Unlocking the Human Spirit: Elliston Callwood's Journey from Incarceration to Advocacy

Stephanie Shepard • November 21, 2023
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In a world where the perception of cannabis has been rapidly evolving, and laws surrounding its

use have been changing, there's a story that demands our attention. It's the story of Elliston

Callwood, a man who, like many others, found himself trapped by the harsh legal consequences

of cannabis-related charges. What sets Elliston apart is his unwavering determination to turn his

experience into a force for change.


Elliston recently sat down with the Last Prisoner Project’s Director of Advocacy, surrounded by his family, to share his deeply personal journey, one marked by a 48-year prison sentence for a substance that many now view as a harmless plant. His story, rife with pain, perseverance, and the power of transformation, shines a light on the lives impacted by cannabis convictions and calls for a reevaluation of our society's approach to this plant.


As he recounted the events that led to his imprisonment, Elliston's voice carried the weight of disappointment and frustration. Charged and sentenced for possession of marijuana by both the State and the Federal government, his sentence was as excessive as it was unjust. He passionately believes that it's time for marijuana to be recognized for what it is: a healing and medicinal plant, not a threat to society.


Elliston's narrative is not just about the injustice he faced. It's also a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. He shared his experiences of life behind bars, the impact it had on his family, and the incredible longing he felt for them throughout his incarceration. His story details him reconnecting with his family after his unexpected release, and connecting with his youngest daughter, whom he was stripped of knowing due to his incarceration. His story is both heartwarming and heart-wrenching.


Elliston's journey continues beyond his release. He knows all too well the challenges individuals face upon reentering society after incarceration. That's why he looks to create a non-profit re-entry program that provides the support and resources needed to ensure that individuals don't end up back behind bars due to the difficulties of reintegration. It's a vision rooted in compassion and a deep desire to make a difference.


Amidst the darkness of his prison experience, Elliston discovered a source of light that kept him going. Influenced by Bob Marley's wisdom and the Bible's teachings, he found solace in the law of attraction, where positivity begets positive outcomes. He credits his personal growth to the time he had to focus on himself while incarcerated, a time that allowed him to reinforce his positive perspective on life.


Elliston's story is one of transformation from a victim of a broken system to an advocate for change. He is using his voice and his experience to shine a spotlight on the injustices of cannabis-related convictions and to call for its federal legalization.


Join us as we delve deeper into Elliston Callwood's remarkable journey and explore the critical issues surrounding cannabis-related convictions, reintegration into society, and the need for change. This is a story that deserves to be heard, a story that will inspire and ignite hope for a better future.


Q&A:


Stephanie:  As a long-time advocate of cannabis as a medicinal plant, how did you feel going to prison for that very plant? 


Elliston: I didn't feel bad going to prison for cannabis. I felt discriminated against when they gave me all this time for some cannabis. I know it wasn't legal at the time, but I didn't know I would be punished so harsh for a plant.


Stephanie: How did you find out about Last Prisoner Project and the work being done?


Elliston: The first person to write me was Mitzi Wall, telling me about the organization and how LPP was working to get cannabis prisoners out.


Stephanie:  Who is Elliston Callwood? What happened in your life that made it necessary for us to have this conversation?


Elliston:
I was sentenced to 48 years for cannabis, I ended up serving 30 years of that sentence. I got locked up in 1992, and I got out in 2022. It was 27 years from the day I was sentenced, but it was 30 years because I didn't have a bond. When they locked me up, the State is who locked me up. The State charged me, but when I went to court, the judge said he had no proof that the guy actually got any weed from me because they didn't find me with any weed at all. The judge said he had no proof of injustice, so the judge dropped my charges in the State; but the Feds picked up the charges and gave me 48 years. It was a 48-year illegal sentence, I wasn't sentenced according to the law!


Stephanie: What was your life like before your incarceration?


Elliston:
I was in the music industry. I also used to have a nightclub in Albuquerque, it was the

only after-hours nightclub in the city at that time.


Stephanie: You are the father of 7 children, how did your prison sentence impact your family? Being separated from your wife, and your kids… what do you think those in power, the lawmakers, and the current administration are missing? What do you want them to understand about the impact that your incarceration had on your family, your children, and your wife?


Elliston:
...grandkids, everybody. I think it devastated the whole family because it set us back for 30 years. Marijuana is only a plant, it grows from a seed, even the Bible says every plant that bares its seed is good for man. I don't know if you've seen that, it's in Genesis 1:29. Marijuana has always been used for some type of medicine somewhere, somehow.


Stephanie:
When you say it impacted the whole family, how did you try to comfort your family? As someone whose been incarcerated myself, I know a big part of our survival is trying to make our families feel better about the situation. How did you try to comfort your family during that time while doing what you could to stay connected?


Elliston:
Well, for one thing, I took a class called "Parenting from a Distance”. It was difficult having my wife raising the kids by herself. Everybody pushed forward and tried to help me get out because my babies were young when I left. My youngest daughter wasn't even born yet. My wife was 7 months pregnant with her when I left. My wife had to get into a different mode and had to shoulder more responsibility to raise the kids by herself. I made sure she brought them to see me so my presence could be seen and felt to create balance.


Stephanie:
Seeing as how cannabis is a multibillion-dollar industry in this country, what do you want people to understand about the impact of being incarcerated for the very plant that you have given up over half of your life for?


Elliston:
Now that it is legal in so many states, it should make a big difference in resentencing. What we want to see in reform is the release of the people and allowing them an opportunity to succeed when they get out, which entails more than just opening the doors and saying find your way. Part of our family’s plan, once everything’s established in our cannabis business, is to start a nonprofit organization with a re-entry program where when folks get out, they have someplace to go for resources and support. When I got out, I realized how hard it is for people when they just got released and they have no support. I mean, things like that make you cry. Somebody just got out, then you see them come back, you want to know why they came back. You call them all kinds of idiots but, I'd never experienced the reality of what it felt like to get out. When I got out and I actually saw exactly how it is. If I didn't have a support system, I don't know where I would have been, but it wouldn't be where I'm at right now.


Stephanie:
How has being home for you been, and what does that feel like after 30 years?


Elliston: It feels like a new life. Being able to interact with my babies, see my wife all the time, and just being able to talk to my children is truly a blessing. I would envision myself on the outside all the time, so when I got out, it was how I actually saw myself when I walked out of those gates because when you're inside, you hear many stories from people with a lot of time, what they'd do if they get out, or when they get out. Everybody has something in their mind about what that would feel like, but I used to visualize my release because I believe if you visualize something enough, you can bring it into existence.


Stephanie: How was the reconnection with your family? Was it instant after being gone so long, or did it take some settling into?


Elliston: When I came home it felt like home, but of course, 30 years is a long time. I had to get to know people all over again, and my youngest daughter, I never even knew her besides them bringing her to visit. I didn't even get to spend much time with my other 2 before I went in. When I left, one was 6, one was 3, and one was getting ready to be born. My other children didn't live with me at that time. We built and maintained a connection because I used to see them all the time in visits and talked to them every day over the phone.


Stephanie:
I have to admit, I struggled with being institutionalized when I was released, and still do in some areas of my life. Have you experienced those moments?


Elliston:
No, I didn’t have that problem. Sometimes I used to cry, sympathizing over the injustice and maltreatment of the prisoners, many of whom I have built strong meaningful relationships with. When they let me out, they just let me out. They didn't give me a dime; they didn't give me anything. They just opened the door and let me out and told me to make my way. I had been gone for 30 years. No clothes, no food, no money, no car, no job, nothing- they just let me out. So, when I start reminiscing on all those other guys who I used to see coming back all the time; I used to be wondering why they were coming back. I started realizing, that if you let somebody out like that and they do not have anybody there for them, what are they supposed to do? But, thank God, I had my family, and they embraced me, and I was able to have a better start than a lot of people; that's a blessing! When I left, my grandson Hasani wasn't born at the time, that's my oldest grandson and you see how big he is now, that's how much time has passed…over some cannabis.


Stephanie:
You sound so positive. LPP’s co-founder, Mary Bailey speaks so highly of you. She said “Wait until you speak to him, he is such a bright light”…and now that I'm speaking with you, I understand why she feels that way. I hear such positivity in your voice. How do you not carry bitterness for the injustice you’ve experienced?


Elliston: That's the past! I see life as “what you put in is what you're going to get out.” If I put in

negativity, I'm going to get negativity in return. If I put in positive stuff, I'm going to get out positive stuff. I believe as a man thinketh, so is he. Another belief is thoughts are things and you can think things into existence and that the law of attraction doesn't differentiate; so, if you put in negative things, you're going to get negative things out in return.


Stephanie: Have you always thought this way or is it something that developed while you were in prison?


Elliston: I had some clues and some inclinations before I went to prison. I listened to people like Bob Marley and read some psalms and different things in the Bible. From what I gathered; I developed some kind of conclusion that I've drawn for myself, but being in prison actually reinforced my outlook on life. I had time to think and analyze things; I was able to examine a lot of other people's literature, and I was able to compare thoughts/theories and determine what I wanted to put into the either and channel what I wanted to get out of it.


Stephanie: You mentioned Bob Marley. Music was a saving grace for me while incarcerated. I had a little MP3 player, and it was worth more than gold because it mentally took me out of that space when I needed that. How did music play a part in your positive attitude?


Elliston: I still got my MP3 player! It has thousands of songs on it; I play some of my musical treasures in the car as I ride around. That’s a lot of memories! Just the other day my wife and I were coming home, and she was talking about how she wanted to listen to the song “Tyrone” by Erykah Badu, and that brought back memories because I used to listen to that song on my MP3 inside.


Stephanie: Holidays are upon us and I know prison can be a lonely place, especially during the holidays. I head up the letter-writing program and I know you received letters of support from the community. How did receiving those letters affect you?


Elliston: I still have some of those letters. When I read the letters and I realized how many people want change and marijuana reform, I knew something would happen because words got power. We live in a world of cause and effect, and every cause has an effect. Even when I was a kid, my parents would say, "Be careful what you say out your mouth because it might come to pass." So these are the things that I used to hang my hat on, trying to speak things into existence.


Stephanie: 30 years is a long time. How did you spend your time?


Elliston: Trying to accomplish everything I could accomplish while I had the time instead of sitting back and watching everybody play dominoes, cards, chess, etc. I couldn't find time for that; I still don't know how to play chess; I didn't need to play games. I spent a lot of time in the law library, reading a lot of books, taking classes, and watching some games. The library was my friend because I had to find a way out of prison. I used to crochet in my leisure, I could watch the sport games while crocheting. I could do a lot of things and still crochet; I don't have to look to do it. I also used to do ceramics.


Stephanie: How did your release come about? 


Elliston: The judge gave me a compassionate release due to my impeccable prison record, conduct, and all the different things that I accomplished while being incarcerated. First, I made a motion, then I hired a great lawyer to represent me on it; this resulted in me getting immediate release.


Stephanie: After having a routine for so many years, what do you do on a daily basis. How do you spend your time?


Elliston: I go to work Monday through Friday! I have a job doing woodwork. In my spear time, I still crochet. I try to read, I make sure to read the newsletters that I still get from LPP, and I've been slowly getting back into my extensive fitness routine.


Stephanie: As we bring this conversation to a close, what do you want to see change in cannabis reform? What do you want that to look like if you could make those changes?


Elliston: I want it to look like every other product that's in the supermarket. I'm talking about FDIC-insured and FDA-approved... I'm talking about the whole nine. Cannabis is so useful for so many different things, many of which is being held back from the people. People depend on it! Being FDIC insured is very important because when you make your money in the industry, it’s hard to secure and actually utilize your gains because the Feds are so shrewd. If you aren't on top of your game, they will charge you again.


Stephanie: I know you and your grandson Hasani are working on getting your cannabis license. What have been obstacles that you have experienced in going through this process of trying to get licensed?


Elliston: Not just my grandson, but also my daughter, my wife, my youngest son, and my oldest daughter. Tremendous obstacles! They waited like 6 to 7 months before they asked me for a copy of my criminal record. Then, when I got that, they waited some more months and then asked me for the letters that you guys wrote in support of me. Then they wanted a background check on me, I was subjected to a background check when nobody else was. I still wonder why they were scrutinizing me and had me actually jumping through all these hoops to obtain my cannabis license; while everybody is just getting theirs with no problems. 


Stephanie: How did you feel when you got out and saw how normalized cannabis was becoming? Was it triggering for you?


Elliston: I was glad they were doing it because it took me back to Peter Tosh, for years and years, he was screaming, “legalize it, and I will advertise it.” Peter has transitioned from this realm and didn’t get the opportunity to witness the legalization of cannabis, but his legacy will continue. In New Mexico, the cannabis laws are not really strict in nature. It is just basically the license that we are asking for, nobody else has one of them already so we asked for a license that they don't know how to support. Nobody else has a delivery license in New Mexico at this time.


Hassani:  I feel like they should also have grants and programs to help people that were affected by the war on drugs. Family members who were affected should get assistance getting licensed and established in the business because they're working from a disadvantage, especially those who were in prison and are not as technical savvy as others. If we had more grants and more organizations to aid and assist prisoners being released, those affected would benefit the collective tremendously while providing checks and balances in the industry. There are too many qualified individuals not exercising their privilege into the industry due to the lack of support.


Stephanie: What's one thing? If you could tell President Biden one thing after what you've been through, what would it be?


Elliston: If I tell him one thing, I'll tell him to legalize it. You have the power to do it.


Stephanie: You received a reentry grant when you got home. Can you share how you used that money? What did it mean to you to have something when you got out waiting for you, as opposed to the way the system does it, and they just open the doors and put you out?


Elliston: I was truly grateful. I was amazed when LPP sent me the letter telling me that when I got out, I could apply for a re-entry grant. I used to read the LPP newsletters, so when I got out, I already knew about the grant. So, we signed up for it and you guys blessed us by awarding us the grant. We already had the plan of having a mobile dispensary, so we went out and purchased the van. We also had to get the license which cost $5,000 plus another $1,500. That grant money was really useful and beneficial at the time. I'm glad that I could utilize it for something positive, especially trying to get this business started.


Stephanie: Thank you and the whole family for taking the time to share a little bit of your journey.


Elliston & Family: Thank you! Thanks for having us. We appreciate you guys; please let Mary

and the rest of the organization know that we truly appreciate them.



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.