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Even more striking is this: After the move, says Lucy Cisneros, the couple continued to drive back into Globe to see their doctor.
"Everyone knew him," says Phil Jr. "And he was sitting there eating in restaurants where the police officers hung out."
"His daughter Tammy cut the hair of half the police officers in town," Lucy adds. "None of them ever said, 'Hey, have your dad turn himself in.' Not once."
But when it was time for Phil Cisneros to be sentenced last month, Gila County Judge Robert Duber didn't see a confused old man who hadn't driven, much less driven drunk, for nine years.
He saw a repeat offender and a fugitive.
The family assembled 65 letters from friends and relatives, begging for leniency. But Judge Duber didn't see family members who loved him. As he told them at the sentencing hearing, he saw instead 65 co-conspirators who had helped to hide him.
Duber tells me he doesn't remember saying that, but doesn't dispute it and acknowledges that he may well have felt that way. Although he can't talk about the specifics of the case, he's unfazed by the details of the old man's illness. "The entire jail system is full of people who have very bad health problems," he says.
And Flores, the county attorney, notes that Cisneros could have faced up to 10 years. It's only because her office agreed to "forgive" one of Cisneros' prior convictions that three years' time was even within the judge's range of sentencing options.
Mandatory sentencing laws then put the lowest possibility at 2 1/4 years in prison although Squires notes that the judge could have paroled the old man immediately. Flores also could have chosen to "forgive" the other prior, he says.
The county attorney doesn't have any regrets on that front.
"When I looked at these three prior felony DUIs, I saw a person who has not gotten a clue that they shouldn't be out driving," Flores says. "Plus, he took off for eight and a half years. I don't feel any pity for him."
I do. And it's not just because Cisneros is in poor health.
He has followed the law and stayed off the road for nine years. If the point of the law is to rehabilitate nonviolent offenders and keep the streets safe, we're already there.
Of course, here in Arizona, we want to throw the book at everyone never mind if they actually harmed anyone or not. After all, even in his period of really dangerous behavior, Phil Cisneros avoided hitting so much as a streetlight, much less a living thing.
We're still determined to be tough.
"This is part of the reason we have the highest rate of incarceration in the West," says Caroline Isaacs, program director for the Arizona office of the American Friends Service Committee, a Quaker-based group that's advocated for sentencing reform. "We're concerned about crime, sure. But we let that concern spill over into a desire for revenge."
Isaacs can point to plenty of other states, including Texas yes, string-'em-up Texas that offer early release to prisoners in really bad health or in unusually tough circumstances. Not Arizona.
Phil Cisneros didn't stand a chance.
Lucy Cisneros is trying to come to terms with that. Her husband has written her plaintive letters, wondering when she's going to get him out. She hates not having a happy answer.
"I can deal with the cancer," she tells me, referencing her chemotherapy. "I just don't want to deal with it without him. You think you're together for the rest of your life, that you can handle things together, and then this happens."
I can understand why the "system" might think justice has been served in this case. The guy is a repeat offender, and we don't want people skipping out before trial, whether consciously or carelessly.
But when I think of an 83-year-old grandfather who could very well die behind bars, I can't help but think that we need a little less justice and little more mercy.