AN UNFAIR JUSTICE SYSTEM

HEY! Psssst. Over here, Pal.

Are you, by any chance, a major drug dealer who has gotten nailed with
the goods?

Are you facing life imprisonment in a federal prison without parole
because of get-tough anti-drug legislation? Are you singing the blues
at the prospect of life caged up with a wife named Bruno?

Relax, pal. You can be out of jail in five years or less. You might
even be able to walk out of the courtroom scot free.

All you have to do is snitch. Rat. Be a stoolie.

The federal government pays millions of dollars a year to stoolies
and, thanks to a loophole in Congress' get-tough crime legislation,
you may be on your way back to the streets. Just find some poor sap to
take your place.

A little history, first. When the death of Boston Celtics pick Len
Bias set off a national frenzy over crack cocaine back in 1986,
Congress passed tough mandatory sentencing laws aimed at drug
traffickers. First-time offenders who previously had been viewed as
minor offenders could now get 10 years to life in prison without
parole, even if they played only a minor role in assisting the drug
trafficking or transaction.

Then, in 1988, Congress passed an amendment that calls for the lowest
person in a drug "conspiracy" to be punished with the maximum sentence
designed for a kingpin.

Of course, judges kicked up a fuss. Mandatory sentencing took away
their discretion. They could no longer give a break to a young,
first-time offender who showed promise of going straight. As early as
1991, the Congressional Sentencing Commission criticized mandatory
minimums. Most of the judges it surveyed called them "manifestly unjust."

But what do judges know? Congress was on the warpath.

But cheer up, Bubba. The new sentencing laws left a way out for
defendants who want to avoid receiving the mandatory minimum sentence.
All you gotta do is rat on someone else.

And, get this: You won't even need evidence. No piles of cocaine or
hashish needed on the evidence table. As long as the prosecutors
believe you sound convincing, your testimony alone can get someone
indicted and even convicted, even if it is not true.

Of course, if you really are a big-time drug dealer, I am not telling
you news. The loopholes of the law are well known by those who make a
living at this sort of thing. For the rest of us, there are programs
like "Snitch," a documentary on PBS "Frontline" that was broadcast
recently.

"Snitch" shows self-described lying informants and their victims,
male, female, young and old, white and black. It shows drug
traffickers who admit to receiving money, a lighter sentence or
complete freedom, simply for lying about someone else. It shows the
families that have been ruined by snitches and the get-tough
politicians who piously justify the laws they passed.

"The reason we have mandatory minimums is because of these judges we
have in our society who are soft on crime," Sen. Orrin Hatch, R-Utah,
explains. Something must be done to get at the drug traffickers who
are killing our kids, he said.

Fair enough, but what about the big fish that have been let go, just
because they turned "snitch" on the little fish, turning the law's
intent on its head?

Since "Snitch" is told mostly from the defendants' point of view, we
can quibble over just how innocent or redeemable some of these victims
really were. But even Sen. Hatch and others who wanted most
passionately to get tough on the drug crimes that are killing our kids
should be appalled at how obscenely Congress' good intentions have
been twisted and abused.

Little fish are getting jailed while big fish walk free. A 1995
Sentencing Commission report found that only 11.2 percent of drug
trafficking defendants are big-timers, while 52 percent were low-level
street dealers and couriers.

In one such case, a college football player was paid to drive several
fellows, all of whom had criminal records, in a drug transaction. His
passengers laid it all on the college boy, who had no criminal record.
He received three life sentences with no chance of parole. His
passengers who turned snitch received reduced sentences or, in one
case, freedom.

One of the jurors, who was not in court for the sentencing, appears to
be visibly shocked in the documentary to learn from producer Bikel
that the boy had been given such a stiff sentence. "I had no idea," he
says, shaking his head. "I wish I didn't know now that he had gotten
life."

No, a lot of us wish we didn't know a lot of things. We'd sleep better
at night.

The war on drugs, like every war, has inflicted tragic collateral
damage on many lives. It is too late to fix all of the lives. It is
not too late to fix the law.