This article is not intended to support or oppose the release of James Vlassakis. Rather, it is a critical review of the revocable incentives offered by the State when enticing criminalised people to cooperate.
The Parole Board’s decision to release convicted murderer James Vlassakis on parole was recently overturned by the Parole Administrative Review Commission (PARC). After turning crown witness to assist the State in obtaining convictions of co-accused John Bunting and Robert Wagner, Vlassakis had received a sentence of 26 years non-parole, with a life head sentence, for the murder of four people in relation to the Snowtown ‘Bodies in the Barrels’ case.
Vlassakis’ sentencing in 2002 was under the now repealed Criminal Law (Sentencing) Act 1988 (SA) (the Act), which required courts to take certain matters into account when sentencing, including at section 10(1)(h), ‘the degree to which the defendant has co-operated in the investigation of the offence, and section 10A, ‘Reduction of sentences for cooperation etc with law enforcement agency.’ Section 10A(3) outlines matters which the court must specifically consider with respect to reductions for cooperation with the law.
Ostensibly, Vlassakis cooperated with law enforcement to the highest degree possible.
He broke the criminal code of silence.
He testified in court against his co-accused, assisting the State in obtaining a further 21 convictions for murder.
He knew his sentence would be served under the constant threat of reprisal, in protective custody.
He put his faith in the State to keep its implied promise to discount his sentence, including by expecting to be released at the completion of his non-parole period.
What does it mean for a criminalised person to cooperate with authorities??
Criminalised people cooperating with authorities often do so for some discount on sentence or monetary reward. In Australia, such cooperation in the form of witness testimony against fellow criminalised people earns the informer the label ‘dog’. The term ‘dog’ is defined by the Dictionary of Australian Colloquialisms as ‘an informer; one who betrays his associates.’ The term ascribes betrayal and intends to discourage disloyalty between criminalised people (Brown, 1993).
‘Yer can’t be a tail-wagger this week, ‘n a good fella the next.’
That’s according to a source quoted by Brown in the article ‘Notes on the Culture of Prison Informing.’ According to Brown, there is an awareness among prisoners that being labelled a dog often comes with ‘significant consequences in terms of reputation, future prospects, friends and the possibility of physical reprisal or death’ (Brown, 1993).
Men have died in prison after co-operating with authorities.
That’s the risk faced by any criminalised person deciding to give evidence against other criminalised people. That risk continues for their entire prison sentence, future prison sentences and even in the community after release. That’s the risk James Vlassakis chose when he made the decision to testify in court against his co-accused.
The carrot or the stick?
A 26 year, non-parole sentence for four murders, with a ‘life’ head sentence, backdated to 1999. That’s why James Vlassakis chose to cooperate. He chose the ‘carrot’. Knowing, or at least having reason to know, that he would face significant time in prison for his own offending and during that time he would be subjected to the continual consequences as a ‘dog’.
There was no mandatory minimum sentence for murder when Vlassakis was sentenced. Determining the non-parole period was therefore up to the court, based on circumstances laid out in section 10(1) and 10A of the Act. And, while there is no right to parole in South Australia, there is an expectation that any person who shows appropriate conduct during their sentence will be granted parole on or near the end of the non-parole period.
The alternative was the ‘stick’. Non-co-operation. No potential discount on sentencing. The going rate for one murder in 2002 was somewhere between 15 and 25 years non-parole. Given the alleged ‘serial killer’ status of Vlassakis murders, he was likely facing the prospect his co-accused received, life without parole.
Vlassakis chose the carrot. He gave evidence as a crown witness against his co-accused in the hope of receiving a low non-parole period for the four murders for which he pleaded guilty. The 26 year non-parole period set by the Court suggests he achieved that objective. However, he also banked on the State not changing laws in the meantime and granting parole when the time came.
A lonely sentence.
Never knowing who to trust.
Constant vigilance against an attack both in and outside prison.
The possibility of one day being released back to society.
26 years passed. Vlassakis now seeks his carrot. But there’s no guarantees when choosing the carrot over the stick offered by the State. During August 2025, the Parole Board granted release on parole. However, South Australian law allowed the Attorney General to seek a review by the Parole Administrative Review Commissioner (PARC) of a decision to release a life sentenced prisoner on parole. And that’s what occurred. The Attorney General sought a review of that decision to release Vlassakis. Political agendas are now in play, exposing how porous the separation of powers becomes when punishment is politically inconvenient.
On 15 December, the PARC overturned the decision to release Vlassakis. And, in an unprecedented move, the Parole Board almost immediately announced its plans to appeal the decision of the PARC by Judicial Review in the Supreme Court. A finding in favour of the Parole Board would mean the decision of the PARC to deny release would be removed and the matter would go back to the PARC for a new decision.
The path ahead is fraught with legal complexities and uncertainty for Vlassakis and all who await the outcome.
This situation exemplifies the contradictory position of the State. On one hand, Parliament introduces sentencing laws that incentivises criminalised people to cooperate with authorities, and backs those laws by granting release on parole. On the other hand, the State neither assumes responsibility for the enduring risks faced by prison informants nor binds itself to honour the incentive once that cooperation has been given. As this case shows, the carrot remains permanently revocable.
As it stands, Vlassakis now faces a real prospect of life in prison. Not accepted by his peers. Constantly fearing an attack. Probably asking himself, why did I chase the carrot?
What this means for the community
Ultimately, the State cannot be trusted when it incentivises cooperation as a pathway to reduced punishment. This path results in criminalised people, vulnerable in their plight, assuming extreme personal risk – risk to their safety, their lives, and their future, without any guarantee the State will honour what it has implicitly promised.
From another perspective, reducing sentences of criminalised people for informing on their own appears to undermine the legal system by letting the informant ‘off the hook’ somewhat, with the reduction in sentences causing public outrage and chest-beating by politicians claiming to be tough on crime – the same politicians who do not oppose the laws that allow for reduced sentences for cooperation with law enforcement.
Is the State confused? No. It knows exactly what it’s doing. It wants cooperation but denies its own offerings for cooperating. Punishment in South Australia is arbitrary, shifting with political pressure rather than principle. A system that takes advantage of informants while refusing to stand by them ultimately corrodes its own legitimacy.
