PRISON-HAPPY U.S. MUST RECONSIDER USE OF MERCY

When Susan LeFevre was 19, she was arrested for selling drugs to an
undercover officer in Saginaw, Mich. It was 1974, and she was a
first-time offender. She believed that if she pleaded guilty, she
would probably get probation.

She was wrong. After her guilty plea, she was sentenced to 10 to 20
years in state prison.

One year later, LeFevre hopped a fence and fled the prison. She moved
to California and adopted her middle name, Marie.

Years passed. She eventually married and raised three children,
dedicating herself to her family and charitable causes. She never
committed another offense.

Her husband and children knew nothing about her youthful conviction or
prison sentence - until April, when, 32 years after her escape, she
was arrested and extradited to Michigan.

LeFevre's lawyers have asked the judge to set aside her original drug
sentence, but the local district attorney has filed new charges
against her for escaping prison.

If convicted, LeFevre could be sentenced to an additional five years
on top of her drug sentence. It is almost certain that Michigan Gov.
Jennifer Granholm will have to decide whether to commute LeFevre's
sentence.

Supporters of clemency contend that locking up Marie LeFevre would
destroy her family and serve no purpose, as she already has done what
the original sentencing judge urged her to do back in 1975: turn her
life around.

Opponents argue that commutation would send the wrong message and
reward LeFevre's escape from prison. Both sides miss the bigger picture.

Sitting in her cell in Plymouth, Mich., LeFevre is one of two million
Americans behind bars. Many of them, like LeFevre, are nonviolent drug
offenders. The staggering number of American prisoners has made the
United States the world's leading incarcerator. This nation locks up a
greater number of offenders for longer periods than any other nation.

In 1960, 330,000 people were behind bars in the United States. Today,
the number is 2.3 million.

Moreover, largely because of the "war on drugs," the increase in
women's incarceration in recent years has far outstripped the increase
in men's.

How did we scale the soaring peaks of mass incarceration? The decline
of mercy has played a leading role.

Consider:

Police departments have instituted mandatory arrest and
"zero-tolerance" policies that have swept up many low-level offenders.

Prosecutors' offices have given instructions, such as those issued by
a series of Republican attorneys general, to charge only the most
serious provable offenses, no matter what the circumstances.

Juries have convicted defendants on charges without any inkling of the
sentencing consequences.

The ability of sentencing judges to respond to cases on their
individual merits has been sharply curtailed or destroyed by
sentencing guidelines and mandatory minimum sentences.

One might think that the courts and the Constitution provide a
safeguard against excessive punishment; after all, the Eighth
Amendment promises protection against "cruel and unusual punishments."
But the Supreme Court has interpreted this provision to require great
deference to state legislatures.

The court, for example, has upheld sentences of 25 years to life and
50 years to life - imposed under California's "three-strikes" law -
for repeat offenders who, respectively, stole three golf clubs from a
pro shop and shoplifted nine videotapes from a Kmart.

An exit strategy from this upward spiral of incarceration lies in
revitalizing the exercise of mercy. Yes, mercy carries the risk of
arbitrariness and discrimination.

Soccer moms such as Marie LeFevre may seem to be more appealing
defendants than many others who have committed nonviolent crimes. But
mass incarceration has had an enormous impact on poor and minority
communities.

Only by reconsidering individual cases and questioning the necessity
and desirability of punishment can we turn back from the prison state
that we have become.