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In a few weeks Bill Clinton will walk out the door
of the White House.
He will leave behind a legacy for historians to debate.
Part of his legacy will be the doubling of the number
of people incarcerated in federal prisons, part of America's
climb to the summit of the world's incarcerators. However,
he still has time to shape his legacy in this regard.
The sentence in the Constitution that names him commander
in chief also gives him the power to reprieve federal
prisoners.
Since Clinton entered the White House the number of
federal prisoners doubled from 73,000 to 146,000, about
86,000 of whom are drug offenders. Since 1995, the Clinton
administration has sent more than 100,000 drug offenders
to federal prison. Twenty-eight percent of those imprisoned,
according to a 1994 Department of Justice study, are
low-level drug offenders with no prior offense, no violence
on their records and no involvement in sophisticated
criminal activity. That is about 24,000 such prisoners
today--equal to the entire federal prison population
in 1980 when President Reagan was elected. Recently,
more than 650 leaders of America's clergy, gathered
as the Coalition for Jubilee Clemency--bishops, church
presidents, heads of congregations--wrote to President
Clinton asking him to free low-level, non-violent federal
drug prisoners.
Among Christians, 2000 is a Jubilee year, in which
debts are forgiven and prisoners are set free. As part
of the Jubilee year, Pope John Paul II has called upon
governments for "a gesture of clemency" to the imprisoned.
To find some of those drug offenders who deserve to
be released, Clinton should appeal to the more than
600 federal trial judges, asking each to name at least
one defendant whom he or she was required by mandatory
sentencing laws to sentence to a term he or she thought
was unjust--the kinds of cases that the judges lost
sleep over.
These low-level, non-violent drug offenders are people
such as Kemba Smith, a sheltered college girl who was
ensnared in a crack dealer's web of charm and abuse.
She helped him buy a car, rent an apartment, hide out.
She got a 24-year sentence.
Another example is Dorothy Gaines, a widow, mother
of three and grandmother of two, whose boyfriend was
a recovering crack addict. He relapsed, began dealing,
and turned on her when caught. His fellow informants--who
all got reduced sentences for their testimony--said
she once delivered three packets of crack from the ringleader
to his street sellers. There was no other evidence--no
money, no drugs, no drug paraphernalia, no beeper or
cell phone, no controlled deliveries, no wiretaps. She
got a 19-year sentence. Congress created mandatory minimum
drug sentences in 1986 during the violence and fear
of the crack epidemic and when each party was using
the war on drugs to fight for control of the Congress.
Congress blundered by setting too low the quantities
of drugs, which trigger mandatory sentences intended
for high-level dealers. These laws have been applied
mostly to low-level offenders and overwhelmingly to
black or Hispanic suspects. Unjustly, many federal drug
prisoners are serving kingpin-level sentences, even
though they were nowhere near kingpins in the drug trade.
These long sentences for low-level offenders have been
called "manifestly unjust" by federal judicial councils.
It was to correct these types of injustices that the
framers of the Constitution gave the reprieve and pardon
power to the president.
Congress made a partial fix in 1994. A judge could
depart from these mandatory sentences in very limited
cases through a "safety valve"-- but Congress did not
make the law retroactive. There are more than 350 prisoners
who would now be free if they had been sentenced after
Sept. 13, 1994. Surely they qualify for a presidential
commutation of sentence.
Eric E. Sterling was counsel to the U.S. House Judiciary
Committee from 1979 to 1989, principally responsible
for anti-drug legislation. He heads the Criminal Justice
Policy Foundation, which coordinates the Coalition for
Jubilee Clemency.