Some were punished for violating probation or parole by doing things such as accepting a job without permission, using a cellphone or computer without authorization, or leaving their home county. Some were suspected of criminal activity, but not charged.
Re-incarcerating people for breaking the rules costs Wisconsin taxpayers more than $100 million every year. The process that forces violators back behind bars relies largely on the judgment of individual parole agents, which can vary widely. Once accused of violations, people on parole can be sent back to prison for years without proof beyond a reasonable doubt — and they are left with little chance of a successful appeal.
Hector Cubero's agent, for example, recommended he be returned to prison on his original sentence of life with the possibility of parole after he inked a tattoo on the shoulder of a 15-year-old boy.
The tattoo featured a cross and a quote from peace activist Marianne Williamson: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure."
Cubero maintains the teen lied about his age.
Had Cubero been found guilty of tattooing a minor, a city ordinance violation, he would have been ticketed and fined $200. If he had been convicted of tattooing without a license, a misdemeanor, he could have been fined $500 and faced a maximum of 30 days in jail.
But because he was on parole at the time, Cubero, 52, has served more than two years — with no guarantee he will ever go home.
Cubero already had spent more than 27 years behind bars for being a party to the crimes of first-degree murder and armed robbery. Court records show Cubero, 18 at the time of the offense, did not plan the robbery or fire the shots that killed the victim, a Milwaukee dentist.
Until the parents of the 15-year-old complained about the tattoo, Cubero had never violated parole, according to Corrections Department records. During the four years he'd been free, he passed all his drug tests, paid his restitution and court costs and worked fairly steadily.
Nonetheless, Cubero's parole agent recommended he be sent back to prison. The agent, with cooperation from a prison social worker, also blocked his fiancée, Charlotte Mertins of Delafield, and her three children, all in their 20s, from visiting him.
The parole agent, Tammy Caputa, claimed Mertins and her children knew Cubero was violating the conditions of his release by tattooing minors but did not report him.
"Due process has just completely gone to hell," said Pamela Oliver, a sociology professor at the University of Wisconsin who has spent decades studying the state's prison system. "When they're sent back, the vast majority had no new sentence. Even if they are arrested on a new crime, they go back to prison right away, and the new crime might not even be charged."
Voice-mail messages left for Caputa were returned by Department of Corrections spokeswoman Joy Staab, who declined to answer specific questions about the case. Instead, she released paperwork from Caputa that explained why she revoked Cubero's parole.
"Considering the immature nature of a teenager's decision-making skills, it is unacceptable to blame the children for Mr. Cubero's decisions," Caputa wrote. "Hopefully, the tools used to complete the tattoos were sanitary and there will be no adverse medical concerns. Not to revoke Mr. Cubero's parole would place the community at risk of continued criminal behaviors."
In a statement, Staab said, in part: "Revocation is the last resort when other alternatives have been tried but failed."
Those other options could include outpatient treatment for substance abuse or sanctions such as a short stay in jail.
But no alternatives were used in Cubero's case, the records show
