Freedom's Edge: After 56 Years Exonerated, An American in Spirit Faces Exile

Imagine, if you can, the profound relief. After 56 long, agonizing years behind bars for a crime he simply did not commit—the assassination of Malcolm X, no less—Muhammad Abdul-Aziz was finally, unequivocally, exonerated. A moment for triumph, a testament to enduring hope, perhaps even a chance for a quiet, hard-won peace in the twilight of his life. But for Abdul-Aziz, it seems, the American justice system, having taken so much, wasn't quite done yet. Because now, at 84 years old, this man, who has lived nearly his entire adult life in a U.S. prison, now faces deportation.

It’s a cruel twist, really. A bitter, baffling irony that honestly beggars belief. Abdul-Aziz, once known as Norman 3X Butler, was convicted back in 1966 alongside Khalil Islam (Thomas 15X Johnson) for the murder of the civil rights icon, Malcolm X. It was a high-profile case, fraught with racial tension and political intrigue, a stain on the nation's conscience. Decades passed, one after another, as he languished, always maintaining his innocence. Then, in 2021, a monumental decision: both men's convictions were overturned. The evidence, it turned out, had been there all along, buried deep, withheld by the very agencies—the FBI and NYPD—tasked with upholding justice. A victory, yes, but at what cost?

You see, Muhammad Abdul-Aziz is a permanent resident, a green card holder since 1963. He arrived here as a young child from Grenada. His life, his family—an American citizen wife, eight children who are all U.S. citizens, and a burgeoning number of grandchildren and great-grandchildren—are all here in Queens, New York. He’s dedicated himself to community work since his release, embodying, many would argue, the very spirit of rehabilitation and American belonging. Yet, in a bureaucratic labyrinth that seems designed to inflict maximum pain, his old, now-overturned murder conviction is being used as grounds for expulsion.

The government's argument, or rather, the mechanism, lies in his application for an 'S visa'—a special immigration status typically granted to informants who aid law enforcement. Abdul-Aziz's lawyers, from the Innocence Project and the New York Civil Liberties Union, had hoped this pathway would solidify his status. But U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) denied it, asserting, in essence, that even an overturned conviction can still serve as a basis for deportation if other relief isn't available. It’s a legal tightrope walk, and one that feels, to most human ears, utterly nonsensical.

Think about it: 56 years stolen, then justice belatedly served, only for the threat of banishment to loom large. He's 84, frail, and, in every practical sense, an American. His advocates, from civil rights leaders to legal experts, are pleading his case, arguing for a moral reckoning, a recognition of the immense suffering already endured. How can a nation, having acknowledged its grievous error, then seek to exile the very person it wronged, especially when his entire life and family are rooted deeply in its soil?

It’s a profound question, one that forces us to look beyond the cold letter of the law and into the heart of what justice, and indeed, what freedom, truly means. For Muhammad Abdul-Aziz, the fight for true liberation, it seems, continues—a fight that shouldn’t have to happen, not after everything he’s already lost.