Reforming drug laws won’t spare all from further harm

While lawmakers bicker,

Jesse and I — and countless other families — suffer. Although their punishments may not be “one-of-a-kind” like Jesse’s, many people in prison are serving excessive sentences who have been fully rehabilitated and deserve a second chance.

Jesse Dunaway is the only person in the commonwealth of Virginia serving a life-without-parole sentence for drug offenses.

Meanwhile, Virginia made history as the first southern state to abolish the death penalty, and lawmakers advanced sweeping reforms to probation and expungement of prior criminal records.

These reforms will impact thousands of incarcerated people and their families. Jesse will be left behind.

None of those reforms will help him. Jesse went to prison when he was 23; now he is 39. He is supposed to die behind bars.

Born to a single mother who had escaped an abusive relationship, Jesse grew up in poverty. His childhood was chaotic, but Jesse excelled in school, and was even offered a place in a gifted and talented program (he had to decline, because his mother couldn’t afford it).

But poor decisions led to early fatherhood in high school, and, desperate to support his young family, Jesse sold drugs. In 2005, he was arrested, charged and convicted on three counts of drug felonies.

Nothing was remarkable about the way or the amount of drugs Jesse dealt — and yet he was charged with this remarkably harsh sentence.

The prosecution charged him under Virginia’s continuing criminal enterprise statute — otherwise known as the “kingpin statute.”

If the court had sentenced Jesse as a “distributor” rather than a “kingpin,” his sentence would have been at the most eight years and eight months under the state’s guidelines at the time.

He’s served nearly twice that sentence. In prison, Jesse has focused on bettering himself. He’s taken as many classes as he can, and he excels at the culinary arts. People say he’s an inspiration — that he’s an example of how a person can change. To me, he’s all that and more. He’s my significant other.

I met Jesse when I was working as a nurse in the prison. In that job, they teach you not to show compassion or kindness — things that you would normally do as a human being. A lot of these people have just simply made mistakes, and yet treat them worse than animals. You’re not even allowed to speak with prisoners beyond the very minimal.

But when I met Jesse, I was struck by how sad his story was, and also by how he stays so positive. I was moved by how committed he is to being a great dad to his kids, even though he’s not there physically. How could I not feel compassion?

Then I learned more about his case, and I was appalled. There was nothing extraordinary about Jesse’s crime or the road that took him there. Yet within the criminal justice system of Virginia, he has a terrible distinction. You can look in every cell in every single prison, and you won’t find anyone else serving life for drugs.

It seems like Virginia is making progress in embracing justice and reform, though recently the state failed to repeal its mandatory minimum sentencing laws.

While lawmakers bicker, Jesse and I — and countless other families — suffer. Although their punishments may not be “one-of-a-kind” like Jesse’s, many people in prison are serving excessive sentences who have been fully rehabilitated and deserve a second chance.

The legislative session is over, and that kind of reform has to wait. But I can think of one way to fix the injustice suffered by Jesse now: executive clemency.

There has been a serious wrong, and the law doesn’t have the capacity to make it right. This mechanism seems designed precisely for cases like Jesse’s.

This is Gov. Ralph Northam’s chance to show the state and the country that he has mercy and his views on criminal justice are truly forward-thinking. He should use his powers of clemency for Jesse Dunaway and others who deserve to go home.