Jim Dey: Resentencing of man who killed off-duty cop raises tough questions

Aug. 23—Most people have heard the old axiom that tough cases can make bad law.

Throw in a quirky circumstance, and it becomes a real nightmare, such as the case known as People vs. Ronnie Carrasquillo.

In custody since he was 18, the now-65-year-old Carrasquillo has been denied parole roughly 30 times despite an exemplary prison record that would indicate rehabilitation.

His lawyers insist that he will never be paroled because he fatally shot an off-duty police officer. The parole board found that granting Carrasquillo parole would "deprecate the serious nature of the offense."

Last week, a state appeals court — by a 2-1 vote — ordered a new sentencing hearing for Carrasquillo, a result to which few would object but based on legal findings that should raise eyebrows.

Cases like this aren't suited for courtrooms. This controversy is best addressed by Gov. J.B. Pritzker using his power of commutation. But unless and until Pritzker acts, in the court system it is.

To order a new sentencing hearing, two appellate court justices from Chicago made two major findings:

1. Even though Carrasquillo was 18, he was a "de facto" juvenile "entitled to the same sentencing protections" because he was impulsive and immature, characteristics of those 17 and under.

2. That Carrasquillo is serving a "de facto" life sentence because he never had a viable opportunity for parole because he killed a police officer.

But before further discussing the legal issues, here's the killer circumstance that cannot be ignored:

Carrasquillo was sentenced to 200 to 600 years by Cook County Circuit Judge Frank Wilson, one of a handful of garbage Greylord judges who sold "not guilty" verdicts. His most notorious acquittal came when — for $10,000 — Wilson turned loose Outfit hitman Harry Aleman. The story generated headlines for weeks in Chicago.

When the truth came out, Aleman was re-tried and convicted. The courts ruled that was not a case of unconstitutional "double jeopardy" — trying someone twice for the same offense — because Aleman never was in jeopardy during his first trial before Wilson.

Wilson, living in Arizona years later in retirement, committed suicide after FBI agents paid him a visit.

What's also relevant about Wilson and his fellow corrupt judges is how they protected their reputations after they sold "not guilty" verdicts.

To show they weren't soft on crime, they would convict defendants who might otherwise have been acquitted and/or hand out extremely harsh sentences.

It's impossible to say that explains Carrasquillo's lengthy sentence, but the speculation has been intense.

The fatal shooting occurred when Carrasquillo, who was carrying a gun, tried to break up a mob fight by firing four shots. He said he was firing above the crowd. Three shots went far wide of the crowd. But a fourth shot killed an officer trying to break up the melee.

Carrasquillo, who acknowledged his criminal conduct, maintained he was guilty of voluntary manslaughter, not murder.

That was in 1978, and legal rules have changed.

The U.S. Supreme Court has banned life sentences for juveniles as well as de facto life sentences. The Illinois Supreme Court followed up on those rulings by setting a 40-year maximum for juveniles convicted of murder.

Here's another dramatic change. Carrasquillo received an indeterminate sentence of 200-600 years, allowing him parole opportunities. Under current law, convicted murderers receive determinate sentences (say 40 years) and must serve most or all of it.

What's next? It's a longshot, but the Illinois Supreme Court might review the case. Otherwise, it's back to the future — a new sentencing hearing for a 65-year-old man who was 18 when he committed his crime and already served 47 years behind bars.