Summary
This piece from (De)serving Life explores the true meaning of New Mexico’s Second Chance law and what’s at stake when redemption is redefined by politics. Written by Parole Success Advocate Matthew Pettit, it’s a firsthand look at how hope, purpose, and opportunity can transform lives — and why those transformations must be protected.
I know all too well what a second chance can do for someone because I am living proof of it. With a long history of addiction, criminal behavior, and plenty of jail and prison time to go with it, four years ago I was given an opportunity to heal outside of prison — a treatment center in lieu of another sentence. That second chance didn’t just change my life; it gave me purpose.
Today, I’m a first-generation college graduate completing my associate degree in Human Services with honors and halfway through my bachelor’s in Social Work. Every day I work with individuals still in the struggle of wondering if the world will ever allow them to be more than their worst mistake. I’ve lived and seen what happens when redemption is met with resources, when genuine accountability is paired with empathy, and when people are allowed an opportunity to heal.
I don’t believe in monsters. Whether it’s nature or nurture, there’s a thread of truth that we are shaped by our environment and by the opportunities or trials given to us. That’s the spirit behind New Mexico’s Second Chance law — passed to guarantee that people sentenced to extreme terms as children are given a meaningful opportunity for release. It’s not a guarantee; it’s a chance. Yet even that chance is often denied for the smallest reasons. I’ve seen people refused parole for something as vague as “not acclimating well to the prison environment.” For anyone who understands prison culture, that shouldn’t be a reason to keep someone caged.
For those who have proven growth and maturity, the Second Chance law was designed to close the gap between punishment and possibility — recognizing what science and experience already tell us: children are different, and change is possible.
Recently, that promise has been put in jeopardy. The Attorney General’s Office issued an advisory letter suggesting that individuals with consecutive sentences from a single case may not qualify for release under the Second Chance law — and that some already paroled could be taken back into custody. On paper it sounds technical; in reality it’s a threat to human lives, families, and faith in the justice system itself.
The Legislature debated this very issue when the bill was created. Lawmakers made it clear the law should apply even to youth who received multiple sentences under one case, because one tragic mistake can result in multiple charges. The purpose was to ensure that stacked or back-to-back terms wouldn’t erase a person’s chance at parole. The Attorney General’s interpretation tries to undo that clarity — turning a promise of opportunity into a loophole for continued incarceration.
This isn’t just policy. It’s principle.
When the state grants freedom through the lawful process of parole and then threatens to revoke it through an opinion and lazy interpretation, it doesn’t just undermine the law — it undermines trust. Trust that government acts in good faith. Trust that justice can be fair. Trust that people can heal.
Nine individuals have already been released under the Second Chance law. They served decades in prison for crimes committed as children. Since coming home, they’ve found work, pursued education, and reconnected with their families. They are law-abiding, tax-paying citizens — not because they fear punishment, but because they’ve found purpose. Many now serve the community through social work, peer support, and public education. They are not the exception; they are the proof that this law works.
The people at risk under this new interpretation are not dangerous fugitives. They are parents, students, employees, and mentors. Threatening to send them back — not for new crimes but for a bureaucratic reinterpretation — is cruelty disguised as caution. It retraumatizes people who have done everything the system asked of them. It tells them they’re disposable, that no amount of progress will ever be enough, that they will remain marked and forever guilty.
Beyond the human cost, the Attorney General’s advisory letter raises serious constitutional concerns. In New Mexico, the Legislature writes laws and the courts interpret them. The Attorney General’s role is to enforce and advise — not to rewrite. Issuing an interpretation that contradicts legislative intent and urging agencies to act on it crosses a constitutional line. That isn’t just bad policy; it violates the separation of powers that keeps our democracy balanced.
The Department of Corrections and the Parole Board should immediately pause any action based on this advisory letter until the courts decide the issue. To do otherwise risks violating both state law and the rights of those the law was designed to protect. The people of New Mexico deserve a justice system that honors its own word — one grounded in consistency, compassion, and integrity, not politics or fear.
As someone who has walked both sides of the fence, I can say with complete conviction: punishment alone never heals anyone. Hope does. Purpose does. Connection does. I’ve seen the difference between a life wasted and a life reclaimed — and it always begins with a real chance, not a theoretical one.
If this interpretation stands, it won’t just hurt nine people. It will send a message to every person behind the walls who still believes redemption is possible: don’t bother. It will say that laws meant to uplift can be twisted to punish, and that “reform” is just a word politicians use until it becomes inconvenient.
We cannot let that happen. Every advocate, lawmaker, community member, and citizen who believes in justice must speak up. Demand that our leaders honor the intent of the Second Chance law and trust the people who have proven redemption is real.
When a system rescinds its promise of redemption, it replaces it with despair. When we remove hope from those who’ve already served their time, we must ask ourselves a hard question — what kind of society are we choosing to be?