Parole denials negate crime drop

Prison cells remain filled

How can prison populations go up even when the supply of sentenced criminals dwindles?

In a word: parole.

As fewer inmates came into the system in the last half of the 1990s, the governor-appointed state Parole Board let fewer out. Further, more parolees who didn't follow rules were brought back to prison. And fixed sentences that do away with parole altogether are keeping prisoners locked up longer.

The result has been an unprecedented parole-driven scenario in which prisons grew while crime dropped. It is only in the last several months that the prison population has finally started to drop -- as crime continues to dip.

"This is the first time in history that this has happened,'' said Howard Abadinsky, author of the book, "Probation and Parole," and a former New York state parole officer. "It's an anomaly."

Spencer Ainsley/Poughkeepsie Journal An officer stands watch at Green Haven Correctional Facility in Stormville.

"They keep coming in the front. Nobody goes out the back," said James Turpin, legislative liaison for the American Correctional Association.

The state's system of parole -- which allows for supervised release of convicts after they serve a minimum sentence -- is at the heart of a new chapter in the evolution of prisons in New York state, and indeed nationally.

The changing view of parole has been driven by myriad factors, from a federal law that rewards states for keeping prisoners locked up longer to Gov. George Pataki's belief that violent criminals were being let out too early and adjustments needed to be made.

"We're not handing them ticking time bombs," said Katherine Lapp, director of the state's Division of Criminal Justice Services. ''The right people are going out on parole."

The governor told the parole board to carefully review inmates with violent histories, and, she said, "Don't worry about prison capacity."

The upshot: Only one in five violent offenders in the state is being released at a first parole hearing now; in 1994, nearly one in two was let go.

"Parole boards around the country tend to look at inmates who have committed violent felonies with a jaundiced eye,'' said Tom Grant, special assistant to Parole Board Chairman Brion Travis. "New York is part of that."

Critics: Boards too demanding

Darryl Bautista/Poughkeepsie Journal David Murray, 50, an inmate at Fishkill Correctional Facility, was convicted at age 23 of murder. Although he earned college degrees and has an "excellent" record in prison, he was denied parole twice. In 1995, 14 percent of convicted murderers were paroled at their first hearing; last year, 5 percent were.

Source: State Department of Correctionall Services, state Division of Criminal Justice Services Graphic by Dean DiMarzo/Poughkeepsie Journal

But some critics of the new trend -- under which fewer nonviolent offenders are also being released -- say a rubber-stamp Parole Board is failing to consider anything an inmate might have done in prison to rehabilitate himself.

In interviews, inmates and their advocates said people with exemplary records were being denied parole repeatedly, including those who had earned college degrees, served in positions of responsibility in prison programs and fulfilled the parole board's mandate to participate in programs offered to them.

"What you see a lot is these boiler-plate denials," said Robert Isseks, a Middletown attorney who represents inmates denied parole. "We've considered everything, but the nature of the crime merits denial."

In one such case, the board denied release to Sean Clark, who was sentenced in Manhattan to 18 months to three years for grand larceny. The inmate, with two robbery convictions, nonetheless worked outside the prison on a community project in Saratoga County; he was electrocuted in June when a ladder hit an electric line.

In another case, Guy Conese of Westchester, who was convicted of manslaughter, was denied parole three times -- even though he lived and worked outside prison for three years, returning on weekends. Despite an excellent record, recommendations from employers and a letter in support from the late Cardinal John O'Connor, he died of cancer in prison last year.

Victims' rights on other side

On the other side, of course, are the crimes by inmates on parole. The 1998 law that eliminated parole for violent offenses is named for Jenna Greishaber, 22, an Albany nursing student murdered by a parolee. Such crimes aren't hard to find.

Larry Gibson, 53, was paroled in 1998 after serving 20 years for a robbery and burglary in which a Hyde Park woman was terrorized. He was later convicted in Maryland of burglary, robbery and assault.

Sterling Fisher, 39, was convicted in 1996 of robbing and killing a Poughkeepsie man only 30 days after being paroled on a robbery conviction.

''We certainly are supportive of the changes in the law that do call for enhanced penalties and longer sentences for repeat sex offenders,'' said Anne Liske, executive director of the state Coalition Against Sexual Assault. Release rates for rape convicts have dropped from 8 percent in 1991 to 1 percent last year.

Another group, Parents of Murdered Children, has helped stop the parole of 634 murderers through letter-writing campaigns -- and issues alerts when selected convicts are released.

The Citizens Budget Commission, a nonprofit watchdog group, argued in a report in May that it wasn't parole that was the problem, but underfunding. Officers have caseloads averaging 100 in New York, against 69 in other states, it said, a system that offers "relatively little supervision."

The question is whether keeping people in prison longer, and without the incentive to reform that parole often gives, will make them any better when they are finally released -- as the vast majority are. Last year, 192 inmates died in prison while 28,034 were released.

"When you sentence someone to 20 years to life and they give you 20 years to prove they are rehabilitated, it reinforces (that) you actually have a system of justice when you release them when they have met their part of the bargain," said Kenneth Stephens, staff attorney for the Prisoners Rights Project, which is considering a class-action lawsuit against the Parole Board. "You give people more incentive to make good use of their time and to obey the rules."

Crime and punishment

In many ways, the debate centers on whether more punishment equals less crime.

''No serious scholar disputes that longer prison sentences have been an important cause in reducing the crime rate,'' said Todd Gaziano, a senior fellow at the Heritage Foundation, a public policy research organization.

However, a new study by the Sentencing Project, a prison reform group, found that ''states with the greatest incarceration increases over the last decade had less impact on crime, including violent crime, than states with lower increases.''

The irony is while the New York State Parole Board was clamping down on granting parole, two of its officials were convicted of lying to a grand jury about their role in freeing a convicted robber in 1996 whose father had given money to Gov. Pataki's election campaign.

In court testimony, one of the convicted officials, Ron Hotaling, said Pataki's office had exerted "tremendous pressure" to parole Queens robber John Kim at his first hearing. Hotaling was fired as secretary to the board and later testified on behalf of investigators.

The Parole Board's Grant denied Hotaling's assertion, noting he was an "admitted liar."

"Everything that was done was right and proper," Grant said.

Critics point to the parole scandal and worry that other factors are slowly, perhaps subtly, driving parole and sentencing policy besides crime. State prisons employ 32,500 people, are billed as job-creation programs for economically depressed areas and have lobbying groups that spend money to keep pro-prison legislators in office.

"It's a gravy train,'' said Scott Christianson, a criminologist and author of "With Liberty For Some," a history of incarceration in America. He noted that contractors, vendors, unions and entire towns thrive on prisons, particularly in areas of high unemployment. Dutchess and Ulster counties, with low unemployment, have long had eight prisons that employ 4,500.

Boom to upstate community

The state's newest prison is Five Points Correctional Facility in Seneca County, a 750-cell facility with 650 jobs and an annual payroll of $25 million.

Sen. Michael Nozzolio, chairman of the Senate Corrections Committee, said it ''helped to usher in a new era of economic development and job creation'' in his district.

Lapp, the state's chief criminal justice policy adviser, said the notion of keeping prisons full for economic reasons is ridiculous.

"I remember the first time I heard such an assertion. I was shocked. I've been in high-level policy discussions with mayors and governors and that has never entered the equation.''

She and others say the prison buildup and drop in crime are allowing the state to reverse a years-long tendency to release violent inmates prematurely.

"It's about time that the Parole Board is taking a real look and they're making denials,'' said Susan Jeffords, president of the parole officers union. "In the past, many of us felt there was a quota system. They would keep a count," she said, releasing inmates until space needs eased.

The question is whether the quota has shifted the other way -- taking a huge human and economic toll.

David Murray, 50, of Brooklyn, is a convicted murderer, with, he admitted, "a lot of baggage." An inmate for 27 years, he has been denied parole twice, though he believes he is the definition of a man who has repented and been redeemed.

He was an angry 23-year-old drug addict when he killed a drug dealer in a botched robbery, he said.

"I came a long way," Murray maintained in an interview at Fishkill Correctional Facility. ''I have dealt with my shortcomings as a human being."

The board didn't see it that way. Although a prison report said Murray's record was "excellent" and that he'd participated in numerous programs and earned high school, bachelor's and master's-level degrees, he was denied parole. The board cited ''the violent nature'' of Murray's crime and a prior robbery conviction, concluding he was ''a risk to the community."

"He can't undo what he's done,'' said his wife, Angela, who lives in Beacon.

By not releasing such inmates, said Sen. Nozzolio, the corrections chair, ''We're keeping our streets safer.'' He said inmates were let out too easily under prior ''revolving-door" policies that virtually guaranteed inmates would return to prison.

Not anymore, apparently.

- In fiscal year 1994 -- around the time crime began to drop in the state -- 60 percent of inmates who came up for parole for the first time were released. By 1999, that proportion dropped to 40 percent.

- One in five convicted murderers were let go in 1994; last year, one in 20 was. Ironically, murderers have the lowest prison return rate: 19 percent of those released in 1994 came back within three years; 44 percent of all inmates did.

Those numbers add up to real dollars. At $29,678 per inmate per year, it will cost the state almost $120 million to keep the 4,000 additional inmates denied parole last year as compared to five years ago. And most get a two-year "hit," as inmates call it.

There is evidence to suggest that the extra time provides no real benefit. An analysis of 325 studies by researchers at the University of Cincinnati and the University of New Brunswick, in Canada, actually suggested the opposite: inmates returned to prison at slightly greater rates as prison sentences lengthened.

''It won't have any deterrent effects and it is an extremely costly option,'' said the study's prime author, Dr. Paul Gendreau, referring to longer terms served.

And people are indeed serving longer terms.

1995 law changed things

In 1995, the state Legislature instituted fixed sentences without the possibility of parole for two-time violent-felony offenders. In 1998, it did the same for all violent offenders, a move that assured the state tens of millions of dollars in federal prison building aid and made inmates serve at least 85 percent of their sentences. The average time served in state prison for violent crimes has risen 30 percent since 1995, state figures show.

As the possibility for parole is diminished, reform advocates say, prisoners become demoralized.

"It embitters people who are incarcerated rather than changing them,'' said Edward Hammock, a parole board commissioner from 1976 to 1984 and now a parole attorney. "You can be as good as you want to be, but you're not going to get home any sooner, so why bother?"

Hammock said he believes the board is violating the parole law, which holds that it will consider a prisoner's institutional record, efforts at self-improvement and crime in determining whether to release. Instead, he and others said, the board considers only the "nature of the crime."

Parolees' crimes noted

But Lapp, the state's chief criminal justice adviser, said, "This is not a cookie-cutter approach. People should consider what the cookie-cutter approach was (during prior administrations) when 60 percent of violent offenders were being let out. A lot of lives were lost. People were hurt."

Releasing inmates without parole won't stop them from committing crimes, advocates say. Under parole, the board is held responsible for release and oversight of parolees, including curfews, prohibition against alcohol and drugs, employment monitoring and unannounced visits to homes.

The California prison system, which had eliminated parole, had no choice but to release Richard Allen Davis, the man who later murdered 12-year-old Polly Klaas. While the murder may have occurred in any event, parole advocates say he would have been monitored if a parole system was in place.

To address the supervision issue, New York's no-parole sentencing structure includes both a fixed prison sentence and a period of "post-release supervision," both set by the sentencing judge.

Abadinsky, whose book on parole is in its seventh edition, said such systems haven't worked without a parole board to answer for the parolees' crimes. "There's no incentive to put money into it because no one is responsible," he said.

"It's a real mistake,'' agreed Jeffords, the parole union head. ''Prison populations skyrocket. Crime figures don't change. Everybody -- every human being -- has to work toward something. ... (Without that), what do I have when the guy gets out on the street?"

But Lapp maintained that the promise of release after 85 percent of the term is served is enough to assure inmate cooperation and rehabilitation.

Too her, however, that is secondary.

"The first and foremost purpose of prison," she said, "is punishment.''