GREELEY, Colo.—In the six months after his release from prison, Tim Masters traveled Europe, visited friends and family across this country, got a new apartment in Greeley, acquired a car—three, actually – and started figuring out what he wants to do for a living.
He’s repeatedly been interviewed by reporters, had his picture taken innumerable times, and finds that people who recognize him on the street more often than not give him a thumbs-up.
Oh, and like just about everyone, he’s worried about high gas prices.
“They’re killing me,” Masters said last week over lunch at a Greeley restaurant. “It costs so much to fill up.”
Until Jan. 22, Masters, 36, hadn’t worried much about gas prices. The only places he traveled were court, jail and prison in the back of a sheriff’s van. He said he still gets a little lurch in his stomach driving up Interstate 25 near the Prospect Road exit, which deputies took when delivering him to county jail on Midpoint Drive.
Until Jan. 22, Masters stood convicted in the death of Peggy Hettrick, who was slain in 1987 when he was 15. He was convicted by a jury in 1999 and sent to prison.
A judge overturned his conviction and vacated his life sentence in light of new DNA evidence pointing to a new suspect. While charges against Masters have been dropped, he has not been formally exonerated.
That’s been causing problems for Masters, who spent eight years in the Navy as an aircraft mechanic between his high school graduation and his arrest in 1998.
While he’d like to work as an aircraft mechanic again, Masters says he’s worried about having to explain a nearly 10-year blank spot on his resume.
And besides, he’s had enough of answering to other people—first his father, then the military, then prison guards.
“I don’t want to work for someone else right now,” he said.
That’s led to a burgeoning interest in attending auctions and selling stuff online. Masters has been going to car auctions—he ended up with an older Saturn—along with sales at storage-unit lockers.
On Thursday, Masters joined a group of about 20 bidding on six lockers at the Stor Mor in Fort Collins, his uncle Elmer Schneider in tow.
Masters said he tends to avoid Fort Collins, especially if he’s driving. He continues to view the local police with a skeptical eye.
Earlier this month, a special prosecutor concluded there were missteps and “flaws” in the original investigation and trial. Several of the police officers and prosecutors who were involved in his case continue to work here.
Masters said he decided to try selling things on eBay after a fellow ex-convict who was cleared after spending 18 years in prison said he’d been doing it.
He likes it. Going to auctions is kind of like a crapshoot. You never know what’s going to come up, whether the stuff in the storage locker is worth the $50 or $200 or $400 you paid for it.
“Every box is like Christmas,” Masters said.
On Thursday, he found little to pique his interest, and he jokingly asked that the Coloradoan not report on the auction for fear more people would come and bid.
“I’m still getting the hang of this Internet thing,” he said.
Six months ago, Masters took off his prison jumpsuit for the last time, trading it for a blazer, tie and slacks. He wore similar outfits for several subsequent interviews, always with his lawyers in attendance.
Things aren’t like that now. Last week, in jeans and a T-shirt, he strode confidently into a Greeley restaurant, alone. No one recognized him, or at least they didn’t say anything if they did. Instead, he chatted about visiting Europe, from the Netherlands, home base of the lab that developed the DNA profile that helped free him, to Paris and the mountains of Switzerland.
Masters was accompanied on his travels at times by a member of his legal team, DNA expert Barie Goetz, and at other times by a reporter and photographer. He discovered that driving in Europe is “pretty fun” and that everything is expensive.
He was wowed by the Piz Gloria on Schilthorn, the revolving restaurant that played a central role in the James Bond movie “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” even though he’s not much of a Bond buff.
Back in the States, Masters is curious about global warming, enjoying a 1980s red BMW sedan that someone donated to him, and not thinking about prison.
“It’s one of those things—I’m getting better at not thinking about it,” he said. “It’s there, but whenever I start thinking about it, I try to think about something else.”
