LPP Urges USSC To Exclude Prior Cannabis Possession Offenses from Criminal History Scores

Stephen Post • July 24, 2024

Read our full comment with citations here.


United States Sentencing Commission

One Columbus Circle, N.E., Suite 2-500

Washington, D.C. 20002

Attn: Public Affairs – Priorities Comment


Dear United States Sentencing Commissioners,


The Last Prisoner Project (“LPP”) submits the following comments to the United States Sentencing Commission (“the Commission” or “USSC) in response to the Commission’s request for comment on possible policy priorities for the 2024-2025 amendment cycle. LPP commends the Commission for taking steps to better reflect the current legal and policy landscape surrounding cannabis activity in the United States, and specifically the recent amendment #821 C, which allows for a downward departure to a criminal history score for a prior cannabis possession conviction. We would like to take this opportunity to urge the Commission to further amend the sentencing guidelines to exclude prior cannabis possession offenses from criminal history scores entirely, so that they are not used to increase criminal sentences for subsequent offenses.


We also want to thank the Commission for clarifying via Amendment #814 that retroactive changes to law can be considered as extraordinary and compelling factors for a sentence reduction motion under section 3582(c)(1)(A) in the case of an “unusually long sentence”. Given the widespread and significant changes to the legality and public perception of cannabis, we would, however, ask that the Commission not limit the use of a retroactive change in law to individuals serving at least ten years of imprisonment.


We also would like to address the Commission’s oversight of drug sentencing and the Drug Quantity and Drug Conversion Tables (hereinafter, the Tables). Specifically, we urge the Commission to conduct a complete review and revision of the Tables.


Sentencing Guidelines Should Reflect Current Notions of Criminality


In your 2023 publication “Weighing the Impact of Simple Possession of Marijuana” the Commission noted the shifting sentiment towards cannabis at both the state and federal level and the Commission again noted these changes in law when promulgating amendment #821 Part C. Today, 24 states and the District of Columbia have fully legalized cannabis for adult-use while only three states have no public cannabis access program.1 These state-legal marketplaces generate billions of dollars not just in sales, but also in tax revenue for these jurisdictions, all while cannabis remains federally illegal and the criminal status of cannabis continues to lead to hundreds of thousands of arrests each year.


Now, the federal government is poised to reclassify cannabis–following the Health and HumanServices Department’s recommendation in late 2023, the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) recently announced its decision to reschedule cannabis to Schedule III. This move demonstrates the federal government’s shifting policy approach to cannabis as a less harmful substance with medicinal benefits.


In conjunction with prospective changes to cannabis laws, local, state and federal political leaders are increasingly taking concrete action to mitigate the past harms caused by decades of cannabis prohibition. In October of 2022, President Biden pardoned all federal simple marijuana possession offenses and formally encouraged state governors to do the same, an action he expanded upon in late 2023.5 Officials have followed suit, as evidenced by former Oregon Governor Kate Brown pardoning over 45,000 individuals with marijuana convictions and Connecticut Governor Ned Lamont announcing the automatic clearing of over 44,000 cannabis records. City officials in places like New Orleans and Birmingham have also taken steps to pardon municipal marijuana possession offenses.8 These actions signify that, beyond the shifting legal landscape for cannabis use, public perception of cannabis has also changed. The vast majority of Americans, including the sitting President, no longer feel that cannabis use is something that should be criminalized. We have changed our approach to criminalizing cannabis, and thus, the US Sentencing Guidelines must be adjusted to reflect this current climate. Continuing to punish individuals for an activity that is legal for a majority of Americans does not comport with our country’s shared values of justice and fairness. It is only fitting that any marijuana offense, including but not

limited to simple possession, should be eliminated from consideration as a factor in calculating

an individual’s criminal history score for sentencing purposes.


Removing Marijuana Offenses from Criminal History Scores will Result in More Equitable

Sentencing


When one considers the well-documented racial disparities found in the enforcement of cannabis laws, it is clear that excluding marijuana offenses from criminal history scores will also result in a more equitable approach to sentencing.


In 2013, a report from the American Civil Liberties Union found that, despite virtually indistinguishable rates of cannabis consumption amongst racial groups, Black residents of the United States were 3.73 times as likely to be arrested for marijuana possession than their white counterparts. A 2020 follow-up to the ACLU report found that, despite several states legalizing or decriminalizing cannabis, these racial disparities remained essentially unchanged. Data indicates that these racial disparities appear to persist in conviction rates and sentencing. As sentencing guidelines are meant to be considered objectively and reflect an accurate prediction of an individual's criminality, removing marijuana convictions from individuals’ criminal history scores would be a step toward creating a more equitable sentencing process. In addition, excluding marijuana convictions from consideration altogether is also in line with the current administration’s position on the criminality of cannabis use. As President Biden stated, “sending people to prison for possessing marijuana has upended too many lives and incarcerated people for conduct that many states no longer prohibit.”13 If permanently enacted, this proposed amendment would help alleviate, or at the very least not further exacerbate, the racial disparities in our criminal legal system.


It’s also worth noting that the availability of avenues through which individuals can clear marijuana possession offenses from their records is highly dependent on the jurisdiction in which the offense took place. As noted above, many executive offices (whether it be the president, state governors, or mayors) have pardoned all simple marijuana possession offenses. In some jurisdictions, like Oregon, that pardon results in automatic record clearance. However, in most jurisdictions, pardoned offenses still appear on an individual’s criminal record, perpetuating barriers to employment, housing, and educational opportunities (to name just a few of the

collateral consequences accompanying even a low-level marijuana conviction).


Although several states have established methods for individuals to expunge or remove previous marijuana-related convictions, disparities still exist among those who can access this relief successfully. Clearing one's record can be overwhelming, especially for individuals lacking a legal background, technical knowledge, or easy access to criminal records and court filings. Eligible individuals with language barriers or illiteracy also struggle to clear their records. Consequently, race and socioeconomic status often determine who can overcome these difficulties and access record clearing and expungement. Unfortunately, most eligible individuals do not complete these record-clearing processes.


This disparity in accessing record-clearing mechanisms for marijuana offenses is yet another inequality present in the Commission’s current guidelines, which include marijuana possession offenses in criminal history scores. It’s unfair that those who, for the reasons named above, could not clear their records successfully are subject to harsher sentencing ranges.


A Marijuana Conviction is Not a Valid Predictor of Future Criminality


The US Sentencing Guidelines Manual states that a “defendant with a record of prior criminal behavior is more culpable than a first offender and thus deserving of greater punishment.” The manual goes on to note that because “[r]epeated criminal behavior is an indicator of a limited likelihood of successful rehabilitation,” an individual’s criminal history must be considered during the sentencing phase “[t]o protect the public from further crimes of the…defendant.”


In the case of a simple marijuana possession offense, however, there is little correlation between cannabis use and criminality. According to a national study of recidivism, individuals convicted of drug offenses have significantly lower recidivism rates than those convicted of violent or property-related crimes. Additionally, a 2020 report authored by the Commission found that individuals convicted of marijuana-related offenses have one of the lowest rates of recidivism when compared to other drug offenses. In one of the few available studies on recidivism rates for individuals where drug possession (as opposed to trafficking) was their primary offense, the rate of recidivism was incredibly low as compared to national averages.


In short, as there is no evidence that marijuana possession convictions are valid predictors of

future criminal behavior (and thus do not endanger public safety), they should be excluded from

individuals’ criminal history score calculations.


Changes to Laws and Attitudes Surrounding Cannabis Also Warrant an Amendment to the Commission’s Compassionate Release Policy Statement


In promulgating Amendment #814 the Commission described the circumstances in which an intervening change in the law can qualify as an extraordinary and compelling factor warranting compassionate release. The Commission clarified that such changes to the law may be considered if an applicant otherwise meets the factors warranting a sentence reduction or that such a change on its own could constitute an extraordinary and compelling factor if the case involves an “unusually long sentence” and the applicant has served at least ten years of a term of imprisonment.


As the Commission noted in its Amendment: “One of the expressed purposes of section 3582(c)(1)(A) when it was enacted in 1984 was to provide a narrow avenue for judicial relief from unusually long sentences. Having abolished parole in the interest of certainty in sentencing, Congress recognized the need for such judicial authority.” Thus, compassionate release serves a critical function in providing relief where it is clear that the length of a term of imprisonment does not comport with modern laws and attitudes surrounding the criminal activity at hand.


As described above, we now face a situation where thousands of federal prisoners remainincarcerated for activity that has been broadly legalized at the state level and that many are now profiting from. Our federal government has now also changed its stance on the dangerousness of cannabis and has acknowledged that cannabis has medicinal benefits. Given these circumstances, an individual serving a nine-year sentence for a controlling cannabis offense can credibly argue that their sentence is “unusually long” for the offense they are sentenced under. While cannabis may represent the offense that has seen the most pronounced change to its legal status in recent history, it is an all too common occurrence in American history that our beliefs, sentiments, and even scientific consensus evolve faster than our laws and their associated criminal penalties. As the remaining mechanism for relief for federal prisoners incarcerated under unjust laws, the compassionate release factors should be applied broadly enough not to exclude individuals whose sentences are unjust and excessive, but may not meet the ten year requirement, even if no other compassionate release factors apply.


Changes to Drug Laws More Broadly Warrant a Reevaluation of the Drug Quantity and Drug Conversion Tables


While over fifty years of ongoing political and educational messaging demonizing drug use and

stigmatizing drug users has failed to realize a drug-free world, the underlying racial and social motivations have succeeded. Since its inception, the drug war has been overwhelmingly enforced in BIPOC communities, especially low-income ones, causing the country’s inflated prison population to be disproportionately comprised of Black, Latino, and Indigenous people. It has led to lengthy terms of imprisonment for relatively low-level offenses and for those with little to no criminal history, which perpetuates cycles of trauma and violence. The same conditions have fueled and perpetuated violence internationally and in inner-city neighborhoods nationwide, and have led to increases in concentration, adulteration, and toxicity of the substances themselves.


An increasingly multi-partisan coalition is calling for change. In 2017, the USSC published a report describing, in part, how drug-related mandatory minimum penalties have been "applied more broadly than Congress may have anticipated.” Such non-discretionary sentencing fails to promote public health. Instead, it has the effect of incarcerating people for longer amounts of time than the evidence shows deters further criminal activity.


While reversing and mending the harms of the war on drugs will take effort from people across the government and political spectrum, one way to shift policy in a more humane direction–and in alignment with contemporary evidence–is to go to one of the current roots of the problem: drug sentencing. The Drug Quantity and Drug Conversion Tables, set by the USSC, are used as a benchmark for federal drug sentencing and are often referenced or relied on in state sentencing decisions. Bringing these Tables into alignment with modern research about drug risks and harms would lead to more accuracy in sentencing decisions, which would both alleviate some of the socioeconomic harms of the drug war and save public funds, without risking public safety.


Given that the Tables presently translate quantities of various illegal drugs into their marijuana-equivalent quantities for the purpose of determining relative harm, it would be appropriate to utilize the multi-agency review already happening with cannabis to review and update the tables. Additional research about other historically stigmatized substances should also inform this review. The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) granted a breakthrough therapy designation to MDMA-assisted therapy in 2017, and again granted two breakthrough therapy designations for psilocybin in treatment-resistant depression in 2018 and major depressive disorder in 2019. In 2024, the FDA extended the same status to an LSD formula for the treatment of generalized anxiety disorder. The FDA is also reviewing a new drug application for MDMA-assisted therapy, for which they will likely have a decision by August 2024.


Meanwhile, there has been growing bipartisan support to fund clinical trials exploring the use of psychedelics to treat traumatic brain injuries, depression, military sexual trauma, and post-traumatic stress disorder in veterans. For instance, in the 2024 National Defense Authorization Act, the Department of Defense authorized funding a study on psychedelics for the treatment of PTSD in military members. In March 2024, the Department of Veterans Affairs passed a budget allocating $20 million for clinical trials for MDMA and psilocybin. The National Institutes of Health has also opened funding opportunities for studying psychedelic-assisted therapy for chronic pain in older adults. This shift in the evidence base, and concurrent changes in federal policy, reflects an increasing willingness and mandate to reevaluate long-held assumptions about controlled substances, paving the way for more drug policies driven by data rather than dogma.


Alongside the evidence and government agencies, recent polls have found an overwhelming majority of American voters are also eager for a new approach to drug laws and responses to drug-related offenses. Over 60% support ending the War on Drugs; “eliminating criminal penalties for drug possession and reinvesting drug enforcement resources into treatment and addiction services”; repealing mandatory minimum sentences for drug crimes; and commuting, or reducing, the sentences of people incarcerated for drugs. Representing one of “the few truly bipartisan issues in American politics,” the “breadth and depth of support for change suggests that there are few issues for which the nation’s laws so misrepresent the preferences of the American people as for drugs.”


Despite these widespread calls for evidence-based policies and new approaches for regulating controlled substances, the Tables remain based on outdated medical, scientific, and sociological information. Not only do they recommend disproportionately severe penalties, they have no basis in the actual risks posed by each substance, the realities of the illicit drug market, criminal culpability, or other public safety factors. Congress and this Commission have already acknowledged that the Tables have resulted in outrageous sentencing disparities for otherwise similar behaviors, at least in the context of crack versus powder cocaine. For the Tables to be more in line with the Controlled Substances Act’s stated process for regulation, there is a serious need for the USSC to re-evaluate sentences based on “current scientific knowledge regarding the drug or other substance,” potentially positive “pharmacological effect[s],”42 and likelihood of misuse and dependence.


Any inquiry should take into account ways harm reduction approaches, public education, and proven methods of avoiding harm and use among minors can reduce the likelihood of misuses and dependence. Revising the Tables would likely lead to a reduction in resources spent on enforcement, prosecution, and punishment. Those resources could then be reinvested to bolster effective harm reduction and public education efforts.


Last Prisoner Project and countless other organizations across the political spectrum and around the country are coming together to organize and inform the USSC and the general public about the importance of this issue. The United States is long overdue for sentencing reform, and the urgency lies especially with drug-related offenses. As a complete review and revision of the Tables will likely require the USSC to conduct a multi-year study, the Commission must take an important first step to initiate such an inquiry now.


Conclusion


Like all components of criminal sentencing, criminal history score calculations should be proportionate to the offense and no greater than necessary to further the goal of public safety. Additionally, sentencing guidelines should be equitable and structured in a way that works to reduce racial disparities. By removing prior cannabis offenses from criminal history scores and allowing for changes to cannabis laws to be used as the sole basis for an extraordinary and compelling justification for release under 3582(c)(1)(A) the Commission can better achieve its goals of sentencing policies that align with fairness and justice.


In addition, we encourage the Commission to commit to conducting a reevaluation of the drug quantity and drug conversion tables more broadly given the available scientific and medical data.


We appreciate the opportunity to comment on this request and thank the Commission for its time and consideration.

Sixteen Years and Counting: The Story of Parker Coleman

By Stephanie Shepard • October 26, 2026
Parker Coleman should be thinking about what comes next. He should have been thinking about how he would celebrate his recent 41st birthday, spending time with his family, building a career, falling in love, making plans, and living the life that so many of us take for granted. Instead, Parker is still in prison. He has spent nearly his entire adult life behind bars, serving a 60-year federal sentence for a nonviolent cannabis conspiracy. He was in his early twenties when his life changed forever. Today, the plant at the center of his case is legal or decriminalized in much of the country, and a multibillion-dollar cannabis industry has grown around it. But Parker is still serving 60 years. And perhaps the hardest part is that every one of his codefendants has gone home. His codefendant, Corvain Cooper, received a pardon from President Trump in January 2021 after serving a life sentence. Another codefendant, Clyde "Monroe" Wilburn, spent 14 years as a fugitive before turning himself in. Within days, prosecutors moved to dismiss his indictment, and the same judge who sentenced Parker released Wilburn. Parker remains in prison. Still waiting. The Day Everything Changed Parker remembers the day his life changed with extraordinary clarity. He was at a car dealership picking up his car after repairs when federal agents came after him. "They jumped on the hood of my vehicle with guns," Parker recalled. "My mouth was busted from slamming against the steering wheel. I thought it was a robbery at first." When he tried to run, an ICE agent who had arrested him two weeks earlier on the same charges tripped him. The agent told him that if he made a phone call and cooperated, he would not have to go to prison. Parker refused. That decision, made in the back of a car behind a cafeteria off Independence Boulevard, would shape the next sixteen years of his life. A Family That Never Stopped Standing With Him For Parker, incarceration has never been something that affected only him. As his case moved forward, his codefendants began cooperating with prosecutors, including making statements about his younger sister and wearing a wire on his mother. At one point, Parker was faced with the possibility that his own mother could be indicted as prosecutors tried to pressure him into cooperating. He remembers telling her the news while he was being held at the Mecklenburg County Jail in Charlotte, North Carolina. Her response is something Parker has carried with him ever since. "Son, you know I love you to death," she told him. "Fight for your life. We're here with you. But what we will not support is you telling on others to get out of prison on account of my name. You choose to live a certain way. So you take what comes with that." It was one of the hardest conversations of his life. And it says a lot about the family Parker comes from. "I couldn't imagine the woman who birthed me sending me letters from prison to prison over ghost weed," he said. "That's just unfathomable." Sixteen Years of Moments He Can't Get Back The true cost of Parker's sentence is not measured in years alone. It is measured in birthdays. In family dinners missed. In relationships that never had the chance to grow. In watching the people you love get older through letters, phone calls, and photographs instead of being there beside them. Parker hasn't seen his parents in more than a decade because of their health issues. The last time he saw his niece, she was three years old. She turns thirteen next month. He has watched from behind prison walls as his parents moved through their forties and into their sixties. His grandmother, who he says wants nothing more than to see him have a child of his own, will turn 81 this year. And then there are the people he will never get back. Parker lost his Nana, an uncle, and an aunt while incarcerated. They were people who helped raise him while his father served overseas in the Marines. Those are the losses that don't show up on a sentencing document. When Parker was asked what prison has taken from him, his answer was simple: "Time and opportunity to be successful." He talked about the relationships he never had the chance to build: romantic relationships, business relationships, friendships. A life interrupted before it had a chance to fully begin. He Doesn't Call It Hope When asked how he has held onto hope after sixteen years in prison, Parker offered an answer that sounds surprising at first. "I hate hope," he said. "I don't hope for anything." For Parker, hope can feel like waiting for someone else to decide when your life gets to begin again. "Hope is cruel, basically pacifying an issue you know is not going to be okay," he explained. "In my reality, I know I'll be out soon. So I move with conviction toward that goal." That conviction has carried him through a level 7 maximum-security prison without allowing incarceration to define who he is. He has watched people around him lose themselves to the trauma of prison. "A lot of people, under my circumstances, have given up," he said. "They might be physically here, but they're gone mentally," Parker says he has fought to remain himself. "My mental strength hasn't allowed me to succumb to the trauma we see on an everyday basis. My morals and principles are still the same as before incarceration." A World That Changed Without Him Perhaps one of the most painful parts of Parker's story is the world he has watched change from inside his cell. The same cannabis plant that became the foundation of his sentence has become a legitimate business, a source of jobs, investment, and wealth. Companies built around cannabis are publicly traded. Entrepreneurs are building careers and businesses around an industry that did not exist in its current form when Parker was sentenced. He knows that world could have been his, too. "I probably would've been a part of one of those billion-dollar companies if I were free," Parker said. "I was doing my research thoroughly on government taxes and the parameters of the legal weed business before incarceration." Instead, he is still serving a 60-year sentence. And to people who legally purchase cannabis today, Parker has a message: "They could've been me at any given time, depending on their location in the United States." That is the part of Parker's story that is easy to miss when we talk about cannabis legalization only in terms of laws, markets, and tax revenue. There are people whose lives were permanently changed by the same prohibition that the country is now moving away from. Parker is one of them. What Parker Wants Us to Remember Parker has thought about what he would say to the judge who sentenced him. His words are not complicated. "All of us make mistakes. I haven't made 60 years' worth of mistakes." Then he asks a question that has stayed with him for years: "I could've been your son or grandson, and the chances you give your family, the amount of time you gave me, are a little close to none. So what did I do for you to throw away my life when violent offenders come in and out of prison every day, even for rape and senseless killings? What justifies my sentence?" It is a question about proportionality. But it is also a question about whether a person should be defined forever by the worst thing they have been convicted of. Parker does not believe his life should end where his sentence began. Parker Still Believes His Story Is Not Over After sixteen years, Parker could understandably believe that his story has already been written. He doesn't. He looks at what happened to his codefendants and sees evidence that change is possible. "I have full faith my story is by far not over," he said. When Parker comes home, his dreams are not extravagant. He wants to see his family. He wants the opportunity to build a life. He wants to be "the voice for people who can't speak for themselves." And he wants to take the support he has received from people who never stopped believing in him and pay it forward. "Freedom will mean everything to me," Parker said. "My whole existence is based on freedom, not a cage. I can't accomplish any of my dreams in a small bathroom known as a cell." After sixteen years, Parker is still waiting to find out what the rest of his life can look like. Parker's Story Is Not Over Parker's case is a reminder that the end of cannabis prohibition does not automatically mean freedom for the people who were imprisoned under it. His codefendants have been released or had their sentences changed. Parker remains behind bars, serving a 60-year sentence for a nonviolent cannabis offense. The world around him has changed dramatically. He has not. He is still a son. Still a grandson. Still an uncle. Still the person his family has loved all these years. Still someone with dreams for what his life could become. And still someone waiting for the opportunity to come home. Why This Work Matters Parker's story is why Last Prisoner Project exists. Our work is about people, not statistics. It is about knowing the names behind these sentences and refusing to let them disappear simply because the laws around cannabis have changed. It means working case by case to pursue clemency, commutations, compassionate release, and other pathways to freedom. It means supporting people and their families while they are incarcerated and helping people rebuild their lives when they come home. And it means continuing to tell these stories, not because Parker is a statistic, but because he is a person whose life is still unfolding. Every letter written, every petition filed, every law passed, every record cleared, and every person who stands with this work can move someone closer to freedom. Parker has spent sixteen years waiting. His story is far from over.  Help Last Prisoner Project free every last cannabis prisoner. Learn more and support the work at Last Prisoner Project .

"Nobody Should Be Locked Up for a Plant": Kelly Barbieri's Story of Loss, Resilience, and Reform

By Mary Bailey • August 20, 2026
For Kelly Barbieri, incarceration for a cannabis offense in Georgia cost her far more than her freedom. It cost her time she can never get back with her family, time she needed most when tragedy struck at home. Her story is one of grief, community, and an unshakable belief that no one should ever go through what she and her family endured. A Family Rooted in Tradition Kelly and her husband, Dan, have been married for more than 30 years and have raised two sons together, the younger of whom is autistic. Kelly describes their household as very traditional: the couple made sure a parent was always home, even when that meant working separate shifts and sacrificing time together. Kelly eventually left her teaching job to homeschool her younger son. Family life centered on simple pleasures: cooking, watching old movies, spending time outdoors, caring for their dogs, cats, and chickens, and tending a garden of food, flowers, and medicinal plants. Everyone in the family is a devoted Grateful Dead fan, a shared love of music that has long been part of their household. How It Began In March 2018, the family's Georgia home was raided after Kelly provided cannabis to a friend whose mother had cancer. Unbeknownst to Kelly, that friend had become a confidential informant to help resolve his own drug charges; he later died of a fentanyl overdose. The case didn't go to trial until late August 2023, more than five years later. Kelly and Dan were convicted of manufacturing and distributing marijuana and sentenced to 10 years, with three to serve. The judge issued a modification order recommending early parole so the couple could return home to care for their special-needs son, but the parole board set Kelly's tentative parole date for October 2026, just two months before her maximum release date. A Hard Beginning Kelly's incarceration started with Diagnostics, an intake process she describes as the hardest part of her time inside. "We ate cold food out of Styrofoam trays, were often in lockdown, and it was just a gross place," she recalls. It was the only period, she says, when she felt genuinely unsafe. But even that hardship paled in comparison to what came next. An Unimaginable Loss While incarcerated, Kelly learned that her eldest son was sick. His health declined rapidly, and he died a week later. She was powerless to help. "If I had been home, I could have made him go to the doctor or hospital," she says. "That feeling of helplessness and being powerless was horrible." The loss shook her faith. "I think what helped me get through it the most was the other women in there with me who had been through similar experiences and supported me," Kelly says. "I don't know that it was any kind of faith that helped. If anything, I lost some faith in a higher power during that time." What carried her forward was her remaining son, and her determination to stay strong for him. Kelly recently attended her son's memorial, an experience she calls healing. "Seeing how many people loved him and came to honor him warmed my heart," she says. She still grieves every day, but has found grounding in nature, family, and keeping her son's memory alive. "I know the only way to get through this is to feel it, and remember that grief is the price we pay for love," she reflects. "I believe he would want me to live, and not just exist and survive." The Power of Community Even from behind bars, Kelly felt the support of people she'd never met. Letters from strangers reminded her she wasn't alone. "It's so nice to hear your name called at mail call, and then just hearing the validation from others that what I was going through was so ridiculous," she says. She saved every letter. "It still makes me feel good to know that there is a large community of people out there who want to help those in a similar situation to ours, and it definitely gives me hope." Last Prisoner Project's Role Kelly remembers the exact day she learned Last Prisoner Project would sponsor her case, a day that had started with the loss of her beloved dog. "I was so depressed, but then my son told me that y'all had accepted us to sponsor, and it really brightened my day," she says. The financial support meant she no longer had to rely on her sons to put money on her books, and a grant to her son eased the family's financial strain. "LPP was truly a blessing," she says. "It's easy to feel lost and alone while incarcerated, and knowing y'all were there helped so much." Reflecting on LPP's broader work, Kelly is direct: "Some organizations just pay a lot of lip service to cannabis policy change, while LPP is actually doing something to help, and that is huge." Looking Ahead Now home and back at work, Kelly is rebuilding the life she and Dan always envisioned, one centered on family, gardening, cooking, and caring for their special-needs son, while carrying the memory of the son they lost every day. But she's also clear-eyed about the work still ahead. "My husband and I should have never been sentenced like we were in the first place, and then for the parole board to keep us in there for so long, even months after our son died, was just unnecessary," she says. "Nobody should be locked up for a plant, period. No victim, no crime." Her call to action is simple: full decriminalization of cannabis at the national level, so state reform can follow. "Nobody stopped using cannabis because we were locked up," she says. "So the whole incarceration thing is pointless."  Kelly Barbieri is a Last Prisoner Project constituent. Her story is shared with her permission as part of LPP's ongoing work to end the incarceration of individuals for cannabis-related offenses and support their successful reentry.

A Mother Still Behind Bars for Cannabis: The Story of Brandy Fisher

By Mary Bailey • May 18, 2026
A Mother Still Behind Bars for Cannabis: The Story of Brandy Fisher While legalization spreads across America, women like Brandy Fisher remain forgotten inside federal prison — serving out decade-long sentences for marijuana as the world outside changes without them. How It Began Brandy Fisher never imagined she would spend a decade in federal prison. Charged with distribution of 1,000 kilograms of marijuana, she became a target when family members and close friends she trusted were already working as federal informants — six of them. When agents approached her first and asked if she wanted to talk, she asked for a lawyer. That decision, the right one under any standard, did not protect her from what came next. “The 6 informants who were close family and whom I thought were best friends had turned federal agents,” Brandy recalls. She took a plea deal — ten years under Rule 11(c)(1)(C), a binding agreement that locks the sentence in place regardless of changes in law. And the law has changed dramatically. “Sitting back and watching the world change daily is amazing — how now the world can see that marijuana can be used to cure people of sicknesses.” — Brandy Fisher As state after state has legalized or decriminalized cannabis, and as federal reform conversations have grown louder, Brandy remains locked in. Her binding plea means no retroactive relief applies to her. She watches from inside, and she waits. While Brandy serves her sentence, her family carries the weight too. Her father has received a family support grant from the Last Prisoner Project to help offset the costs of caring for Brandy’s six-year-old son. And when Brandy is eventually released, she will be eligible for a Last Prisoner Project reentry grant — funding designed to help cannabis prisoners like her rebuild their lives from the ground up. Life at FCI Waseca Brandy first survived FCI Dublin — the California federal prison that became the subject of a federal investigation into widespread staff sexual abuse. She was transferred to FCI Waseca in Minnesota, which she describes as one of the worst women’s federal prisons in the country. The conditions she describes are a portrait of institutional neglect. The commissary is shut down for weeks at a time. The kitchen served her food with a live beetle on the tray — she no longer eats there. Women are denied body oils because, as Brandy recounts, the staff claim it draws unwanted attention from male officers. A captain reportedly declared that commissary soda was being removed because women there were overweight. Cleaning supplies — bleach, Ajax — are withheld, yet women are asked to clean bathrooms that handle used sanitary products, sometimes without gloves. An outbreak of H. pylori, a bacterial infection that can lead to stomach cancer if untreated, has affected a significant portion of the population. “They are trying to keep it on the low,” Brandy says. “We are run around by majority men officers — there are unpleasant comments made about women and their sexual body parts, comments about the way our clothes fit.” — Brandy Fisher The harassment, she says, is daily and institutional. The message from staff is clear: the needs and dignity of the women housed there are not a priority. Safety, Mental Health, and a Six-Year-Old Boy Brandy shares her room with three individuals convicted of serious child sex offenses carrying sentences of 25 or more years, as well as others convicted of drug offenses and one convicted of murder. The federal system houses people across these vastly different profiles together, and any refusal to comply with the arrangement risks placement in the Special Housing Unit — solitary confinement. For Brandy, the psychological weight is not abstract. She has a six-year-old son on the outside, being raised by his 80-year-old great-grandfather. Every night, she falls asleep thinking about child predators — the ones inside, and the ones who may be near her child. Mental health support at Waseca is, by her account, almost nonexistent. There is one mental health staff member. “I will not call her a doctor,” Brandy says, “because when she talks to you, she is angry herself and she doesn’t give good advice.” When Brandy first arrived at FCI Dublin, she was immediately stripped of all mental health medications she had been taking for four years. No taper. No transition. No plan. What Clemency Would Mean Brandy is currently pursuing clemency with legal support from the Last Prisoner Project. For her, release is not the end of the story — it is the beginning of one she has been carefully building in her mind, and on the page, for six years. She wants to return to real estate: flipping and staging homes, putting them back on the market. She is also planning a nonprofit bookstore dedicated to donating reading materials to federal prisons nationwide. Over the past year alone, she has read more than 200 books. It has changed her. “Reading gives me hope, and it makes my time fly by. I want to help feed the minds of others with learning materials, love stories, action-packed books — and let’s not forget the hood books that keep us all on edge.” — Brandy Fisher She points out that in six years, not a single author of the many book series her family has ordered for her has ever donated books to FCI Waseca or FCI Dublin. She intends to be the person who changes that. Brandy Fisher is not asking for pity. She is asking to be seen — and asking those with the power to grant clemency to consider what second chances are for, and who deserves them. Write to Brandy — Let Her Know She Hasn’t Been Forgotten One of the hardest parts of incarceration is feeling invisible. A letter from a stranger can be a lifeline. If Brandy’s story has moved you, take five minutes to write to her directly. Tell her you read her story. Tell her she matters. Tell her people on the outside are fighting for her. Brandy Fisher 47495-509 FCI Waseca P.O. Box 1731 Waseca, MN 56093 You also have the option to write your letter to Brandy on the Last Prisoner Project website, and we will print and mail it for you: https://www.lastprisonerproject.org/letter-writing Support the Last Prisoner Project Brandy’s family support grant, her legal advocacy, and her reentry grant when she is released — all of it is made possible by donors like you. Last Prisoner Project works every day to free cannabis prisoners, support their families while they are inside, and help them rebuild when they come home. To keep doing this work, we need your support. Donate here .