Thirty years. First offense. No violence. No weapons. The drugs that sent our father to prison for 30 years were never physically proven at trial.

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Our father is Mark R.  Jones. He is 61 years old. He has been in federal prison for over ten years. His recidivism risk score is negative 22, the lowest measurable score in the federal system. The Warden of his facility supports his release. The law has changed in ways that would give him a shorter sentence today. None of that changed his sentence.

His sixteen year old son Josiah is profoundly autistic. At his grandmother's funeral Josiah saw his father walk in, crossed the room, and sang a song his father used to sing him. His mother had not heard that song from Josiah in years. That is the family waiting for him to come home.

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The Sentence

In 2008 I made a terrible decision that I have regretted every day since. I assisted in the transportation of cocaine. There was no violence. There were no weapons. I had no prior felony convictions. I am what the law calls a zero-point offender.

The court's own evidentiary ruling at trial limited the evidence to 4 kilograms of cocaine. Under current sentencing guidelines that quantity corresponds to approximately 6 years. My sentence was calculated on 50 or more kilograms that were never physically proven at trial. Those drugs have been referred to as ghost dope. They were never there. 

I, with no prior felonies and no aggravating history, received 30 years. Three separate sentencing enhancements applied to my case have since been identified as legal error. Under current law and recent retroactive guideline amendments for zero-point offenders I would receive a significantly shorter sentence if sentenced today. The law changed. My sentence did not.

Mark's children and grandchildren miss and need him, five of whom have lost their mother to cancer.  Mark, pictured above, was allowed to go on a furlough (a release from prison for specified time) to attend his mother's funeral on May 13, 2026 at this time he is back in prison.

The Man I Became

I have maintained zero disciplinary infractions for over ten years. My recidivism risk score is -22, classified as minimum. The Bureau of Prisons has formally assessed me as posing minimal risk to the community.

I earned my GED with the highest score in my cohort and delivered the commencement address to my fellow graduates. I tutored fellow inmates. I volunteered in religious services. I completed dozens of programs.

When my mother passed away the Warden supported my unescorted furlough request and I was granted 24 hours out of custody to lay her to rest. I returned ahead of schedule because the man I have become does not dishonor trust. Both the Warden and Acting Warden have formally expressed their support for my clemency application.

During my incarceration I wrote a book titled Who Taught You How To Love? It is grounded in faith, healing, accountability, and family restoration. I did not wait for the gate to open to start building something. I began the work from inside these walls because the work needed to begin there.

My Son Josiah is Pure Love

I have a sixteen-year-old son named Josiah who is profoundly autistic and requires substantial daily support. He is 6 feet 3 inches tall and still growing. His mother left her job to care for him full time, dedicating her life to meeting his needs. She has carried this responsibility largely on her own, without a support system. The challenges have grown beyond what one person can reasonably manage alone.  

One moment remains etched in my heart... At my mother's funeral, Josiah was in the foyer of the mortuary, stimming and visibly unsettled by the unfamiliar surroundings and emotions of the day.  When I walked through the doors,  he looked up and his face changed.  Josiah said, "Daddy, Hi Daddy!" He crossed that foyer and wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug. Then to everyone's surprise he began to singing a song I used to sing to him when he was little.  A song his mother had not heard him sing in years.  In that moment, it became clear that the song had never been forgotten.  It had been quietly living within in him all along, waiting for the right moment, the right person, and the right embrace to bring it back. 

Amid grief and loss, Josiah gave me a gift I will carry for the rest of my life.  A reminder that love endures, even when words are few, and that some of the deepest connections are held silently in the heart. 

That moment is why I am asking for your help. Josiah needs his father. Every day I remain here is another day that does not happen.

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My Mother

Sunlight over Mama's grave.

My mother came to visit me at Lompoc in July of 2024. She fell on the grounds during that visit, was seriously injured, and was bedridden from that day until she passed away. I tried everything I could to get home to her. I was too late. I was not there when she needed me most. That is a grief I will carry for the rest of my life.

I Am Ready to Come Home

I have employment waiting. I have stable housing confirmed and waiting. I have two faith communities. I have a volunteer commitment with a South Los Angeles violence interruption nonprofit. I have a book ready to share with the world. I have a family that needs me and a son who is waiting.

I am not asking to erase what I did. I own it completely. I am asking for the mercy to come home and spend the years remaining to me doing good.

Sign and Share

The Honorable Donald J. Trump has shown he believes in second chances for first-time nonviolent offenders.  Others have come home. I am asking for the same consideration.

Please sign this petition. Share it with everyone you know. Post it on every platform you have. Let Washington hear that Mark Randall Jones deserves to come home to his son, his family, his faith, and his purpose.

Thank you for standing with me.

Mark Randall Jones BOP Reg. No. 69510-112 FCC Lompoc Camp, California

#Mercy4Mark #JosiahLoveLine #FreeMark #GhostDope #JusticeForMark #BringMarkHome #WhoTaughtYouHowToLove #ClemencyNow #FirstStepAct #ZeroPointOffender #TrumpClemency #JusticeReform