Elliot Morley, former Labour environment minister, was released from an open prison on Tuesday 20th September, despite being only a quarter of a way into his 16 month sentence.

Despite everyone’s moral outrage being given a thorough work-out a couple of years back as a result of the expenses scandal, there was still a palpable sense of “Wait, what?” from both the public and MPs when it was decided that the most serious offenders would face trial for their false claims. It turned out that at least some of them still had to answer to the judicial system. The news that Morley and others would be spending time in prison following these trials provoked at least a few air-punches: a small consolation in the face of what felt like such an enormous betrayal for many.

However, those air-punches are quietly being withdrawn now, if they have not been already. After all, Morley is by no means the first of the sentenced MPs to be released early. Three former Labour and two Conservative MPs have already had their time in prison cut short, though the figure for Morley’s false expenses – which he claimed as payments on houses for which the mortgages had already been paid in full – is significantly higher than those of David Chaytor, Eric Illsley, Jim Devine, Lord Taylor and Lord Hanningfield.

Though it is easy to look upon the decision to release these MPs early as yet another perfidy, and indeed the MPs themselves as villains of pantomime proportions, what is perhaps more important to note is that the expenses scandal had a cast that included far more than those who were trialled and sentenced. In fact, Eric Illsley mentioned, upon his release in May, that there were “many others who [had] walked free,” and, though true, it was simply hard to hear him over all the booing.

More objectively, perhaps the prevalent issue here is the early release of prisoners in general, in which context one bespectacled MP’s premature return to freedom seems to wither in importance. When compared with the contentious subject of others appealing for early release – those convicted of GBH or sexual assault for instance – Morley’s case may well appear less significant. The home detention curfew scheme (HDC) for low-risk prisoners allows Morley to return to his home and his life (if not his career) and could perhaps be seen as fair: he is not considered a dangerous criminal. Yet, somehow, it feels off-beam to base a prisoner’s candidacy for early release on the relativity of their crime. These factors should be taken into account during sentencing, so that the justice system does not undermine its position as an institution dedicated not only to making fair judgments but also to enforcing their consequences.

There is another question to be considered as well: would anyone else who committed fraud to the tune of £30,000 be granted similar leeway? It seems unlikely. It seems instead that Morley is enjoying the more pleasant side of the double-edged sword one is forced to carry as a public figure. However much the public may enjoy seeing scandalous politicians squirm under a particular shade of limelight, the perks of special treatment are a part of the deal that also have to be accepted.

Without declaring Morley a menace to society - he cannot reasonably be called that - allowing him to walk away from his prison sentence so prematurely will cause many to ask what it was all for. The convictions that once felt like a minor retribution now look more like Kodak moments for the apparent impartiality of the justice system. Even if full-blown outrage isn’t justified, I feel no air-punches or victory dances forthcoming in light of Morley’s jail-break.

Originally published 27 September 2011.