In California, a life sentence rarely means life. With limited exceptions — death penalty cases, life without parole (LWOP) sentences, and certain murder convictions — most inmates serving life terms will eventually become eligible for release.
In 2021, lawmakers passed AB 3234, lowering the age for “elderly parole” eligibility from 60 to 50 for inmates who have served at least 20 consecutive years. The rationale is straightforward: people age out of crime. Once someone turns 50, the state presumes the risk of reoffending has meaningfully declined.
That premise may apply to some offenses.
It does not automatically apply to sexual predators.
At his parole hearing, Funston admitted that as recently as 2021 he was still sexually aroused by pedophilic fantasies. Not in his distant past. Not as a young man. Recently.
Despite that admission, the California Board of Parole Hearings voted in September 2025 to release him. After review at the urging of Governor Gavin Newsom, the board reaffirmed its decision in January 2026. Funston was deemed suitable for release under elderly parole.
If this is how the policy functions in practice, Californians should take notice.
Over the past decade, California has dramatically reduced its prison population. Since 2011 — following reforms such as AB 109, Proposition 47, and Proposition 57 — the state’s inmate population has fallen from roughly 170,000 to about 95,000.
Supporters describe these measures as necessary corrections to overcrowding and excessive sentencing. But one fact often goes unmentioned: California’s prisons are no longer filled with low-level, nonviolent offenders. Those individuals were largely shifted to county supervision years ago.
Today, more than 75,000 of roughly 92,000 state prisoners are classified as violent offenders. Only a small fraction are permanently ineligible for parole. Parole grants have increased.
In other words, the inmates who remain in state prison are there for serious crimes.
Meanwhile, sexual assault remains persistently under-prosecuted. Between 2019 and 2024, nearly 85,000 rapes were reported in California. Only 11,884 arrests were made. Roughly 87 percent of reported cases did not result in an arrest. And research consistently shows sexual assault is dramatically underreported, meaning the true number of offenses is much higher.
The system already struggles to hold sexual offenders accountable.
Against that backdrop, the promise that “life” sentences will protect the public carries weight. It signals that certain crimes are so grave that permanent incapacitation may be warranted.
But when life sentences quietly become parole-eligible at age 50, that promise weakens.
Proponents of elderly parole argue that risk declines with age and that incarcerating older inmates is costly. There is evidence that some forms of criminal behavior decrease over time. But broad statistical trends cannot substitute for case-by-case reality — particularly when dealing with serial sexual offenses against children.
Sex crimes are rarely impulsive street crime. It is often repetitive, deliberate, and rooted in enduring compulsions. Age alone does not neutralize those factors.
Age 50 is not advanced old age.
50 is not an indication of physical incapacity.
50 does not guarantee diminished sexual interest or diminished risk.
Policies built on the assumption that offenders “age out” may make sense for burglary or auto theft. They require far greater scrutiny when applied to child rape.
Governor Newsom has said he opposed Funston’s release but lacks authority to overturn it. If that is accurate, then the issue extends beyond one parole board decision. It lies with the statute that created eligibility in the first place.
Elderly parole may be appropriate for certain offenders — particularly those convicted of nonviolent crimes decades earlier who have demonstrated sustained rehabilitation. But extending it broadly, without categorical exclusions for serial child rapists, effectively transforms a life sentence into a timed reduction.
That shift may not have been how the law was publicly understood when enacted. Yet that is how it operates.
This debate is not about vengeance. It is about clarity and public safety.
When courts impose life sentences for crimes involving the rape of toddlers, the public reasonably interprets that to mean permanent removal from society unless extraordinary circumstances justify otherwise. If lawmakers intend something different, they should say so plainly.
Californians deserve an honest discussion about whether age 50 should function as a de facto sentence modification for violent sexual offenders. They deserve transparency about how many such inmates qualify, how many are being released, and under what standards.
Most importantly, they deserve laws that place the safety of children at the forefront of sentencing policy.
A prison population can be reduced. Budgets can be balanced. Reform narratives can be advanced.
But when a man convicted of raping children as young as three becomes eligible for release or 50 year-olds qualify for “elderly parole,” the abstract language of reform collides with reality.
If a life sentence does not mean life for serial child rapists, then lawmakers must redefine what it does mean — and voters must decide whether that definition reflects their values.
Public safety policy should be grounded in evidence, prudence, and a clear-eyed understanding of risk. The comforting belief that offenders simply grow harmless with age is not a substitute for that responsibility.
The question Californians now face is straightforward:
Should age alone be enough to reopen the prison gates for those convicted of the most devastating crimes against children?
If the answer is no, then the law must change.
Steve Smith is a senior fellow in urban studies at the Pacific Research Institute, writing about California’s ongoing crime challenge.