Alex Thill of CBS 21 News is reporting that a Harrisburg homicide case from more than two decades ago is suddenly back in the spotlight, even though the justice system treated it as settled.
In Thill’s report, the reason is simple and explosive: one of the two men convicted says the system got it wrong, and says the other man should not still be sitting in prison.
Thill lays out the history first. In 2002, Troy Steinburger and Justin Robertson were both sentenced to life in prison for the murder of Lawrence Green.
Now, with Robertson out of prison after a resentencing, Thill reports that Robertson is making a new public claim: that he alone is responsible for Green’s death.
“I’ll Go To My Grave Knowing He Didn’t Do It”
Thill’s report includes the voice that has never stopped pushing back against the conviction: Steinburger’s mother, Deborah Quianes.
“I’ll go to my grave knowing that my son didn’t do it,” Quianes told Thill. She added that she believes it was somebody else, and said her son has held onto his innocence from day one.
It’s the kind of statement that hits like a blunt object, because it’s not legal language. It’s a mother describing a belief that has hardened into something permanent.
Thill also doesn’t treat it like a casual quote. She frames Quianes as someone who has been carrying this fight for years, not someone who just became upset this week.
And even if you try to stay emotionally detached, the human side is hard to ignore. A life sentence doesn’t just punish a defendant – families get sentenced too, in their own way, to waiting, hoping, and reliving the same argument over and over.
What The 2002 Paperwork Says Happened
Thill reports that affidavits from 2002 describe the case very differently than Robertson’s current claim.
According to those affidavits, Thill says Steinburger—21 years old at the time—and Robertson – 16 years old – conspired to kill Lawrence Green on August 31, 2002.
That detail matters because it sets up the central conflict in Thill’s story. The old record says “conspiracy” and “two people.” The newly released man now says “just me.”
Thill also reports a key turning point: Robertson was resentenced after a state Supreme Court ruling that made it unconstitutional to sentence minors to life in prison.
That’s how this case came back into motion. Without that resentencing process, Thill suggests, there may never have been a new hearing, new transcript fights, or this new round of finger-pointing.
Robertson’s Claim After His Release
Thill says she spoke directly with Justin Robertson, who now insists he acted alone.
“I did it, nobody else did it,” Robertson told Thill. He said he didn’t talk to anyone beforehand, and claimed he could not have conspired with anybody.
In Thill’s telling, Robertson tries to explain the motive and the moment. He said it started with the death of one of his friends – someone he described as being killed while trying to save Green’s life.
Thill reports Robertson said he was at that friend’s memorial when Lawrence Green walked by. Robertson said he asked Green to pay respects, but Green didn’t.
Then Thill shares Robertson’s version of what happened next, and it’s chilling in how plain it is. “I didn’t even know I was going to do it until that moment came… I followed him into the alleyway… I just shot him,” Robertson said, according to Thill.
Even when someone is confessing, a story like that should be handled carefully, because confessions don’t magically solve every legal question. But Thill makes clear why the claim is getting attention: Steinburger is still serving life, and Robertson is saying the wrong man is still locked up.
The DA’s Pushback And The Oath Problem
Thill doesn’t present Robertson’s confession as the end of the story, because she also spoke with Dauphin County District Attorney Fran Chardo.
Chardo told Thill that what Robertson is claiming now is not what he said under oath during resentencing.
Thill reports that Chardo read from the 2022 resentencing transcript, and the wording is a direct hit to Robertson’s current narrative.
Thill quotes Chardo reading a key exchange: “You admitted that you were responsible for the murder because you did not act alone. Right? Answer: Yes, sir.”
Chardo continued, according to Thill, with another line that matters: “And the two of you then went after Lawrence Green, and both of you tried to fire?” The answer described in Thill’s report includes Robertson saying he believed he fired first, and that through testimony of others he heard the other person said his gun jammed.
That’s the trap Robertson is stuck in, and Thill makes it easy to see why. A post-release “I did it alone” claim sounds dramatic, but courts don’t just weigh drama – they weigh sworn testimony, transcripts, and consistency.
Thill also reported Chardo’s blunt view of whether Robertson’s new statements would help Steinburger in an appeal. Chardo said a judge would have to decide, but he doesn’t think so, because Robertson swore under oath to something different and is now changing his story after he’s been released.
If you’re trying to make sense of this as an outsider, that point lands hard. The system is built to distrust late changes, especially when the person changing the story no longer faces the same consequences.
Robertson Says The Transcript Doesn’t Match What He Said
Thill reports that Robertson claims something else that raises yet another layer of controversy: he says the transcript itself is missing what he believes he said.
Thill says Robertson told her he went to the courthouse to get the resentencing transcripts. After reading them, he claims, “nothing that I said is in this transcript.”
In Thill’s reporting, Robertson takes it even further, suggesting that repeated parts of what he said were “muted” or removed.
That’s a massive accusation, and Thill treats it like one – by immediately placing it next to the DA’s reading from the official record and by showing the direct conflict instead of smoothing it over.
This is also where the story gets uncomfortable in a different way. If a person is willing to say, “I confessed and you erased it,” you’re no longer just arguing guilt – you’re accusing the process itself of being manipulated.
At the same time, it’s also fair to say what Thill’s report implies without shouting it: transcripts come from recordings and court reporters, and proving intentional removal is not a casual claim. It’s the kind of allegation that demands receipts, not just suspicion.
What It Would Take To Reopen The Case
Thill reports that Steinburger’s family has been filing appeals for years, and she shows the exhaustion in it without having to say the word.
Quianes told Thill she’ll never stop fighting for her son’s freedom. When Thill asked whether she believed her son was involved in any way, Quianes answered flatly: no.
And she said the reason isn’t complicated. She described it as something her gut tells her, and she said the story has never changed.
Thill also asked DA Chardo what it would take for Steinburger to get a new trial. Chardo told her there would need to be new physical proof of innocence.
That’s a high bar, and it’s supposed to be. But it also explains why families feel like they’re screaming into the wind when new witnesses talk, new stories surface, and the legal answer still comes back as, “Where is the physical evidence?”
Thill reported that Chardo also noted Steinburger presented an alibi back in 2002, but the jury didn’t believe it.
Still, Thill says Chardo told her he’s willing to look at new evidence if it can be provided.
A Case That Shows How Messy “Truth” Can Get
Thill’s report leaves you sitting with two competing realities: a long-standing conviction based on sworn statements and affidavits, and a newly released man saying, in plain words, “I did it alone.”
My honest reaction is that this is exactly why post-conviction cases are so emotionally brutal. Families want justice to be a clean machine – wrong person goes free, right person gets punished, end of story – but real life doesn’t cooperate.
There’s also an ugly incentive problem hanging in the background. When someone is still incarcerated, they have one set of motivations; when they’ve been released, they have another. That doesn’t automatically make Robertson a liar, but it does explain why courts don’t treat late shifts as automatically credible.
And yet, Thill’s reporting also shows why these stories won’t go away. When a mother like Deborah Quianes says she wants to hug her son “before I die,” that isn’t a legal argument—but it’s a human one, and it’s powerful enough to keep dragging old cases back into the open until someone finally proves, one way or the other, what really happened in that alley in 2002.
Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, John developed a love for the great outdoors early on. With years of experience as a wilderness guide, he’s navigated rugged terrains and unpredictable weather patterns. John is also an avid hunter and fisherman who believes in sustainable living. His focus on practical survival skills, from building shelters to purifying water, reflects his passion for preparedness. When he’s not out in the wild, you can find him sharing his knowledge through writing, hoping to inspire others to embrace self-reliance.
