Trump on Clemency

As controversy continues to swirl around the Trump administration’s use of clemency, including allegations that access to pardons has become influenced by wealth and connections, a deeper question is emerging. What happens when the president does not just forgive a conviction or shorten a sentence, but wipes away the financial penalties that often last far longer than prison itself?

Most Americans understand the basics of clemency. The president can grant pardons, commutations, and reprieves. But there is another form of relief that rarely enters public discussion: remission. Remission allows a president to eliminate financial penalties tied to a federal conviction, including fines, forfeitures, and potentially restitution.

That distinction matters, especially in white collar cases, because restitution is often the single largest component of punishment.

The traditional clemency process runs through the Justice Department’s Office of the Pardon Attorney, where petitions are reviewed, prosecutors are consulted, and recommendations are made to the White House. In practice, however, presidents are not required to follow that process. In recent years, particularly during the Trump presidency, clemency decisions have frequently bypassed that structure altogether, flowing instead through personal, political, or informal channels.

Historically, most clemency has focused on incarceration. Commutations reduce prison time but leave financial penalties intact. Pardons forgive the offense and restore certain rights. Remission, however, goes further. It reaches into the financial core of a sentence.

Powerful and Controversial

In federal fraud cases, restitution is not just about repaying victims. It is often central to how sentences are calculated in the first place. Under the federal sentencing guidelines, the amount of “loss” attributed to a defendant can dramatically increase the recommended prison term. Critics have long argued that prosecutors rely on inflated or theoretical loss figures to drive sentencing exposure, even when actual harm is disputed or uncertain.

For defendants, the immediate priority is clear: avoid prison. Restitution, no matter how large, is often treated as a secondary issue. By the time sentencing arrives, many lack the resources or leverage to meaningfully challenge the numbers attached to their cases.

But the problem with restitution runs deeper than sentencing strategy.

Earlier this year, the Supreme Court clarified what many defendants already knew. In a unanimous decision in Ellingburg v. United States, the Court held that restitution under federal law is not merely compensation, it is punishment.

Some Cases Stand Out

Restitution is often described as a tool to make victims whole. In reality, it frequently fails both victims and defendants. Federal restitution debt now exceeds $110 billion, with the vast majority considered uncollectible. Courts routinely impose restitution orders in the millions of dollars without considering a defendant’s ability to pay.

The result is a system built on unrealistic expectations. Victims are promised compensation that rarely materializes. Defendants leave prison carrying financial obligations that can follow them for decades through wage garnishment, liens, and continued court oversight.

Seen in that light, restitution is less a tool of restoration and more a form of extended punishment—one that often delivers neither accountability nor recovery.

Cases like that of Mary Kay Rogers, the former Butler County, Ohio auditor, highlight just how disconnected restitution can become from reality. Rogers was prosecuted in federal court on fraud-related charges involving a local bank. As in many white-collar cases, the government’s theory of loss shaped both the sentencing exposure and the restitution order.

But in a twist that underscores the system’s flaws, the bank itself reportedly indicated that it did not believe Rogers owed the money the government claimed as loss. In other words, the supposed victim did not support the restitution figure being pursued in court. Despite that, the case proceeded with a loss calculation that drove the outcome.

Rogers’ case is not an anomaly. It reflects a broader structural problem where restitution often mirrors prosecutorial theories rather than actual harm. And because defendants are focused on avoiding prison, those figures are rarely the central battleground at sentencing. Once imposed, however, they become one of the most enduring parts of the punishment.

Reform Comes From Those Who Know

Topeka Sam, who received a full presidential pardon in 2020, has emerged as one of the leading voices on restitution reform. Through The Ladies of Hope Ministries, she helped launch the “#RemissionNow” campaign, highlighting the thousands of women leaving federal prison with overwhelming restitution obligations.

The campaign reframed remission as a reentry issue. It argued that individuals can complete their prison terms, comply with supervision, and rebuild their lives—yet remain financially tethered to the system for decades.

Jamila Davis has been one of the most visible faces of that effort. After serving time in a federal mortgage fraud case, she left prison carrying more than $12 million in restitution. Like many others, she has argued that the amount reflected sentencing calculations rather than realistic recovery.

Together, Sam and Davis have helped expose the gap between restitution’s promise and its reality. Their advocacy has also elevated remission from an obscure legal concept to a central issue in clemency reform.

Recent Clemency Decisions Are Consequential

Historically, remission has been rare, typically reserved for narrow cases involving hardship and demonstrated efforts to repay. For decades, presidents have been reluctant to interfere with restitution, in part because it is viewed as money owed to victims rather than the government.

But recent cases suggest a shift. In March 2025, President Trump’s pardon of Trevor Milton, the founder of Nikola Corporation, included remission of “any and all fines, penalties, forfeitures, and restitution.” Similar language appeared in clemency granted to Devon Archer.

Those decisions sparked immediate criticism. When restitution is erased, the question is unavoidable: who absorbs the loss?

Supporters argue that the Constitution gives the president broad authority to correct unjust sentences, including financial penalties driven by questionable loss calculations. Critics counter that remission risks shifting the cost of fraud from offenders to victims, particularly in cases involving real financial harm.

The legal landscape remains unsettled. Restitution occupies a gray area—part criminal penalty, part victim compensation. That tension has never been fully resolved, and remission sits at the center of that ambiguity.

What is clear is that remission may be the most powerful and least scrutinized tool in the clemency process.

A prison sentence ends. Restitution often does not.

If the public debate over pardons has focused on who benefits from clemency, it may be missing the more important question: what clemency actually changes. When it reaches restitution, it does more than forgive—it can erase the most durable part of a criminal sentence.

And that is where the issue may become even more relevant in the years ahead.

Donald Trump has made no secret of his distrust of the Justice Department and his belief that federal prosecutions, particularly in white collar and political cases, can be excessive or unfair. If that view continues to shape clemency decisions, remission could become a far more prominent tool.

That would mark a significant shift. It would not just change who gets relief, but what kind of relief is granted.

In a system where restitution is often inflated, uncollectible, and functionally punitive, the power to erase it may prove to be the most consequential and controversial power the president has.