The Oct. 18 Seattle Times story “Gov. Ferguson’s board tells him to let people out of prison. He keeps saying no,” is the latest in a litany of criticism regarding Gov. Bob Ferguson’s wholesale denial of commutations. This shows public awareness about his paper-thin progressivism is growing. So too, it seems, is public frustration.
And I’m frustrated, too — for more than the fact that my commutation was one he recently denied, as detailed in the story. Regardless of his decision in my case, my sentence ends in 2029. But for so many people that I’ve spent the better part of two decades locked up with — people serving long and life sentences in a state without parole — the governor’s stance against commutation is leaving them gutted with no hope. And it shouldn’t be this way.
Let’s look at the facts. Washington is living with the legacy of failed tough-on-crime policies. We hold around 14,000 people in prison, and about 1,300 of these — either through de facto life or life-without-parole sentences — will not survive to release. That’s more than 1 in every 11 people.
For folks like me — serving 20 years for a noninjury assault charge —commutation is a chance to have rehabilitation recognized and return to the real world a little early. But for those 1 in 11, it stands as the only way to not die in a prison cell.
Gov. Ferguson knows this and has turned regressive on criminal justice anyway. Recall last year when he signed legislation expanding the clemency board and changing the legal standard so commutation could be awarded when it serves the “interests of justice.” He implied this would be a tool to let greater numbers of deserving people out of prison. But in the time since then, he’s used this tool to seal the bars shut — with each denial stating the “interests of justice” don’t require release.
I’m not the first to point this out. The fact is Gov. Ferguson expects Washingtonians to be a bunch of goldfish, to swim one lap around the bowl and forget all he said before. But we haven’t forgotten.
Nor should we forget the things he is saying now and the things he’s choosing not to say. Without fail, when Gov. Ferguson defends his commutation decisions, he reaches for carefully curated talking points saturated in extreme violence. Whether it’s a home invasion homicide or racially motivated murder, he chooses the most heart-wrenching examples to justify denying release. I still think these people deserve mercy. They have gone before a board of five experts and demonstrated their remorse and radical transformation. But regardless of whether you agree, notice that Gov. Ferguson elevates these cases on purpose, knowing that the heinous facts will, for many people, undermine sympathy.
Then notice the cases he chooses not to elevate, again on purpose. Slightly more sympathetic cases like mine. He never mentions me because I was a 21-year-old losing a battle to addiction. I stole a car and shot at a pursuing citizen, thankfully not injuring him. That was nearly 17 years ago. He also doesn’t mention how in the time since then I’ve completely turned my life around: getting a college degree, becoming a mentor and spending nearly 3,000 hours of the last two years working as a wildland firefighter in the community.
That’s right. I spend hours a day miles away from the prison saving the property, lives and peace of mind of Washingtonians. I then go back to the prison every night. But according to the governor, I’m not worthy of release. I’m not yet fit to go home.
To justify his ubiquitous denials, Gov. Ferguson claims that the scores of commutations granted by former Gov. Jay Inslee were an aberration, out of step with the practice of governors who came before. He points to Govs. Gregoire and Locke, who had similar numbers to his own by the same point in their administrations, and wound up granting very few in total. Yet Gov. Ferguson forgets that those governors led our state in the 2000s, during the latter stages of tough-on-crime hysteria. Their policies reflect the politics of that era. And that’s not a reflection of who Washingtonians are now.
I don’t envy the governor’s job. Balancing the interests of justice is a heavier burden than I would ever want. But he has a responsibility to do more than deny commutation solely because the facts of a crime are bad. Commutations are reserved for people who have done a long time. The crimes are necessarily going to be bad. And while incarceration is no doubt a valid aspect of justice -especially in the aftermath of a crime, safety must be secured and accountability must be enforced — in the face of a remorseful and repentant party, balancing justice demands more than this. It demands mercy.
I’m not sure what Gov. Ferguson’s aspirations are, whether he plans to run for reelection in two years. But I know mine. Frankly, I’m homeward-bound with a smile on my face and a middle finger in his direction. And I’m determined to push a campaign for change that infuses mercy back into the system: not because it will alter anything in my case, but because the people left behind when I go home deserve hope.
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