While growing up in McKinney, Texas, Hernandez says he consistently made honor roll and was never considered a troublemaker in school. After starting high school, however, he started associating with neighborhood drug dealers. According to Hernandez, at age 15 he began dealing marijuana joints and dime bags on the street corners of McKinney, following in his older brothers’ footsteps. Everyone he knew sold or used drugs, and he says, “At that time I saw nothing wrong with it. Everyone was doing it, hustling. It was a cool thing to do. You went from skateboarding to breakdancing to drug-dealing.” Hernandez says that by age 17, the amounts of marijuana he distributed had increased to quarter-pounds and pounds, and he started selling crack cocaine and methamphetamine, usually in amounts ranging from a quarter-ounce to an ounce. Eventually his friends assisted in storing and delivering the drugs.

About a month after he turned 21, Hernandez was arrested on federal drug charges. His two elder brothers and numerous friends were arrested and charged as co-conspirators. Three months later, in June 1998, he was convicted of conspiracy to possess with intent to distribute and conspiracy to distribute drugs, including crack cocaine; possession with intent to distribute crack cocaine; distribution near a school zone; and maintaining a house to store drugs. He was convicted of committing these crimes over a five-year period when he was between 15 and 20, and the sentencing judge found him to have been a leader of the drug conspiracy from when he was only 16.

Hernandez had only one prior adult conviction—a misdemeanor for failing to pull over his car in a timely manner, for which he paid a fine—and two juvenile convictions for simple possession of a gun when he was 14 and 17 years old. Though he had been convicted as a juvenile of possessing a weapon, there were no allegations in his federal drug conspiracy trial regarding use or possession of any weapons.

Before sentencing Hernandez to LWOP, the district court judge stated that he disagreed with the crack/powder cocaine sentencing disparity and that he had written to Congress to change it. The judge also stated, through reference, that it was hard for him to sentence someone as young as Hernandez (who was 21 at the time of sentencing) to LWOP, but that under the mandatory federal sentencing guidelines he was unable to give a lower sentence. Later, the lead narcotics officer responsible for Hernandez’s arrest wrote a letter stating his opinion that although Hernandez should have been imprisoned for his involvement in drug-dealing, a life-without-parole sentence is too severe in his case.

Hernandez’s supplier, who was charged with distributing the same amount of cocaine as Hernandez but in powder form, was sentenced the same day to only 12 years in prison. The dramatic difference in their sentences was partly the result of the sentencing disparity between crack and powder cocaine offenses, which was 100-to-1 at the time of Hernandez’s sentencing. If the crack/powder cocaine sentencing disparity were eliminated, Hernandez would be eligible for release in four years.

Hernandez told the ACLU, “I…believe that a sentence that will result in my death in prison, leave my child forever without a father, and my parents without a son, should be determined by a human being, a judge with his wisdom and experience— not a mathematical formula.” He likens his sentence to “living and dying at the same time.” He explains, “This life sentence…has given me the unique experience of looking at the world through the eyes of a dead man, you could say. Imagining all the things I would love to do, and things I would do differently if only I could get a second chance at life.”

Hernandez, who is Mexican-American, speaks weekly with his parents, brothers, and son. His 15-year-old son, Estevan, was only eight months old at the time of his father’s arrest. Hernandez says he is distraught that he has missed out on raising his son and guiding him through the pitfalls he himself faced as a boy. He explains, “Being raised without a father, I can just imagine what it does to him—your father is supposed to be there to teach you about life. He’s in the same neighborhood I was raised in. There you’ll see drug dealers, you’ll see prostitutes, you’ll hear gunshots. I know the possibilities of him doing drugs, selling drugs, coming to prison. I know the possibilities of him doing drugs, selling drugs, coming to prison. I know that you take his father away, the possibilities increase greatly.”

During his more than 15 years of incarceration, Hernandez reports he has never been written up for a disciplinary infraction. He has completed a number of college and vocational courses, including business management, paralegal studies, and welding. He also participates in a program called A Better Path, through which he speaks with troubled youth about seeking opportunities other than breaking the law and tells them about the hardships that his crimes and imprisonment have imposed on him and his family. Hernandez was also selected to serve in his prison’s suicide watch companion program. He has maintained consistent employment throughout his incarceration and currently works as an orderly in the prison.

“My incarceration was necessary and has done me good,” but “[I] feel there is nothing to be gained by keeping me in here till I die,” he says. “[M]entally, my brain can’t comprehend that no matter how old I get and regardless of whatever extraordinary changes I make in my character, it will account for nothing, for I am going to die in prison regardless. It just doesn’t make sense.”

Click here to view original ACLU article (Page 170).

*Jason’s sentence was ultimately commuted by President Obama after serving more than 20 years behind bars.