Richmond “Bleeding Heart” Released Killers From Supervised Parole

by Kerry Dougherty

Meet one of Virginia’s most notorious murderers: Joseph Giarratano. If his name isn’t familiar, it may be because you weren’t in Virginia — or Norfolk — in the late 70s and early 1980s.

On February 4, 1979 Giarratano strangled and raped a 15-year-old Norfolk girl, Michelle Kline, and stabbed her mother, Toni Kline, to death in their apartment. Two days after the crime, Giarratano turned himself in to authorities in Jacksonville, where he confessed to the killings.

He confessed several more times, but later recanted.

Giarratano was convicted and sentenced to die, but in 1991 Gov. L. Douglas Wilder commuted his sentence to life in prison.

By then Giarratano had become the darling of the set-em-free celebrity set, who championed his innocence. Yet Giarratano’s conviction stood.

But in 2017 Virginia’s Parole Board – chaired by Terry McAuliffe-appointee Adrianne Bennett – decided Giarratano had spent enough time in prison and they paroled him.

According to news reports at the time, Bennett made it clear that this release was not due to any belief in the convict’s innocence.

“Bennett said the board cannot comment on communications with victims and victim family members. However, she said that, in general, the board does have the duty to use due diligence to obtain victim input.

She said the board’s decision — it would take at least four of the five votes to grant Giarratano parole — is not a comment on an inmate’s innocence claim.

“It’s also not an act of forgiveness,” Bennett said.

So, a man convicted of rape and double murder was returned to society at the age of 60 after serving 38 years of a life sentence that had once been a death sentence.

That’s bad enough.

Thanks to a stunning piece in Sunday’s Richmond Times-Dispatch, by Patrick Wilson: “Former Parole Board Chair Violated Policy In Releasing Parolees From Supervision Records Show,” we now learn that Giarratano was one of the parolees set completely free by Bennett three years later when she took pity on 103 “deserving souls” who were required to meet with parole officers.

In an email obtained by the Times-Dispatch Bennett proudly called herself a “bleeding heart.”

Ordinarily, parolees stay under state supervision for the length of their sentences. That would be life in Giarratano’s case. If supervision is terminated, it’s usually at the suggestion of the parole officer.

But the bleeding heart apparently took matters into her own hands.

Parole board policy requires a recommendation from a parole officer before ending supervision, a step investigators found Bennett ignored in Anderson’s case and others.

The Anderson referenced in the T-D story is Anthony Anderson, a one-man crime spree back in 1985. At the time he was paroled, Anderson was serving two life sentences for killing a corrections officer and a Palestinian immigrant during a robbery attempt and for raping a nurse and robbing two Chesterfield businesses, according to the Times-Dispatch.

Anderson was one of 103 parolees — 69 of whom were serving life sentences or more — that Bennett discharged early “at her sole discretion” between April 5 and April 15, 2020, her last day on the job, according to an unreleased report by the Office of the State Inspector General obtained by The Times-Dispatch.”

This means the commonwealth cannot keep tabs on convicts such as Giarratano and Anderson.

Lucky us.

Whether they were aware of it or not, this is what Virginians voted for when they elected Gov. Terry McAuliffe and then Ralph Northam. They voted for an all-Democratic soft-on-crime-bleeding-heart parole board that sends killers back into society and then quickly releases them from supervision.

Elections have consequences. There is another election this November.


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6 responses to “Richmond “Bleeding Heart” Released Killers From Supervised Parole”

  1. William O'Keefe Avatar
    William O’Keefe

    And, politicians wonder why the public has lost faith in government. If the General Assembly does not pass corrective legislation on parole and the parole board processes, it will be guilty of dereliction of duty.

  2. tmtfairfax Avatar
    tmtfairfax

    No new discussion of the release from parole in the Post. Here’s a 2017 column by Colman McCartney, former Post columnist.

    Colman McCarthy is a former editorial writer and columnist for The Post and directs the Center For Teaching Peace, a Washington nonprofit.On Feb. 21, 1991, I traveled to the Spring Street state prison in Richmond to say goodbye to Joseph Giarratano, scheduled the next day to be executed in the electric chair. We met in a room where bodies are cooled after being hauled a hop away from the death chamber.

    After a four-hour bench trial in 1979, served by a poorly paid court-appointed lawyer with little experience in capital cases, Giarratano was sentenced to death for the murders of Toni Kline and her teenage daughter, Michelle. In Norfolk, the three shared a walk-up apartment in a rooming house for transients. Planning to move out the next day, Feb. 4, 1979, Giarratano, 21, a drug addict and fisherman, came in late and, stoned, fell asleep on the living room sofa. In the morning, he discovered the two bodies – the mother knifed and the daughter strangled. Frightened and imagining his guilt, he fled and was soon on a bus that took him south to Jacksonville, where he turned himself in to a cop eating breakfast.

    Much of this was reported Jan. 12, 1990, by Lynn Sherr on ABC News’s “20/20,” in a segment that stitched together a fabric of facts that led to the conclusion that Giarratano was not the murderer. He gave five coerced confessions – each different and spoken in a drug-induced state of mind. Exonerating evidence was not gathered by the police at the crime scene. Barbara “Toni” Kline was stabbed by a right-handed attacker. Giarratano was left-handed, and his right arm was disabled. Bloody shoe prints in the apartment were never matched to Giarratano’s shoes.

    Based on this information, the support of groups such as Amnesty International and the testimony of Catholic Bishop Walter Sullivan of Richmond, then-Gov. L. Douglas Wilder (D) commuted Giarratano’s death sentence to life, with eligibility for parole 25 years after the 1979 conviction. With doubts about Giarratano’s guilt, Wilder said his decision was “complex but not difficult.”

    Starting in 2004, the first year he was eligible, Giarratano was considered for and denied parole nine times. Finally, after 38 years of incarceration, which included cagings in Utah, Illinois and Virginia’s Red Onion supermax facility, Giarratano left prison on Wednesday.

    I came to know Giarratano when Marie Deans, known as the angel of death row for her advocacy for the condemned, phoned in 1988 to urge me to look into his case. Deans was convinced Giarratano was innocent. Days after, I went to the Mecklenburg state prison in southern Virginia to interview Giarratano. It would be the first of eight visits with him – in that prison, another one in Illinois and the rest in Augusta County, Va. – that led to several columns in The Post and articles in the Baltimore Sun, the National Catholic Reporter and Corrections Today. Over nearly three decades, we exchanged well more than 100 letters.

    I came to admire Giarratano for his staying power in the warehouse madness that prison is and for being freed up while not being free, a self-determined state that led him to become literate enough to write a piece for the Yale Law Journal, an op-ed for the Los Angeles Times and a brief that was argued before the Supreme Court.

    On most trips to death row and the Augusta prison, I brought groups of my high school, college and law school students to have lunch with the inmates followed by seminars with Giarratano on the stark realities of confinement. Unfailingly, students’ minds were opened and hearts stirred.

    When I asked the Augusta warden what his major problem was, he replied inmate violence. I suggested that he let Giarratano – possibly the most self-educated man in the prison – teach a course on alternatives to violence. For years, I had been bringing him books by Gandhi, Dorothy Day, Joan Baez, Gene Sharp, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., Dietrich Bonhoeffer and other peacemakers. The warden agreed. I supplied the textbooks, ones I used for my peace studies courses in Washington. After the first 14-week semester, word spread and 300 men were wait-listed.

    In 1994, “NBC Nightly News” sent Bob Abernethy to report the story, including the graduation ceremony when the prisoner-students were awarded peace certificates for completing the course. Sadly, it lasted only two years before officials at the state’s Department of Corrections ordered the warden to close it. Unfounded charges were leveled that funds from a $5,000 grant I gave the program were misused.

    I was far from the only one who bonded with Giarratano and backed his claims of innocence. Steven Rosenfield promised Giarratano, recovering from a leg amputation, a job as a paralegal in his Charlottesville practice.

    With a growing support network plus a proven resilience, a positive recovery for Giarratano is more than possible; it’s probable.

  3. You left out the most important piece of information: Have voting rights been restored for these poor, mistreated and downtrodden individuals?

    Because, in the end, that is all that matters…

    1. Matt Adams Avatar
      Matt Adams

      If you can’t earn votes for your actions buying them is always a good go to.

    2. Matt Adams Avatar
      Matt Adams

      If you can’t earn votes for your actions buying them is always a good go to.

  4. Posted on behalf of Peter Galuszka:

    Link to his May 2018 article in Style Weekly, “Free Many Walking: A former death row inmate is freed after four decades and starts lecturing at local universities.”
    https://www.styleweekly.com/richmond/free-man-walking/Content?oid=8617759&media=AMP+HTML

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