The Times of London decried the case as evidence of “the strong puritanical impulse of American society.” Now, on the eve of America’s puritanically inspired holiday, Elisa Kelly and George Robinson are free.

As punishment for serving alcohol at an underage party in 2002, the two went to jail June 11 to begin serving a 27-month sentence, the longest incarceration on record for providing booze to minors. Five months after entering the Albemarle Charlottesville Regional Jail, the two were released at 8am November 19.

The Kelly/Robinson case became an international cause célèbre when the U.S. Supreme Court refused to hear their appeal that the police search of their backyard was unconstitutional, and it became clear they were headed to jail.

The saga began August 16, 2002, when the Kelly and Robinson, then married, hosted a 16th birthday party for Kelly’s son Ryan, who insisted that he planned to drink. Soccer mom Kelly reasoned that it was safer to have the teens stay at her house if they were going to drink, so she purchased $360 in beer and wine coolers and intended to confiscate car keys.

Then someone called the police. At their first trial, Judge Dwight Johnson held the Robinsons accountable not only for their own actions, but seemingly for the alcohol-related accident a month earlier that caused the death of 16-year-old Brittany Hope Bishop, who “wasn’t cold in the ground,” he said, when he sentenced them to eight years in jail.

On appeal in Albemarle Circuit Court, Judge Paul Peatross reduced the sentence to 27 months– two years longer than the 90-day sentence recommended by Commonwealth’s Attorney Jim Camblos. After four years of appeals were exhausted, Kelly and Robinson donned the orange jail jumpsuits in June.

Despite former Governor George Allen’s abolition of parole for felonies, it’s still an option for the misdemeanors for which Kelly and Robinson were doing time. “The parole system is basically a good thing,” says attorney Fran Lawrence, who represents Kelly. He says that while the issue became a “campaign slogan” because of a few violent releases, “Others are clearly rehabilitated. Once they’re clearly rehabilitated, let’s get them out of there.”

“Because of the length of [Robinson’s] sentence, he became eligible for discretionary release,” says Robinson’s attorney, Jonathan Wren. Wren lobbied the parole board to release his client, and a parole examiner interviewed Robinson.

Lawrence wrote a letter to the parole board, as did Camblos. “I did not agree with the severity of the active sentences given to Mr. Robinson or Mrs. Robinson/Kelly in either court,” he says in the letter.

“Certainly when the court refused to change her sentence, it was a disappointing moment for the justice system,” says Lawrence.

Johnson sentenced the pair to six months for each of 16 counts– to be served consecutively. “It was an out-of-control moment,” says Lawrence. “Clearly it was a crazy sentence. The whole thing was crazy. Judge Johnson was stuck on the math. Then Judge Peatross was stuck on that sentence, giving it some weight on appeal.” Peatross ordered three months in jail on nine counts, again to be served consecutively.

Robinson and Kelly– who had never had a traffic ticket before hosting the ill-fated party– were model prisoners while in jail, says Lawrence. Kelly was on work release, and “George was a trusty,” he says.

The two found out a couple of weeks ago they’d been granted discretionary parole. “That doesn’t happen very often,” says Wren. And normally it takes about 30 days to get out of jail once the release is granted. “This happened in a week and a half,” he adds.

Neither Kelly nor Robinson had responded to requests for interviews at press time. Wren saw his client on November 16, when he found out Robinson would be released November 19.

“He seemed happy,” says Wren. “I know he’ll spend time with his family. It’s been a long ordeal.” Wearing knight’s armor, Robinson remarried in a Renaissance wedding October 16, 2004, and now has a two-year-old daughter.

Two days after Robinson’s wedding, the Bleak House Road home that was the scene of the party, and where Kelly still lived, burned to the ground. Kelly fled naked from the fire and lost all of her belongings, she told the Hook shortly after her incarceration. Her son Ryan dropped out of school because of the case’s notoriety, and her other son Brandon, a junior in high school, was working two jobs so his mom would have a place to live when she got out of jail.

Between the appeals and a contentious divorce that made its way to the Supreme Court of Virginia, Kelly racked up more than $300,000 in legal bills. Lawrence wrote to the parole board, “Ms. Kelly is now financially destitute and in substantial debt.”

But he also notes in his letter, “Ms. Kelly has dealt with all this bravely. Her courage and humor stood out when she apologized to me for being a client for whom I could not seem to win. As an attorney, I can tell you that most of my clients blame their losses on me….”

Robinson “may have more to say on the subject later,” says his lawyer, “but for the time being, he only wants to focus on the future.”

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