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FILE -
In this
Tuesday,
Nov. 13,
2012
file
photo,
Cyntoia
Brown
reacts
during a
hearing
in
Nashville,
Tenn.
With
days
left in
office,
Tennessee
Gov.
Bill
Haslam
in
January
2019
granted
clemency
to
Brown,
who
fatally
shot a
Nashville
real
estate
agent in
2004
after he
picked
her up
and paid
her for
sex. She
said she
was a
sex
trafficking
victim.
Brown,
now 30,
has
drawn
support
from
numerous
celebrities.
She is
set to
be freed
in
August
2019.
(Jae S.
Lee/The
Tennessean
via AP) |
|
After
2016
ruling,
battles
over
juvenile
lifer
cases
persist
By
SHARON
COHEN
and
ADAM
GELLER
APNews.com
Locked
up for
life at
15,
Norman
Brown
remains
defined
by the
crime
that put
him
behind
bars.
Twenty-seven
years
ago,
Brown
joined a
neighbor
more
than
twice
his age
to rob a
jewelry
shop in
Chesterfield,
Missouri,
and the
man shot
the
owner to
death.
The
shooter
was
executed.
But
state
officials,
bound by
a 2016
U.S.
Supreme
Court
ruling,
pledged
to give
Brown an
opportunity
to get
out —
then
rejected
parole
in a
process
a
federal
judge
ruled
recently
must be
overhauled.
Three
years
after
the
Supreme
Court
gave
inmates
like
Brown a
chance
at
freedom,
the
justice
system
is
gaining
speed in
revisiting
scores
of
cases.
About
400
offenders
originally
sentenced
to life
without
parole
as
juveniles
have
been
released
nationwide,
and
hundreds
of
others
have
been
resentenced
to
shorter
terms or
made
eligible
for
release
by law.
But
most
remain
behind
bars as
prosecutors
and
judges
wrestle
with
difficult
cases.
Tensions
have
mounted
and
lawsuits
have
been
filed in
states
like
Missouri,
while in
21
others,
life-without-parole
sentences
are
prohibited
for
those 17
and
younger.
About a
third of
those
bans
have
been
approved
since
2016,
according
to the
Campaign
for the
Fair
Sentencing
of
Youth.
“The
national
trend is
certainly
one
where
states
are
moving
away
from
these
sentences,
whether
by
legislation
or
through
the
courts,”
said
Jody
Kent
Lavy,
executive
director
of the
group.
But
“there
are
still
some
outliers
that in
many
ways are
refusing
to
comply
with the
court’s
mandate.”
In
Missouri,
lawmakers
decided
the more
than 100
inmates
serving
life for
adolescent
crimes
would
get a
parole
hearing
after 25
years.
But the
state is
in court
because
the
parole
board
has
denied
release
in 85
percent
of cases
it has
heard
and has
yet to
free
anyone.
Parole
hearings
have
been
brief
and
focused
on
inmates’
crimes,
with
little,
if any,
attention
on the
circumstances
preceding
them or
what
offenders
have
done to
rehabilitate
themselves,
a
lawsuit
filed by
the
MacArthur
Justice
Center
alleges.
The
board’s
actions
violate
the
constitutional
requirement
that
inmates
be
provided
a
“realistic
opportunity
for
release,”
a
federal
judge
determined
in
October,
ordering
changes.
Missouri’s
corrections
agency
and
attorney
general’s
office
declined
comment.
After
Brown’s
hearing
in May
2017,
the
board
cited
his
crime in
denying
parole.
The
state
has
since
argued
he is
not yet
eligible
because
he
received
consecutive
sentences.
Brown,
now 42,
said he
hopes
the
board
will
eventually
recognize
his
remorse,
as well
as his
thousands
of hours
in
restorative
justice
programs
and work
as a
prison
hospice
caretaker
and
training
rescue
dogs.
In a
telephone
interview
from
Potosi
Correctional
Center,
Brown
recounted
what he
did that
night in
1991.
“It’s
shameful.
...
Because
I’m an
adult
now, I
know
what it
is to
love
your
family,”
he said.
“I can
definitely
see
where
(opposition
to
release)
comes
from,
and I
think it
comes
from a
place of
pain.”
Florence
Honickman’s
husband,
Stephen,
was
killed
by
Brown’s
companion,
and she
vividly
recalls
the teen
snatching
a
pendant
off her
neck as
she lay
bleeding
from
bullet
wounds.
She
lives in
Florida
but
returned
to
Missouri
to
oppose
Brown’s
parole.
“My
family
was
turned
upside
down and
inside
out,”
she said
in an
interview.
“Do you
really
know
deep
down
that
this man
— he’s a
man now,
not a
child —
has he
really,
really
changed?”
The
high
court’s
2016
decision,
one of
four in
recent
years
focused
on the
punishment
of
juveniles,
hinged
partly
on
research
showing
the
brains
of
adolescents
are slow
to
develop,
making
teen
offenders
likelier
to act
recklessly
but
capable
of
rehabilitation.
The
court
said
they
must not
be
punished
with the
same
severity
and
finality
as
adults,
and that
a
life-without-parole
sentence
should
be
reserved
for
those
inmates
deemed
beyond
rehabilitation.
At
the
time,
more
than
2,000
inmates
were
serving
mandatory
life-without-parole
sentences,
most for
murder
convictions.
And most
cases
were
clustered
in a few
states.
In
Pennsylvania,
399 of
more
than 500
juvenile
lifers
have
been
resentenced
and 163
have
been
released,
according
to the
Department
of
Corrections.
Bradley
Bridge,
of the
Defenders
Association
of
Philadelphia,
said the
last of
that
city’s
325
lifers
could be
resentenced
this
spring.
Judges
have
recently
rejected
some
negotiated
sentences
as too
light.
The last
of their
deliberations
are
complicated
by the
fact
that
many
still
awaiting
resentencing
have
served
less
time and
have
less of
a prison
record
to
assess,
or they
have
mental
illnesses
or a
history
of
prison
violations.
“The
cases we
have
remaining
are
probably
the
toughest
ones,”
Bridge
said.
In
Louisiana,
after
years of
resistance
by
courts
and
prosecutors,
the
state is
reconsidering
the
sentences
of
roughly
300
offenders.
Through
December,
45 had
come
before a
parole
committee,
with 37
approved
for
release
and 31
of those
now out,
according
to the
Board of
Pardons
and
Parole.
Ivy
Mathis
was
released
in
December
after
serving
26 years
for
killing
a man
during a
home
robbery.
Mathis
said
that in
prison
she
outgrew
the
rebelliousness
of her
teen
years,
worked
in
hospice
care and
got
culinary
training.
She now
works as
a cook
in two
restaurants.
“I’m
just
thanking
God, and
I made
up my
mind, I
will
never
return
to
prison.
... I’m
not
taking
this
second
chance
for
granted,”
she
said.
Henry
Montgomery,
whose
case was
at the
center
of the
Supreme
Court’s
2016
ruling,
has not
been so
lucky.
Montgomery,
72, was
denied
parole
last
year. He
was 16
when he
killed a
police
officer
who
caught
him
skipping
school.
Montgomery,
who
worked
in a
prison
silk
screening
shop and
founded
a boxing
association
for
inmates,
will be
eligible
for
another
hearing
in
February
2020.
“He’s
stoic,”
said
Keith
Nordyke,
a lawyer
with the
Louisiana
Parole
Project.
“You
know one
of the
things
that
prison
teaches
you — 54
years of
prison —
is
patience.”
Louisiana
prosecutors
are
seeking
new life
sentences
for 80
other
inmates;
the
state
recently
approved
$1.3
million
for
inmates’
defense.
In
Michigan,
where a
case
before
the
state
Supreme
Court
delayed
reconsideration
of many
cases,
more
than 140
inmates
have
been
resentenced,
and
about
half of
them
have
been
freed.
But
prosecutors
are
pursuing
new
life-without-parole
sentences
for
about
200
others.
Kent
County
Prosecutor
Chris
Becker
has
sought
no-parole
terms in
about
half of
his 24
cases,
and
judges
so far
have
agreed
for four
inmates
—
including
Damon
Jackson,
39,
convicted
in the
death of
his
infant
son. The
boy was
shaken,
sexually
abused
and left
blind
and deaf
before
dying 2˝
years
later.
“We
tried to
take the
worst of
the
worst,
the most
depraved
ones,”
Becker
said.
In
some
cases,
judges
have
rebuffed
prosecutors’
bids for
new life
terms.
In
another
Kent
County
case, a
judge
recently
resentenced
inmates
Chad
Maleski
and
Joshua
Rogers
to 35 to
60
years,
making
them
parole-eligible
in about
17
years.
Maleski
and
Rogers
were 17
when
they
joined
two
others
in
abducting
66-year-old
Willie
Jones
outside
a Grand
Rapids
bowling
alley.
Jones
was
stuffed
in the
trunk of
his car,
repeatedly
stabbed
and left
to die
in a
field.
The
judge
cited
Rogers’
remorse
and
participation
in
prison
self-improvement
programs
and
Maleski’s
cooperation
that led
authorities
to
Jones’
body.
Both men
apologized.
James
Jones,
the
victim’s
nephew,
had
planned
to speak
harshly
about
Rogers
at his
resentencing.
But
after
praying
and
hearing
of the
inmate’s
progress,
he
offered
forgiveness.
“Who
knows
what God
has (in
store)
for this
young
man?”
Jones
said.
While
the
Supreme
Court’s
decision
has
prompted
change,
the
justices
have
shown
little
appetite
for
revisiting
the
issue of
juvenile
sentences,
leaving
unsettled
what to
do with
the
thousands
of other
former
teen
offenders
who are
legally
entitled
to
parole
but
serving
such
lengthy
terms
they are
unlikely
to ever
get out.
In
April,
the
court
declined
to hear
the case
of
Missouri
offender
Bobby
Bostic,
who was
16 when
he and a
friend
held up
people
delivering
donated
Christmas
gifts to
a poor
St.
Louis
family.
Bostic
fired a
shot
that
grazed
one man.
The
teens
also
forced
their
way into
a
woman’s
car and
demanded
cash at
gunpoint.
Bostic’s
friend
groped
the
victim
before
the two
teens
released
her.
Bostic,
who
turned
down a
plea
bargain,
was
sentenced
to 241
years
and
won’t be
eligible
for
parole
until he
turns
112. He
unsuccessfully
appealed
his
sentence
to
Missouri’s
top
court.
And
despite
an
earlier
ruling
banning
life
sentences
for
juveniles
who did
not
kill,
the high
court
declined
to take
the
case.
“I’m
not the
victim,”
said
Bostic,
40, who
dreams
of
publishing
six
nonfiction
books
and nine
volumes
of
poetry
if
released.
“But a
teenager
dying in
prison,
what
lesson
do you
teach
him?
He’s got
nothing
to hope
for.”
In
Maryland,
the
American
Civil
Liberties
Union
alleges
in a
lawsuit
the
state’s
parole
system
is
unconstitutional
because
the
release
of
juvenile
offenders
is rare
and
decided
in
secrecy.
When the
case was
filed in
2016, no
juvenile
offender
had been
paroled
for
nonmedical
reasons
in two
decades,
said
Sonia
Kumar,
an ACLU
lawyer.
State
law
requires
the
governor
to
approve
parole
for any
inmates
sentenced
to life.
Gov.
Larry
Hogan
has
granted
parole
to three
former
juvenile
offenders
since
taking
office
in 2015,
all for
medical
reasons,
and has
granted
clemency
to two
others.
Kumar
argues
there
still is
no
meaningful
opportunity
for the
state’s
200-300
juvenile
lifers
to get
out,
even if
they
have
evidence
of
rehabilitation.
She
represents
two
inmates
recommended
for
clemency
in 2017
whose
cases
are
still
pending
with the
governor.
Both
have
served
more
than 35
years,
have
almost
perfect
prison
records
and have
taken
education
classes,
held
jobs and
won
praise
from
corrections
officers.
Hogan’s
spokeswoman
said
these
decisions
require
a
“thorough
deliberative
process.”
Other
governors
have
recently
approved
inmates’
release.
Before
exiting
office,
Tennessee
Gov.
Bill
Haslam
granted
clemency
this
month to
Cyntoia
Brown,
who was
16 when
she got
life for
fatally
shooting
a
Nashville
real
estate
agent
after he
picked
her up
and paid
her for
sex.
Brown’s
lawyers
contended
she was
a sex
trafficking
victim
who not
only
feared
for her
life but
also
lacked
the
mental
capability
to be
culpable
in the
slaying
because
she was
impaired
by her
mother’s
alcohol
use
while
she was
in the
womb.
Under
Tennessee’s
sentencing
laws,
Brown,
now 30,
would
not have
been
eligible
for
parole
until
after
serving
51 years
— a
mandate
the
governor
said was
“too
harsh,
especially
in light
of the
extraordinary
steps
Ms.
Brown
has
taken to
rebuild
her
life.”
Colorado
Gov.
John
Hickenlooper
granted
clemency
last
month to
Curtis
Brooks,
serving
life for
his role
in a
1995
fatal
carjacking
at the
age of
15.
Brooks
already
has
served
about 24
years;
if he’d
been
resentenced
per the
Supreme
Court’s
ruling,
he would
have
faced at
least
six more
before
becoming
eligible
for
parole.
Brooks
was
homeless
when he
met
three
boys and
joined
in a
plan to
steal a
car in
exchange
for a
place to
stay,
according
to his
former
public
defender,
Hollynd
Hoskins,
who
shepherded
his
clemency
petition.
Christopher
Ramos,
24, was
killed
in the
carjacking;
Brooks
was not
the
shooter.
Brooks’
release
was
championed
by a
juror
who
convicted
him, the
trial
judge,
the lead
detective
in the
case and
his
former
elementary
school
teacher,
who is
now a
Maryland
legislator.
He plans
to work
for her
after
his
release
in July.
The
victim’s
family
had
opposed
clemency,
however,
and
Brooks
said he
would
not
presume
to ask
for
their
forgiveness.
“It’s
not that
I don’t
want it.
I don’t
know if
I am
deserving,”
he said
in a
phone
interview
from
prison.
“I want
them to
see in
the way
I live
my life
that I
do
understand
the
impact
of what
happened
that
night.
... I
want
them
hopefully
one day
to see
the
person I
was, not
the
person I
am.”
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