America imprisons a higher proportion of its citizens than anywhere else in the world, and Louisiana more than anywhere else in America.
It is estimated that 14 out of every 1,000 adults in the state are in prison.
This is the story of one of them, Robert Jones, who was jailed in the 1990s for killing a young British tourist in New Orleans.
It was a crime another man had already been convicted of, but he was prosecuted anyway.
The judge who sentenced the young father to life in prison now says his skin colour sealed his fate.
But even today, more than 23 years after he was arrested, Robert Jones is still not a free man.
“When I got here, only Julie's clothes were left in the road. She had been taken away by the emergency medics,” says James Stewart, the murder detective called to investigate the killing.
He had no trouble showing me the exact spot where the attack took place more than 23 years ago.
“This crime scene is just burned on my brain. I remember it like it was yesterday.
Julie's boyfriend Peter Ellis was still here. He was in shock. He helped us piece things together trying to be as helpful as he could, but you could tell he was devastated.”
Now an FBI agent based in Florida, Stewart says it was quickly apparent that Julie Stott's death was the result of a botched robbery.
The entire confrontation, he estimates, took less than 30 seconds.
While the details Peter Ellis gave were crucial, his description of the gunman was sketchy, so focused had he been on the gun.
Stewart did have leads - the bullets used by the gunman and witness descriptions of the attacker's car. But he also knew the pressure would be on to find the murderer quickly.
“At the time there were crime sprees in other American cities, like Miami, where tourists were targeted,” he says.
As soon as I realised this was the killing of a tourist in the US, I knew there would be a media blitz. But I've never seen anything like it on a case before or since.”
What Stewart had not bargained for was the hunger for the story in the British media, which got involved in a way that dramatically altered the course of the case - and the life of Robert Jones.
It was about 4am when police officers surrounded Jones's home.
“We were in bed asleep when we heard a lot of noise outside, and banging on the doors. All around we hear people shouting, 'Open up!'” says Kendra Harrison, then Jones's 17-year-old girlfriend.
Someone opened the front door and they all just rushed in, pointing their guns at us and shouting. It was total chaos, everybody was hollering and crying.”
She says the police made everyone - Jones and her, and their two young children, plus Jones's mother and his five younger siblings - lie flat on the floor.
Only then did they shout out who they were looking for.
Robert Jones was quickly in handcuffs and being hauled out of the house.
“He kept on asking them what he was being arrested for. We didn't understand what was going on. I was so lost and confused. We all were,” says Harrison.
“After they took Robert away there was chaos, tears. Everybody was crying all over the place.”
“I've always worked under the assumption it was one perpetrator, and we found him and he was going to jail. And once Lester Jones got convicted then I thought that the case was over with, it was done with,” says Stewart.
But incredibly, two years after his arrest, Robert Jones had still not been released.
And in March 1996, now 23 years old, he too went on to be convicted of some of Lester Jones’s crimes - the killing of Julie Stott and some robberies – and in his case the rape too.
No-one mentioned at the trial that Lester Jones had already been jailed for some of these offences.
Prosecutors described him as a man convicted of violent crimes - a dangerous associate of Robert Jones.
They insisted the two were friends, despite the fact that detectives - including James Stewart - had told the prosecutor's office that they were not.
Even though the original tip implicating Robert Jones related to Julie Stott's murder, the trial focused almost solely on the charge of rape, and the identification made by the rape victim.
Prosecutors claimed that Robert had borrowed Lester's car and gun, carried out that attack, then given back Lester his car, weapon and all of the items he had stolen.
When they came back and said 'Guilty', I felt like I died. It was like it was a moment of total despair for me. I was totally crushed internally.”
“I can't put that moment into words,” Jones told me from prison.
Once he was convicted of rape, the prosecutors offered to downgrade the murder charge to manslaughter if he pleaded guilty to this and the other charges - a deal he accepted to avoid the risk, which must at the time have seemed a strong probability, of ending up on death row.
The trial had lasted less than 10 hours.
The parents of Julie Stott, now both deceased, were never informed that a second man was convicted of killing their daughter.
Even the murder detective in the case, James Stewart, only found out in 2013.
Jones was sent to Louisiana State Penitentiary, the famous prison known as “Angola” built on a huge former slave plantation.
“It's like I've been having a nightmare for more than 23 years and I'm still waiting for someone to wake me up,” he told me.
To this day, prisoners (more than three-quarters of whom are black) work in the fields, often picking cotton under the watch of (predominantly white) armed prison officers.
Did race play a part in putting Robert Jones there? One key figure in the case now says that it did.
I meet Judge Calvin Johnson in the spacious hallways of New Orleans's grand criminal court.
It's a place he came to love over his long career, but one where he now says grave injustices were done.
“The fact that Robert Jones was wrongly convicted and is in jail for something he arguably he didn't do weighs heavily on me,” says the judge, now retired, who presided over Robert's trial in 1996.
“But we had a prosecutor's office that was not forthcoming in providing information that could help defendants. It was playing fast and loose with the truth and was negligent across several cases and they did it consistently. That is what happened with Robert Jones.”
Himself an African-American, Johnson makes the astonishing claim that the system worked to put as many young, black men behind bars for as long as possible.
“That wasn't anything unique about Robert Jones or that time. I mean that was the driving force in this town for decades,” he says.
The way we looked at Robert Jones was: 'If he didn't do this, he did something else and therefore his punishment is not justified for this particular act, it's justified for other things he did and got away with.'”
Both of the prosecutors involved in Robert's case declined to be interviewed.
The first is Roger Jordan, now a defence lawyer. In 2005, in a rare ruling, the Louisiana Supreme Court barred him from practising law for three months for withholding evidence in another case.
He said “professional rules of ethics” prevented him from discussing Robert Jones's case with me.
The second is Fred Menner, who argued the case against Robert Jones in court and is still a prosecutor. Again, he said he could not speak to me on the record about an active case.
But in September of this year, a memo that Menner wrote in 1996 was finally made public. In essence, it concedes that there was no admissible evidence against Robert Jones in the Julie Stott murder case.
For years now, Jones has been fighting to clear his name.
At one point he asked for DNA tests to be carried out, but forensic samples gathered after the rape had somehow disappeared and there was nothing left to test.
Desperate as he was to leave prison, he refused a deal offered by the district attorney's office to admit to some of the charges he had been convicted of in exchange for freedom.
In the end a judge released him.
But he is still being monitored, he has a curfew, and the district attorney, Leon Cannizzaro, still insists that that he go through the ordeal of a retrial.
In jail, Jones studied law and became a legal counsellor to other inmates, meeting many he felt sure were innocent but who never got out.
Some, he says, lost their minds, and over the years 39 of them died. He suddenly breaks down at the memory of these wasted lives.
“That's something that gives me the resilience to fight. It's not just for me but for a lot of those guys as well. Because a lot of them, who I know were actually innocent, they died,” he says, still wiping away tears.
A lot of guys have lost hope in the system. That motivates me to stand tall, to make sure my case gives them some hope and to create a better system for them.”
Emily Maw, director of the Innocence Project New Orleans, who has fought for years to clear Robert's name, says Jones's case stands out. It is one of the most obvious wrongful convictions she has seen.
“When you start to read about it you think this cannot be true, I must be missing something,” she says.
But in other respects she believes it is far from unique.
Some justice charities estimate there are hundreds of innocent people in prison in New Orleans alone.
Calvin Johnson, the judge at Jones's 1996 trial, agrees that Robert Jones is just the visible tip of the iceberg.
New Orleans, Louisiana, The South, America, our justice system is replete with Robert Joneses.”
“It's replete with individuals, because of how the justice system has operated over the decades,” he says.
“We've ended up with people who were wrongly prosecuted, wrongly convicted, people who had mountains of evidence not provided which could have exonerated them.
“When you drill down to New Orleans, and you factor in the race thing, then you're just multiplying the effect.”
The truth in Robert Jones's case was not easy to unearth.
In cases where the convicted man's innocence is less obvious, it may be buried even deeper.
What will happen to the other Robert Joneses?