TIME IN PRISON IS WORTH TALKING ABOUT

During the year since I last visited with Mary Leah Atkinson, her
husband of 42 years died and her imprisoned daughter was transferred
from Lexington to Danbury, Conn., via Oklahoma and Georgia.

But the one thing that hasn't changed is the one thing she has worked
hard to overturn: Mandatory minimum sentences are still the law of the
land.

Atkinson is the Central Kentucky coordinator for Families Against
Mandatory Minimums, a non-profit organization founded in 1991 that has
35 chapters in 25 states.

Atkinson's daughter Leah Jean Atkinson, 39, was sentenced to a
mandatory five-year prison sentence after being caught in a drug
sting. Two more years were added to that sentence because she left the
state without permission while awaiting sentencing.

Mandatory minimum drug sentences were approved by Congress at the
height of the country's war on drugs in 1986 and tightened in 1988 to
include drug conspiracies and gun offenses.

The prison population doubled in the 1980s and doubled again in the
1990s due in no little part to the longer sentences.

The simple act of taking a message for a drug sale or-driving a drug
dealer to a sale makes a person a conspirator, regardless of that
person's awareness of the situation. Conspirators can face the same
charges as dealers.

Often those conspirators are the girlfriends or wives of drug
dealers.

In 2002, 54.7 percent of all prisoners in the federal system were
serving time for drug offenses. In comparison, 3.3 percent of that
population was in prison for murder, aggravated assault and
kidnapping, and 11.6 percent were imprisoned on weapons, explosives
and arson charges.

Additionally, women sometimes serve longer sentences than the husbands
or boyfriends who actually dealt drugs. See, the dealers could become
informers, which could mean lighter sentences. The more you know, the
more you tell, the less time you serve.

That's what Mary Leah Atkinson is fighting to end. In essence, the
mandatory sentencing laws took discretion out of the hands of judges
who are paid to do just that: judge.

"We need to put the mandatory minimums in the judges' hands," Atkinson
said, "and parole needs to be put back into the federal system. Most
people don't realize the federal prison system has no parole."

Plus, she said, the same budgetary cuts that have decreased the amount
of money available for health care and education are also negatively
affecting programs that could help rehabilitate inmates.

"And more and more people are being sent to prison," she said, and
they are receiving fewer services.

Atkinson is not alone in her fight against those laws.

Calling the laws unwise and unjust, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Anthony
Kennedy last year asked Congress to end mandatory minimum sentences.
He said all they do is jam prisons with young people who lose hope.

Supreme Court Justice Stephen Breyer has made similar
comments.

Also, presidential hopefuls Gary Nolan, a Libertarian, and Dennis
Kucinich, a Democrat, are in favor of rescinding the laws.

So, despite the sadness Atkinson has experienced this past year, she
will tell anyone willing to listen just how unfair mandatory minimum
sentences are, not just for her daughter, but for everyone.

Call (859) 223-7304 and set up a time for her to speak to your
group.

You, too, can be added to the growing list of folks who are taking a
second look at the law.