The member was making a statement, whether of disgust, boredom or disrespect was unclear. But the majority’s philosophy was unmistakable: Do your time and do most of it. Rarely, did anyone receive a pardon, parole or commutation.

That was a mistake. Oklahoma is now the world’s leader in per-capita incarceration.

Our prisons bulge with inmates with costs skyrocketing to a $1.5 billion Department of Corrections budget request. A generation of drug-addicted and mentally ill Oklahomans were put behind bars instead of in treatment; hurting the workforce, tearing apart families and deepening the social costs.

Up against this wall, criminal justice reform swept into the state, most notably with the passage of two state questions in 2016 to re-classify some drug felonies as misdemeanors.

In this spirit, the attitude has changed at the Pardon and Parole Board, as I saw at February’s hearings. Members not only faced the inmates but had a more engaged interaction.

“Progress is occurring, but it’s been occurring slowly,” said Kris Steele, board member since August 2017. “There have been a lot of changes in the last 18 months. It’s been a transformation, and we’re moving in the right direction.”

Board members received training on how best to use the hearing time, asking inmates more about current decisions than past ones; the courts have already dealt with their crimes.

“The Pardon and Parole Board’s job is to consider where a person is at, what they have been doing while incarcerated, what their plans are for successful community integration, what they are doing to prepare for integration and what resources they will need to move forward positively,” Steele said.

It’s making a difference.

In fiscal year 2017, a total of 16 commutations were granted, which was less than half of a 1 percent of the applications received. It stayed about the same the following year at 19 approved.

So far in the current fiscal year, 106 commutations have been approved - an increase of 563 percent.

“It appears corrections reform is having a positive impact on the Pardon and Parole Board,” Steele said.

“We are beginning to understand and make better decisions based on facts, data and research rather than emotion, fear and anger.”

Parole numbers went down 77 percent from 2008 to 2017, according to an Oklahoma Policy Institute analysis by Damion Shade. The biggest problem is only 1 in 3 eligible parolees apply.

The reasons are beyond the board’s control including the economic hardship of paying for DOC supervision, ankle bracelets and drug tests. Parole violations accounted for about 25 percent of prison re-entries in 2015.

Because the state is trying to saddle them with the financial burden of supporting the judicial system, inmates are opting for longer prison stays.

Against those challenges, several nonprofits have emerged to help inmates connect to post-release support services.

One of these, the Tulsa-based Another Chance Justice Project, was founded last year to help nonviolent women be successful at the pardon, parole and commutation stage and to ensure they have a post-release plan. It assisted 11 women on the most recent docket.

• • •

Inmate Robyn Allen had been given 20 years in a blind plea after a 2014 arrest for drug trafficking in Stephens County. She had no prior felony convictions.

Waiting for her disability benefits to start, Allen admitted to trading legally obtained pharmaceutical drugs for methamphetamine to sell. She was also an addict with no access to mental health services.

In prison, she completed every sobriety class available, had no misconducts and got connected to a transitional living program.

Board member Allen McCall, a retired district judge for Comanche and Cotton counties, wondered why the prison term was so high for a first-time drug offense.

“Why did she get 20 years? It doesn’t make any sense to me,” McCall said. “I’m looking for an aggravator in the court findings. … It appears to me to have all the markings of a real commutation.”

Poor representation and an overzealous prosecutor were factors suggested by Eric Cullen, a founder of Another Chance. A board member pondered if she made someone mad.

After a 3-0 vote to commute Allen’s sentence to time served, her case goes to Gov. Kevin Stitt for consideration.

“Robyn Allen was the driving factor in founding the project,” Cullen said. “She exemplifies why Oklahoma has the highest women’s incarceration rate.”

The day went in a similar way with most nonviolent inmates receiving some form of relief. Those with violence in their convictions still face a high bar.

Another Chance is made up of Cullen and two volunteers, Trish Davis and Kate Bartholomy, who attend every pardon and parole meeting.

Since July, the group has supported 52 women for parole with only four of those denied. It aided 11 women for commutation with four denials.

In addition to Allen on the recent docket, the project sought commutations for Tulsan Sheila Royal and Miranda Sorber of Oklahoma City.

• • •

Sorber had two prior drug-related incarcerations and at least 14 other convictions. Her backstory mirrors many tragedies reported by women in prison: broken or nonexistent families, child abuse, drugs and domestic violence.

At 12 days old, her mother sold her to a drug dealer, then her father was granted full custody. But he ran a prostitution ring out of four bars and a hotel he owned and committed suicide after being implicated in a murder.

Sorber was 16 and on her own.

After going to prison in 2017 on a 30-year sentence (with 10 suspended), she entered substance abuse programs and took a job in prison with a manufacturer. A company executive testified she was among the best workers and has a job upon release.

“I’ve applied my time to take every class to improve my behavior and thinking patterns and had employment,” Sorber said. “I’ve left no room for error in my life.”

The board was complimentary but cautious before voting 3-0 for commutation.

“If you get in trouble again, you won’t see the outside again for a long time,” McCall warned.

In 2017, I met Royal while doing a series on inmates serving life without parole for nonviolent drug crimes. She was wheelchair bound after a stroke and heart attack.

Royal grew up in Tulsa, getting involved with drugs at age 23 and racking up a string of drug-related arrests starting in 1988. In 2007, she was given life without parole.

While in prison, she completed so many sobriety, character and faith-based courses, the list fills more than a page. She became a mentor in an empowerment program.

Her health worsened with a partial leg amputation, stints placed near her heart and ongoing diabetes-related problems. She requires a full-time caregiver.

“I have victims,” Royal told the board. “I sold drugs to a lot of people, and I am remorseful for that. I sold drugs to people who later came to prison. Now I’m in the programs with them, and I’ve seen what I did.”

Two rows of family members attended her hearing. She had trouble finding transitional living due to medical needs. Another Chance helped her develop after-release plans to live with family members with experience in the medical field.

“You’ve been taking the right steps in the right direction,” said member Brett Macy.

“I don’t see how further incarceration is beneficial to her or the state,” said McCall.

The board approved her commutation 3-0.