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Berta Garcia Discusses Fighting for Her Son Danny Trevino's Freedom Serving 16-Year Sentence for Cannabis

Stephanie Shepard • March 6, 2024

Berta Garcia emerges as a beacon of resilience, courage, and unwavering love. Her life took an unexpected turn when her son, Danny Trevino, found himself in the unjust web of federal cannabis charges, leading to a staggering 16-year sentence. Berta's journey is not just a personal struggle but a testament to the broader impact of outdated drug laws that continue to affect countless lives.


As we discuss Berta's life raising her son and now as a caregiver to his daughter, her granddaughter, we uncover a narrative that goes even beyond a mother's love. It's yet another story that challenges the very foundation of cannabis laws in our society and should continue to force us to question a  justice system that perpetuates such lengthy sentences for non-violent offenses.


Don't turn a blind eye to this emotional journey as we shine a light on Berta Garcia's fight for justice, her advocacy for reform, and the impact of draconian drug policies on families across the nation. This is not just Danny's story; it's a call to examine the structures that have led to the incarceration of tens of thousands of individuals for crimes that are increasingly being reconsidered, reevaluated, and rejected by this country as incarceration-worthy.


In the following pages, we'll explore Berta's unwavering determination for the release of her son, the secret to keeping the faith to continue to fight, and the hope she carries for a future where families aren't torn apart by outdated laws. Berta Garcia's story is a testament to the strength of a mother's love and the urgent need for change in our justice system.


Last Prisoner Project: Thank you Mrs. Garcia for taking the time to speak with me and sharing your heartbreaking journey. Your advocacy for your son Danny Trevino has been such an inspiration. Could you introduce yourself and share what you have been fighting for? 


Berta Garcia: My name is Berta Garcia. I am the mother of Danny Trevino, who is serving a 16-year sentence in federal prison for cannabis charges.


Last Prisoner Project: When did you realize that the boy you raised was somewhat of a legacy legend in Lansing? Some even referred to him as the “Professor of Pot”. At what point did you realize how influential Danny was in the community?


Berta Garcia: I was not aware of my son’s influence, passion, and legacy for the cannabis industry until I started to see such a huge following in his social media network, as well as other media outlets.  I would only be made more aware when my son was charged, tried, and convicted that I realized what a huge role my son played in the cannabis industry.


Last Prisoner Project: Danny was very involved in the fight for legalization in Michigan. It’s important to remind the legal industry that If it weren't for people like Danny, there would be no legal industry.


Berta Garcia: Danny was very involved in the fight for legalization. He was a tremendous part of the rallies, not just organizing and speaking, but also funding out of pocket. Billboards that he paid for promoting the industry and working to pass the cannabis referendum in 2008 to make it legal. My son, Danny saw the medical needs of the people who came from all walks of life. When it became legal and passed overwhelmingly he was enthusiastic to share his knowledge with the people who believed in and would benefit from the medical plant. Years later, when he was in federal court I sat there in horror as they persecuted my son. The prosecutor presented to the jury a sandwich size baggie with marijuana that allegedly was seized in one of the over 30+raids and now 5 years after the fact a story recently published article heading GIANT POT FARM JUST A MISDEMEANOR, COURT SAYS. Where is the justice in that? Aren’t we one country, with one set of rules?


Last Prisoner Project: You called Danny one of the most honest people you know, while he was going through the legal process, did you have any advice for him?


Berta Garcia: I advised him to have faith in the judicial system, to let his attorney tell his, my son’s truth. A challenge presented itself, my son had to personally tell his truth and take the stand to defend himself. In retrospect, I wish I could say I gave him sound advice. Our judicial system, I feel is in theory only. Not everyone is treated equally.


Last Prisoner Project: Danny is your only son and the oldest of three children. Can you share a bit about how you raised Danny and his sisters?


Berta Garcia: When I was a child, I knew when I grew up and became a parent, I was not going to swear at or around my kids and I was not going to allow them to swear in my house. So that's why my kids don't swear…at least, not in my household. Not in my presence. I grew up going to church and raised my children in church. Before Danny went to prison, he taught his daughter to pray. She would kneel next to him and they’d pray. And even though he isn't with her, she still prays every night. I've worked all my life. My children did not work in the fields, but my family did. My dad had us work in the fields in the summertime, and he would say, “If you don't want to work in the fields all your life, you have to get your education. You have to go to school”. I instilled those values in my children. I got married right out of high school. I do have some college, but I don't have a degree, but both of my girls do. My son did some college but he never got his degree. He felt another path was right for him. I have 6 sisters and 3 brothers, family is all he has ever known. His surroundings were his aunts and uncles that have gone to college. So he knew his expectations. I always told the kids it's not IF you're going to college, it was you ARE going to college. That was not an option. My daughters graduated from Catholic schools. I had to work the Bingo games so that I could have a break on tuition. My son did not have an interest in that. To be honest, I don't know if I could have afforded three children in a Catholic school, but I would have managed. I would borrow money and then pay it off and borrow money, pay it off.


Last Prisoner Project: So being raised in the church with a good family, how did Danny's incarceration impact the family?


Berta Garcia: Danny has two sons, and a daughter eldest son is his son in every aspect, despite biological differences. His younger son was in his twenties when his daughter was born. My son was over the moon, as he always wanted a daughter to love and to spoil relentlessly. She was his princess and he was her “Papi”. He had 50/50 custody of his daughter and when he was incarcerated, I was given dual power of attorney over her. She is loved and I am always reminding her of how much her Papi loves her and how much I am fighting for him to come home to us. Our family has been fractured by my son being in prison. It has broken his family, creating issues that they are still unable to resolve.  Before he left he told them “I know you’re going to fight, but take turns apologizing. Don’t keep track of who did what, you have to stay together.” So yes, it has been extremely sad, and difficult.


Last Prisoner Project: So it's safe to say that your son was kind of the glue that kind of kept everybody together, and his incarceration has put a break in that closeness?


Berta Garcia: Oh! He's always asking me, “Mom, have you heard from my kids? Have you seen my kids?”  My son reserved Sunday to hang out with his daughter. He would take her to Macy’s department store and treat her to whatever clothes she wanted and then they would go to their favorite restaurant. He misses her tremendously. Now he has a fractured family and is helpless to do anything about it because of his incarceration.


Last Prisoner Project: Sentencing is one of the most difficult parts of the process, because you have yet to start your time, and you're just learning what your future or your proposed future will look like. So when Danny was sentenced, how old was his daughter?


Berta Garcia: My son was convicted in late August and had the weekend to get his affairs in order. His daughter was 3 and was turning  4 on September 11th, so we had an early birthday celebration for her so that her Papi could be part of it. We were driven to Grand Rapids where he would have to surrender. The media was there and there were photos of him saying goodbye to her. One is a picture of her running to her papi. She cried and cried and maybe she knew what was happening, maybe she didn’t. Perhaps she was reacting to my emotions. She understood something was happening, but at her age, I don’t know that she fully understood that her Papi was being taken away from her. Before surrendering, he held her in his arms and said “I’m going away and I won’t be here for a bit”, but what exactly does “a little bit” mean in the mind of a three-year-old? She didn’t know if that meant days, weeks, months, or years!


Last Prisoner Project: Now that she's gotten a little bit older, does she understand it more? Does she understand what prison is? Does she understand why he's there, and what does she say about that?


Berta Garcia: He explains to her that he did not do anything wrong, but they said he did. She told him she was writing a letter to President Biden and my son told me not to guide her letter writing, let it be her thoughts and words. In the letter, she wrote to President Biden. She wrote, "My dad had stores, but everybody else has stores too. He's sorry if he did something wrong”. She knows that prison is a place that keeps him apart from her life. She knows it’s unfair too.


Last Prisoner Project: The most effective letter is when it comes from the heart, no matter what it sounds like, and it sounds like she has made her mind up to advocate for her Dad.


Berta Garcia: She wants to bring her dad home, and whatever it takes she will say. When we pray, we ask. God to bring her Papi home. That's what she calls him. Papi is Daddy in Spanish. She recently told me about an incident last year, when she was in the second grade. I guess somebody must have found out that her dad was in prison and a little girl that she hung out with took her aside, and she asked her if her daddy was in jail.  She told me "All of a sudden I just started crying and crying, so hard that my body was shaking.". Of course, I immediately wanted to protect my granddaughter and asked if the little girl was trying to be mean because I was going to speak to the teacher about it. She said she didn't know, but she didn't think so because the girl was her friend. I think she just wanted to comfort her after finding out about her dad. She said that she just cried and cried on the playground...and then she was okay. Things like that continue to impact her because it’s a reminder that she can’t be with her Dad. I don’t want her to think her dad did something wrong. 


Last Prisoner Project: Do you get to visit Danny? Is your communication mostly video chat, phone, or writing?


Berta Garcia: We've gone to see him a couple of times. The first time we drove five hours and when we got there they told us that visits were canceled because of covid. I had confirmed the visitation the previous day, but they just apologized. We went another time and we were able to visit for one hour because of COVID-19. It was his daughter’s first time seeing him since he’d been incarcerated, but he had to be six feet away, and we couldn't hug him. We went again recently and were able to visit longer and hug.


Last Prisoner Project: How did you feel having to leave the facility after the anticipation of finally being able to see your son, and you had to leave?


Berta Garcia: Disappointed!  And heart broken but my heart broke for my little granddaughter. She didn’t cry when we had to leave, she just covered her face with her hands.


Last Prisoner Project: Mrs. Garcia, you have become very active in speaking out for the release of your son. As a mother who did the best you could raising your son, who felt he was providing a service for those who needed it, what would you say to President Biden about the continued incarceration of people for cannabis?


Berta Garcia: I read that it costs the Federal Government $40,000 a year to house a person in prison. If there are roughly 2,900 people in Federal prison at $40,000 a year. It’s costing the federal government 116 million dollars a year to keep them in prison! We the people, the taxpayers, are funding this injustice. Distribute that money to schools and to teachers who deserve it, don’t use it to incarcerate victimless cannabis prisoners. As a parent, President Biden knows how it feels when your son is being targeted and what injustice feels like because of his own experiences. Why doesn't he reach out to the Doj and say “Let’s get these people home!”


Last Prisoner Project: He doesn't even have to reach out to the DOJ. He has the executive power to right this wrong himself. He doesn't have to ask anyone. He can sign an executive order releasing all Federal cannabis prisoners today if he wants to.


Berta Garcia: Oh, my gosh! I did not know that. Then I’d ask President Biden to please send my son home! Send everyone’s sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, and brothers home. Keep your promise that “Nobody should be in prison for marijuana.” Think of the thousands of families that you can reunite with just the stroke of a pen.


Last Prisoner Project: And that's the really sad part. Mrs. Garcia, thank you so much for opening up about the difficulties of keeping your family together in the face of such adversity. LPP will continue to support you in the fight to reunite your family.

What President Trump's Private Prison and Death Penalty Executive Orders Tell Us About Criminal Justice Reform to Come

By Adrian Rocha • February 7, 2025
o weeks into President Trump’s second term, cannabis has not surfaced as a leading issue in the early days of his new administration. However, several appointments and two executive orders signed during the first week of his second term will factor into the new administration’s drug and criminal justice policy approach. On his first day in office, President Trump signed an Executive Order (EO) rescinding a slew of EOs signed by former President Biden, including one effectively ending the use of private prisons to house federal prisoners . At the time President Biden signed the EO directing the Justice Department not to renew contracts with private prison firms, it was estimated that around 14,000 individuals incarcerated at the federal level were being held at private prisons. Additionally, President Trump signed another EO encouraging the Attorney General to “pursue the death penalty for all crimes of a severity demanding its use.” During his first term, President Trump voiced his support for seeking the death penalty for drug traffickers. This position was later formalized in a memo by then-Attorney General Jeff Sessions that encouraged federal prosecutors to seek the death penalty in cases involving large-scale drug traffickers. There were concerns at the time that the memo could be used to seek the death penalty for individuals involved in large-scale, state-legal cannabis operations; however, these fears never came to pass. The uncertainty around leadership further complicates the implementation and impact of these two executive orders. President Trump’s Attorney General nominee, Pam Bondi, who will oversee the Justice Department, was confirmed earlier this week. Additionally, the recent resignation of the Director of the Bureau of Prisons (BOP) has left the agency without a leader. During her confirmation hearing, Bonid reiterated her support for the continued implementation of the First Step Act, which could lead to additional releases from the BOP. In a letter to the newly minted Department of Government Efficiency, Senator Elizabeth Warren (D-MA) also encouraged the federal government to look at scaling back the enforcement of federal cannabis laws, broader legalization, and the BOP to pursue compassionate release at greater scale to reduce the size and cost of the federal prison population. In her letter, Senator Warren cites a potential cost savings of $881 million if the BOP were to more zealous seek the release of individuals over age 65, are classified as presenting a minimum or low risk of recidivism, and are found not to be a danger to the safety of any person or the community. LPP has successfully advocated for the release of constituents incarcerated for cannabis via commutations and compassionate release motions, including nine in the first Trump administration. If the goal of a second Trump administration is to divert resources away from government largesse, ending unnecessary cannabis enforcement and granting clemency to those still incarcerated for cannabis is a great way to start.

Maryland Must Build on Record Relief Progress with the Expungement Reform Act (SB 432)

By Adrian Rocha • February 4, 2025
At the Last Prisoner Project (LPP), we know that those burdened by past cannabis convictions deserve true justice by getting their criminal records fully expunged and allowing individuals to move forward without the lifelong barriers. In Maryland, where Governor Wes Moore made history last year by issuing the nation’s most sweeping cannabis pardon order, we are now calling on lawmakers to take the next step: passing SB 432, the Expungement Reform Act of 2025 . A criminal record—whether for a conviction or even just an arrest—can create lasting obstacles to employment, housing, education, and other opportunities. The impact is not just personal; according to research from the Center for Economic and Policy Research, the U.S. economy loses between $78 and $87 billion annually due to employment barriers faced by people with criminal records. These collateral consequences compound the injustices of the War on Drugs and disproportionately affect communities already marginalized by systemic inequities. SB 432 seeks to simplify the expungement process, removing unnecessary bureaucratic hurdles and making it easier for individuals to clear their records. The bill will help thousands of Marylanders—many of whom have already served their sentences—access new opportunities and contribute fully to their communities. In 2024, Governor Wes Moore demonstrated bold leadership by granting pardons to over 175,000 Marylanders with low-level cannabis convictions. This was a critical step toward undoing decades of harm caused by cannabis prohibition. However, the reality is that while a pardon provides some relief, it does not automatically erase a record. Individuals must still navigate complex legal procedures to have their records expunged—a process that can be costly, time-consuming, and confusing. LPP urges the Maryland General Assembly to amend SB 432 to ensure that individuals granted full and unconditional pardons can have their records expunged automatically. Without this critical update, many of those pardoned under Governor Moore’s order will still face barriers to jobs, housing, and other essential services, despite having been officially forgiven by the state. Adrian Rocha, LPP's Policy Director, was recently appointed to the governor's roundtable on expungement, where we hope to provide further expertise on how to fully effectuate cannabis justice through retroactive relief. Research shows that record clearance not only benefits individuals but also strengthens communities. A recent study found that five years after receiving expungement, individuals were less likely to engage in criminal conduct than members of the general public. By increasing access to jobs, housing, and educational opportunities, expungement promotes community reintegration and stability—key factors in public safety. Moreover, Maryland has the opportunity to join 12 other states that have implemented state-initiated expungement for certain offenses, recognizing that individuals should not be required to navigate complex legal systems to obtain relief they are already entitled to. Maryland has already taken significant steps toward cannabis justice, but the job is not done. Passing SB 432 and ensuring automatic expungement for those granted clemency will solidify the state’s commitment to meaningful criminal justice reform. LPP urges the General Assembly to pass SB 432 and amend it to ensure that those who have received full pardons under Governor Moore’s order do not have to wait or fight for the relief they were promised. This is about more than policy—it’s about restoring dignity, removing barriers, and allowing Marylanders to build better futures. The time for action is now. Maryland’s commitment to justice through record relief must extend beyond pardons. Let’s finish what we started. Read our full testimony below:

Finding Freedom and Purpose: Deshaun Durham's Story

By Stephanie Shepard • February 4, 2025
The holidays are a time for joy, family, and reflection. For DeShaun Durham, this past New Year’s Eve marked a profound moment of gratitude and rediscovery—the first time in three years he could celebrate surrounded by loved ones. His journey back to freedom is not just a personal triumph but a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the urgent need for reform in how we treat cannabis-related offenses. DeShaun’s story begins in Manhattan, Kansas—the "Little Apple"—where he grew up. Like many teenagers, he struggled with depression and found solace in cannabis. By 21, however, his involvement with the plant led to a life-altering experience: a raid on his home that ended with 15 armed officers pointing guns at him. The crime? Possession of 2.4 pounds of cannabis in a state where it remains illegal. The punishment? An excessive sentence of 92 months in prison. The disparity in how cannabis offenses are treated across the United States is glaring. In states like Colorado and California, cannabis is a thriving legal industry. Yet in Kansas, DeShaun’s life was derailed for possessing what many now buy legally. “The prosecutor told me at one of my preliminary hearings that I got caught with cannabis, so that meant I deserved to go to prison,” DeShaun recalls. He’d hoped for probation. Instead, he faced the loss of his twenties and a bleak future. DeShaun’s initial months in prison were harrowing. Transferred to a Super Max facility, he endured inhumane conditions: unbearable heat, 10-by-10 cells, and a mere 15 minutes outside each day. He feared that this might be his reality for the next eight years. Yet, amid the despair, hope flickered. The turning point came when Deshaun decided to apply for clemency. Despite the skepticism of fellow inmates who had seen countless applications ignored, DeShaun pressed on. His determination to reclaim his life was unwavering, even as he anxiously watched Kansas’ gubernatorial election, knowing that a change in leadership could seal his fate. When Governor Laura Kelly, a Democrat, was re-elected, DeShaun’s hope grew stronger. A key figure in DeShaun’s journey was Donte West, a fellow advocate who understood the struggles of incarceration. Through connections and the support of an organization; Last Prisoner Project, DeShaun’s case gained traction. Donte’s commitment to helping others resonated deeply with DeShaun’s situation, and together, they navigated the labyrinth of legal appeals and advocacy. The moment DeShaun learned his sentence had been commuted is one he will never forget. “It felt like my spirit had left my body,” he says, recalling the shock and disbelief. For the prison attorney who delivered the news, it was a rare and remarkable moment in his 30-year career. For DeShaun, it was the beginning of a second chance. Now, as a free man, DeShaun reflects on the broken system that took years of his life. His story is a stark reminder of the urgent need to address cannabis-related incarceration, especially as societal attitudes toward the plant continue to shift. Deshaun’s resolve to use his experience to help others is inspiring. He’s determined to make his voice heard, to ensure that others don’t face the same fate he did. DeShaun’s story is not just his own. It’s the story of countless others who remain behind bars for offenses tied to a plant that is increasingly embraced across the country. It’s a call to action for policymakers, advocates, and communities to push for reform. Most importantly, it’s a reminder that even in the darkest moments, hope and perseverance can light the way to freedom. Last Prisoner Project: First question...how were your holidays? Deshaun Durham: They were good. I'm glad I got to do something on New Year's Eve. Being around my family for the first time in 3 years was nice. It was a great feeling to be able to enjoy that again. Last Prisoner Project: What did bringing in a New Year feel like? It's really New Year, new you from what you did last year to this past year. Since you've been out, you've even gone to a couple of Kansas City Chiefs games, how has that felt for you? Deshaun Durham: It was a good feeling. I'm glad I could spend my new year trying to help others and make their voice heard. Holidays had been taken away for so long that they hit differently. It was hard to be locked up and not be around your family while being in a negative environment when the holidays are supposed to be a happy time. Last Prisoner Project: What have your Christmases, Thanksgivings, and New Year's been like for the past 3 years? Deshaun Durham: I tried not to think about it, taking them as just another day. You don't want to think about moments like that when you're in prison because it makes the time harder. Last Prisoner Project: Can you talk a bit about these past few years and how you found yourself away from your family, where you've been for the past 3 years, and how you got there? Deshaun Durham: I was in a Hutchison Correctional Facility in Hutchison, Kansas. I had gotten caught with 2.4 pounds of cannabis in Manhattan, Kansas. My home was raided, my door was kicked down, and there were about 15 police officers, all with their guns pointed at me... just to find some cannabis. I found it excessive that I had guns pointed at me for a plant that's legal in so many states. I was on bond for 2 years while I worked a job and stayed out of trouble, but they still felt the need to sentence me to 92 months in prison. The prosecutor told me at one of my preliminary hearings that I got caught with cannabis, so that meant I deserved to go to prison. Last Prisoner Project: What's your background? Where did you grow up? Deshaun Durham : I grew up in Manhattan, Kansas, my whole life. Some people call it the Little Apple. Last Prisoner Project: That's funny. When did you become involved with the plant? Deshaun Durham: At a very young age, I was probably in the 7th grade. I know I was a little young, but I was a kid that always got bullied. I struggled with a lot of depression, so I picked it up fairly early on in life, but it helped me through a lot of tough times, growing up. I'm just glad I was able to find a way to help me keep going in life. Last Prisoner Project: Is that why you decided to help bring that to others who may be struggling? Deshaun Durham: That was in 2018. I was going through another tough time because, having a lot of family issues, I had no money and nowhere to go. In my mind, I was thinking, "Oh, it's just weed, everyone loves weed. I'm not going to get in that much trouble for it. I'll probably get probation. I know it's illegal in my state, but I won't get in that much trouble." I'd never been in that kind of trouble before in my life. Reality hit me when they started tossing out the 92 to 144 months, and that's when I began to see I was mistaken about how harsh they would be towards me. Last Prisoner Project: Do you attribute that to being ignorant of the process or naive to the seriousness of where the system was with cannabis? Deshaun Durham: Both. I didn't know what could happen, and I didn't think cannabis was that serious. Last Prisoner Project: You were very young when this all happened. At what age did you get incarcerated? Deshaun Durham: I was 21. Last Prisoner Project: 21. So as a young man facing these 8, maybe more, years in prison that they were throwing out at you. How did you process the sentence you were given when you knew that that was your sentence? Deshaun Durham: Yeah, it was a lot of, you know, just like thinking that like, Oh, I lost my whole twenties, and you know I didn't know what prison was like, you know, I was kind of like, oh, I wonder what's gonna happen? I was just this young kid who's never been in trouble in his life. So you see, all the TV shows and everything like, Oh, people in prison, you know, they're going to do bad things, or this is going to happen, and that's going to happen, and was just ignorant to the situation. I thought prison was a bad place and nothing good would come out of it. I was thinking that my life was over essentially for almost 10 years. I thought I would get out of prison with nothing and be almost 30, and I wouldn't have any friends because they would have all moved on, forgetting about me. Last Prisoner Project: At what point while you were incarcerated did it set in for you when you were sitting there and you thought that this was your fate? Or maybe you didn't. Maybe you were always like, no, I'm going to get out of this. Deshaun Durham: Reality kicked in when I was being processed in Super Max, where I was for four months. It was a rough experience. It was during the summer, there was no A/C, and I was stuck in a 10 by 10 cell. I just remember it being so hot. I had no bed sheets or anything on my bed, and I was thinking, man, I hope this whole 8 years isn't like this! People would try to open the windows to get some relief from a breeze, but then the officers would come in with the maintenance people and cut all the knobs off the windows so people couldn't open the windows. We only got 15 min out every day, so I couldn't talk to my family during that time. I had hope that I could get out early because everyone, even the officers, when I told them how much time I got for what I did, would say, "Oh, you need to appeal. That doesn't even make any sense!" I kept hoping that if other people agreed that it wasn't fair, maybe people higher up would agree with it also. Last Prisoner Project: You spoke about your family. Tell me about your family and how they were affected by your incarceration. Deshaun Durham: I live with my mom, my little brother, my sister, and my mom's husband right now. My dad lives in New Hampshire, and a lot of relatives from my dad's family live in Massachusetts. I have 3 sisters and a brother there. My sisters are twins, and one of them had a baby while I was locked up, so I'm an uncle now. I haven't even had the chance to meet my new niece yet. Last Prisoner Project: Being close to your Mom, in what ways did you see your incarceration affect her? Deshaun Durham: It definitely hurt her. She was really the only person I could talk to when I was having a bad day or when things weren't going right. She didn't want to hear me down and depressed every day. Last Prisoner Project: Did you ever feel the need to hide how down you really were, or did you portray to her that you were doing better than you were, for her benefit? Deshaun Durham: Sometimes. There were times when I didn't want to talk to anyone because I didn't want to burden them with my problems. I just wanted people to enjoy life out there and I was just going to accept the reality for what it was. Last Prisoner Project: You started to feel like there was help for you out there. How did you start your journey to reunite with your family and continue with your life? Deshaun Durham: Between the heat and the poor conditions, I knew I didn't want this to be my foreseeable future. I heard that I could turn in a clemency application. I knew so many people who turned in clemency applications but got nothing. They would say, "Oh, yeah, good luck with that, I've been waiting on my clemency for, like ten years and three governors", but I thought it was worth a try. I filed and also wrote a nice 4-page letter to the governor and told myself, "I turned it in, now I just have to wait." I knew that a Democratic Governor would probably be my best shot at any action. It was an election year for Kansas Governor. I stayed up all night looking through the window of my cell at the TV, watching the election, sweating, and hoping that Laura Kelly won because I knew if she didn't win, my chances might not be as good. Thankfully, she won. It was a relief. I've never been so in tune with an election like that until it directly affected me. Last Prisoner Project: Donte West, at what point did he enter your world? Deshaun Durham: I was in the same place where he served time. When I got sent to Hutchinson, I met another inmate, Antonio Wyatt, and I told him about my case. He told me that he had a similar case, and he said, "Well, I know these people that could help you. I was locked up with my Guy, Donte when I was in Lansing, and we made a pact that whoever got out first, we'll try to get the other out. I could give him your information and have him work on your case because I hate seeing you in the same situation as me, and you're a lot younger than me." If it wasn't for Antonio, I would have never found Last Prisoner Project or Donte, and it probably wouldn't have worked out the same way. Last Prisoner Project: Donte took a huge interest in your case. He's passionate about all that he does as an advocate, but I think something in you, he saw in himself, with your age and different things that you've gone through in the past, it seemed to resonate with him, and he took it to heart and pushed it to the point where you were up for clemency. When you learned about your clemency being granted and that you were going to be released, what was your first thought? Deshaun Durham: I remember the exact moment that I found out because it was a bad day. I was mad because I lost a card game. I hopped on the phone to call my mom, but she told me to call her back in 10 minutes, so I decided to check my messages on my tablet and I saw that I had a message from Mary Bailey, and it was in all caps, GOVERNOR KELLY COMMUTED YOUR SENTENCE! It felt like my spirit had left my body, and I was looking down at myself, I didn't think it was real. Last Prisoner Project: Being told that this nightmare is over must have made the day better. Deshaun Durham: I felt like I was dreaming. The attorney for the prison walked up to me with a letter in his hand and said, "I had to hand-deliver this letter to you, and this doesn't happen often. This is the first time I've seen this happen, and I've been at Hutchinson for 30 years!" He told me to make the best of my opportunity and don't get in trouble again. It was like everyone in the prison, you know, was happy for me because everyone was congratulating me, even the guards were congratulating me. I think it was the first person in Hutch who got that type of relief almost four and a half years early. Last Prisoner Project: It should happen much more. That's why not only was your family rooting for you, but you saw other prisoners and even the officers wanting justice for you. Many people were out here so excited when the announcement was made about your release. When I got home, I felt anxious, how are you feeling? Do you think about how blessed you are by being home so soon? Deshaun Durham: I'm still taking it in and just trying to enjoy life. I'm working at a Chinese restaurant and trying to save as much money as I can. I'm still on parole, but when I get off parole, I think I'm going to move to Kansas City, Missouri, and turn this experience into something productive. I want to find my spot in the legal cannabis industry. I have been researching steps I could take to find what fits for me. I'm passionate about cannabis, and since I lost 3 years of my life in prison because of the criminalization of the plant, I think it's only right that something good comes of it. Last Prisoner Project: At any point through this process, was there a sense of guilt that you were getting out and leaving people behind? And is that why you're now so passionate about giving that hand back to people who are still incarcerated? Deshaun Durham: I met a lot of good people there. One guy's been in prison for 11 years for like 90 pounds, and he still has two more years to go. I'm just tired of the injustice. It's ruining people's lives and taking them away from their families. I just want to help as many people as I can with the opportunities I've been given. Last Prisoner Project: We at LPP are grateful that you have been so generous with sharing your story. People must understand the impact of what being incarcerated for a cannabis-related offense is really like, and you're a perfect spokesperson for it. As we move forward, we are now advocating to a different administration. As we continue to fight, if you could snap your fingers, what would you like to see change with cannabis reform? Deshaun Durham: I think it should be legalized federally and regulated like alcohol and tobacco. Of course, anyone who's been in prison or is still in prison for cannabis should be free, and the barriers of entry to the legalized industry should be lifted for anyone who's ever been to prison for cannabis. I look forward to getting to the point where no one has to worry about getting a harsh punishment for a plant anymore. Last Prisoner Project: I certainly hope that we get to hear your voice this year for 4/20 Day of Unity. Last year for 4/20, it was amazing to get so many organizations together that all have similar goals toward cannabis reform and and hear the voices of people like Donte West and Kyle Page. Deshaun Durham: I'll be there. Last Prisoner Project: When you were incarcerated, the industry was already up and flourishing so knew what the legal industry looked like right? Deshaun Durham: Yes. The hardest days were on 4/20 when I'd watch the news, they'd have a Stoner Movie Marathon, or they'd show all the 4/20 parades. I was serving 8 years for something that everyone was enjoying on that very day. Last Prisoner Project: You have 24-36 months of parole. Are you feeling any pressure from that? Are you nervous about completing the parole, or is it already set in your head that you are going do this with no problem because you know the alternative, the other side of things? Deshaun Durham: I'm not worried. I haven't smoked for so long that I can wait to smoke for two more years. I'm not going to have any problems because I mostly just work, go home and do my research. I know that I can be more of a help to you guys when I'm off parole, and I can travel and do other things. There is a little bit of anxiety because there's so much that I want to accomplish. I got out, and I want to help other people in my situation. I'm ready to start this first full year out in a positive way and see what it brings. Hopefully, there will be some doors opened for me to some good opportunities where I can better myself and my future. Last Prisoner Project: I know that there are a lot of people in your corner. Many LPP partners believe in second-chance hiring and will surely welcome you into the legal space when you're ready. I think it's very cool that Donte is giving that hand, and he gave that hand to Kyle Kyle Page, and Kyle Page is giving that hand to other people. And now you are an extension of that. Last Prisoner Project: So, you know, let's knock on wood and hope that the current administration releases some people. What would you say to them? Deshaun Durham: Yes, most definitely. I would just like to say it's a very senseless and barbaric war, and the people deserve to be free. For something that has zero confirmed overdoses, and has very little, if any, negative effects on society. I just feel like everyone deserves to be free. Last Prisoner Project : Thank you so much for sharing some of your journey with us and speaking out for those who can't speak for themselves.
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