It appeared to be just another lovers’ spat. One night up in the small northwestern Iowa town of Estherville, Jeff Berryhill, 21, a straight-arrow college student with a few too many beers in his stomach, argued with his girlfriend. She ended up in another fellow’s apartment. Berryhill tracked her down, kicked in the door, resumed their argument. She decided to sit on the other fellow’s lap; Berryhill decided to punch the other fellow in the face.

His arrest came just hours later. Probation would be the expected result, perhaps linked to an anger-management course or a few AA sessions. Berryhill’s case didn’t draw the expected result, however. “We don’t just laugh off lovers’ spats anymore,” is how Assistant Emmet County Atty. Richard Meyer would later explain his handling of the affair.

Berryhill hadn’t just punched his rival on a street corner. Berryhill had broken into Randy Jones’ apartment and inflicted “bodily injury.” The prosecutor couldn’t help noticing that under Iowa law, those acts together constituted first-degree felony burglary. So that’s how he charged Berryhill--even though in Iowa such “forcible felonies” come with a mandatory 25-year prison sentence.

"[Berryhill] did each and every one of the elements,” Meyer said. “My question is, why shouldn’t he go to prison? . . . A man’s house is his castle. He should be safe there.”


In the early going, neither Berryhill nor his parents understood what trouble they faced. The authorities released Jeff on his own recognizance, and everyone kept telling them the charges would eventually be dropped. Jeff, after all, had no prior record as a juvenile or adult.

He’d played four sports in high school; he’d been attending classes at the local community college since the fall of 1995. He lived at home with his parents, both laborers, Barry at a chicken-processing plant, Shirley at a fishing-pole company. He planned to transfer to Iowa State University upon receiving his AA degree; he aspired to be a coach and physical education teacher.

Then came his trial in late March. The Berryhills waived a jury because the law doesn’t allow it to be told about the mandatory sentence. For two days, Judge Charles H. Barlow listened to the evidence; for seven months, he contemplated. On Nov. 7, he finally ruled.

Jones was a rival for Amber Baddeley’s affections, the judge found. Jones had been spreading rumors about Berryhill, possibly trying to break up his relationship with Baddeley. Earlier on the night of the offense, in the front yard of Baddeley’s grandmother, Berryhill had struck Jones. At the time he broke into Jones’ apartment, Berryhill “exhibited an intent to commit an assault.” From these facts, “the court concludes that the state has met its burden of proving each and every essential legal element of the charge of burglary in the first degree.” Berryhill was “guilty as charged.”


A forcible felony not being a bailable offense in Iowa, Berryhill was promptly led off to jail. Not everyone expressed dismay: “The justice system has done its job and now [Berryhill] must live with the consequences,” Jones’ parents declared. “Our family applauds the work of the Emmet County attorney’s office.” Yet many others in Estherville, a town of 7,500 just south of the Minnesota border, saw it otherwise.

A felony conviction, they cried, could ruin Berryhill’s life. A convicted felon has no chance of becoming a coach and teacher. Berryhill was wrong, he made a mistake, he needs to be punished. Years in prison for punching a rival, though? Years away from his family? Years when he can’t complete college? There’s no common sense. This matter has gone beyond reason.

The groundswell of support for Berryhill grew ever larger as his sentencing hearing neared. Teachers from his community college brought homework to the Emmet County Jail so he could pass his fall-semester classes. More than 70 neighbors, friends, coaches, teachers and co-workers wrote letters to the judge. More than 120 citizens signed petitions. A good number turned to the local newspaper; others contacted state legislators; some begged for the governor’s intervention.

“You should know there’s not just a 20-year-old young man you’re sending to prison,” one of Berryhill’s classmates, Kimberly Perkins, urged the judge. “There’s a spirit and a future. . . . He’s just like every other high school guy who fell in love and lost. Please use your heart when you decide whether or not to send him to prison. Remember your first love and how it felt to lose it.”


Wrote Baddeley, the “first love” who inspired Berryhill’s punch: "[Jeff’s] purpose in coming to Randy’s house was to talk to me and work things out. I was being stubborn and wouldn’t talk to him. We are all to blame for what happened: Randy, Jeff and myself. . . . All of Jeff’s actions that night were because he cared. . . . This whole thing is blown out of proportion.”

From his jail cell, a weepy Berryhill offered the judge his own thoughts: “I am not writing to try to plead my innocence. I have never tried to get out of this. I am guilty of a crime, but I don’t think that justice would be served by convicting me of first-degree burglary. . . . I am just a young kid who made a mistake.”

Berryhill also wrote to Iowa Gov. Terry E. Branstad: “Then Amber sat on [Randy’s] lap and I got very upset and punched him once and then left. . . . It is one punch. One punch that . . . has the chance to ruin my life. I do not see where the justice is. . . . I made one mistake, please don’t make me suffer the rest of my life because of one punch.”

In the end, of course, none of this worked.


Put simply, those in Emmet County calling for common sense and justice were presuming goals not inherent in mandatory sentencing laws. Inflexible guidelines may feed the needs of politicians wishing to appear tough on crime, but they don’t guarantee much else. Statutes that banish discretion also banish common sense. Legislatures that embrace absolutes are going to find more than one Jeff Berryhill in their state prisons.

Many place blame for Berryhill’s fate on Meyer, who goes so far as to liken Berryhill to O.J. Simpson. Others grumble at a judge who hewed so strictly to the “elements” of the law. But, in the end, what most affected this case were acts taken years ago by lawmakers in Des Moines who knew nothing of Berryhill or his conduct.

In early December, the convicted felon vainly moved for a new trial. “The court is aware that the defendant, his parents, extended family and friends believe that the first-degree burglary charge is extremely harsh,” Barlow wrote after an emotional hearing on Dec. 18, attended by dozens of Berryhill’s supporters. "[But] the state has proved each and every essential legal element of the offense charged.”

At Berryhill’s sentencing hearing on Dec. 30, his attorney thought it wise to urge calm--"Please, no disruptions and control your emotions"--and Barlow thought it wise to explain himself. The court normally has several options, he told the gathering, including a deferred judgment or a suspended sentence. “But, in this matter, the state of Iowa has made the determination that a forcible felony requires punishment. It has taken away the discretion of the court in such matters.” He therefore had to sentence Berryhill to a prison term “not to exceed 25 years.”


Unless an appellate court or Branstad responds to a distraught citizenry’s appeals, Berryhill will likely have to serve at least four to six years before being eligible for parole. He currently resides at a prison evaluation center in Oakdale. He’s never been away from home before. Although depressed, his mother says, he is “doing better day by day.” Only when he sees a photo or letter from home does he break. “Then he starts crying and can’t quit.”

At the close of his letter to Branstad, Berryhill wrote: “I would also like to ask you if you cannot do anything with my case, I really hope you can do something about the mandatory prison law, so it doesn’t have the chance to ruin another life like it might do to mine.”

That is not likely. In early January, through a spokesman, the governor--who supports his state’s mandatory sentencing laws--let it be known he had no immediate plans to get involved. “We have to recognize the court system is a separate branch of government,” he explained. “It is not appropriate for me to comment on the decision that the judge has made.”