Timelines and promises
1986
In the early morning hours a young man hunt-n-pecked over a typewriter, writing a letter that would literally change his life. And if George Allen had been governor two terms earlier, you wouldn’t read this.
About six years earlier, the city’s police department was trying to rebuild after being wracked by a corruption scandal. Short staffed, they issued a special request to the community, appealing to those who hadn’t previously considered becoming police officers.
One of those who answered that call was yours truly: inexperienced, somewhat idealistic, and the smallest officer in uniform. Still, it was a decent match. Consistent performance led to promotions and raises. There were some great people to work with, good morale, and community support and respect.
Yet not six years later, I wrestled with the decision to leave. Day after day I arrested petty criminals who got sentenced and served their time. Less frequently I arrested serious criminals; but they served not much more time than those with trivial offenses.
The system was a façade, hoodwinking the public. Juries sentenced rapists to ten years of prison and the rapist was back in two, while murderers who got 20 years could be out in five. On average, criminals served one-third their sentence for violent felonies; older and more experienced ones manipulated the scheme to serve far less.
The last straw was a felon with a record of violent crime (literally) fourteen feet long, free of the penitentiary after one year of a five-year sentence. Two weeks later the ex-convict beat an old man during a home invasion; beat him so badly that friends couldn’t recognize him.
As I worked that case, his parole officer informed me they would only revoke after a conviction, if the sentence didn’t impose penitentiary time, and if he was violating his parole terms at that future date. In essence: ‘We won’t send him back.’
Pecking on the typewriter, trying to articulate my frustration —my rage at the system— is still clear to me. In the grand scheme, it was pointless. The department couldn’t change the system, and the administration’s interest was on staffing. They asked if I would stay until a replacement was found.
At 5 years 11 months and four days, it was time to leave; my belief in the job was worn out.
That resignation letter was important. It summarized a criminal justice system gone wrong; where the ‘justice’ was a bureaucracy intent on reducing costs by releasing criminals —including the lethally dangerous— as fast as possible.
Two terms later, George Allen was elected governor, and made good on a campaign promise to eliminate paroles and early releases for violent criminals. And I learned that occasionally politics —that politicians— can change ordinary people’s lives for the better.
[ . . . and at my next job I met the woman I've married, and we had kids and maybe I wasn't so darned young and. . . but those are different stories. This article is on a decent and honest criminal justice system, on truth, and on keeping promises to Virginia’s citizens.]
George Allen has opened a new website to offer articles, ideas and commentary on Virginia issues. Tuesday’s post features a Richmond-Times Dispatch article on how Governor Allen’s Truth In Sentencing changed Virginia.