DRUG DEALER PARDON FUELS OUTRAGE

In Minnesota Case, Clinton Clemency Seen As Difficult To Explain

WASHINGTON -- In the waning days of his presidency, Bill Clinton
promised to use his clemency powers to help low-level drug offenders
languishing in prison. When Carlos Vignali walked out of prison on Jan.
20 and returned home to his family in Los Angeles, he appeared to fit
the broad outlines of that profile.

But the 30-year-old Vignali, who had served six years of a 15-year
sentence for federal narcotics violations in Minnesota, fit another
profile entirely. No small-time offender, he was a player in a cocaine
ring that stretched from California to Burnsville.

Far from disadvantaged, he owned a $240,000 condominium in Los Angeles
and made his way as the son of affluent Los Angeles entrepreneur Horacio
Vignali. The doting father became a large-scale political donor in the
years after his son's arrest, donating more than $160,000 to state and
federal office-holders -- including California Govs. Pete Wilson and
Gray Davis -- as he pressed for his son's freedom.

The improbability that such a criminal would be granted presidential
clemency, as well as the younger Vignali's claim that he alone steered a
pardon application that caught the president's attention and won his
approval, has sparked both disbelief and outrage.

"It's not plausible, it makes no sense at all," said Margaret Love, the
pardon attorney who oversaw all Justice Department reviews of
presidential clemency applications from 1990 to 1997. "Somebody had to
help him. There is no way that case could have possibly succeeded in the
Department of Justice."

In December 1994, federal jurors in the Twin Cities deliberated for
nearly a week before returning the guilty verdicts against Vignali and
Todd Hopson of Apple Valley. They were among 30 people indicted in 1993
for participating in a sophisticated, multimillion-dollar crack cocaine
ring that operated for several years in the Twin Cities.

Ron Meshbesher, a Minneapolis defense attorney who represented Vignali
at trial, said that several days after the commutation, the Vignalis
called him at his office. The son came on the line "all excited,"
Meshbesher recalled.

"How'd you get out?" Meshbesher asked.

Vignali told him that the "word around prison was that it was the right
time to approach the president." Meshbesher said Vignali filled out the
commutation form by himself, without help from an attorney. It was a
handwritten request.

"I was very pleased," Meshbesher said on Saturday. "I thought his
sentence was too long." He called the sentence draconian for a
first-time offender with no prior felony record. "There was no evidence
he was a ring leader," Meshbesher said.

But Andrew Dunne, the assistant U.S. attorney who secured convictions
against Vignali and other members of the drug ring, strongly opposed any
leniency toward Vignali. "I am very disappointed about it," Dunne said
Saturday of Vignali's commutation. "There are 30 defendants charged in
the case. Twenty-nine of them definitely did not have access to power,
influence and money as the Vignalis did. There is not an access to
justice."

Dunne, who expressed opposition to the pardon in a letter sent two years
ago to the Justice Department, said Vignali was the source of cocaine
from Los Angeles while the other defendants played smaller roles in the
drug distribution network.

Vignali's trial judge, U.S. District Judge David Doty, said he was not
contacted by the Justice Department. Had he been, he said, he would have
joined the prosecution in arguing against special treatment for Vignali.

The drug operation was headed by Shirley Jean Williams of Burnsville and
her son, Gerald. They pleaded guilty and testified during Vignali's
trial.

The government said the ring could receive, process and distribute two
pounds of crack cocaine within hours. In 1994, police said the ring
operated mostly from Shirley Jean Williams' residence in Burnsville, but
had used houses in Eagan and Minneapolis.

Most of the crack distributed by the ring arrived in the Twin Cities as
powder cocaine mailed from California, prosecutors said. Ring members
baked the powder into crack "rocks" and distributed it through street
dealers.

Because it is a hard-edged criminal case, Vignali's commutation adds
another dimension to the wave of 11th-hour Clinton clemencies and raises
new questions about the influence of political donors and officials on
different stages of the process.

Vignali could not be reached for comment. But his father strongly denied
that he or anyone else in the family asked politicians to press their
case with Clinton.

"I didn't write him a letter, I didn't do anything," Horacio Vignali
said. "But I thank God, and I thank the president every day."

"Go figure," said an exasperated Craig Cascarano, the lawyer for Hopson.
"How is it that Carlos Vignali is out eating a nice dinner while my
client is still in prison, eating baloney sandwiches?"

Clinton and his White House staff have not fully explained why he
granted certain clemencies, including the highly controversial pardon of
fugitive commodities broker Marc Rich. But in recent months, the
president had expressed concern about mandatory federal sentences
imposed on some small-time drug offenders.

"The sentences in many cases are too long for nonviolent offenders,"
Clinton said in a November interview with Rolling Stone magazine. " . .
. I think this whole thing needs to be re-examined."

While Vignali family members themselves might not have tried to
influence the process directly, others weighed in early on. After Carlos
was convicted, and during the legal appeals process, Minnesota
authorities were deluged with phone calls and letters from California
political figures inquiring about the case and urging leniency, they
said.

"There was a lot of influence, oh yes," said Dunne, the prosecutor. "We
would receive periodic calls from state (representatives) in California
calling on behalf of Carlos, after the sentencing."

Through 1994, the year his son was convicted, Horacio Vignali made a few
small federal and state campaign contributions, usually less than
$1,000, according to a Los Angeles Times analysis of campaign finance
records. But in October 1994, just before the start of his son's
seven-week trial, Vignali stepped up his contributions, donating $53,000
to state officeholders.

By last year, he had become a large-scale contributor. Vignali has given
at least $47,000 to Gov. Davis. He gave $32,000 to former Gov. Wilson
during his last term. He made two $5,000 donations to a political action
committee operated by Rep. Xavier Becerra, D-Calif. And in August, while
the Democrats were holding their national convention in Los Angeles, he
contributed $10,000 to the Democratic National Committee.

Asked about his donations, the senior Vignali said only, "I'm a
Democrat."

While he insisted that he had not orchestrated his son's freedom, the
senior Vignali conceded that others might have helped.

"I guess some people wrote on his behalf," he said. "I have no idea who
they are. I just don't know."