“I Spent 36 Years in Prison for a Crime I Didn’t Do. Trump Is Right on Pardons” – A Personal Story Fuels Debate
Washington, D.C., April 3, 2025 – Maurice Hastings, a California man who spent 36 years behind bars for a murder he didn’t commit, is speaking out in support of President Donald Trump’s expansive use of pardon power, reigniting a national conversation about justice, clemency, and reform. Hastings, now 62, was exonerated in October 2022 after DNA evidence cleared him of a 1983 robbery-murder in Los Angeles, and he sees Trump’s recent pardons—particularly his blanket clemency for January 6 defendants—as a bold step toward correcting systemic wrongs.
A Life Stolen, Then Reclaimed
Hastings’ ordeal began on June 19, 1983, when a woman was found dead in her car trunk in LA’s Fairfax District. Arrested in October 1984, he faced capital murder, robbery, and attempted murder charges despite no physical evidence tying him to the crime. His first trial ended in a hung jury, but a second in 1988 convicted him, sentencing him to life without parole. “It felt like the whole world was against me,” Hastings told Newsweek in 2023, recalling the courtroom cheers as his fate was sealed.
For decades, he fought for DNA testing on evidence preserved from the victim—requests denied until the Los Angeles Innocence Project intervened. In 2022, tests identified another man, a convicted felon who died in 2020, as the true killer. Hastings walked free after 36 years, awarded $4.2 million by LA County in 2024, but no amount could reclaim his lost time. “I prayed every day,” he said. “Giving up wasn’t an option.”
Trump’s Pardons Strike a Chord
Now, Hastings aligns his story with Trump’s clemency push. On January 20, 2025, Trump’s first act in his second term was pardoning or commuting sentences for nearly 1,500 January 6 Capitol riot defendants—a move decried by critics as political but praised by Hastings as a stand against overreach. “I see people locked up for things they didn’t do, or sentences that don’t fit,” he said in a statement Tuesday. “Trump’s right—sometimes the system fails, and someone’s got to fix it.”
Hastings points to his own case and others, like Jamie Davidson, a drug kingpin pardoned in 2021 after 29 years for a cop killing he claimed witnesses recanted. Trump’s record—237 acts of clemency in his first term, dwarfed by this year’s Capitol sweep—resonates with Hastings’ belief that executive power can right judicial wrongs. “I don’t care who he pardons,” he added. “If one innocent person gets out, it’s worth it.”
A Polarizing Stance
The sentiment isn’t universal. Trump’s January 6 pardons, including Proud Boys leader Enrique Tarrio (22 years for seditious conspiracy) and Oath Keepers’ Stewart Rhodes (18 years), have drawn ire. NPR reported dozens of these defendants had prior convictions—rape, domestic violence, drug trafficking—fueling arguments that Trump’s blanket approach rewards the guilty, not the innocent. “It flies in the face of the facts,” one judge told Missouri Independent.
Hastings counters that the system’s flaws—rushed convictions, lost evidence, biased juries—justify bold action. His own exoneration took 36 years; many don’t get that chance. Posts on X echo his view: “Trump’s pardons are messy, but the courts are messier.” Others blast the comparison, noting January 6 involved documented violence, unlike Hastings’ wrongful conviction.
A Call for Balance
Hastings’ story—echoed by others like Maurice Caldwell, freed after 20 years via San Francisco’s Innocence Commission—highlights a clemency debate Trump has supercharged. Biden’s late-term pardons, including Hunter Biden’s, drew similar scrutiny, but Trump’s scale is unprecedented. Hastings doesn’t defend every pardon—just the principle. “I lost 36 years,” he said. “If Trump’s wrong sometimes, fine. But he’s not wrong to try.”
As the U.S. grapples with a justice system that’s freed over 3,400 via DNA since 1989, per the Innocence Project, Hastings’ voice adds a raw, human edge to the fray. Whether Trump’s pardons signal reform or recklessness, one man’s 36-year nightmare insists the question matters—and the answers aren’t simple.
