It was 2020 and Woods, who grew up in Breckenridge Hills, had been out for two years. He was paroled after serving 11 years of a 25-year sentence for drug trafficking.

But that parole only came after a legislative change to sentencing laws. The Missouri Supreme Court later ruled the change couldn鈥檛 be applied retroactively to Woods. Without action from Gov. Mike Parson, Woods was going back to prison.

鈥淚 had my bags packed,鈥� Woods recalled this week. 鈥淚 thought there was no way in hell he was coming to get me.鈥�

But Parson did. In his first act of clemency as governor, Parson commuted Woods' prison sentence.

Woods has lived in Columbia, Missouri, ever since. He runs multiple businesses, from an auto detailing shop to a food concession operation at Mizzou Arena. I called him this week about Parson鈥檚 latest act of mercy, one that has earned the governor criticism from all corners.

Parson recently聽commuted the three-year prison sentence of Britt Reid, for driving while intoxicated, to house arrest. Britt is the son of Kansas City Chiefs coach Andy Reid.

Britt Reid, whose accident caused severe brain trauma to 5-year-old Ariel Young, had only served about a year in prison. Parson made the decision without consulting Young鈥檚 family, which rightly angered them. He received criticism from both the right and the left, including from Jackson County Prosecutor Jean Peters Baker, who secured Reid鈥檚 guilty plea.

Parson "used his political power to free a man with status, privilege and connections," Peters Baker said in a statement. She wasn't wrong. In Reid鈥檚 case, the governor acted prematurely, before most commutations or pardons would be contemplated.

But lost in much of the criticism of Parson is that he has shown more mercy in his use of clemency power than likely any governor in Missouri history 鈥� and more than most across the nation. This is a good thing. And the first man he set free聽鈥� or, more accurately, kept free聽鈥� was a Black man from St. Louis who drove a trunk full of drugs across the state.

鈥淚 was his first,鈥� Woods says proudly. 鈥淗e didn鈥檛 give that to a white man or Andy Reid鈥檚 son. He gave it to me. Every day I wake up and I鈥檓 thankful for that man.鈥�

It took a while for Parson to realize his mistake in Reid鈥檚 case, and he hasn鈥檛 apologized聽鈥� that part of his character is a work in progress. But on Tuesday, he expressed his to Young鈥檚 family. It鈥檚 too little, too late.

The lasting lesson in Parson鈥檚 commutation of Reid, though, shouldn't be that he use his awesome power less. He should use it more.

Take the case of Woods. He was sentenced to a nonviolent drug offense without the possibility of parole. The Missouri Legislature later changed that law, allowing such offenses to be eligible for parole for people like Woods 鈥斅爉odel prisoners who take rehabilitation seriously.

Parson has used his power to commute some of those sentences, including several people from Saline and Lafayette counties who were sent to prison on overly harsh drug sentences by the same judge. These aren鈥檛 folks you鈥檝e ever heard of, and their freedom is a blessing. But there are plenty of others like them still in prison.

Then there's Eric Clemmons. He was a 21-year-old Black man sent to prison without the possibility of parole by an all-white jury in 1983 for murder. The details that led to Clemmons' conviction were questionable. Oh, he was there. He was swinging a pipe, likely defending himself. More than four governors ago, a federal judge who examined the case suggested Clemmons was a perfect example of why the power of clemency was created. But no Missouri governor has set him free.

Or what about Brian Dorsey? More than 60 corrections officers, including a former warden, have asked Parson to save Dorsey鈥檚 life and commute his death sentence to life in prison. Dorsey has been a model prisoner, rehabilitating himself after a time in his life when drugs and alcohol drove bad decisions.

Parson has used the power of his pen frequently. He鈥檚 issued 746 pardons and 24 commutations since he became governor, many of them to people like Woods, or to Patrick Flaherty, who spent 22 years in prison for robbing four convenience stores in St. Charles County with a BB gun. If not for Parson鈥檚 commutation, Flaherty would have been behind bars until 2036.

Mercy is a good and necessary part of the criminal justice system. Parson鈥檚 pen still has much more work to do.

鈥淲hat a blessing the governor gave me,鈥� Woods says. 鈥淚鈥檓 changing lives every day.鈥�