Pubdate: Sun, 04 May 2014
Source: San Francisco Chronicle (CA)
Copyright: 2014 Hearst Communications Inc.
Contact: http://www.sfgate.com/chronicle/submissions/#1
Website: http://www.sfgate.com/chronicle/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/388
Author: Debra J. Saunders
Bookmark: http://mapinc.org/people/Clarence+Aaron
Page: E6

FREED PRISONER OF THE DRUG WAR

MOBILE, ALA. - "That situation didn't define who I was," Clarence
Aaron, 45, told a group gathered for a weekend celebration at the
Mobile high school he attended more than two decades ago. When at age
24 he found himself in federal prison in 1993 - after he was convicted
and sentenced to life without parole for a first-time, nonviolent drug
offense - he felt what he called the "stigma." But the former LeFlore
High varsity football star refused to give in to the bitterness of
receiving a life sentence while career drug dealers received decades'
less time. He had a plan: Follow the rules. Work hard. Even in maximum
security, "be the best person I can be."

"Effort only releases reward when one refuses to quit," Aaron said.
"You never see a full reward until it's over." His journey began to
end in December, when President Obama commuted Aaron's barbaric
sentence. On April 17, his ankle bracelet came off.

On April 26, Aaron held the celebration to thank his many supporters.
Dorothy Gaines, a Mobile grandmother sentenced to 19 years after
damning testimony from her dealer boyfriend, won a presidential
commutation from President Bill Clinton in 2000. She railed against
the injustice of federal mandatory minimum sentences.

Behind Aaron sat his cousin, Aaron Martin, who served as a chief
promotions officer; attorney Margaret Colgate Love; and mother Linda,
who never gave up hope that her son would come home. Then there was
the uncle whose son had testified against Aaron.

The next day, Aaron tells me that not everyone was on his side during
his years in the justice system.

Former U.S. Attorney Deborah J. Rhodes supported a commutation in
2008. Nonetheless, she dismissed Aaron's insistence that he was a
cash-strapped student who stumbled into introducing a kingpin to a
drug supplier. The court, she argued, believed he had been an
organizer or manager.

So, for two hours, we went over the record. I wanted to know what had
really happened.

Aaron's commutation petition tells this story. When he was 10, Aaron's
parents sent their oldest son away from the housing project where they
lived to be raised by his grandfather in the working-class
Toulminville neighborhood. The plan paid off. Aaron became the first
member of the family to go to college.

When his grandfather died of cancer in 1991, Aaron was a junior at
Southern University in Baton Rouge. There was a family fight over the
estate. In 1992, Aaron was broke and angry. He made the biggest
mistake of his young life.

A friend from high school approached Aaron to see if he knew of a
cocaine connection in Baton Rouge. A fellow student's brother was a
supplier. Thus Aaron - a student with no arrests and an athlete who,
according to the Justice Department, had "no history of using drugs" -
introduced Marion Teano Watts of Mobile to Gary Chisholm of Louisiana.

Watts offered $200,000 for a 9-kilogram deal in June. According to
court documents, Aaron was paid $1,500.

Aaron flew to Houston to help facilitate a second, larger trade. He
told me it was the first time he had ever flown. Armed robbers grabbed
the money while Aaron was in the hotel bar making a phone call. Who
stole the money? "It became a big issue," Aaron told me. He realized,
"I don't know who I can trust." That, said Aaron, finished his short
stint in the drug trade.

He was arrested six months later because, according to the Department
of Justice, authorities had been investigating Watts since 1991. They
charged Aaron for the two deals - 9 kilograms of crack for the first
deal, 15 kilograms for the sale that never happened.

Even though he was guilty, Aaron thought he could beat the rap. His
first trial ended in a mistrial. In a second trial, with Chisholm as a
co-defendant, a jury found both men guilty. Chisholm also was
sentenced to life, but later was resentenced to 24 years.

So how did the college student with no record get more time than the
fulltime drug peddlers? Watts, the kingpin who admitted that he was a
"major crack cocaine distributor" and made over $1 million in the
trade, knew enough to turn informant. He was sentenced to 14 years,
but served less than eight. His underlings, also informants, served
less or no time.

Make no mistake: Aaron was guilty and deserved to go to prison. But
there is no justice in letting career criminals out in order to put
amateurs away for life. There is little justice in a system that
allowed prosecutors to charge a defendant for crack, which carries a
stiffer sentence than powder cocaine, even though powder changed hands.

Worse, the feds were able to convict Aaron for a deal that never
happened. Worst of all, they didn't have to produce cocaine or other
physical evidence to win a conspiracy conviction. All they had to do
was get savvier drug purveyors, usually not the most credible people,
to say Aaron was an organizer.

Once the verdict was in, a judge had little say in what his sentence
would be.

The prosecutor chose the punishment by determining the quantity of
drugs with which to charge. A federal formula spewed out a number of
years to serve time, increased because he lied on the stand, and a
college kid who made a big mistake lost his future, barring an act of
executive clemency.

I do not believe this travesty would have happened to a white college
student.

Atlanta's current U.S. Attorney Kenyen R. Brown told me that Aaron
most likely would receive "a quite different sentence" if he were
tried today. The Fair Sentencing Act of 2010, signed by President
Obama, reduced the disparity of sentences for crack versus powder
cocaine sentences. Brown approves, as he personally considered the old
crack penalties to be "draconian."

But Brown agrees with other prosecutors who maintain that because
Aaron perjured himself, he was more culpable than Watts and company.
They don't realize it, but what these prosecutors really are saying is
that not submitting to federal prosecutors to make their jobs easier
is a bigger offense than dealing large quantities of drugs.

Obama has urged Congress to reform federal mandatory minimums. That's
great. But he doesn't have to wait for Congress. He can tell Attorney
General Eric Holder to send a simple message to every U.S. attorney in
the land: Don't reward drug dealers for snitching on girlfriends and
gofers. Don't put low-level offenders away for decades more than their
crime bosses. Go after the big fish, or don't go fishing.
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