Biden's State of the Union Highlights Cannabis Justice Progress, But Pardons Leave Many Still Needing Relief

Stephen Post • March 8, 2024

Last night, during his State of the Union address, President Biden made history by being the first president to promote cannabis reform in his speech. While he made the case that the state of the union is strong, thousands of people in federal prisons for victimless cannabis sentences feel the state of cannabis justice is not.


President Biden said he would “keep building trust like I have been doing by taking executive action… directing my Cabinet to review the federal classification of marijuana, expunging thousands of convictions for the mere possession, because no one should be jailed for simply using or having it on their record.”


The President was referring to his October 2022 proclamation where he pardoned all prior federal offenses of simple marijuana possession, a move that was expanded on to bring relief to an estimated 13,000 Americans. In addition, President Biden encouraged the country’s governors to use their clemency power to issue similar grants and initiated the review process that could result in cannabis being re- or de-scheduled.


Cannabis Scheduling Classification Review

In August 2023, the HHS recommended rescheduling cannabis from a Schedule I drug to a Schedule III drug and referred it to the DEA for final approval. The DEA has not yet made a decision. Rescheduling signals the reevaluation of cannabis but not the release of prisoners or relief for those with a criminal record. Only full descheduling and removing cannabis from the Controlled Substances Act could help in ending cannabis-related criminal sanctions.


This is why we at Last Prisoner Project are pushing for more effective strategies for retroactive relief. Regardless of your stance on the Biden administration’s move, this is a moment of progress for the drug policy movement. The question is, how much progress can we achieve if we push for the right reforms? In our latest memo, we explained how President Biden and Congress can leverage the rescheduling of cannabis to create broader criminal legal reform.


Federal Pardons ≠ Expungement

Language is important. President Biden has repeatedly conflated the impact of his pardons, saying that they have expunged or cleared records. Unfortunately, these pardons were limited both in scope and impact. First, very few individuals have federal possession convictions for cannabis, as the vast majority of these charges are prosecuted at the state level. Second, the president excluded a potentially substantial category of offenses by failing to extend this relief to anyone not deemed a “lawful permanent resident” or to military personnel.


Along with being limited in scope, presidential pardons do not clear or expunge criminal records. Therefore, while they provide some relief, they do not remove all collateral consequences like limited access to employment, housing, and loans. Additionally, a federal expungement mechanism doesn’t even exist.⁣ The President should urge Congress to pass a federal expungement statute that addresses federal cannabis offenses.


“Because no one should be jailed…”

While the importance of President Biden’s statement and actions should be lauded, they are still just the first step in the long road toward justice. These pardons have offered hope to thousands of individuals but left others behind. The pardons did not result in the release of any of the estimated 3,000 people still incarcerated in federal prison due to other non-violent cannabis-related convictions.


Furthermore, they do nothing for the tens of thousands of Americans incarcerated on state-level charges, where the vast majority of cannabis-related convictions happen. President Biden’s directive merely opened the door for potential federal decriminalization (if we want federally legal weed, Congress will have to get involved).


So where do we go from here?

First off, the President must wield his pardon power more broadly. He should immediately commute the sentences of those serving federal sentences for conduct involving amounts of cannabis that are far less than what state-regulated dispensaries routinely handle on a daily basis. Then, the President must do more than just call on Governors to pardon people with state-level marijuana convictions—he has to make it easy for them. That would include, but not be limited to, allowing states to access federal dollars to spin up “cannabis pardoning projects”, not dissimilar to what state officials have done in Pennsylvania.


Biden alone cannot fully legalize and regulate marijuana, but his broad clemency power does afford him the ability to free thousands of Americans languishing behind bars for the same activity many now profit from with the stroke of a pen. If he truly wants to right history and repair the harms of our nation’s failed drug war, this initial progress must be followed up with bolder action—action that would actually lead to freedom for cannabis prisoners.


Thus, today, Last Prisoner Project is sending a letter to President Biden reminding him of his clemency power and providing a list of more than 150 individuals we are working to free—people like Edwin Rubis, Ricardo Ashemeade, and Ismael Lira who have collectively served over 60 years in prison for cannabis.


Join us in urging further action on April 18 in Washington D.C. for our 420 Unity Day of Action where we will bring together the largest bi-partisan coalition of cannabis advocacy, industry, and grassroots organizers to uplift the voices of all cannabis prisoners and put pressure on President Biden and Congress to free them all and fully legalize cannabis.

By Stephen Post June 13, 2025
As families across the country come together this Father’s Day, thousands of children are spending the day without their dads—not because of violence or harm, but because their fathers remain locked away for cannabis-related convictions. In many cases, these men are serving long sentences for conduct that is now legal in much of the United States. Despite cannabis being decriminalized or fully legalized in the majority of states, the human cost of prohibition continues to devastate families—especially those in historically marginalized communities. These are fathers raising their children through prison phone calls and video visits, relying on letters and photographs to stay connected while missing birthdays, report cards, and everyday moments. Behind every sentence is a story. And behind every prison wall is a child wondering why their dad can’t come home. Daniel Longoria is one of those fathers. A U.S.-born, Hispanic man serving a 30-year sentence for a nonviolent cannabis offense, Daniel has not seen or held his children in years. The pain of distance, separation, and injustice weighs heavily on him. He shared the following: “When a Dad has not seen his kids, held his kids and who's son no longer speaks to him because I am over 1,000 miles away from home without a good cause puts such a heaviness in my heart that if I did not have God to turn to, I might have probably already ended my life. My son has now been diagnosed with Mental Behavior Disorder and has attempted suicide three different times. These things as a Father kill me inside because I was a great Dad and my kids loved me, and so Father’s Day is really hard to celebrate anymore. How can I celebrate this day, when I know my kids are struggling out there because of a plant that many states are now making millions, if not billions, of dollars off of it? I have also become a grandfather of two and have yet to meet them. I keep the faith and remain strong in the Lord. One day, I pray to be home and this nightmare be over.” Daniel’s experience is not an isolated one. At Last Prisoner Project, we work with dozens of fathers currently incarcerated for cannabis convictions—men who are missing milestones, parenting through prison walls, and holding on to hope for freedom. These dads include: Terrence Pittman – Father of five, serving a 30-year sentence Rollie Lamar – Father of six, serving an 18-year sentence Antoine Turner – Father of three, serving a 13-year sentence Malik Martin – Father of six, serving a 10-year sentence J’lyne Caldwell – Father of four, serving a 5-year sentence Vinh Nguyen – Father of two, serving a 6-year sentence Rendy Le – Father of two, serving a 5.5-year sentence Sean Scott – Father of one, serving a 5-year sentence Sean Scott’s story is particularly heartbreaking. A former Division I football player and successful real estate entrepreneur, Sean is serving over half a decade for a nonviolent marijuana offense involving nine kilograms and a legally owned firearm. While he remains proud of his past and hopeful for the future, he’s devastated to be missing out on his two-year-old son’s life. “This is my third time away,” Sean said. “And it’s extremely difficult to just watch my son grow and miss another holiday with him.” His fiancée is raising their son alone while also caring for Sean’s elderly mother. Sean is one of many fathers who should be home—not behind bars for something legal in so many parts of the country. Then there’s Rendy Le, a father of two, who reminds us what’s at stake. “You can always make money—but you can’t always make memories,” he said. “Cherish the good times.” It’s a sentiment echoed by every man we work with: time is the most precious thing they’re losing. Despite all this injustice, we also see the other side—stories of reunion, resilience, and redemption. Bryan Reid is one such example. After serving six years of a 12-year cannabis sentence, Bryan is now home and rebuilding his life with his children. “When I went in, my son was just one and my daughter was three,” Bryan told us. “I missed every first and last day of school. But now? Now I’m their sports dad, Santa, and biggest fan.” In the 15 months since his release, Bryan has made new memories—picking his kids up from school for the first time, visiting trampoline parks, and watching his oldest daughters graduate college. “Watching them grow into strong, independent women and seeing how hard they’ve worked for everything they have is nothing short of incredible,” he said. “It was an honor to stand beside them.” Bryan’s return to fatherhood, though hard-earned, is a reminder of why we fight. No one should be separated from their children over cannabis. No child should grow up wondering why their father is in prison for something now sold legally in dispensaries across the country. This Father’s Day, let’s do more than celebrate. Let’s commit to changing the laws, freeing the fathers, and reuniting families. Join us in advocating for clemency, resentencing, and restorative justice—for Daniel, Sean, Rendy, and the thousands of others still waiting to come home. Want to help this Father’s Day? Share their stories and donate to support our work! Bryan Reid Enjoying Freedom
June 12, 2025
Wednesday, October 15 at Sony Hall in New York City Notable Guests Include Carmelo Anthony, Calvin “Megatron” Johnson, Dr. Wendy & Eddie Osefo, Fab 5 Freddy, Keith Shocklee and Studdah Man of Public Enemy, and Guy Torry with a Performance by Joy Oladokun PURCHASE TICKETS & MORE INFORMATION
By Stephanie Shepard May 14, 2025
When Alexander Kirk walked out of prison on December 10th, he stepped into a world that had shifted beneath his feet. But the shift wasn’t universal. In Iowa, where he lives, cannabis is still fully illegal. Drive two minutes across the bridge into Illinois, and that same plant, once the root of his decade-long incarceration, is not only legal but a booming, billion-dollar industry. That contradiction sits at the center of Alex’s story. He’s a father, a mechanic, a reader, and a deep thinker. He’s also someone who spent more than ten years of his life behind bars for the same substance that dispensaries now sell with flashy packaging and tax revenue incentives. “It’s crazy,” he says. “One side of the bridge is legal, the other side isn’t. It’s hard to believe.” A Life Interrupted Alex’s most recent sentence—ten years in federal prison—started with a bust that was as much about timing and proximity as anything else. He was on federal probation for a previous cannabis offense. A raid at a residence he didn’t live in, but where his truck was parked, ended with a federal indictment. A tip from his child’s mother, who was angry about a disagreement over vacation plans, helped open the door for the investigation. “She made a call, gave them a tip,” Alex recalls, without bitterness, just clarity. “And that’s all it took.” The charges? Conspiracy to distribute less than 50 kilograms of marijuana—a charge that, while less than the quantities tied to large-scale trafficking operations, still carried weight under federal law. He received 80 months for the new charge and another 40 months for violating parole. The math added up to a lost decade. “I had already done ten and a half years the first time,” Alex says. “I was institutionalized. Prison became familiar. It’s where I knew how to move.” But even when you know the rules, prison isn’t easy. The hardest part for Alex wasn’t the food, the routines, or the guards—it was missing his children growing up. “I got five kids. Three of the older ones talked to me after and explained how I chose the streets over them. That was hard. But it was true.” He reflects on it now with a kind of painful honesty: “I didn’t want to pay for weed, so I started selling it. I smoked, and I hustled. Eventually, it got out of hand.” Knowledge Behind Bars Alex didn’t spend his time in prison passively. He worked in the prison garage, learning to fix cars—something he’d loved as a kid. He dove into books and self-help titles. One that stuck with him was The Voice of Knowledge by Don Miguel Ruiz. “That one changed things,” he says. “It helped me realize everyone’s got their own story they’re telling themselves. That helped me stop taking things so personally.” He also began thinking about the world beyond prison. He drafted a business plan for a youth program designed to keep teens from ending up like him. “I wanted to show them they had options,” he says. “You don’t always get that when you grow up in survival mode.” The Politics of Legalization What’s jarring about Alex’s story is not just the sentence—it’s the fact that it happened while the national conversation around cannabis was changing rapidly. By the time Alex was halfway through his sentence, multiple states had legalized recreational marijuana. Billion-dollar brands were being built. Politicians were posing for ribbon-cuttings at dispensaries. Celebrities were launching product lines. And people like Alex were still behind bars. “It’s unjust,” he says bluntly. “There’s no reason someone should be locked up for weed while companies are out here getting rich off it. The little guy got crushed. They legalized it after locking us up, but didn’t let us out.” The irony was never lost on him: that he was doing hard time for something that was now a tax revenue stream in neighboring Illinois. A Second Chance and Real Support Alex’s sentence was reduced under the First Step Act—a federal law aimed at correcting some of the harshest penalties in the justice system. Thanks to that and a longer placement in a halfway house, he was released earlier than expected. Through a friend, he reconnected with a woman from his past who introduced him to the Last Prisoner Project (LPP) . At first, he was skeptical. “We never heard about people helping folks like us. I didn’t think it was real.” But he gave it a chance—and found not just advocacy, but consistency. “Even getting emails, updates, hearing from people… that helped. It made me feel like someone gave a damn.” Through LPP, he learned that he qualifies as a social equity candidate in states with legalization programs. That means access to business licenses and support that could help him transition into the legal cannabis industry. He also learned he might qualify for early termination of his probation—a process he’s now pursuing. “I want to get into the legal side,” he says. “I know the game. I lived it. Now I want to do it right.” Life After Prison Alex is currently working in the halfway house kitchen. He’s trying to stay grounded, focused, and patient. Reentry is never easy. “You come out and everything is fast. You feel like you’re behind. But I remind myself: it’s not a race.” He’s rebuilding relationships with his kids. He’s focused on starting a business—maybe something in cannabis or something with cars. He hasn’t fully decided, but he knows he wants to help others, too.  “There’s still a lot of people inside,” he says. “And they shouldn’t be. Not for weed. If we’re really gonna legalize it, let’s legalize it for everybody. That means letting people go.” “Get to Know Their Story” Alex doesn’t want pity. He’s not asking for a handout. What he wants is what most people want: a chance to live free, to work, to be with his family. To matter. “Just because someone’s been to prison doesn’t make them violent. Doesn’t make them a bad person. Get to know their story.” Alex’s story is one of transformation, not because the system rehabilitated him, but because he did the work on his own. Now he wants to use his experience to change the system itself. He’s already started.