Law360 Canada (August 12, 2026, 1:06 PM EDT) --

Michael Crowley

As time went by and I got used to the realities of the parole board job, decisions came easier. But whenever we were seeing someone who had committed very violent offences, I could not help but be aware of the impact on others that a positive decision would have. My colleagues may have had different backgrounds but were equally concerned about possible ramifications from their decisions.

That was driven home emotionally when we had a hearing with a woman who had killed a very young child that she was being paid to babysit. The woman was also a mother, was apparently happily married, was well-educated and came from a stable family. She had taken the job of caring for the victim for the income it would provide, as she had not returned to work.

At her hearing for day parole, the parents and grandparents of the victim attended and had provided victim statements in writing, as the board had not yet allowed victims the opportunity to speak during hearings. The offender had her husband and sister in attendance as well as her minister.

It was a very emotional hearing, to say the least, and a difficult deliberation with my colleagues. I knew and strongly felt that no matter what the decision was, as soon as I delivered it, half of the people in the room would be elated and the other half heartbroken. That their lives would be changed. And so I wrote out the points that I felt needed to be addressed in telling everyone what the decision was, and how we arrived at it. It was not easy and the emotional impact on me lingered for a long time.

In another case a young woman had almost been murdered by her boyfriend. She was a young professional and he had been working as a security guard. After spending the day together she told him that she was breaking up with him and went into her family’s house, where she was living. Enraged, he followed her into the house, dragged her into the kitchen where he stabbed her and tried to slice her throat. By pure chance, the victim didn’t die — her sister, who was at home, desperately tried to intervene in the assault by pulling the offender off and the knife he was using was actually too dull to sever her carotid artery.

In listening to the victim read her impact statement, I could not help but think how fortunate she was and how courageous she had been at the time, to come into a prison and confront the man who had almost taken her life. It was almost like hearing someone who was a ghost talking about their last day on earth. It was very unsettling. We did not grant parole to that inmate.

Although victims had attended hearings and provided statements for many years, when they were finally able to actually read their statements, those moments had a different impact.

 A case in point was that of Jon Rallo (now deceased). He was serving three life-sentences for killing his wife and two young children in the mid-1970s. His wife’s parents and siblings always came to his hearings and always provided lengthy impact statements. But I didn’t feel the emotional impact until I had seen him for the fifth time and his in-laws, an elderly couple by this time, stood to read their statements. The sorrow and heartbreak that they had been experiencing every day since the murders was palpable and filled the room. I struggled to not cry, because I believed that would be unprofessional and could be grounds for an appeal. So I dug my fingernails into my hands so I would not break down. I didn’t but I was emotionally drained.

Not all hearings are so emotionally laden, even when victims are attending or speaking. But in every case the hearing room is quiet as the members go over their notes and focus on the points they want to cover. Then the hearing officer would leave the room in order to signal to all those attending that it was time. Sometimes that meant just the inmate, their parole officer and assistant. That was usually the case. But sometimes the inmate’s family or friends would enter in order to show their support. Victims would enter separately, accompanied by a staff person from the board. While there might be a handful of victims (and their supports) there could be as many as one of two dozen, all filing in, often staring at the inmate who would already be seated. 

In all of those instances I always felt that a hush would descend before the hearing officer went through procedural safeguards and ensured that the hearing could proceed.

In those instances, if I had the lead and spoke first, I tended to look around the room and know that whatever I said, whatever questions I asked or comments I made, would carry weight to those listening. And in those moments I always felt that I was no longer just a regular person but that I was being entrusted with something special. That what we said or decided could change the lives and futures of individuals. I also knew from those experiences that while the lives of others could be changed through this process, mine could be (and was) changed as well.
 
This is the second instalment of a two-part series. Part one: Parole hearings: On being a board member.

Michael Crowley has a BA from Syracuse University. He spent more than 40 years in various positions within the criminal justice system in Canada. Before retiring, Crowley was a member of the Parole Board of Canada for 21 years. Contact him at CrowleyMichael167@gmail.com.

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