Rutherford v. United States

A man named Rutherford is serving a decades-long sentence for armed robbery that would be significantly shorter if he were sentenced for the same crime today. This is because of the First Step Act, a major bipartisan law Congress passed in 2018 that reduced mandatory minimum sentences for certain offenses. However, Congress explicitly chose not to make these changes retroactive, meaning they don't automatically apply to people sentenced before the law was passed. Rutherford is now asking a federal judge to reduce his sentence anyway, using a separate legal mechanism known as "compassionate release."

The compassionate release statute allows judges to shorten sentences for "extraordinary and compelling reasons." The central dispute is whether a massive sentencing disparity created by a subsequent change in law can qualify as such a reason. Federal courts across the country are deeply divided on this issue. Six circuit courts have ruled that letting judges use the First Step Act this way would improperly override Congress's decision on retroactivity. Four other circuits have permitted it, reasoning that judges should be able to consider the "totality of the circumstances," including the fact that a sentence is now considered excessively long by modern standards.

The Supreme Court has taken the case to resolve this nationwide split. Its decision will determine whether thousands of inmates serving lengthy sentences under old laws can seek reductions based on more lenient contemporary standards. A ruling for Rutherford would expand judicial discretion to correct sentences that no longer align with current law, while a ruling for the government would affirm that sentences are final and that Congress's specific instructions on retroactivity cannot be circumvented.

This is the core question in a dispute involving inmates sentenced under older, harsher laws. The inmates' attorneys argue that judges considering sentence reductions through "compassionate release" should be allowed to weigh the fact that a prisoner is serving a far longer term than someone convicted of the identical crime today. They point to guidance from the U.S. Sentencing Commission—the expert agency Congress authorized to define the rules for compassionate release—which explicitly permits judges to consider such disparities as one factor among many in a case-by-case analysis. They insist this is not a backdoor attempt to make the new law retroactive for everyone, but a safety valve for individual cases where the disparity is particularly unjust.

The U.S. government argues that this approach directly defies a clear policy decision made by Congress. When lawmakers passed the First Step Act in 2018, they made a deliberate choice to apply its new, shorter sentences only to future cases. The government contends that allowing a judge to use this non-retroactive law as the primary reason for a sentence reduction is an end-run around legislative authority. During arguments, Justice Clarence Thomas captured this view, saying it seems "rather odd" to use Congress's decision not to make a law retroactive as the very reason to, in effect, apply it retroactively to an individual.

The conflict forces the Supreme Court to decide what prevails: a judge's discretion to consider all factors in an individual compassionate release motion, or Congress's specific command about when a new sentencing law applies. The inmates argue it is about fairness and using all available information, while the government argues it is a fundamental issue of separation of powers and respecting legislative choices.

The U.S. government argues that it does, and this concern was shared by several justices. The federal system abolished parole decades ago to ensure that sentences were firm and final. The government's lawyers painted a picture where compassionate release, intended as a rare humanitarian tool for things like terminal illness, would be transformed into a routine resentencing mechanism. If a judge can reduce a legally imposed sentence simply because a later act of Congress would have been more lenient, that judge is effectively acting as a parole board, second-guessing both the original sentence and Congress's specific decision not to apply the new law to past cases.

Chief Justice John Roberts highlighted this fear with a pointed remark. After hearing the inmate's argument, he suggested that if this position were accepted, "you really shouldn't call it a mandatory minimum then. You probably should call it something like the presumptive minimum depending upon subsequent developments." This reframing implies that the entire concept of a fixed, mandatory sentence from Congress would be destroyed, becoming merely a suggestion that judges could later revise based on changes in the legal landscape. Justice Brett Kavanaugh added that the First Step Act was a "heavily negotiated" political bargain, and allowing judges or the Sentencing Commission to undo the non-retroactivity part of that deal disrespects the legislative process.

The petitioner's attorneys counter that this is not parole, which involves broad release authority, but a limited, case-by-case judicial function. They argue that judges would still have to weigh all factors and would deny most motions. The sentencing disparity is just one piece of information, alongside an inmate's rehabilitation, health, and family situation. However, the fear that this opens the door to widespread judicial revisions of final sentences is a central hurdle for the inmates' case.

This question reveals a major structural conflict in the case. Congress has given the U.S. Sentencing Commission, an independent agency, the power to define what qualifies as "extraordinary and compelling reasons" for a sentence reduction. Recently, the Commission issued official guidance stating that judges are permitted to consider sentencing disparities created by new, non-retroactive laws like the First Step Act. The inmate's lawyers argue that a judge who follows this guidance is not defying Congress; they are abiding by the rules set by the very agency Congress empowered to make them.

However, the government and several justices see this as a constitutional problem. They argue that the Sentencing Commission, an administrative agency, is effectively overriding a direct and specific policy judgment made by Congress in the text of the First Step Act—the decision to make the law apply only going forward. Justice Brett Kavanaugh characterized this as the Commission trying to "countermand Congress's judgment" and orchestrate a "seismic structural change to our criminal justice system." The argument is that a general delegation of authority to an agency cannot be used to nullify a specific, later-in-time choice made by Congress itself.

The Supreme Court must therefore determine the hierarchy of power. Does the Sentencing Commission's broad, delegated authority to set compassionate release rules allow it to authorize consideration of non-retroactive laws? Or does Congress's specific, clear decision in the First Step Act to deny retroactivity override the Commission's more general guidance? The answer will have significant implications for how much power administrative agencies have to interpret and shape the application of federal law.

This question of a "limiting principle" was a major focus of the Supreme Court's inquiry. Justice Amy Coney Barrett posed a sharp hypothetical: Before the First Step Act was passed, could a judge have granted compassionate release simply because they personally felt a sentence was "excessively long"? This challenged the inmate's lawyer to explain whether their argument was truly limited to disparities created by a new act of Congress, or if it opened the door for judges to reduce any sentence they find personally unjust.

The inmate's lawyer, Frederick, struggled to give a direct answer, pivoting instead to the importance of the "total mix of circumstances" in any given case. This evasion highlighted the central weakness in his position: he couldn't concede that a judge's mere disagreement is enough, as that would represent a clear judicial overreach into legislative territory. Yet, his argument relies on a judge concluding that the old sentence, when compared to the new law, is no longer fair—a conclusion that looks very much like a disagreement with the policy Congress enacted at the time.

Justice Samuel Alito drove this point home, bluntly telling the lawyer, "I don't quite see the difference" between a judge finding a specific sentence too harsh and a judge disagreeing with Congress's general policy. The government argued that there is no logical endpoint, and a ruling for the inmate would empower judges to undo mandatory sentences they dislike, perhaps even immediately after imposing them. The Court's challenge is to determine if there is a workable, principled line that allows for correcting sentences deemed excessive by modern standards without giving judges a boundless power to revise sentences based on their own discretion.