Sen. John Whitmire
D Houston
THE LEGISLATURE IS famous for being tough on crime. Every session brings bills that would turn misdemeanors (such as burglary of a car) into felonies and hike maximum sentences (to 99 years for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, for instance, instead of the current 20). Who could object to such efforts to protect the public? Whitmire, that’s who. Faced with more than a hundred bills that lengthened prison sentences, Whitmire announced that all such legislation was dead in his Senate Criminal Justice Committee. It was one of the major decisions of the session, and it stuck.
Whitmire is no bleeding heart. Rather, he understands the consequences of longer sentences: (1) Less space is available for future offenders, so that (2) the prison system will soon reach its capacity of 154,500, after which (3) prison officials are going to have to start leasing cell space in county jails and private prisons, until (4) those fill up in a year or two. And then, says Whitmire, (5) “[Texas] absolutely cannot afford what that’s going to cost.” No lawmaker saved Texas taxpayers more money this session.
That he was able to accomplish anything at all was a triumph of personal fortitude. Branded a turncoat by Democratic senators in 2003 after he abandoned their boycott of the special session on congressional redistricting, he worked to win back the trust of his colleagues, who came to see that his return to Austin kept the Republicans from obliterating Senate traditions that preserve the right of the minority to block legislation. Whitmire also ensured that Democrats would continue to have a seat at the table—and he made the most of it.
D Houston
THE LEGISLATURE IS famous for being tough on crime. Every session brings bills that would turn misdemeanors (such as burglary of a car) into felonies and hike maximum sentences (to 99 years for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, for instance, instead of the current 20). Who could object to such efforts to protect the public? Whitmire, that’s who. Faced with more than a hundred bills that lengthened prison sentences, Whitmire announced that all such legislation was dead in his Senate Criminal Justice Committee. It was one of the major decisions of the session, and it stuck.
Whitmire is no bleeding heart. Rather, he understands the consequences of longer sentences: (1) Less space is available for future offenders, so that (2) the prison system will soon reach its capacity of 154,500, after which (3) prison officials are going to have to start leasing cell space in county jails and private prisons, until (4) those fill up in a year or two. And then, says Whitmire, (5) “[Texas] absolutely cannot afford what that’s going to cost.” No lawmaker saved Texas taxpayers more money this session.
That he was able to accomplish anything at all was a triumph of personal fortitude. Branded a turncoat by Democratic senators in 2003 after he abandoned their boycott of the special session on congressional redistricting, he worked to win back the trust of his colleagues, who came to see that his return to Austin kept the Republicans from obliterating Senate traditions that preserve the right of the minority to block legislation. Whitmire also ensured that Democrats would continue to have a seat at the table—and he made the most of it.
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