Prison Movement: PRISON BREAK- LIFER PAROLE'S

My name is Carl McQuillion. I was ordered released on parole by the Ninth Circuit after Governor Wilson's "no-parole" board rescinded my 1979 grant of parole 7 months after my 1994 release date expired. He reversed all of them. It took me nine years of pro se litigation before the Ninth Circuit found the rescission board had NO EVIDENCE at all to justify reversing a grant that had been given 15 years earlier and been repeatedly approved by at least 15 subsequent commissioners at Progress Hearings. I learned to be a paralegal inside, and now own and operate my own freelance service. I do exclusively lifer parole litigation for several law firms throughout California, and have been hired as a consultant by attorneys working on some of the most notorious cases. I am considered an expert in this field. I live in a nice neighborhood, work 7 days a week most of the time, have a nice little house, two cars, a new wife, and am very happy. I am considered a compassionate, honorable, and honest person, and am very respected by the lawyers who know me and the life prisoners inside. I have spoken on national radio twice, on KQED earlier this year, and often speak out on prison issues at the State capital. I keep in touch with many of the paroled lifers who are doing quite well out here, living honest lives.

I know that the parole board is ethically and morally bankrupt and populated with people paid a lot of money to deny most lifers. I know they manipulate the law to give the appearance of doing their jobs, but in reality they only let out a few to give that apparance. I know that Arnold tightened up on paroles after the Victims Rights groups, like the loudmouth Harriet Solarno, and the CCPOA held a rally in 2004 criticizing Anrold for letter 94 lifers out. He reduced that by 2/3rds, and recently, as elections drew near, he cut even that to a trickle. This is all politics, and such decisions should be made on the law, not politics, and certainly not politics warped by "mob rule" mentality.

I know that the CCPOA needs a serious RICO action taken against it for the corruption it manifests throughout the system, and for allowing and defending the incredible brutality and horrific conditions inmates suffer now.

I know that if I were the Director of Corrections with full authority I could straighten the entire system out within a years time. But the CCPOA likes the Department of Chaos the way it is. It, and its members, make lots of money the way it is.

What is needed is not deference to the CCPOA or the victims rights groups, nor to the board members themselves. The reality is that they are all breaking the laws to do what they do, and the media should understand that. And expose it. ... As long as the media and the officialdom operate with the view that the commissioners are doing an honest job, the corruption will continue unchecked. One only has to read some of the state and federal court cases to see what is going on.

Arnold is no bleeding heart. He is doing what his advisors say to do, and early on his main advisors were Pete Wilson and James Nielsen, who were responsible for the onslaught of the no-parole policy in the first place. No one can see Arnold directly who would be able to tell him the truth about all this. His advisors won't allow it.

Carl McQuillion

	Posted on Sun, Oct. 29, 2006

	MERCURY NEWS SPECIAL REPORT PRISON BREAK By Howard Mintz Mercury News Locked up in a state prison cell in Tracy, Alan Mann was so excited he had to put down his newspaper when he got word that Gov. Gray Davis had been tossed from office in the historic 2003 recall election. As a convicted felon serving a life sentence for killing his best buddy in a San Jose field in 1980, Mann couldn't vote. But he had more than a passing interest in seeing Arnold Schwarzenegger replace Davis -- and it had nothing to do with traditional politics or the state's energy crisis. For Mann and the 29,000 state inmates serving life sentences for murder and other serious crimes, there was virtually no chance of parole under Davis. In fact, just months earlier, the parole board had voted to free Mann, but Davis reversed the decision. With Schwarzenegger' s election, there was renewed hope that the politics of parole could shift in California. ``Word was all over the place that Schwarzenegger had won,'' Mann says now. ``I was like `Wow. Maybe I can get a chance to get out.' '' A year later, Mann became one of the state's lucky ``lifers.'' In California's fickle parole system, prisoners serving life terms have had a much better chance of release under Schwarzenegger. A Mercury News review of the 126 cases in which Schwarzenegger paroled lifers shows that dozens of them involved the same inmates Davis rejected. To experts, it's a clear sign that a Republican governor with a ``Terminator' ' role on his résumé feels better insulated against political attack on the issue than a Democrat worried about looking soft on crime. The odds are still against convicted murderers and others serving life terms because Schwarzenegger reverses his parole board's decision to release lifers about 75 percent of the time. But he has let 126 of these inmates go free in his three years in office, while Davis paroled just nine lifers in about five years. Schwarzenegger also has nearly surpassed former Republican Gov. Pete Wilson, who allowed 132 lifer inmates to be paroled in eight years. Luck of the draw • Same set of facts, but different outcomes Lifer inmates striving for a chance to start new lives outside prison are depending on the luck of the draw from one governor to another. Mann's case is typical. Like nearly half the lifers paroled by Schwarzenegger, the facts of his case were essentially the same as when Davis had reversed his parole. The decision to free an inmate is supposed to be based on an objective set of standards, but everyone involved in the system acknowledges that the outcome partly depends on a governor's subjective view of whether an inmate still poses a risk to the community. Andrea Hoch, Schwarzenegger' s legal-affairs secretary and lead adviser on parole matters, concedes, ``It's not science. We're dealing with human beings.'' And luck. Schwarzenegger has avoided the type of Willie Horton episode that haunted former Democratic presidential nominee Michael Dukakis in his 1988 campaign. Unlike Horton, California lifers are for the most part behaving after they get out. One of them is an ordained Episcopalian priest at a church in Berkeley. Five lifers paroled by Schwarzenegger have violated parole, four of those for drug relapses, well below the recidivism rate of 60 percent for the state's overall prison population, prison figures show. Governors do not have any direct say over the thousands of parole decisions made each year in cases involving inmates eligible for parole who are not serving potential life terms. While parole has not been a major issue in the contest between Schwarzenegger and his Democratic rival, Phil Angelides, California is just one of three states that gives a governor the power to overturn a parole board's decision to release a prisoner serving a life term for crimes ranging from kidnapping to first-degree murder. And California has by far the largest such inmate population in the nation. ``This is really something that needs to be one of the most non-political things a governor does,'' said Eric George, Wilson's deputy legal-affairs secretary. ``You are dealing with a question of life and a question of liberty.'' Within months of taking office, Schwarzenegger paroled dozens of lifers, signaling that he would be different. Schwarzenegger was keenly aware of Davis' reluctance to grant parole and personally reviews each case during weekly meetings, said Peter Siggins, the governor's legal-affairs secretary until last year. ``He felt the possibility of parole meant a possibility, '' said Siggins, now a San Francisco appeals court justice. ``Not, `No way, no how, no possibility. ' '' An analysis of thousands of pages of parole hearing transcripts shows that the typical lifer inmate earning parole from Schwarzenegger was under 21 years old at the time of the crime, often a teenager, and in many instances was not the main culprit. They have usually spent at least 20 years in prison. Twenty-two of the parolees have been women, nearly every one of them arguing they committed crimes because they were battered by spouses or boyfriends. Parole experts say lifer inmates who are released generally fare better than repeat offenders who cycle through the prison system, in part because they tend to have grown into middle age behind bars and have used their time for self-improvement. Ollie Johnson • Battered woman kicks drugs, behaves herself Ollie Johnson is one such inmate. The East Palo Alto native was serving a 16-years-to- life term for stabbing her boyfriend to death in the chest with a butcher knife in 1986. She had gone through rehab for drug addiction, taken vocational courses and stayed out of trouble in prison. And she had lawyers on her side, contending that she was entitled to parole because of strong evidence her boyfriend had battered her before the crime. In 2002, the parole board recommended that she be released, over the objections of San Mateo County prosecutors, who argued that she was unfit. But Davis overturned the board. ``It was very sad for him to tell me I wasn't suitable for parole based on the past,'' Johnson says now. ``I worked hard to become the person I should have been a long time ago, before I got to prison.'' Last year, Schwarzenegger agreed. Johnson became one of about 20 female inmates who successfully argued that they had been battered at the time they killed and should be paroled. Johnson, 49, is now living in a drug-treatment home in East Palo Alto, looking for work, hoping to move out on her own and helping with a battered women's organization in San Francisco. She stays in regular touch with other female inmates who were paroled. She savors life outside prison, including frills that didn't exist two decades ago. While ordering a caramel frappuccino at Starbucks recently, she gushed to the cashier that it was only her ``second one in 21 years.'' ``I appreciate those who did open the door to me and I'm entitled to a second chance,'' Johnson said as she sipped her frappuccino. Growing caseload • Sometimes good policy takes political heat Paroling inmates serving life terms has become a more pressing issue over the past 10 to 15 years, as California has put more inmates behind bars for life than ever. Davis and Schwarzenegger have been forced to confront the issue more than their predecessors at a time when it is considered good politics to look as tough on crime as possible. And governors will continue to face unprecedented numbers of parole decisions for lifers as a generation of inmates sentenced under California's 1994 ``three strikes, you're out'' law reach parole eligibility in coming years. Davis reversed his own board's parole recommendations with such regularity that his stance was challenged to the California Supreme Court. In a crucial decision, the court in 2002 deferred to a governor's power to deny parole as long as there is some factual justification for the decision. Davis, now in a Los Angeles law firm, did not respond to interview requests for this story, but during his tenure defended his policy and the need to protect public safety. Prison and sentencing experts say Davis' approach was consistent with national trends, particularly for Democratic governors who do not want to look soft on crime. Schwarzenegger has his critics on law-and-order issues, but crime has not been a political vulnerable spot. Davis had to constantly stress his tough-on-crime credentials to offset fallout from his days as former Democratic Gov. Jerry Brown's chief of staff. ``The Democrats tend to be more cautious,'' said Marc Mauer, executive director of the Sentencing Project, a Washington, D.C., non-profit that last year studied the national increase in inmates serving life terms. ``I don't know what they are afraid of, but they are afraid.'' Angelides campaign spokesman Dan Newman criticized the governor's record, saying he has ``failed to protect the public.'' Victims' rights advocates also criticize his parole of convicted murderers. ``I know he looks like he's tough on crime, but we have a great concern about it,'' said Harriet Salarno, president of California's Crime Victims United. ``We're watching it -- we don't want one of them to explode.'' Broken pledge? • Critics want governor to parole even more Critics on the other side insist that while Schwarzenegger has been more receptive to parole than Davis, he's still too stingy. He's gone back, they say, on his early pledge to defer to the parole board in most instances. The governor has upheld about 25 percent of parole recommendations. The board has approved parole dates in more than 500 lifer cases during the Schwarzenegger administration, still a relatively small percentage of the thousands of cases it considers each year. The governor's critics also say he's playing politics by tightening his parole policy as this year's election has drawn near. Schwarzenegger permitted the parole of 72 lifers in 2004, but just 13 this year, according to parole board figures. Prisoner rights advocates say the system remains arbitrary, with many inmates rejected for parole who are little different from some who are released. They have filed court challenges. Last year, an appeals court ordered a San Mateo County man, George Scott, to be released, overruling Schwarzenegger' s decision to block parole because he failed to justify keeping Scott behind bars. Scott, in his 60s, had served 19 years for killing his wife's lover. ``I don't think there's an appreciable difference in this governor's approach -- it's still only a handful of people who get out, out of 5,000 hearings every year,'' said Keith Wattley, a lawyer for San Quentin's Prison Law Office. Hoch, Schwarzenegger' s current legal-affairs secretary, said the governor emphasizes public safety and decides each case on the facts. ``This is an area where it's totally about someone's life,'' Hoch said. ``Politics does not play a role at all.'' Alan Mann • Prototypical parolee of Schwarzenegger' s Alan Mann may not agree. But he's turned out to be the prototypical Schwarzenegger parolee. He was 20 when he got into a late-night argument with a friend over whether he ought to confront a drug dealer for owed money. Mann killed him with a sawed-off shotgun in a booze and LSD haze near San Jose's Guadalupe Creek. He was convicted of second-degree murder and sent to San Quentin to serve a 15 years to life sentence. In prison he sobered up, earned a high school degree, embraced church and set his sights on parole. Mann, now 47, expresses remorse for the killing, which he blames on the drugs and booze. ``It's something I'll never forget,'' he says. ``He was a friend of mine.'' Santa Clara County prosecutors opposed parole for Mann at hearings before the parole board. Deputy District Attorney Ron Rico, who supervises the county's lifer cases, expressed concern at a 2003 hearing about Mann's potential threat to public safety and past substance abuse problems. Rico declined to discuss Mann's parole, but had this to say generally: ``If a lifer inmate gets a date and is released, I certainly hope that the board is right,'' he said. These days Mann lives in Milpitas where he works as a yard supervisor for a company that refurbishes gas stations. Helped by an old friend from church, he had his job lined up when he left prison. He attends church, dotes on his new truck and hopes to travel to visit a brother in Idaho when he gets off probation in about three years. He makes a point of saying he doesn't drink or smoke. He understands that breaking the law now would make Gray Davis's decision to keep him in prison right and he's intent on not proving Schwarzenegger wrong. ``If I screw up and go back, they are going to say, `See?' '' Mann says. ``It's not only a bad mark on the parole board and the governor and me, it's real bad for the other lifers trying to get out. That keeps me on the straight and narrow.'' Contact Howard Mintz at hmintz@mercurynews. com or (408) 286-0236.