PLEA FOR MERCY FOR THOSE HELD UNDER DRUG LAWS

The issue for Elaine Bartlett's family and friends is fairness. No one is
absolving her of sin.

Back in 1983, when she was on welfare, with four small children, Ms.
Bartlett saw a chance to make a quick $2,500. All she had to do was carry
four ounces of cocaine from New York City to Albany and deliver them to a
contact named George.

She figured wrong. George turned out to be a police informer.

After her arrest, Ms. Bartlett made her second mistake. She insisted on a
trial, guaranteeing that, once found guilty, she would wind up where she
still is: in the Bedford Hills women's prison, serving a term of 20 years to
life.

Convicted rapists, and even many killers, do not get sentences that severe.
Not only was Ms. Bartlett never charged with a violent crime but she also
did not have a criminal record before hooking up with George.

Ignorance got her. She was not familiar with the state's tough -- many would
say harsh -- drug laws, passed in 1973 under Gov. Nelson A. Rockefeller.
They require a minimum sentence of 15 years to life for anyone convicted of
selling two ounces, or possessing four ounces, of a narcotic substance.

It makes no difference if they are kingpins or lowly couriers like Ms.
Bartlett, now 41. If anything, the Rockefeller laws have fallen hardest on
the unsavvy and on those too far down the food chain to have information to
trade for a plea bargain.

"A lot of us didn't know that going to trial is like committing suicide,"
Ms. Bartlett told people who saw her recently at Bedford Hills.

The visitors were from the Correctional Association of New York, a nonprofit
group that monitors prison conditions. They were putting together histories
of New York women who were criminal small fry, yet are serving sentences
usually associated with the John Gottis of the world.

In fairness, the heaviest Rockefeller penalties fall on only -- perhaps that
should be "only" -- some 600 inmates now in state prisons. But they are the
eye-catching tip of a large iceberg of nonviolent drug offenders who have
helped New York's prison population grow five-fold since 1973, to 70,000.

Nearly one-third, 22,000 inmates, were convicted of drug charges. They are
hardly saints; drug dealers never are. Nonetheless, thousands of them were
never convicted of a violent felony. If the big worry is public safety, they
have shown themselves to be menaces mostly to themselves. "In many cases,
it's drug addiction that drives their criminal activity," said Robert Gangi,
the Correctional Association's executive director.

That is why a startlingly broad spectrum of New Yorkers wants drastic
changes in the Rockefeller laws, to ease the harsher sentencing features and
to encourage judges to send nonviolent offenders to drug-treatment programs.

The pro-change forces include the usual run of civil libertarians and
prisoner advocates. But they also include the likes of former State Senator
John R. Dunne, a life-long Republican who was a sponsor of the drug laws,
and Warren B. Anderson, the former State Senate Republican leader. Not your
basic bleeding hearts.

P LAIN and simple, Mr. Dunne said, the laws have not solved New York's drug
problem and have "filled our jails with thousands of inmates who'd be better
served in treatment programs." The pro-change ranks used to include another
Republican, George E. Pataki. That was when he first became Governor. But
now he is almost completely silent on the subject, leaving it to aides to
suggest he is interested mainly in tinkering around the edges of the laws.
Perhaps it is pure coincidence that he has his eye on national office and
may not want to give any hint of being soft on crime.

Earlier this year, it looked as though genuine change was possible. But
lawmakers like Assemblyman Jeffrion L. Aubry of Queens, who wants to give
judges more sentencing freedom, are not so sure now. Albany, you may have
noticed, has slipped into its familiar political coma thanks to the budget
deadlock.

Even so, relatives of jailed drug offenders plan to journey there next week
to urge change. One of Elaine Bartlett's sons, Robert Pascall, 23, said he
would like to join them, but he may not be able to take off from work.

He visited his mother last week, Mr. Pascall said, and they discussed the
issue. "I know she's still hoping," he said. "But she don't expect much."