WAR ON DRUGS' VICTIMS STILL JAILED, WHILE RICH GO FREE

Karen Garrison didn't have $400,000 to give first brother-in-law Hugh
Rodham, so her twin sons didn't get clemency from former President Clinton.

Perhaps if Clinton had just seen Garrison's heartbreaking letter, written
in October 1998 to the judge in her sons' drug trial:

"I'm writing this letter with facts, feelings of indescribable despair, and
(I am) at your mercy. (My sons) were found guilty by a jury. . . . You may
not remember, but next to childbirth, I will never forget that night. Now
I'm asking that you consider (the facts) and my torn apart heart. Lamont
and Lawrence are not guilty. . . ."

But Garrison didn't have millions for Clinton's presidential library or
connections to well-heeled lawyers with access to the White House. So her
sons remain in prison under harsh laws meant for drug kingpins but which
routinely bury penny-ante dealers, instead.

If Clinton cared about a legacy, he had a perfect opportunity to leave one.
Instead of granting clemency to just a few small-time drug offenders, as he
did, he might have pardoned or commuted the sentences of thousands. He
might have pointed out the folly of the so-called war on drugs.

With many less-affluent Americans in prison rather than fancy drug rehab
centers, Clinton could have redefined himself as a committed populist. With
many African-Americans ensnared by the injustices of the system, he could
have helped a black constituency that has been extremely loyal.

He could have started with the Garrison twins. Lamont and Lawrence were 25
years old, a month away from college graduation, when they were arrested in
1998. Friends, relatives and teachers all testify to their honesty, hard
work and respect for the law. They had no criminal records, not even as
juveniles. They wanted to become lawyers.

But they had left a car for repair with a Maryland body shop owned by Tito
Abea, and they had argued with him over the work. When Abea was arrested on
drug charges, prosecutors offered him leniency if he implicated others. His
testimony convicted the Garrisons. There was no hard evidence. Police could
not tie the twins to drugs or guns or even money. Indeed, they were
head-over-heels in debt with school expenses.

Now they are felons -- Lamont serving 19 1/2 years while Lawrence serves
15 1/2.

While the case of the Garrisons is so heart-breaking because they are
probably innocent, others -- guilty of the charges -- deserved clemency
because of sentences too harsh for their crimes. Johnny Patillo, for instance.

In 1992, he was 27 and desperate for cash. Months away from completing a
San Diego college, he agreed to mail a package for $500. Although he admits
he suspected the contents were illegal, he says he didn't know it contained
681 grams of crack cocaine. He is serving 10 years.

Then there is Duane Edwards, a decorated veteran of the Persian Gulf War.
He doesn't deny selling 126 grams of crack to an undercover officer in June
1995; Washington, D.C., police found another 61 grams in his car.

The U.S. Supreme Court rejected Edwards' appeal, although his lawyers
pointed out the unfairness of a sentencing structure that treats powdered
cocaine and crack cocaine differently. Those who traffic in crack --
usually poor blacks -- get long prison terms, while those who handle the
same amounts of powdered cocaine -- usually middle-class whites -- get
lighter penalties.

Clinton owed a debt to felons like Edwards because he was too craven to
oppose that sentencing structure during his tenure. He should have used his
virtually limitless clemency authority not only to free Edwards but also to
right countless other injustices of this foolish drug war.

Such clemencies would have sparked controversy, but it would have been a
controversy over ideas instead of ethics. And history might have judged
Clinton a courageous president who stood up for the common man rather than
a money-grubber who favored the rich.