This Independence Day, as people across the country celebrate with fireworks and cookouts, the Last Prisoner Project is honoring those still waiting for their freedom: the individuals incarcerated for cannabis.

While corporations profit from legal cannabis—an industry worth billions—thousands remain behind bars for doing the very same thing. People are serving egregious sentences as a result of an outdated and unforgiving legal system. Even after release, many still carry the burden of a criminal record that makes it nearly impossible to secure jobs, housing, or a second chance at life. They served their time, yet continue to pay the price for conduct that is now legal in over half the country.

Independence Day is meant to celebrate freedom, democracy, and justice. But this holiday also presents an opportunity to confront how our government continues to fall short of those ideals.

Hector Ruben McGurk, currently serving a life sentence for a non-violent cannabis offense, reflects on the injustice of his case: “Most inmates and staff who interact with me are surprised by my demeanor and social skills, especially considering I’m serving a life sentence for cannabis. I have zero security points and am classified as minimum risk. The person I’ve always been is clearly reflected in my prison record—but not at all in my PSI report. If you placed the two side by side, it would seem like they describe two entirely different people.”

“Justice, to me, would mean a truly fair federal trial process—one where the courts do not allow the intentional use of misleading or false information, including in Pre-sentence Investigation reports, to distort the outcome. In conspiracy cases, circumstantial evidence should be backed by tangible proof—not just the testimony of government cooperating witnesses who have something to gain, especially when the consequences can be decades-long sentences.”

Daniel Martinez, who has served 14 years of a 30-year cannabis sentence, offers this vision of justice: “First and foremost, justice would mean being released from prison immediately. Beyond that, it would mean having the opportunity to rebuild my life by doing what I love—growing cannabis—through a government grant or small business loan. I can’t get back the years I’ve already lost behind bars, so I choose to focus on my future. That, to me, would be justice.”

Rafael Hernandez Carillo, who has already served 17 years of a life sentence in a maximum-security federal prison for cannabis, shares the heavy toll of his incarceration: “I’ve missed my children growing up. Now they have children of their own. That’s 17 years of missed birthdays, Christmases, and milestones. The pain, the anxiety, the depression I’ve endured—and still endure every day—can’t be erased. When I try to imagine what could possibly make up for all of that, I come up blank. I’ve lost an entire lifetime. What’s hardest is opening a magazine like Entrepreneur and seeing so-called ‘pioneers’ of the cannabis industry being praised for doing exactly what I’m serving a life sentence for. That’s a hard pill to swallow.

I know I made mistakes. I take full ownership of that. My only prayer now is that the courts, the public—everyone—will recognize that 17 years is enough. Nothing can give me back the time I’ve lost. But being allowed to go home to my family would be a good place to start. It might not be full justice, but if I can be there for my grandchildren in ways I couldn’t be for my kids, that would be a blessing.

I just pray that one day I’ll be given a second chance—to be seen for who I am now, not just the mistakes I made as a younger man trying to survive. And if sharing my story can help change laws or bring freedom to others living through the same injustice, then that would mean even more to me than my own freedom. A life lost behind bars is a tragedy. But a life spent in prison for a non-violent marijuana offense—that’s not just lost, it’s stolen.”

Robert Deals, another incarcerated individual, emphasizes the need for accountability:
“Justice to me, personally, would mean immediate release from this bondage—and at least ten years of reparations for my family. We’ve been cheated out of tens of thousands of dollars by at least five dishonest lawyers, and it’s time for some form of accountability and repair.

One thing I want people to know is about the vicious and unethical tactics allowed here in Arizona—entrapment being one of them. There’s a big difference between selling something to undercover cops and the cops bringing drugs to sell to you—then abducting, capturing, and arresting you. From what I understand, this kind of tactic is illegal in most other states.

I also want people to understand just how unjust and cruel the Arizona courts have been toward me—and others. The judge who sentenced me did so twice, even though I had already signed a plea deal. They did that just to create a prior conviction they could use against me. That same judge then refused to give me credit for 21 months I had already served in county jail. That kind of denial is virtually unheard of.”

While America celebrates its independence, we also call attention to the veterans who remain incarcerated for cannabis. These four veterans served 31 years in the military. Now, they are serving a combined 55 years behind bars for a plant that is legal in 24 states and the District of Columbia:

• Deshawn Reilly, 46, served eight years in the Marines. He is now serving a 17-year sentence for cannabis-related offenses in Georgia.
• Robert Deals, 57, served 11 years in the Air Force. He is now serving an 18-year sentence in Arizona.
• Brent Crawford, 41, served six years in the Air Force. He is now serving a 15-year federal sentence for a victimless cannabis offense.
• Kristopher Fetter, 37, served six years in the Army. He is now serving a 5-year sentence for marijuana possession with intent to distribute in New York.

Deshawn Reilly shared from behind bars: “I would like to thank Last Prisoner Project for all the support. This eleven-year journey was a learning experience. I want to express it as a part of my life path—meaning I had to go through these terrible times as a crest in a wave going down. Prior to my incarceration, I was on the crest of the upside of the wave. Marijuana will eventually become legal. The plant has so many cures and powers to it the powers that be want to suppress it. To make a long story short, I use universal laws to train my mind to stay on the positive side and turn this terrible situation into something positive. Your help is greatly appreciated.”

These are the stories that expose the hypocrisy of cannabis prohibition. These are the people the Last Prisoner Project fights for every day.

Freedom must be more than a slogan. It must be a reality for everyone—including those still incarcerated for cannabis and those struggling to rebuild their lives after prison.

This 4th of July, we renew our call... FREE THEM ALL!