Hunter Biden’s case isn’t special – it’s just rarely applied to White America
by Donald “C-Note” Hooker
When I hear pundits and politicians argue that Hunter Biden’s federal gun possession charge was “unusual,” I can’t help but shake my head. They claim that federal prosecutors rarely pursue these types of cases and that Hunter was charged only because of his last name. But as a Black man who’s spent time navigating this so-called justice system, I know better. The truth is, countless Black Americans are prosecuted for the very same federal gun violations. It’s not “unusual” for us – it’s routine.
In fact, these charges often come down harder on Black defendants than anyone else. If anything, what’s unusual about Hunter’s case is that he was even charged at all, because white Americans are often exempt from the same scrutiny Black Americans face every day. I’ve seen this firsthand, and I’ve lived it.
My Case vs. James Orr: A Tale of Two Justices
Take my case, for example. I was charged under California Penal Code § 245(a)(1) for allegedly raising a knife in self-defense to prevent a homeless man in downtown skid row from following me. Let me be clear: No one was hurt. I didn’t swing the knife, let alone cause injury. Yet, the prosecutor insisted on charging me with felony assault with a deadly weapon, exposing me to years in prison.
I argued in court that my charge should’ve been reduced to Penal Code § 417, which involves brandishing a weapon, a far lesser offense. But the prosecutor wouldn’t budge. Instead, they treated me as though I were some kind of violent criminal. And here’s the kicker: This all happened in the poorest neighborhood in Los Angeles, skid row.
Now let’s compare my case to that of James Orr, a wealthy white Hollywood producer. According to the Los Angeles Times, Orr physically assaulted actress Farrah Fawcett, slamming her head into the ground and choking her. She was visibly injured, yet he walked away with probation and community service. Orr’s crime occurred in one of the wealthiest parts of Los Angeles, but the justice he faced was softer than a slap on the wrist.
I pointed this out in court. I told the judge that Orr’s case involved actual violence against a woman, yet he got a deal. Meanwhile, I’m standing in front of the court for an incident where no one was harmed. The judge didn’t seem to care. It was clear that geography, wealth and race had everything to do with how our cases were handled. After all, the O.J. Simpson trial had put domestic violence cases in the spotlight, and Los Angeles prosecutors had vowed to crack down – but only when it suited them.
The same pattern of injustice is seen in the story of my close friend, Cairo Williams, who was recently released from federal prison for a gun possession violation. Cairo was on parole when his probation officer flagged him for “contact with police,” not because he was involved in any criminal activity, but because others using his car had been pulled over. Despite the house being in his name, Cairo wasn’t even present when law enforcement found a weapon on the property. He was out of state at the time, taking his daughter shopping for school supplies in California. Regardless, they charged him with possession of the firearm.
When his partner stepped up to claim responsibility for the weapon, the system wouldn’t hear it. They offered Cairo a deal for two years, but he maintained his innocence, refusing to accept a plea for something he didn’t do. In response, they hit him with an enhancement for the extended magazine, ultimately sentencing him to six years with an additional three years of probation.
Cairo’s paid attorney, Craig Mueller, abandoned him after receiving payment, leaving him to face the system alone. It’s a stark example of how even those who try to fight back against these inequities are often left without adequate legal support. His experience reflects the harsh reality many Black men face: being caught in a system designed to assume guilt and impose the maximum penalty, no matter the circumstances.
Cairo’s story is just another example of how the justice system disproportionately targets Black men, turning routine encounters into life-altering events. For both of us, our cases reflect the reality of a system that doesn’t care about fairness – it cares about maintaining the status quo, where Black men are treated as guilty until proven innocent, and even then, justice is elusive.
These stories aren’t just isolated incidents. They’re the rule, not the exception, for Black Americans navigating a system designed to punish us more harshly for the same or lesser offenses than our white counterparts. Whether it’s me walking through downtown Los Angeles’s skid row, Cairo in Nevada, or countless others, the system works exactly as it was intended – to control us.
Modern Black Codes: Marijuana in Colorado
The disparities don’t stop at assault charges. In Colorado, marijuana is legal, yet Black and Latino teens are still disproportionately prosecuted for marijuana-related offenses. According to a 2016 report by the Colorado Department of Public Safety, arrests for white juveniles decreased by 8% between 2012 and 2014, while arrests for Black juveniles increased by 58%. Latino juveniles saw an increase of 29%. These kids aren’t being busted because they’re committing more crimes – they’re being targeted because of who they are.
Meanwhile, their white counterparts often get off with a warning or diversion programs. According to BuzzFeed News, schools in predominantly white areas handle drug incidents internally, with counseling or disciplinary action, while schools in Black and Brown neighborhoods involve law enforcement. This isn’t justice – it’s a modern-day version of the Black Codes, where laws are enforced selectively to maintain racial hierarchies.
Federal cocaine laws: another double standard
Then there’s the disparity in federal cocaine sentencing laws. According to the U.S. Sentencing Commission, the 1986 Anti-Drug Abuse Act created a 100:1 sentencing disparity between crack cocaine (associated with Black communities) and powder cocaine (associated with white users). This meant that possessing just 5 grams of crack cocaine triggered the same mandatory minimum sentence as possessing 500 grams of powder cocaine. By 2000, more than 80% of federal crack cocaine convictions involved Black defendants.
Even after reforms like the Fair Sentencing Act reduced the disparity to 18:1, the damage had already been done. Generations of Black families were torn apart by a system that treated their children as criminals and white children as victims. This is the same system that claims Hunter Biden’s prosecution was “unusual.” For Black Americans, there’s nothing unusual about being overcharged and over-sentenced – it’s the status quo.
The connection: from Black Codes to modern laws
These disparities – whether in state-level assault charges, marijuana enforcement or federal cocaine laws – all trace back to the Black Codes. After the Civil War, Southern states used these laws to criminalize Black Americans for minor infractions like vagrancy or loitering, forcing them back into labor under the guise of the 13th Amendment’s slavery exception clause which incentivized criminal convictions in order to re-enslave the newly freed persons of color.
Today’s laws may not mention race, but they function the same way. From Penal Code § 245(a)(1) to 18 U.S.C. § 922(g), these laws disproportionately target Black Americans, perpetuating cycles of incarceration and disenfranchisement. Hunter Biden’s case should’ve been an opportunity to highlight these inequities, but instead, it’s being spun as some kind of exception. It’s not. It’s a rare glimpse into a system that Black Americans know all too well.
Reparations for reincarceration
Reparations aren’t just about addressing slavery—they’re about addressing everything that came after it. The criminalization of Black Americans through the Black Codes and their modern equivalents demands reparations. This means expunging records, addressing sentencing disparities, and providing economic compensation to communities devastated by systemic racism.
We need a justice system that truly lives up to its name, one that doesn’t punish people based on their skin color or the neighborhood they live in. Until then, we’ll keep seeing cases like mine, and we’ll keep hearing absurd arguments that Hunter Biden’s case was “unusual.”
Conclusion: A Call for Change
Hunter Biden’s case wasn’t unusual. What’s unusual is that white Americans are rarely held to the same standards as Black Americans. If we’re going to have a real conversation about justice, we need to stop pretending that these disparities don’t exist. We need to stop excusing a system that punishes Black Americans for the same things it forgives in white Americans.
The next time someone tells you that Hunter Biden’s prosecution was unique, remind them of people like me. Remind them of James Orr, of the Colorado teens, of the crack cocaine laws. Then ask them why justice seems to change depending on the color of your skin. Until we answer that question, we can’t call this a justice system. It’s just another system of control.
C-Note is known as the world’s most prolific prison artist, who has written for CalMatters, the Los Angeles Tribune, John Jay College of Criminal Justice, Mprisond Thotz, Inmate Blogger and more. He has been featured in Flaunt Magazine, Elucid Magazine, PEOPLE Magazine and more. Send our brother some love and light: Donald “C-Note” Hooker, K94063 (A2-150), P.O. Box 4430, Lancaster, CA 93539. And visit his website: https://www.c-note.org
