Maryland is one of only three states — the others being California and Oklahoma — whose governors have the power to reject recommendations that lifers be released from prison. If the Maryland Parole Commission conducts a hearing and concludes that an inmate serving a life sentence no longer poses a threat to the public, the governor, if so inclined, can dismiss the commission's opinion. It doesn't matter if the inmate has served two, three, even four decades and won credit for good behavior; the governor can keep him on ice.

The present and previous Democratic governors of Maryland did just this, having embraced the "life-means-life" credo to win political points and to fully eliminate the risk that their approval of a lifer's release might come back to haunt them.

On the other hand, the Republican who served in Annapolis between the Democrats did not automatically dismiss parole commission recommendations. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. respected the fact that, under Maryland law, we have a 10-member parole commission, with each member appointed to a six-year term by the secretary of public safety, with the governor's approval and the advice and consent of the Senate. The commission conducts hearings, listens to testimony, considers long-term victim impact and assesses the risk in releasing an inmate. That's our system, and it's the system in most states — except that in Maryland, California and Oklahoma, the governor has the final say.

This year in Annapolis, there's a legislative effort under way to relieve the governor of this authority — to take politics out of the parole process — and Walter Lomax is one of many reasons why.

Mr. Lomax served 39 years for a 1967 robbery-murder he always insisted he did not commit. In 2006, a Baltimore judge reopened his case, examined the dubious evidence used against him and the quality of his legal defense, then overturned his life term and resentenced Mr. Lomax to time served.

Mr. Lomax had an unblemished prison record that included work release and overnight family visits in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The Maryland Parole Commission recommended him for release four times.

But in 1995, Gov. Parris N. Glendening gave his "life-means-life" speech and vowed to reject any recommendation for a lifer that came his way from the parole commission.

So Walter Lomax stayed in prison until he was 59 years old.

Now, look, you might think that was a good thing. You might believe Mr. Glendening and the present Democratic governor are correct — all life sentences should be life sentences; these felons should only get out of Maryland's $28,000-per-inmate-per-year prisons if they are terminally ill.

But as long as Maryland law allows lifers to be considered for parole — some after serving 15 years, and some after 25 — then lifers are going to come up for parole. That doesn't mean parole will be granted; it only means they are eligible.

If these inmates do what we expect them to do — behave in prison — and if the lawfully constituted parole commission decides they have been sufficiently punished and no longer pose a risk to the public, they should be released. Giving the governor final approval inflicts on the process another form of risk, that of politics influencing a matter of criminal justice.

There's another concept at play here, that of shared responsibility. We ought to trust that a group of appointed officials, and not one politician concerned about re-election, would make the best decisions in both the interest of public safety and in the interest of fairness.

If not for the politically motivated embrace of "life means life" by the present governor, Mark Farley Grant might well be on his way to freedom. I have mentioned him many times in this space. He has been incarcerated since 1983 for a Baltimore murder that the Innocence Project at the University of Maryland School of Law is certain he did not commit. Mr. Grant went inside the walls when he was 14 years old. Even if the parole commission approves his pending request for release, Mr. Grant will likely remain in his Hagerstown cell as long as the governor maintains his "life means life" position. It's not fair.

Senate Bill 172, scheduled for its first hearing early next month, would fix that. The legislation would relieve the governor of this responsibility and clean up a process that should be as far removed from grandstanding politics as possible.

Dan Rodricks' column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. He is the host of Midday on WYPR, 88.1 FM. His e-mail is dan.rodricks@baltsun.com.