Judge Grants A Second Chance

It seemed everyone present was rooting for Jimiesha McKoy. Even the prosecutor who theoretically sought to have her locked up for her role in a prescription-drug scam.

If anyone would qualify for a ​“second chance” in a criminal justice system reconsidering mass incarceration under the War on Drugs, might that someone be in the courtroom?

McKoy, 31, appeared before U.S. District Court Judge Jeffrey Meyer on Church Street Monday to be sentenced for her middlewoman role in a scam led by Yale doctor Jennifer Farrell to illegally obtain and distribute the opioid oxycodone.

A question hung over the proceeding: If anyone would qualify for a ​“second chance” under a criminal justice system reconsidering mass incarceration under the War on Drugs, might that someone be sitting in the courtroom?

In the end, Meyer decided to spare McKoy a prison term — but also to give her five years of probation to prove herself worthy of that second chance.

McKoy had previously pleaded guilty to one count of conspiracy to distribute and to possess with intent to distribute the drug. She admitted she would pick up oxycodone from various pharmacies with prescriptions that Farrell wrote in her name. She gave Farrell names of other people to use for the scam. (Farrell, too, pleaded guilty and awaits sentencing.)

Under the recommended federal guidelines, Meyer was to sentence McKoy Monday to between 30 and 37 months in prison for the offense.

Technically, that’s what the prosecution was asking him to do. At least in its sentencing memorandum.

Here’s what the prosecutor, Assistant U.S. Attorney Heather Cherry, wrote in that memo: ​“A sentence of incarceration is appropriate in this case. Oxycodone abuse is an ongoing epidemic and public health emergency. The Court should send a strong message that trafficking prescription medication such as oxycodone is a serious crime — just as serious as trafficking cocaine or heroin — and one which will carry serious penalties.”

But here’s what Cherry said in court Monday: ​“We don’t think a 30 – 37 imprisonment is appropriate in this case. It’s very challenging.”

The sentencing guidelines, Cherry said, ​“do overstate her role and what is appropriate.”

“I’ll be honest. I struggle a little bit” with this case, Cherry told Judge Meyer. ​“I think she was a drug dealer, maybe not like the person on the street, but certainly to sell drugs … opioids are a terrible thing that’s put upon our community.

“But I think she certainly is beginning to take control of her life and should be given something for that.”

McKoy’s attorney, James Glasser, made a case for sparing McKoy prison time. She had never had trouble with the law before this offense, he noted. She grew up in tough circumstances: Father in prison, mother unable to raise her because of mental illness. (Her grandparents raised her.) She got involved in this scam through a boyfriend who introduced her to oxycodone, and to Dr. Farrell. She got addicted, helped procure pills. She never earned money from her role — she merely kept some of the pills to feed her addiction. After her arrest, she spent 10 ​“enthusiastic” months recovering at a transitional housing facility; she has passed every drug test since. She’s working on getting her high school degree and pursuing a career as a firefighter, like her grandfather.

A Second-Chance Test Case

Monday’s sentencing hearing took place in a hybrid format signaling the possibly waning stages of the Covid-19 epidemic. The attorneys and judge and defendant were inside the courtroom, masked. Everyone else who wanted to observe or participate Zoomed in.

McKoy asked for permission to remove her mask when it came time for her to address the judge. He granted it.

Her words came through clearly, even over Zoom.

“In 31 years,” she told Judge Meyer, ​“I never expected to be in this position. I expected to be where you are now.

“I’m not making any excuses. I’m aware of the part that I played. I take full responsibility. I’d like to be allowed to give back to the community.

“I would like a second chance to do what I need to do.”

She’d especially like to work with girls in programs like the ones at the Virginia Wells House, she said.

“I was led by someone I thought loved me. He was just using me for his own personal advantages. I fell for it. I fell in love. I was under the influence. I couldn’t think straight. It clouded my judgment. And I regret it. I really regret it. .. I want to pay my debt to society.”

2nd-Chance Fact-Finding

It was clear Meyer (a former prosecutor who also once worked for legal aid) was open to sparing her prison time. But he had some questions first for McKoy. The questions were aimed at determining whether she was ready for that second chance.

He noted that she had had another ​“troubled” relationship with an abusive partner before the one with the drug-dealer boyfriend who got her mixed up with oxycodone and dealing.

“What are you doing to protect yourself for the future” and avoid ​“letting yourself get played by other people?” Judge Meyer asked.

“After this situation, I went back and evaluated my surroundings. I learned to read people,” McKoy responded. ​“I will never allow anyone to take me out of character again. Now I am more careful about who I have around me. I am constantly trying to do the right thing.”

Meyer asked how she is protecting herself from returning to drug abuse. She spoke of attending more recovery classes, writing in a journal, listening to music, spending more time with family and ​“helping out” in the community.

Then Meyer proceeded to goals: What is her plan to becoming a firefighter or otherwise pursuing a career? What work has she done building credentials?

McKoy has been working on completing her high school degree. She said she knows she needs to complete that first. Next steps would come after she learned her fate in this court session.

The Decision

Before pronouncing her fate, Judge Meyer told Cherry that he, too, was ​“struggling” with the recommended prison sentence.

“Here’s what I’m struggling with,” Meyer said from the bench: McKoy never had trouble with the law before. ​“She was 29 when this was happening.” She committed a ​“nonviolent offense.”

Cherry nodded as he said this.

“It looks to me,” he continued, that McKoy acted ​“at the behest of a significant other. And one that’s very addiction influenced. I’m trying to understand what would be the purpose of a prison sentence.” She took her 10-month recovery program seriously at Virginia Wells.

“I’m having a hard time figuring out why I would send Miss McKoy to prison,” Judge Meyer said.

To which prosecutor Cherry responded: ​“I would certainly defer to you.”

But she did argue that the judge should consider the fact that at first, McKoy did not cooperate with the government. She ignored an arrest warrant and had to be tracked down. She urged a friend to concoct a cover story.

But Cherry also noted that once she was arrested, McKoy cooperated fully, in good faith.

“The opioid epidemic is very serious. … She was in a conspiracy to traffic in narcotics. I think that needs to be considered,” Cherry told the judge. ​“But as I stated in the beginning, we don’t think 30 – 37 months is appropriate. I will tell you honestly I struggled with it. I think it’s a very challenging situation.”

Cherry smiled at this point and repeated to the judge: ​“I will defer to you.”

Meyer removed his mask when it came time to pronounce the sentence.

“I’m not convinced that sending you to prison is the right thing to do at this point,” Meyer told McKoy.

“Thank you, your honor,” McKoy responded.

“I don’t think you’re a substantial risk of going back. I think you’re vulnerable … I don’t think I need I send you to prison to send some message to some number of people out there. The fact that you did this when you were under addiction and under the influence of the other person, I think in light of the fact that you don’t have a criminal history that you [don’t] need to sit in a jail cell.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

“I’m concerned that doing that would disrupt the steps you have taken to” to put a life back together, pursue a career, and take care of a young daughter (currently being cared for by McKoy’s grandparents).

So Meyer instead sentenced McKoy to five years of probation.

He could have conceivably ordered a shorter term of probation, he said. If she succeeds ​“with flying colors,” the attorney can eventually file a motion to reduce that sentence. But in the meantime she would ​“prove that you really, really [are putting] things back together.”

If she slips and commits another crime, on the other hand, she would be resentenced for this one.

The judge also ordered McKoy to perform 200 hours of community service at a rate of at least 50 hours a year. She could very well do that work at Virginia Wells if they want her to, he noted.

“You have a lot of people in your corner,” the judge concluded. ​“Don’t let them down.”

“I won’t,” McKoy vowed.