Ismael Lira’s family torn apart as cannabis lovers

Ismael Lira grew up in the border town of Del Rio, Texas. He would live there until he got into the system for the first and only time. By her late twenties, Lira had settled into a life that most Americans led. He worked hard, loved going to local restaurants with friends, and loved hanging out with his wife, Tina.

The Feds believe Lira is part of an ongoing criminal enterprise and claims it was part of an operation that exchanged hundreds of thousands of dollars. They claim he was paid a lot for his work. Federal authorities used testimony to conclude that Lira’s expensive vehicles were made from drug funds in court.

Lira never offered a plea deal, fought the prosecution and paid immensely for it. His decision swelled his fees from a few pounds to hundreds. Ultimately, a present report attributed around 33,000 kilograms of illegal cannabis to the Liras and the distribution ring. The weight allegedly traded and the proceeds would be enough to trigger a life sentence for Lira.

Lira said, “If, like me, you go to court for conspiracy and lose, you will be held accountable for the behavior of other defendants, it is called relevant behavior.”

For over 17 years, Lira has been torn from his family, home, and life for his first cannabis nonviolent crime. Several states away from loved ones, he spends much of his time alone in a violent Indiana federal prison. Meanwhile, attorneys in and out of prison emphasize his continued commitment to personal well-being and development, in the hope that he may be released sometime soon.

Courtesy Ismael Lira

Six pounds of cannabis grows into hundreds

In 2004, the Liras were arrested near San Antonio 50 miles from the US-Mexico border. Ishmael claims the couple were held from around 9:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. At that time Tina was released and her husband arrested, even though he had no cannabis, plants or anything else with him. From there, the case escalated into allegations and gravity when they were linked to another person who was caught at the checkpoint that day with about six pounds of cannabis in their car.

The FBI accused Lira of providing cannabis to that person. Between the arrest and the trial, the six pounds and a single charge increased to a multi-person operation that processed thousands of kilograms of cannabis. For his part, Lira cited various court statements that he believed misrepresent the facts and only tie him to a cannabis operation by name, with no hard evidence.

Lira said the Feds finally started bringing in other witnesses to link him to the case after his two co-defendants said they did not testify against him. He cited additional court minutes alleging that the Feds are suspending proceedings in order to set up a case against him and his wife.

Like most in this predicament, guilty or not, Lira said the Fed was trying to get him to plead to avoid a lawsuit. Eventually Tina was also charged with alleged conspiracy. Lira swears his wife was innocent. At that point, he said he knew he had to fight the charges and clear their names. The decision would be costly.

Eighteen months after his arrest, the trial was due to begin. By the third day, Lira knew he was in trouble. He remembered hearing prosecutors tell his lawyer that they would be paid regardless of the outcome of the trial.

“It happens all the time,” he said.

Lira said he ended up, like many, with little education in the courtroom and a representation that didn’t help fill in the gaps. Lira would understand his case and the conspiracy allegations better in the years since his conviction, saying that a conspiracy must demonstrate intent, knowledge, and consent to advance the operation. He said that two out of three other defendants did not know the liras and that there was never a deal.

“There were no seizures; the evidence is not weighed, ”said Lira.

His fight would not affect the jury as the Liras were found guilty for their involvement in the operation. Tina would get 11 years for her first offense; Ishmael received life.

Ismael Lira: 17 years in some of America’s most violent travel destinations

Over the past 17 years, Lira has been taken to various prisons, witnessed frequent acts of violence, and lived far away from loved ones.

His first stop was USP Beaumont, also known as Bloody Beaumont for its high levels of violence and extended lockdowns. Lira only finished with 15 points in his assessment, which should have deterred him from the more violent units. However, his crimes put him in the higher risk cell blocks. He called the experience an eye opener, where murders are common. “I saw more violence as a child than I ever saw on television,” he recalled of the Texas prison where he lived until March 2008.

Future stops would not lessen the brutality. Lira continued to see murder and other forms of violence along the way. Circumstances haven’t changed much since arriving in Indiana. In 2020, the prison gained the national press when the Washington Post reported a beating death.

Lira had to cancel his first call to the High Times in late July because of a lockdown that stabbed a prisoner. He was not involved in the incident.

There has been little family interaction during his prison sentence. During Lira’s 17-year incarceration, he remembers only six or seven visits, citing the great distance from his family in South Texas. During Tina’s 11 years in prison, Ishmael told her family and friends to visit her instead.

“I wanted her to have someone to see,” he said. He added, “I wanted my family to be there for them.”

The liras would stay together during Tina’s punishment. However, four years ago they decided to split up. “It’s hard to be in a relationship in prison,” he said.

Get up and hope for a second chance

The end of their marriage hadn’t changed Lira’s commitment to his wife prior to his conviction. They agreed not to let the system change them, as countless people do.

Lira’s commitment to this commitment is illustrated by her commitment to education and self-improvement. To date, he has completed over 70 personal and professional development programs. He completed two training courses and studied urban and industrial pest control at Purdue University in the spring of 2020.

Lira has received ardent praise from speakers and lawyers such as Amy Povah, a former prisoner of the nonviolent drug war who became a lawyer. Today she heads the organization CAN-DO Foundation, which seeks grace for people like Lira.

Povah recently launched a Change.org petition for lira’s pardon in hopes he may receive pardon after failing to do so to Presidents Obama and Trump.

“Ishmael is one of the most deserving pot prisoners I know who should be at home,” Povah told The High Times.

Povah said she prayed that the Biden government would “keep its promise to release all cannabis prisoners.” She added, “It’s a rather small category of people who rot in jail while others, including former House Speaker John Boehner, rake in big bucks.”

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