Opinion: D.C. must restore local control of parole

“I see all of the wonderful things that you have been doing while you were at the D.C. Jail and that you have been incident-report-free over the last five years. But, you were at the jail for most of this time, and I want to see you do it in a penitentiary setting. So, I am going to give you a two-year set off [period before you can reapply].”

Immediately after being told this by the examiner at my first parole hearing in 2021, I thought, “Well, damn, if he says he wants to see me do this in a penitentiary setting (the highest-security type of federal prison), then he knows how hard it is to stay out of in trouble in such a violent and chaotic environment.” It seemed like a set-up for failure. 

I fit the criteria for parole: I had a release plan, complete with a job, a stable place to live, a strong support system, and even a letter of support from D.C.’s attorney general at that time, Karl Racine. But I was denied simply because the examiner wanted to test me a little more, in the most challenging setting. Well, I went back to the penitentiary, and was denied three more times over the following four years.

This happens to D.C. prisoners who were convicted prior to 2000, when D.C. abolished parole.  Those of us who came into the system before then were often given “indeterminate” sentences, like my 30 years-to-life. Our actual release date is determined by the U.S. Parole Commission, unless we find another way to go home. Sometimes I think D.C. people are denied parole simply to preserve the jobs for the staff of the federal parole commission, since we’re the few people for whom it is still responsible. 

The gross unfairness of the U.S. Parole Commission hit home again recently when one of my closest friends, my comrade and brother Angelo Daniels (known inside as Nut), was denied for the second time. 

In 2020, when Nut first went before the parole examiner, he had already been incarcerated 26 years, had completed a variety of programs to help with his rehabilitation (such as cognitive behavioral therapy and anger management), and had eight years of clear conduct to show that these programs were working. In fact, he applied the wisdom he developed to not only mentor younger prisoners, but also to mediate conflicts. I know of many times when, if he hadn’t intervened, there might have been a full-scale “war.” Yet he was denied parole and given a five-year set off. 

Dejected but undeterred, Nut went on to do everything the parole commission asked of him and more. He did so much programming that he took some of the programs twice. Even the prosecutor who convicted  him wrote a letter on his behalf, stating that he didn’t believe Nut was a threat to society and he should be released. The result: He was denied again last month and given another three-year set-off. Why? He was not even given the respect of an answer.

The U.S. Parole Commission does indeed have criteria to determine who is granted parole. But it also has the discretion to go outside of the guidelines. It computes a “Salient Factor Score,” based on both pre- and post-conviction dynamics, such as the number of crimes committed before the most recent arrest, the nature of the offense, and the person’s program and behavior history while in prison. A person with a score of zero is supposed to be almost guaranteed to make parole. But the commission also is empowered to toss the score out the window, often by referring back to petitioners’ crimes to deny them despite everything they have done since then.  For example, Nut had a score of zero, but was denied parole due to the facts surrounding his original case, which occurred over 30 years ago. And there is no opportunity to appeal the commission’s decision. Why should such a consequential decision be so protected from challenge?

And D.C. is not alone. In its last report card, the Prison Policy Initiative gave almost every state parole system a grade of “C” or lower.

In 2022, D.C. had the opportunity  to bring the parole process under local control and show how it should be done. But the opportunity was squandered when there was a lack of consensus in the advocacy community and the D.C. Council refused to step in with a decision. So even today, D.C. residents who are still eligible for parole remain subject to the whims of commission members who aren’t even from D.C. and do not reflect our reform-oriented culture. 

Positive change seems to be something no one wants to pursue under the Trump administration; instead, the council and other policymakers appear intent on keeping their heads low and treading water. Parole reform, however, should remain firmly on the agenda. We owe it to all the other Angelo Daniels in prison.