Chad Scott, a disgraced former DEA agent locked up for corruption, is now betting on one thing to win his freedom — that Donald Trump, now a convicted felon himself, will see a kindred spirit behind bars.
In a handwritten plea to the White House, Scott spelled it out: both he and Trump had been shot in the ear, both had been convicted of falsifying records, and both — in Scott’s words — were victims of “political persecution.” His pitch: From felon to fellow felon, help me out.
“Chad Scott is a hero in this country’s war on drugs,” his lawyer wrote in the clemency application, according to The Associated Press. “It would be a gross waste of taxpayer money to house and feed him for six more years.”
Scott’s hail-mary bid is part of a flood of similar requests hitting Trump’s desk — thousands of inmates are now framing their stories not just around remorse or rehabilitation, but around relatability. They’re highlighting shared legal struggles with a president who was convicted last year in New York of falsifying business records, but walked away without punishment.
“In many ways I feel like he has the same point of view that we’ve got,” said Eric Sanchez Chaparro, a federal prisoner doing 19 years for drugs and weapons charges. “Even though people try to put him down, he kept on pushing for his goal.”
Trump’s return to office has ignited hope inside federal prisons. Since January, over 9,300 petitions for pardons or commutations have been filed — a number that could blow past the 15,000 clemency requests received during all four years of Biden’s presidency.
What’s changed? Everything. The old process — where career Justice Department officials vetted each request over months or years — has been replaced with something looser, more personal, and highly political.
“The traditional process and practices all seem to have fallen by the wayside,” said Liz Oyer, the former Justice Department pardon attorney, who was fired in March. “It’s a free-for-all.”
And for many, it’s a free-for-all worth diving into.
Trump’s mercy has already reached political allies, campaign donors, and even celebrities. Among those who’ve benefited:
A sheriff who sold fake law enforcement titles for cash.
A wealthy donor who funneled foreign money into Trump’s inauguration.
Reality TV star Joe Exotic, who posted a song for Trump from prison and claimed he was “paying the time for a crime I didn’t do.”
Trump’s new pardon attorney, Ed Martin Jr., is a loyalist who once defended Jan. 6 rioters and promoted the lie that Democrats stole the 2020 election. Legal scholars say Trump’s use of pardons is unlike anything seen before.
“It’s a grotesque misuse of constitutional authority,” said Frank Bowman, a legal historian writing a book on presidential pardons.
Still, for prisoners like Jonathan Woods — a former Arkansas state senator doing 18 years for bribery — Trump represents a last, real shot.
“President Trump is viewed as someone as having a big heart, nonjudgmental and someone who has been put through hell by a very imperfect legal system,” Woods told the AP. “Inmates view him as someone who will listen to them in hopes of going home early to their loved ones.”
Even those rejected by Biden have found new hope in Trump. When brothers Eddie and Joe Sotelo were denied clemency by the previous administration, their supporters turned to Alice Marie Johnson — herself granted clemency by Trump in 2018 and now appointed as his official pardon czar.
She helped free the brothers, who had been serving life for a drug conspiracy.
“These men were serving the same sentence as the Unabomber — on drug charges,” said Brittany Barnett, founder of the Buried Alive Project. “Trump’s open-mindedness has sent shock waves of hope through the prison walls for the thousands of people still serving extreme sentences.”
Back at FCI Ashland, Scott keeps busy. He trains service dogs in a program called Pawsibilities Unleashed. One of his dogs — a mix of Labrador and Great Dane — is named Trump.
He also works as the “town driver,” transporting newly released inmates to bus stops, halfway houses, and hospitals. But his eyes are fixed on one destination: Washington, D.C.
In his clemency request, Scott even highlighted that the prosecutor in his case now works for special counsel Jack Smith — the same Jack Smith who twice indicted Trump. That connection, Scott hopes, will hit a nerve.
“Though I do not claim to be a saint, I DID NOT commit the crimes for which I have been convicted,” Scott wrote to Trump, using all caps — just like the president does online.
Scott’s law enforcement career imploded after two members of his task force were busted for stealing drugs. He was eventually convicted of falsifying paperwork, stealing money from suspects, and lying under oath. After losing every appeal, he now says clemency is his “last resort.”
And he’s not alone. Across the prison system, felons are making their case with a bold, new appeal: From felon to fellow felon — you understand. Help me.
