The Deadline by Ron Franscell Page A

I can tell you that Mr. Gilmartin was paroled June 30, almost three weeks ago.  That’s about all I can say under state law.”
    Morgan knew there was more, if he was careful.  Bureaucrats were like cops and lawyers who made a big show of their antipathy toward reporters — and secretly wanted to tell everything.
    “Okay, let me just ask a few very general questions about process and policy.  Just in general terms, how does an inmate get paroled from a life sentence, Mister ... I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
    “Barron.  Allan Barron.  And in general, the governor must commute his sentence.  In this particular case, it’s a public record that he did so, on the recommendation of the entire Parole Board.”
    “The Parole Board sought a commutation?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    “That’s privileged information.  I really don’t believe we can discuss that.”
    “In general terms, then, Mr. Barron.  Why would the Parole Board seek a commutation for a convicted murderer?”
    The officious Allan Barron paused, then answered in a bureaucrat’s monotone.
    “Speaking in general terms, and not about any specific case, mind you, the Parole Board sometimes finds it necessary to release prisoners who are no longer a threat to society to make room for more violent offenders.  Also, an inmate can be freed to seek outside treatment for severe medical conditions.  This can be done for any prisoner who isn’t on Death Row, but in the case of a lifer, the board needs a governor’s commutation.”
    “Medical conditions, like cancer?”
    “Yes, but only if the inmate can adequately provide for his own care.  If not, we believe it would be cruel and inhumane to dump him into a society that has no inclination to help him recover.”
    “Are murderers routinely paroled, Mr. Barron?”
    “Don’t be naive, Mr. Morgan.  It’s a reality of the system.  It’s highly irregular for an inmate to stay in prison for forty-seven years.  In fact, I personally know of no other offender who has been in Wyoming’s correctional system that long.”
    Morgan had connected.  Barron was adhering to the letter of his law, but bending its spirit by talking indirectly about Neeley Gilmartin.
    “Really?  Why’s that?”
    “Prison is an inhospitable place, Mr. Morgan.  A prisoner will survive there only by steering clear of unhealthy behavior.  He must not put himself in harm’s way, so to speak.  Drugs, gambling, or any other risky liaisons, if you catch my meaning.  He must be mentally tough.  He must stay physically healthy, too.  If he keeps his nose clean, he lives.  He also earns a chance at parole.  So, in general terms, good inmates tend to go free, bad inmates tend to die.  Either way, nobody stays long.”
    “Hypothetically, Mr. Barron, why might an otherwise well-behaved prisoner find himself confined for almost fifty years if it’s so unusual?”
    “Many reasons.  He might have enemies who have the governor’s ear.  Or he might not be so well-behaved as you think.  Under Wyoming law, for instance, an escape attempt renders an inmate ineligible for parole at any time during his original sentence.  For a lifer, that’s forever.”
    “Did Neeley Gilmartin attempt to escape?” Morgan asked.
    “Now, I really cannot comment on that, Mr. Morgan.  In fact, I believe I’ve spoken far too candidly with you already,” Barron said firmly.  His sonorous voice carried no hint of apology.
    “One last thing, then, Mr. Barron.  You said a seriously ill inmate can be paroled only if he can pay for his own medical care.  Mr. Gilmartin was unemployed and had eighty-five dollars when he was arrested.  Even with a generous interest rate, he couldn’t have had much money when he got out.  Hypothetically speaking, how could a convicted killer make enough money to pay for his own cancer treatment on the outside?”
    “Inmates can earn money inside.  It’s assigned to an account which they can use for