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For 36 long years, I lived within the confines of prison walls, each day marked by the weight of a life sentence. I missed significant moments, from my son’s first day of school to my mother’s funeral, all because of a crime I did not commit. Meanwhile, the actual perpetrator roamed free, leaving me to endure a harsh and unjust reality.
What sets my story apart is not just the wrongful imprisonment; it is the rare opportunity for early freedom. In 2017, I was granted clemency by Missouri’s governor in a bold move that defied the prevalent belief that mercy is best dispensed at a term’s end. This decision contrasts sharply with the pattern followed by many predecessors.
President Donald Trump’s recent second-term pardons underscore this principle. In comparison, previous administrations, including Barack Obama, who reserved 61% of his pardons for the final year, and Joe Biden, who concentrated 90% in his, demonstrate a tendency to wait until the end of their terms. Trump himself saw 84% of clemencies cluster during his closing moments in office.
Presidential clemency often takes place at the very end of a leader’s term. Trump issued 116 pardons as his time in office wound down, while Obama and Bill Clinton issued 330 and 177 pardons, respectively, on their final days. Why is there such a caution in granting pardons earlier? The instinct for political survival undoubtedly plays a role.
Historical examples highlight this fear. Gerald Ford’s controversial pardon of Richard Nixon is frequently cited; it likely cost him re-election in 1976. Similarly, Massachusetts Governor Michael Dukakis faced backlash over the Willie Horton case, which derailed his 1988 presidential ambitions. This dynamic has solidified the notion that leaders should dispense mercy only when electoral repercussions are minimized.
Trump’s early pardons, while commendable, have ignited debate. His January 6th clemencies have faced criticism, with many perceiving them as rewards for loyalty rather than recognition of rehabilitative efforts. While these concerns warrant discussion, the real issue lies in the timing of clemency. Delayed justice often equates to justice denied.
Every day behind bars, I witnessed the remarkable potential for rehabilitation among inmates. Individuals with limited education transitioned to college graduates, and broken spirits emerged as mentors. However, the political calculus overshadowed these transformations. Despite multiple parole board recommendations advocating for my release, my case lay untouched for years until a governor finally acted.
The human cost of prolonged imprisonment is staggering, echoed by a fiscal burden that weighs heavily on taxpayers. The annual cost for each federal prisoner exceeds $42,000, while state inmates cost around $33,274 each year. According to the Institute for Justice Research and Development, the overall cost of incarceration across America approaches $1 trillion annually. This figure encompasses impacts on families, communities, and individuals.
Pursuing timely clemency could redirect vast sums toward essential public services like education and healthcare, benefiting society as a whole. There exists a substantial consensus among Americans on this issue, with about 80% supporting expanded presidential commutations. This support crosses political lines, with both Republican and Democratic voters expressing similar views.
This shared viewpoint does not merely represent abstract ideals; it has resulted in tangible legislative achievements. The First Step Act of 2018 garnered significant bipartisan support, reducing sentences and expanding rehabilitation programs. Signed into law by Trump, it united diverse voices from across the political spectrum.
To effectuate further progress, we must shift our perception of clemency from a political liability to a moral necessity. One suggestion is to establish regular clemency reviews prioritizing certain categories of inmates: the elderly, those with disproportionate nonviolent sentences, and individuals demonstrating rehabilitation.
A diverse panel to oversee these reviews, consisting of victims’ advocates, legal experts, and justice systems specialists, could ensure ethical considerations are prioritized. This could change the focus from political fallout to lives transformed through compassion and second chances.
I embody the potential for this transformation. Today, I engage in meaningful work, advocate for those still incarcerated, and relish the simple pleasures of life—homework help, stress-free family gatherings, and gardening throughout the seasons. Each day grants me the precious gift of choice: what to eat, who to spend time with, and when to enjoy fresh air.
For the thousands still locked away, I urge leaders to act decisively when justice demands it. Despite the political landscape that may attempt to stifle progress, there lies a common ground in the notion of second chances. These opportunities not only serve individual interests but also embody a collective hope for accountability and grace within our society.