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Freed juvenile lifer Kempis Songster attended the Super Bowl. So why was his codefendant denied parole?

Dameon Brome, 45, was so distressed by his parole denial that he barely told anyone, least of all his codefendant Songster, who was released eight days later.

Dameon Brome in the state prison in Dallas, Pa., in January 2016.
Dameon Brome in the state prison in Dallas, Pa., in January 2016.Read morePa. Department of Corrections

DALLAS, Pa. — Dameon Brome is happy for his fellow juvenile lifer and partner in crime, codefendant Kempis Songster, who was released in December after 30 years in prison for a murder they committed in 1987. Songster rode a wave of goodwill all the way to attending the Super Bowl, courtesy of Eagles safety Malcolm Jenkins.

"It's fantastic," said Brome, 45. "I was overjoyed."

But Brome's own situation, after he agreed before a Philadelphia judge to a new sentence of 30 years to life in a deal with the Philadelphia District Attorney's Office, has been anything but happy.

On Dec. 20, he was rejected for parole and given what is known as a "five-year hit," a recommendation that he not be eligible for parole for five years, although he may request another hearing in a year. He was so distressed he barely told anyone, least of all Songster, who was released eight days later.

"I didn't want the joy of his release to be marred by my denial," Brome said in a recent interview in the visiting room at the State Correctional Institution-Dallas in this Luzerne County town. "I couldn't find the words to say it."

According to Sean Damon of the West Philadelphia-based Amistad Law Project, Brome's parole denial was one of two "five-year hits" given to juvenile lifers at Dallas on the same day after interviews with the same member of the Pennsylvania Board of Probation and Parole: Leslie M. Grey.

Only three juvenile lifers received five-year deferrals, according to the state board's spokeswoman, Maria Finn.

Just 16 of 142 juvenile lifers interviewed by the parole board have been denied, after new sentences had made them eligible for parole. The board has ordered 102 of the prisoners released, and 24 decisions are pending, Finn said. Following U.S. Supreme Court decisions declaring their sentences of life without parole unconstitutional, 209 of the 521 Pennsylvania juvenile lifers have been resentenced, according to state records.

During his three decades in prison, Brome has written screenplays, published a book, operated a recording studio, honed computer skills, and worked in the prison's print shop. He has no recent misconducts, his remorse and responsibility for the crime has been expressed on multiple occasions, and an 11-page plan for release included a proposed stay in a Community Correctional Center with additional options to stay with both his father in New Jersey and his mother in Delaware.

So the denial of his parole deeply troubles Damon and others advocating for his release, especially as Philadelphia District Attorney Larry Krasner revamps policies to emphasize even earlier release for juvenile lifers. 

"It feels so out of step," said Damon. "Eighty-nine percent have been granted parole in Pennsylvania. There were three people with five-year hits, two of them seen by the same board member on the same day in the same prison. They're real outliers."

Brome and Songster were 15-year-old runaways from Brooklyn, N.Y., convicted of killing a third runaway, Anjo Pryce, 17, inside a Southwest Philadelphia crack house run by a Jamaican drug gang. They turned down plea offers that would have carried prison sentences of 10 to 20 years.

Option of a halfway house

The other juvenile lifers denied parole in December along with Brome were fellow Dallas inmate David Lahoz and Yul Haward at the State Correctional Institution-Coal Township in Northumberland County. Haward was resentenced in September to 40 years to life.

Especially concerning to Brome and Damon was Grey's focus during the 45-minute interview on the option of a halfway house as less than optimal. Brome had proposed it as a way to transition to independence, look for work, enroll in college, and get a driver's license, and said the Department of Corrections had promoted the option to the juvenile lifers, including visits to prisons from operators.

"The last four years, they sold us on coming to a halfway house," Brome said.

Finn, the board spokeswoman, said a release directly to a family member or other home situation is considered preferable. She said that juvenile lifers are made aware of other options, like the Community Correctional Centers, but that the board considers those less preferable than going directly to a home. Songster was released from Graterford Prison to the home of his fiancee and her mother in Northeast Philadelphia.

Damon said the "mixed message" about the CCCs was "incredibly concerning."

Brome proposed the Community Center but also noted in his plan: "The client is strongly supported by a network of immediate and extended family members who have committed to assisting with the reentry process. Members of the family have offered financial, housing, and employment assistance to client."

In its denial, the board cited a "failure to develop an appropriate parole release plan," despite Brome's 11-page plan; misconducts despite none in the last decade; lack of remorse, minimization of the crime, and the lack of endorsement from the staff at Dallas.

Finn acknowledged that the parole board in general does not consider old misconducts, but was unable to detail how that still figured in Brome's parole denial.

"I know the rule of thumb [is] they like to have misconducts free for one year," she said.

Finn said notes from board interviews were handwritten and not available to the public. She declined to make board member Grey, who spent the bulk of her law career in business and consumer protection law, available for comment.

While at Graterford, Songster was able to network with volunteers, college professors, and advocates who cycle through the Philadelphia-area prison, resulting in job offers and testimonials. Songster described his parole hearing as like "a job interview," not the adversarial session Brome said he experienced.

1989 Camp Hill riots

Their cases were complicated by the 1989 riots in the Camp Hill prison, where they were sent as 17-year-olds. Brome originally faced charges from the riots, and says a detainer mistakenly remained on his record when he was interviewed by Dallas prison staff, indicating that he still might have to serve additional time; it has since been removed. The Department of Corrections then made a negative recommendation regarding his release.

One prison guard maintains that Brome struck him during the riots, which Brome denies. But the Camp Hill record was considered by the prosecutor and the judge at the resentencing before both agreed on the new sentence. Brome also said his interview with Dallas officials was complicated by a recent change in staffing.

Brome maintains that Grey referred incorrectly to details about the original crime, and that she may have interpreted his attempts to clarify as minimizing. He said she objected when he referred to the victim by name, and challenged his sincerity when he glanced at notes in his lap.

His father, William Brome, had said after the resentencing that he hoped it would be the "end of the torture," and he has taken the parole denial especially hard.

Meanwhile, the son is filled with remorse, even blaming himself for the decision that he and Songster made to run away to Philadelphia at age 15.

"Nobody takes more blame than I have," said Dameon Brome. "This falls on me."