Clemency's Cost: Did Washington's Compassion Enable Deadly Relapse

Three men from Snohomish County sit in federal detention today, their wrists bound by a grim irony. Percy Levy, Eugene Smith, and Robert O. Baggett, once beneficiaries of mercy through commuted sentences, now face charges that could lock them away for life. Conspiracy to distribute cocaine, fentanyl, and methamphetamine, paired with illegal firearm possession, paints a chilling picture. These aren’t first-time offenders caught in a bad moment; their criminal histories stretch back decades, riddled with violence, robbery, and assault. Yet, somehow, they walked free, only to plunge back into the very chaos society hoped they’d left behind.

The story hit hard last week when the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Seattle announced their indictment. It came out of nowhere, a stark reminder that good intentions don’t always yield good outcomes. Levy, paroled in 2019 after a 19-year sentence, allegedly ran the show, his home a stash house brimming with drugs and a loaded gun tucked under his pillow. Smith, freed in 2020 from a life sentence under Washington’s Third Strike law, delivered deadly fentanyl to an undercover officer. Baggett, a 14-time felon, peddled both narcotics and firearms like a one-man black market. This isn’t redemption; it’s a relapse with lethal stakes.

For those of us who believe in justice tempered with compassion, this case stings. Advocates for criminal justice reform, myself included, have long argued that people deserve a shot at rebuilding their lives. But when that shot fires back, laced with fentanyl and bullets, it’s time to ask: Are we sacrificing community safety on the altar of idealism? These men’s actions demand we confront the limits of mercy and the real-world wreckage left in its wake.

Law enforcement didn’t stumble into this mess blind. The Snohomish Regional Drug Task Force had Levy and Baggett on their radar since 2023, tracking their cocaine deals with precision. Baggett, ever the eager salesman, sold drugs and guns to an undercover officer, casually name-dropping Levy as his boss. Smith sealed the trio’s fate on March 13, 2025, handing over cocaine and fentanyl powder at a casino meet-up, only to be cuffed minutes later. A search of Levy’s home uncovered bricks of cocaine, fentanyl, and the tools of the trade, digital scales, packaging, and that damning firearm. The evidence is a gut punch, undeniable and sprawling.

This isn’t an isolated blip. Look at Operation Sonic Boom in Oklahoma City, where 110 firearms and heaps of methamphetamine, cocaine, and fentanyl were seized. The ATF’s ballistic tracing showed those guns tied to gang shootings and homicides. Here in Washington, the DEA Bellingham HIDTA Task Force nabbed over 850,000 fentanyl pills last year alone. Drug trafficking and gun violence don’t just coexist; they feed off each other, a symbiotic nightmare tearing through communities. When men like Levy, Smith, and Baggett, already barred from owning firearms due to their records, wield them anyway, the danger multiplies.

Supporters of tough-on-crime policies will crow that this proves their point, lock ’em up and throw away the key. They’re wrong to think punishment alone fixes anything; decades of mass incarceration show it often breeds more crime, not less. But their skepticism about clemency isn’t baseless here. California’s data offers hope, with recidivism dropping to 25% for those in rehabilitative programs. Yet Levy, Smith, and Baggett didn’t get that memo. Their commutations lacked the guardrails, the support, to keep them from sliding back into the abyss. Mercy without structure is a gamble, and Snohomish County lost big.

Fentanyl’s fingerprints are all over this tragedy. It’s the grim reaper of the drug trade, claiming 70% of overdose deaths nationwide. Federal cases from 2019 to 2023 peg it at 80% of trafficking-related overdoses. Methamphetamine and cocaine trail behind, but their presence in this case amplifies the threat. These aren’t petty dealers; they’re cogs in a machine that’s flooding streets with poison. The Snohomish task force, part of the HIDTA network, has been relentless, slashing overdose rates by disrupting these networks. Their work proves collective action can dent the crisis, but only if the system holds up its end.

History backs this up. Since the 1960s, regional task forces have chipped away at drug empires, from DEA collaborations to the OCDETF program in the ’80s. They’ve seized assets, busted cartels, and saved lives. But when commuted felons like these three reenter the game, it’s a slap in the face to that progress. The Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986 set mandatory minimums to deter this exact behavior, yet here we are. The law’s rigidity is flawed, often snaring low-level players unfairly, but its intent, to protect us from repeat offenders, resonates when you see a gun under Levy’s pillow.

So where do we go from here? The answer isn’t to abandon mercy; it’s to sharpen it. Commutations can work, California’s 25% recidivism rate for rehabbed offenders proves that. The First Step Act federally cut reoffense rates by 30% with similar programming. But Levy, Smith, and Baggett slipped through the cracks, no evidence they got the education or support to rewrite their stories. We need a system that pairs clemency with accountability, rigorous oversight, and real rehabilitation, not a free pass to reload and deal again.

This case isn’t a death knell for reform; it’s a wake-up call. Communities deserve safety, not just from drugs and guns, but from policies that fail to protect them. Advocates for change can’t ignore the body count, the families shattered by fentanyl, the kids dodging bullets in neighborhoods these men preyed upon. We fight for second chances because people can change, but when they don’t, when they choose violence over redemption, justice demands consequences. Snohomish County’s nightmare proves it’s time to rethink how we balance compassion with reality, before more lives slip away.