DRUG WAR'S PAIN MORE THAN DRUGS THEMSELVES

I was sitting in my cubicle sorting through business plans at my
venture capital firm years ago when I got the call that would change
my life. John Forte had been arrested on drug charges.

Many of you may know him as the Grammy-award winning producer of The
Fugees 1996 album, "The Score." But to me he was just my dear friend
from Phillips Exeter Academy. Nothing prepares you for the moment you
hear that someone you love has been arrested. The uncertainty, the
shock and your imagination takes you to the worst places.

On Sept. 6, 2001, John was convicted on conspiracy to distribute
large quantities of narcotics. He would certainly be facing at least
10 years because of the quantity involved, although he had no prior
record. The prosecutor asked for 18 because John didn't take the plea
and forced the government to go to trial. Because he had exercised
his constitutional right to a trial by jury, he was going to be
punished beyond the requirement. The judge ultimately settled on 14
years - a lifetime as far as we were concerned.

A few days ago, I received a text that left me as speechless as that
phone call did eight years ago. "I just heard from Ben. President
Bush commuted John's sentence."

This time I was driving home having just picked up my eldest son from
preschool. After confirming the news with his mother, the next hours
were filled with calls, texts,

A lot has changed. Waking up the next morning, I still couldn't quite
believe that in the coming weeks I would be reunited with my friend -
embracing him, hearing his voice, and introducing him to my two sons,
whom he has only known through letters and photos.

John's lucky. He has an amazing network of family and friends who
never forgot about him during his incarceration. He was really lucky
that one of his closest supporters, Carly Simon, was someone who
could thankfully leverage her celebrity status to lobby the right
senators and plead for his release.

It was during John's trial that I learned about mandatory minimums,
asset forfeiture, and the inherent racism of the drug war that meant
John - an African-American from Brooklyn - would likely not face a
jury of his peers when standing trial in Houston, Texas - a place he
had never set foot.

I also learned about various organizations trying to end these failed
policies that had translated into countless individuals wasting away
in our country's criminal-justice system.

The Drug Policy Alliance was one of those organizations and before
too long I found myself walking into its San Francisco office asking
how I could help - feeling the need to do anything and everything to
help my friend. That initial meeting led to a job and the most
important work I have done in my life.

As I sit here still in shock that John will soon be home, I can't
help but think about the thousands of individuals whose
well-deserving cases weren't considered for a pardon or commutation.
Those people whose family and friends will continue to wait and
wonder when they will next be able to hold their father, brother,
wife or daughter.

When will our country - our citizens and our politicians - find the
will to end this crazy drug war that has caused more pain, grief and
suffering than the drugs could ever do on their own? It's time.