Colorado’s “Reform Paradox”: Falling Recidivism, Rising Violence, and the Real-World Cost of Dangerous Releases

By Shaina Cole | Commentary, Rocky Mountain Voice

The Common Sense Institute’s October report shows Colorado’s three-year recidivism rate falling from about 52 percent in 2019 to near 31 percent in 2022.

On paper that looks like improvement. In practice, the number tells only a small piece of the story. 

CSI makes it clear that the number drops mostly because fewer people are going to prison at all. The state’s incarcerated population has shrunk, felony filings are down, and more defendants are getting funneled into diversion programs or handed PR bonds under Colorado’s evolving bail practices. When the state isn’t locking people up, fewer people return to prison later. That’s not a public-safety miracle. It’s just the math.

Ask people who actually live here whether things feel safer. They’ll laugh. Or shake their heads. Most will say the opposite is true. Violent crime hasn’t cooled off—it’s jumped. CSI’s own data shows violent crime climbing steadily in Colorado over the last decade. You can see it in the cases that keep making the news. Many dangerous offenders are getting released, sometimes more than once. They then go right back to doing what everyone feared they’d do. These instances don’t always get counted in the “recidivism rate,” but they’re the ones families remember. They’re the ones that leave a mark.

Take Weld County. That case grabbed attention for a reason.

Debisa Ephraim had a long, ugly history—assaults, burglaries, plenty of violence. Yet he walked free after a judge ruled him incompetent and “not restorable.” The law basically forced the release, even though anyone who looked at his record could see he was a problem waiting to happen. That wasn’t a statistic. That was a loaded gun handed back to the public.

Denver has its own cautionary tale. A man – with two violent felony arrests in six months – walked right out of jail on bond like it was nothing unusual. A short time later, while drunk and armed, he shot an Uber driver – dead. 

Pueblo saw the same pattern when Billy Soto, an admitted MS-13 gang member with fourteen felony arrests, ambushed three officers while he was out on bond for multiple felonies and wanted for attempted murder. Local officials weren’t surprised. They warned repeatedly that Colorado’s bond system had become so permissive that violent offenders were cycling through it like a revolving door.

Colorado Springs dealt with the fallout after Gregory Alan Whittemore, a convicted sex offender serving an indeterminate “five years to life” sentence, was paroled early. Within days, Whittemore raped and murdered Allison Scarfone. Even the judge later said the system failed by letting him out so soon.

Colorado isn’t special here. This mess is happening everywhere.

In Charlotte, Decarlos Brown Jr.—with a long record of violent behavior and severe mental illness—walked out of jail on cashless bail. He stabbed and killed Ukrainian refugee Iryna Zarutska on a light rail train, months later. 

In Chicago, Lawrence Reed, a man with more than forty prior arrests – and a past arson conviction, soaked a woman in gasoline on a CTA train and set her on fire. Federal authorities said he had no business being on the street.

New York ran straight into the same problem. Tony Harris got released with no bail on a gun charge. With his ankle monitor still strapped on, he went out and shot a man outside a Bronx corner store. Cops were furious. Prosecutors were too. Everyone involved said the release never should’ve happened in the first place.

Every one of these cases comes from the same pressure cooker. Courts are being pushed to shrink jail populations and “modernize” with new reform ideas. Judges are nudged to give people another chance—even the ones who’ve burned through every chance they’ve ever had. And when those gambles go wrong, victims and families pay the price while policymakers move on. This isn’t just a national issue. It’s a Colorado issue.

This is why Colorado’s “reform paradox” isn’t some academic phrase cooked up by policy groups. You can see it in Weld County, Denver, Pueblo, and Colorado Springs. And you can see it in the families who lost someone because a violent offender walked free when they shouldn’t have. CSI gives the data. The cases show the reality behind it.

Colorado can celebrate its lower recidivism rate if it wants. Or it can face the truth that the rate is dropping partly because fewer dangerous people are being held to begin with. Lawmakers now have a choice: treat this as a victory, or treat it as the warning it clearly is.

Editor’s note: Opinions expressed in commentary pieces are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the management of the Rocky Mountain Voice, but even so we support the constitutional right of the author to express those opinions.