Op-Ed: Help OHS Grad Advocate For Clemency For Her Uncle

My uncle, Greg Mingo, has been in prison my whole life for crimes he didn’t commit. And still, he has managed to touch my life in so many ways, even from behind those walls that hold him.

In 1981, he was wrongfully accused and charged, along with two others, in a robbery and double murder that took place in Queens one year earlier. Despite initially being offered a plea deal, Greg maintained his innocence the entire time. He has now been in prison for 39 years.

And for what? There was no physical evidence in the case against Greg, and his court-appointed defense lawyer failed to present an alibi witness who had agreed to testify on his behalf. Only a Black man in New York in the 1980s could have been convicted on such thin allegations and sent away for so long. Greg’s sentence of 50 years to life is staggering; what some refer to as “death by incarceration.”

Uncle Greg grew up in a system rife with injustice. Just five months after sentencing Greg, Queens Supreme Court Justice Thomas Agresta used the N-word in open court in reference to a Black defendant. Agresta’s gross, public ethical violation was so egregious that he was censured a year later, and has since been used as an example in legal scholarship on judicial misconduct and community harm.

When I was four, my family moved to Westchester so we could be closer to where he was imprisoned. Though we’ve maintained contact all these years, every graduation, every wedding, every family celebration has felt bittersweet, knowing Greg should be there with the rest of my family.

As a little girl, I’d eagerly anticipate each visit with Uncle Greg because I knew he’d always have something fascinating to tell me. When we would first arrive, my mother would let Uncle Greg and me take our own little walk around the yard and have a moment to catch up. As I took two steps for his every one step, we exchanged stories about people we knew, discussed current events, and shared all the interesting things either of us had learned since we last spoke. He always respected my contributions to the conversation, no matter how old I was. He said my ideas were profound and he made sure I knew my opinions mattered. He encouraged my curiosity and he taught me lessons about life. And during moments when I needed it most, he’d remind me to be genuine and trust myself.

The good advice Uncle Greg has always given me is reflective of the person he is. He’s a man of integrity who is both thoughtful and sincere. He never misses an opportunity to help those around him. And he is a gentle soul with a huge heart and brilliant mind.

During one visit, when I was around 8 years old, I asked Uncle Greg, “Do you like being in here?”. “No”, he answered calmly.

“Well then why don’t you just leave? Why don’t you come home with us?” I asked.

At that young age, I simply couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to keep such a kind and wonderful person locked up inside a big ugly building, hidden away from the rest of the world.

But even now that I am older, I still don’t understand. Over the years I’ve watched him accomplish so much, never wasting a moment. He became a paralegal, has served as a peer counselor, legal research instructor, law library clerk, and taught numerous communications classes to visiting Vassar students. He leads workshops on aggression replacement training and domestic violence prevention as well. He continues to take advantage of every educational program available to him, completing college-level courses that have transformed his world view and fueled his aspirations for the future.

I know Uncle Greg dreams of seeing the world. He and I have a longstanding agreement that whenever I travel, I get him a postcard that depicts something special about that particular destination. He has a huge collection of postcards that I’ve never had the chance to see, but I smile at the idea that in some sense he travels with me wherever I go.

Every day I worry for my uncle. Greg isn’t eligible for parole for another 11 years. By that time he will be 78 years old.

When I look at Uncle Greg, I see a man who has taken what life gave him, endured things that most hope to never experience, but who has somehow managed to hold on to an inner strength like no one I have ever known. Because of him, I felt I could be strong. Because of his belief in me, I learned to believe in myself.

I’m writing this today, because this is my opportunity to help bring my Uncle Greg closer to the freedom he unquestionably deserves. I am asking Gov. Cuomo to grant clemency to my uncle, and make my family whole.

I dream of the day when Uncle Greg and I might be able to have one of our little walks around my front yard. I imagine what it would be like to have him sitting beside me at dinner, laughing and talking with the rest of our family, where he belongs. I dream of the day that he will be able to visit all those places in the postcards and enjoy all the beautiful things that he missed out on. I dream of the day he can finally see for himself all the ways he has changed my life.

-Ava Nemes

How You Can Help

• I set up this petition to gather signatures to advocate for his clemency, and 66,000 people have already signed it. Please add your name and zip code to call for his release.
• If you have five minutes, go to callforgregmingo.com to call Gov. Cuomo’s office and ask him to grant clemency for Greg.
• For more info on how to get involved, please email info@freegregmingo.com or go to freegregmingo.com.