This piece reviews how California’s early parole policies have led to high-profile releases of violent offenders and the political and public backlash that followed.

In recent months, California’s so-called “elderly parole program” has come under fire after multiple violent offenders were approved for release. One high-profile case involved David Funston, convicted in 1999 on 16 counts of kidnapping and child molestation, whose victims and judges labeled him a monster. One survivor said, “He shouldn’t be breathing the same air that we’re breathing at all. I disagree with him getting paroled out because he’s a horrible person. That man is a monster.”

Another case is Gregory Lee Vogelsang, convicted in the 1990s on dozens of felony counts and given an aggregate sentence totaling 355 years. Under the rules that critics attack, inmates can seek parole after serving at least 25 years and upon reaching age 60, making it possible for even the most notorious offenders to qualify. Those two examples have become rallying points for people who argue that age alone should not be the deciding factor for release.

Lawmakers have reacted by proposing changes to eligibility rules, and one piece of legislation, AB 2727, was introduced to tighten the system. The bill originally sought to raise the eligibility age dramatically before being scaled back amid pushback from criminal justice groups that cite declining recidivism among older prisoners. Opponents of the current practice say those statistics don’t erase the real danger posed by certain offenders.

The backlash eventually reached the state Capitol, where Assemblymember Stephanie Nguyen introduced AB 2727 to tighten the rules governing elderly parole.

Nguyen initially sought to raise the eligibility age to 75, but the proposal was later watered down to 65, with at least 25 years served.

https://x.com/nypost/status/2091727098360541319

The revised law has yet to pass following pushback from the Prison Policy Initiative, which cited research claiming to show declining recidivism among offenders over 65.

But critics argue the cases that sparked the legislative fight show why age alone should not determine when a violent offender gets another chance at freedom.

“David Funston was released at 64. Do we all feel safer from this pedophile simply by waiting until he’s 65?” said Schubert.

“Age does not erase predatory behavior.”

Those defending the research-based approach are met with blunt skepticism from victims and community members, who argue the risk is very real. Some critics suggest a simple test: house the most vocally supportive reformers next door to released offenders and see whether confidence in the approach holds up. The rhetorical point is clear—people want policies that prioritize safety over statistics.

The problem extends beyond sex offenders. Murderers and other violent criminals have also been released early, and those cases sharpen the political argument. One example is Christine Loyd, who was sentenced to 55 years to life for killing two elderly people for money and who was released after serving 31 years. Cases like hers fuel the argument that the system’s criteria are too permissive when it comes to serious offenders.

Another tragic instance involves Joseph Tidwell, who was driving under the influence of meth and other drugs in 2004 when he crossed the center line and struck a search and rescue vehicle. Two first responders, Scott Timothy Johnson and Philip Newton Calvert, were killed, and several others suffered major injuries. Tidwell received a sentence of 45 years to life in 2007 and is slated for potential release after serving roughly 22 years, pending further review.

Many observers see a pattern where policy changes produce predictable increases in releases, and they do not expect harsh lessons to follow the freedom granted to violent offenders. For critics, the result is not rehabilitation that reassures communities but renewed exposure to risk and fear among victims and their families. That accumulation of high-profile cases is driving legislative and public pressure for stricter rules.

Beyond the individual tragedies, opponents of the current approach see a political calculus at play. Reports surfaced of a released inmate suggesting he would repay leniency by supporting the governor at the ballot box, and conservatives interpret that as evidence the policy produces political benefits at the expense of public safety. “That’s the entire game here: release criminals, get chaos, earn votes,” is how many on the right sum up the accusation.

Editor’s Note: The American people overwhelmingly support President Trump’s law and order agenda. Many conservatives point to these releases as proof that the system is broken and in urgent need of reform.