'I'm overwhelmed by a feeling that I'm nearing the end of my life'

THIS weekend is a bitterly sad one for me. It marks the moment when I reach 20 years on Death Row. Yes, that's right: I have lived - or rather existed in a sort of half-life - for two full decades awaiting either justice or death at the hands of my jailers in an American penitentiary.

Some readers will know my name. That's partly down to the tireless awareness-raising work of Scottish anti-death penalty campaigner Karen Torley, as well as human rights organisations Amnesty International and Reprieve.

Ending up in prison is bad enough for most people. Finding yourself in prison for a crime you didn't commit is at least twice as bad. But to have both of these things happen and to be sent to Death Row is, I would argue, almost unendurable. It's truly a nightmare.

Yet this is what has happened to me. This judicial living interment has come about because of the inflexibility of a US justice system that finds it almost impossible to correct mistakes that occur in capital trials.

When I was sentenced to death on January 27, 1987, I was shocked and appalled. It was a tragic mistake - I hadn't killed anyone and certainly hadn't started a fire that killed a small child in a block of apartments in Columbus Grove, Ohio, in 1986. In fact, no one had - it was an accidental fire and there was no crime and no criminal.

But still, mistakes happen, even terrible ones, and I would surely get the courts to realise that the US justice system had indeed made a terrible error in my case - just as it had in the 123 cases where a Death Row prisoner has been exonerated and set free in the US since 1973.

My case though has become trapped in a vicious cycle of "shoddy justice" denounced by Amnesty International and others.

My lawyers have this week been back in the courts, arguing that there is vital evidence that could certainly set me free if properly reviewed by a court. But, amazingly, it's still not clear whether US justice is able to accommodate this simple request.

So how do I feel about reaching this terrible milestone of 20 years in the shadow of the executioner?

Fundamentally, the years have taken a huge toll on me, both emotionally and physically.

My physical health has suffered immensely. Sometimes I pace my cell back and forth for an hour, hoping to tire myself out a little. Six steps from one end of the cell to the other - or four decent steps.

Psychologically, the torment is acute. I try to pass my time by reading books about Scotland and its history. This makes me feel even more homesick, but at the same time brings me a little closer to home.

At other times I sit here in this cell for hours at a time, just losing myself in thoughts of the past.

The other day I sat in the dark for hours thinking about the past. Memories of happier times in a childhood now long ago lost. My youth in Edinburgh. My family and friends. It seems at times that the past is all I have. I cling so desperately to it. Even sleep is difficult on Death Row. A guard conducting an inspection will periodically come by and shine a light into my face in the cell.

And it's not dark in the cell anyway. A large floodlight in the compound outside shines through my window. The window is six inches wide and 22 inches long. It doesn't open, so there is never any fresh air.

Receiving letters is a big part of what keeps me going. The more mail I get, the better I am able to cope with this nightmare. I doubt that anyone who hasn't experienced imprisonment could really understand just how important receiving letters is.

My half-life is permanently on hold, but after 20 years it seems to be approaching some kind of resolution. I estimate that in two years' time I will either have been executed or will have got lucky and have finally won my freedom. Time is running out quickly. Unless the courts give me a fair crack at having my case heard properly, I fear the worst. This living hell has changed me. I'm no longer 'me' anymore. I feel completely lost and alone most of the time. After 20 years in this dungeon it's all finally starting to beat me down. I know if I don't get out of here soon, then I won't be getting out at all.

I'm often overwhelmed by a strong feeling that I'm nearing the end of my life, and I keep recalling that it's been 20 years for a crime I didn't commit - a crime that never was.

This weekend, then, is a black 'anniversary' for me. But I'll carry on fighting to clear my name. What else can I do?