Previously on Framed.

I was in a coma and then my friend Moses got an apartment out at Northern and 61st.

And by the meeting he comes to stay with him.

So I stayed with him for more than like two weeks.

Jonathan told the other interrogators that he had been threatened.

And what are we left to bully but you're in sight?

Not as threatening you, okay?

No one came to me face to face.

And the sound of the incoming face to face ain't on the kill you slowly.

I'll probably keep your ass waiting and break the neck until you're dead.

I'm that type of person.

I'm going to tell that kind of shit to me.

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If you're a true crime fan, you've probably followed a case where it wasn't clear who the guilty party was.

Even though you have reservations about what happened, you watch on as our justice system rolls forward undeterred by the ambiguity of it all.

The police do their job by building the strongest case they can against the best suspect.

They hand off their work to a prosecutor who's focus is pursuing justice for the victims.

They present one side of the story to a grand jury who gives them a thumbs up to proceed.

An arrest is made and the suspect is sent to jail where they wait patiently for their day in court.

That outcome of the pending trial seems very much in the balance, that is, until a jailhouse confession tips the scales in favor of the prosecution and seals the fate of the accused.

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