D.C. Parole Violators' Stern Arbiter of Second Chances

The excuses run the gamut: Nobody will hire me. I'm living in a shelter. If I miss work, I'll get fired. I don't get high all the time.

Isaac Fulwood Jr., a member of the U.S. Parole Commission, braces for explanations from men and women who have broken rules of their parole, missing appointments and curfews and testing positive for drug and alcohol use. These "technical violations" get about 1,000 District felons sent back to prison annually, for at least an extra year.

Fulwood's reprimand sanction hearings, held most Wednesdays, are an opportunity to follow the rules rather than return to prison.

The job alternately saddens and angers him. Fulwood rues that most are black, like him, and that the men waste away behind bars as their children, wives and girlfriends fend for themselves. But as a police officer with 29 years behind the badge, he tolerates no nonsense: Do right and stay free, or act a fool and get locked up.

"You're 28. You're a black male," he scolded a man who had relapsed on cocaine and cut a Global Positioning System tracking device off his ankle. "You're in the group of folks that die."

The District has 15,000 offenders living under conditions of parole or probation: confined to home detention, tethered to GPS, in training classes or drug treatment, or required to check in regularly. When things go wrong, someone must decide how to fix it.

The typical response is a trip back to prison, but states and the District are increasingly opting for cheaper alternatives, such as day- or week-long sentences. States spent $49 billion last year on corrections and want to preserve prison space for hardened criminals, according to a report in July by the Pew Center on the States.

For the past two years, the District has tried the hearings conducted by Fulwood, a former D.C. police chief. They are a joint project of the parole commission, public defenders and the Court Services and Offender Supervision Agency, a federal bureau that supervises people on parole and probation in the District.

The Washington Post was allowed to attend several of these closed hearings on the condition that offenders' names and identifying characteristics not be disclosed.

Almost 200 people have appeared since the hearings began, sitting at a table across from their probation officers while Fulwood referees. All but about a dozen remain on the street, although officials say it is too early to gauge the program's success.

Offenders are offered attorneys, if they wish. But many don't bother, because Fulwood has promised that if they come, he won't lock them up.

"You're not going to jail," Fulwood says, "at least not today."