard to put into words how upsetting Ronald Kitchen's story is, but the worst part is that there are many stories just like this. No matter how many times I read books like this, I will never get over it.
March 22, 2019
A stunning and eye opening account of Chicago corruption and the horrible realities of being black and poor.
March 25, 2019
Powerful memoir on racism, mass incarceration, and the reign of torture perpetuated by the CPD and Jon Burge especially.
December 20, 2019
Excellent memoir on the harsh realities of the criminal justice system in America. Moreover, the criminal justice system injustice behavior of minorities on the late 20th century.
December 31, 2019
Everyone should read this book. Absolutely everyone.
November 26, 2020
Well written, true, personal, and on important topics.
August 27, 2023
How unbelievably tragic how this man and his friend spent years behind bars and on death row for murder they did not commit.
August 1, 2019
(I will write a proper review when I have the time.)
March 14, 2019
Excellent real life story of a man whose life was stolen by prejudice, brutality, the blue wall and a systemic and corrupt police, prosecutors and judicial system that was never forced to prove his guilt. His innocence was ignored while the real murderers and perpertrators continued to live free for 21 years. Ronald Kitchen tells his story in blunt terms. There's no fancy writing, it's just so raw and real. He was placed on death row. His courage and innocence drove him to a organize & resist from within. His courage and innocence allowed him to trust those on the outside that wanted to help him. What an outrages injustice. Ronald Kitchen speaks in a tone that allows you to form your own opinion. He deserves to be on every news station and talk show to show how institutional incarceration is just a side step from slavery. We should all care about this issue. Read this book and see how vulnerable any one of us are to any systemic problem. Buy this book to support a man who lost many years of his life while the real criminals collected their tax supported pensions. There's still many people that have been wrongfully arrested and convicted, we just don't know their story yet.
"An injustice done to one of us is an injustice done to all". Martin Luther King
"An injustice done to one of us is an injustice done to all". Martin Luther King
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