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Vicki Thomas’ Gut-Wrenching Journey Through Her Husband's 8-Year Cannabis Incarceration

Stephanie Shepard • December 23, 2024

Last Prisoner Project’s Director of Advocacy Stephanie Shepard recently had the opportunity to sit down with Vicki Thomas, a woman whose family was devastatingly impacted by the war on drugs. Vicki's husband, Harold, was sentenced to 8 years in prison for a cannabis-related offense, leaving Vicki and their family to navigate the emotional and financial turmoil that followed. In this powerful interview, Vicki shares her story, the challenges she faced, her unwavering fight to bring Harold home, and her plea to President Biden to do for other families what could have been done for hers.


Life Before Incarceration

Vicki describes her family's life before Harold's arrest as a "normal" one - filled with family gatherings, vacations, and community involvement. Vicki says “We were just an average family, just making it, having family get-togethers, traveling, taking vacations, enjoying our five grandkids, just a normal life. There was nothing that I saw that was abnormal. Our kids were grown, and we got to spend quality time with our grandkids, went to church every week, and started different businesses”. Vicki was in school and was preparing for retirement and a move back to her hometown in Ohio when their world was turned upside down.


The Arrest and Aftermath

Vicki recounts the day when her husband was picked up and their home was raided. She was left in the dark, unsure of what was happening and how to navigate the complex legal system. "It was a very challenging time because I didn't know what was going on," Vicki says. “Not knowing what was going on with him in prison, how he was being treated, trying to talk to him over the phone, and sometimes he couldn't call, because things didn't work out electronically, or different things were going on in the prison and that brought on a lot of anxiety when I couldn't get in contact with him. I was a mess. I found myself crying a lot and very depressed." Despite their efforts to fight the charges, Harold was ultimately sentenced to 8 years in prison, a mandatory sentence that left Vicki and her family devastated.


Adjusting to Life Alone

The aftermath of Harold's incarceration was a profound struggle for Vicki. She describes feeling anxious, depressed, and alone, unable to confide in friends or family who had not experienced a similar situation. Vicki had to return to work to support the household, all while worrying about her husband's well-being in prison while enduring the financial strain of sending him money. "It was a financial hardship, and since I’d retired, I had to go back and find a job to try to keep the house. I didn't know who to turn to or talk to because I didn't know anyone; friend or family, that's ever gone through this. I couldn't talk to anyone at work about it. It was like my entire family and I were in prison too.”

When asked how her children dealt with Harold’s incarceration, Vicki said “My daughter had a hard time with it. She was trying to go to school, and I was trying to help her out, by babysitting and doing different things to allow her to have a somewhat normal life, because she was a single parent, there was so much going on, and that's very difficult position when you're a single parent. People don't understand the day-to-day struggles that go on. Thinking about feeding yourselves or do you pay your gas and electric bills? Sometimes you have to pick and choose different things while the rest of the world is going on, we were just trying to support one another. She finally got into cosmetology school and completed it this year, but the struggle was real. There were days that she couldn't make it to school because of transportation or different things that came up. She wanted to talk to her dad and have that support. My son stepped up and took the place of being the rock for the family. He tried his best to make sure that we were okay. It was hard because he's on the West Coast, but he did the best he could”.


The Fight for Harold's Release

Vicki and her family fought tirelessly to secure Harold's release, researching the law, filing paperwork, and even representing him in court. Vicki says “We were pretty much grassroots, doing our research, getting the paperwork together, going to the courts, submitting the paperwork, it was a daily grind. It was like a full-time job to see how we could get him out of jail”. She recounts the dramatic courtroom scene, where the prosecution brought in a large amount of marijuana as evidence, leaving Vicki and her daughter in tears. Harold was trying to advocate for himself, but it’s difficult to do when you have no support and he simply didn't have the support he needed. Despite their efforts, the judge ultimately sentenced Harold to a mandatory 8-year term, a devastating blow to the family. Vicki says “It was too much to even process at that time, to hear the sentence and to see Harold taken away, it was like someone had died. I felt like we were in mourning for eight years”. I couldn't talk to anyone at work about it. It was like my entire family and I were in prison too”.


Discovering the Last Prisoner Project

During her struggle, Vicki discovered the Last Prisoner Project, an organization dedicated to supporting individuals and families impacted by the war on drugs. Vicki said “I was seeking out organizations that supported people that were incarcerated for cannabis and Last Prisoner Project came up, and I was so overjoyed because I didn't think anyone was out there doing anything. The more I reached out, the more frustrated I got with the different organizations. They're helping certain populations, but they never returned to help in our case. So I just kept seeking and searching, and I finally found Last Prisoner Project”. She describes the initial interaction as a glimmer of hope, with a then law student researcher reaching out to express interest in Harold's case, Mariah Daly. "She made me feel like there's people out there that cared," Vicki says.


The relationship grew, “I thought it was going to be like the other organizations, they would take my information, and then I wouldn't hear back from them. I was in California one year, and I got a call from Mariah, and she was saying she was researching different cases, and Harold's came up and she said, “I want to see if we can help Harold”. She was awesome. I felt like I was just out there in space somewhere and that people probably thought I was crazy for asking people to help me, and here she was calling me, saying, “We want to try to help you”. She didn't make any promises. She just wanted to see if his case would fit. She said, “I have to take it back to the powers that be, but I just want to research and see what we can do. Let me get back to you”. I didn't hear for a while, so I just kind of forgot about it, because of my experiences with other organizations, but then I got contacted again by them, and I was like, “Oh my gosh, they're still around”. I was excited because they didn't forget about us. I was telling Harold, and he said, “Well, you know, those organizations are not going to really help us”, because being in there, he already had this thought that no one cares, right? But I said, “No, I really think this organization is going to help I really do”. Because of Harold's mandatory sentence, the courts just wouldn't budge, but like I said, just having the support that someone's trying. He said he got help with some commissary funding but he didn't know who it was from, I said, “Well, it probably was from Last Prisoner Project”.... and turned out it was! I said, “Oh my God, there they go again. We were so elated that somebody cared and that we were not walking this walk alone. The ongoing support from the Last Prisoner Project, including financial assistance and emotional encouragement, was a lifeline for Vicki and her family. 


The Lasting Impact and Calls for Change

Vicki emphasizes the devastating and long-lasting impact of cannabis incarceration on families like hers. "It's devastating. The impact is devastating. You can never get that time back," she says. Vicki calls for the release of all cannabis prisoners, arguing that the war on drugs has failed and that these individuals deserve to be reunited with their loved ones. She also urges President Biden to take action in the final days of his term, stating, "Let them out. It doesn't make sense. Half of America has legalized cannabis in some form now. These are people who deserve to be with their families, live their lives, and be economically independent just as much as anyone else does. They can contribute to society in so many ways and deserve a second chance to do that with how far the cannabis industry has come. I know President Biden understands the importance of family and we can never get that time back, so we have to find a way to forget it ever happened so that we can move forward because it takes a toll on everyone”. 


Vicki's story is a powerful testament to the human cost of the war on drugs and the urgent need for reform. Her resilience and determination in the face of overwhelming adversity are inspiring, and her call for change resonates with the millions of families impacted by the unjust criminalization of cannabis. As Last Prisoner Project continues its mission to right these wrongs, Vicki's story serves as a reminder of the profound impact of standing up for justice with compassion.


Check out Harold's perspective below:

By Stephanie Shepard February 20, 2025
Roots of Resilience: African American Contributions to the Cannabis Movement Cannabis has deep historical roots, stretching back thousands of years across various cultures, including Africa, where it was used for medicinal and spiritual purposes. In pre-20th century America, hemp was cultivated primarily for fiber, but there is evidence of its use within some African American communities as well. These early connections laid a foundation for a complex relationship between African Americans and cannabis, one shaped by cultural significance, criminalization, activism, and entrepreneurship. This journey reveals a narrative of resilience and influence, showcasing the integral role African Americans have played in the evolution of cannabis culture and policy in the United States. The 1930s marked a pivotal shift with the enactment of the “Marihuana Tax Act” of 1937, which effectively criminalized cannabis. This legislation was rooted in racial undertones, strategically associating cannabis use with marginalized communities, particularly African Americans and Mexican immigrants. This racialized narrative was fueled by propaganda that painted cannabis users as violent and dangerous, reinforcing stereotypes that justified harsh legal consequences. The demonization of cannabis laid the groundwork for decades of systemic discrimination and criminalization that would disproportionately impact African American communities. Despite these challenges, African American cultural icons began to reshape the narrative around cannabis during the early 20th century. Louis Armstrong, an iconic jazz musician, openly discussed his cannabis use in interviews. His candor helped normalize its use within African American culture, particularly within the jazz scene, where cannabis became associated with creativity and artistic expression. Armstrong's influence extended beyond his music; he challenged societal norms by embracing cannabis as a tool for relaxation and inspiration, subtly defying the negative stereotypes perpetuated by mainstream society. His legacy continues to inspire artists who view cannabis as an integral part of creative expression and cultural identity. During the 1960s, amid the Civil Rights Movement, cannabis use emerged as a form of counterculture expression among Black Americans in urban areas. The plant became a symbol of resistance and freedom, aligning with the broader struggle against racial oppression. Yet, this association with rebellion also made cannabis a target of political agendas. In the 1970s, the Nixon Administration launched the “War on Drugs,” a policy initiative that disproportionately targeted Black communities. The criminalization of cannabis escalated, leading to skyrocketing arrest rates and significant incarceration disparities. Nixon's advisor, John Ehrlichman, later admitted that the policy aimed to disrupt Black communities and antiwar activists, revealing the racially motivated underpinnings of the drug war. The impact of the War on Drugs intensified during the 1980s under the Reagan Administration, which implemented even harsher drug laws, including mandatory minimum sentences for cannabis offenses. This era further stigmatized cannabis, exacerbating mass incarceration rates among African Americans. The resulting social and economic consequences devastated countless Black families and communities. However, even amid this adversity, resilience emerged. As the criminal justice system disproportionately targeted Black Americans, leaders and activists within these communities began organizing and advocating for change. By the 1990s, discussions around drug reform started gaining momentum, and African American activists played crucial roles in these conversations. They highlighted the racial disparities in drug enforcement and advocated for decriminalization and legalization of cannabis. This period marked the beginning of a shift in public perception, as activists linked cannabis reform to broader social justice issues. This became especially common in rap and hip-hop where many Black artists are advocates still today. In the early 2000s, the push for medical cannabis legalization gained traction in several states. African American activists were instrumental in these movements, advocating for patient rights and access to cannabis as medicine. By the following decade, significant progress was made as more states legalized cannabis for recreational use. This new landscape allowed Black Americans to participate in the industry as advocates and entrepreneurs. Yet, systemic barriers persisted, preventing equitable access to business opportunities. Wanda James emerged as a trailblazer during this time, becoming the first African American woman to own a dispensary in Colorado. Her business, Simply Pure, symbolizes resistance against the racial discrimination historically tied to cannabis prohibition. Wanda’s advocacy extends beyond entrepreneurship—she works tirelessly to influence cannabis legislation and ensure communities affected by criminalization benefit from legalization. Her leadership challenges the status quo and paves the way for a more inclusive industry. Meanwhile, Calvin Johnson, a former NFL superstar, co-founded Primitiv cannabis to highlight the therapeutic benefits of cannabis as a safer alternative to opioids commonly used by athletes. His advocacy challenges the stigma surrounding cannabis use in professional sports and emphasizes the need for reparative justice in communities disproportionately affected by past drug policies. Now in the present, the 2020s represent a pivotal moment in the cannabis movement, as legalization continues to expand and discussions about equity and justice gain momentum. States have implemented measures to address the injustices faced by Black Americans during the War on Drugs, including expungement of records and support for minority-owned cannabis businesses. Donte West is at the forefront of this movement, leveraging his experiences with cannabis criminalization to advocate for equity and systemic change. Through his work with the Last Prisoner Project, Donte inspires others to participate in the cannabis industry and advocate for justice. We have seen a surge of African American entrepreneurs who are redefining the cannabis industry. Jesce Horton, the founder of Lowd and Grand National, is committed to creating opportunities for historically excluded communities while influencing cannabis legislation to promote equitable access. Roger “Ganja Guru” Sterling uses his platform to uplift communities of color and challenge societal narratives around cannabis, while Gibran Washington, CEO of Ethos Cannabis, advocates for inclusivity and justice within the legal cannabis market. Their leadership reflects a new chapter of empowerment and success, breaking down barriers and ensuring diverse voices shape the industry's future, though there is plenty of work still needed to balance the scales of cannabis ownership. Organizations like The Hood Incubator and Free My Weedman are also crucial in paving the way for a more inclusive cannabis space. By supporting Black and Brown entrepreneurs, advocating for equitable policies, and raising awareness about unjust incarcerations, these initiatives work to rectify historical injustices and promote social equity. Kristal Bush, founder of Free My Weedman, combines her entrepreneurial spirit with community advocacy, influencing cannabis policies and empowering marginalized communities. As we honor the contributions of Black individuals and organizations during Black History Month, it is essential to recognize the ongoing struggle of those disproportionately criminalized for daring to be involved with cannabis. From Louis Armstrong’s cultural influence to modern-day entrepreneurs and activists, African Americans have shaped the cannabis movement at every turn. Their resilience and leadership challenge systemic injustice, demand equity, and celebrate cultural identity, paving the way for a better industry for all. To continue supporting this legacy, we can engage in conversations about equity, support Black-owned cannabis businesses, and advocate for policies that promote justice. By acknowledging the past and celebrating the strides of the present, we can build a future that honors the roots of resilience within the cannabis movement.
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.
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:
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