Julian Andrade was 19 when his case began. He is now serving 75 years on THC and marijuana charges that carried deadly weapon findings. His son was born while he was inside.
Editor’s note: This story was updated on October 5, 2026. The original version described Andrade’s case as a nonviolent cannabis offense and omitted details from the court record, including deadly weapon findings, new charges while he was on probation and a missed court date. The case details were added by High Times editors.
Julian Andrade was born and raised in Fort Worth, Texas. He has been in prison since 2023, serving a 75-year sentence on Texas drug charges, along with concurrent terms of 50 and 10 years.
Julian is a father. His son was born while he was incarcerated, a milestone he could not share, a childhood he cannot witness in person. His aunt stands firmly by his side, advocating for him and helping make sure his story gets told.
The Case
According to a 2024 opinion from Texas’ Second Court of Appeals, police executing a narcotics search warrant in June 2021 arrested Andrade and found about $50,000 in cash, large quantities of marijuana and THC, and multiple firearms, some of them stolen. In February 2022, he pleaded guilty to possession with intent to deliver more than 400 grams of THC other than marijuana and to possession of between 5 and 50 pounds of marijuana, both with deadly weapon findings, and was placed on five years of deferred-adjudication probation. An investigator also testified that Andrade had become the leader of AOB, which the court described as a criminal street organization.
Two months after he was placed on probation, he was arrested again in a SWAT raid at a Fort Worth residence with a firearm on him, and was charged with possession with intent to deliver THC, with an allegation that he used or exhibited a firearm as a deadly weapon, along with marijuana possession and unlawful firearm possession. Over the following year, he repeatedly tested positive for drugs, missed a June 2023 court date and was placed on Tarrant County’s most-wanted list before police arrested him again.
In 2023, he pleaded guilty to the new THC charge, including the deadly weapon finding, and the court adjudicated all three cases: 50 years for the first THC charge, 10 years for the marijuana charge and 75 years for the second THC charge, to run concurrently. He later acknowledged that he had rejected a 30-year offer from prosecutors. The appeals court upheld the sentences, citing his repeated firearm possession, the new offenses on probation and his failure to appear. The court record does not describe anyone being injured.
This is his story, in his own words.
A Fast Life and Bigger Dreams
Before his arrest, Julian was someone who poured his time into the people he loved. “Before incarceration, I would spend any and all time that I could with my family and loved ones,” he says. Underneath that, he carried real ambition. His goals were not small. He wanted to open businesses and bring others along with him, to create something and share it.
“The path I thought I was on at 19 was a fast life that I did not know how to get out of.”
Shock, Confusion, and a Quiet Resolve
When the sentence came down, Julian didn’t rage. He went quiet.
“I was in shock, loss of words, hurt, but mainly confused. I didn’t hurt anyone. It was only cannabis.”
Cannabis is now legal or decriminalized in the majority of U.S. states. In Texas, a man whose case began when he was 19 received a sentence longer than most people’s entire lives.
Julian says he has refused to let that sentence hollow him out. Since coming to prison, he says he has grown closer to God and encourages others to do the same. He uses the time to mature and to become a better man, not just for the people waiting for him on the outside, but for himself.
“Since receiving my time, my perspective has changed completely. I now use this time to mature, grow, and become a better man for my family, friends, and my release, but most importantly myself.”
A Father Behind Bars
Julian’s son came into the world while Julian was incarcerated. There was no hospital room, no first cry he could hear, no hand to hold. There is only the wondering.
“I miss my son daily. It hurts me knowing I can’t help or even watch him grow up. I’m always wondering what he is doing, what kind of kid he is, and what he likes. Hoping one day I can do the same things with him that my grandpa did with me.”
“My child means the world to me.”
The Daily Weight
Ask Julian what his hardest challenges are, and his answers are not about prison conditions or legal policy in the abstract. They are deeply personal.
“The biggest challenge I face daily is missing home. Hoping I’m free before my grandpa or mom passes. Being able to still be in my child’s younger years. And enjoying life in the free world while I’m still young.”
He is racing against time on every front: against grief, against his son’s childhood, against his own youth passing inside a cell. And yet something keeps him going.
“The world is changing. But mainly dreaming about the things I will do and the life I want to live upon my release.”
He means it literally, too. Julian says he looks forward to pumping gas, walking through a grocery store, and one day helping others who find themselves in situations like his.
What Julian Wants You to Know
“I know what I did. I broke the law. But I don’t think people like myself or others should be serving long sentences, especially for something nonviolent or accepted in more than half of America and other parts of the world.
I was still a kid when I came to prison. I was still growing up and maturing, and still am today. I didn’t hurt anyone, never did, and never will. I don’t deserve all this time.
I understand I and others have broken the law, but we should not be doing more than 5 years for a plant.”
His aunt has stood by Julian since the beginning, advocating for him loudly and consistently. Julian hopes that one day he will be able to share his testimony from the outside, to stand in front of others who are struggling and tell them there is a way through.
The Door to Clemency Is Almost Sealed Shut
Julian would like to pursue a sentence commutation, but Texas makes that road extraordinarily difficult. Just to be considered, the state generally requires a written recommendation from a majority of the relevant current trial officials, along with compliance with the parole board’s other rules. The system that sentenced him is the same one he would need permission from to get out.
A Question of Proportion
Andrade’s sentences rest on THC and marijuana charges aggravated by firearms, and the courts treated them as serious crimes. His family and advocates argue that 75 years for offenses committed at 19 is out of proportion with how much of the country now treats cannabis. He is now a father, spending what should be some of the freest years of his life behind bars.
“I hope what happened to me and others like me stops happening.”
Want to write to Julian or another incarcerated cannabis prisoner? Visit the Last Prisoner Project’s letter-writing program.
Mary Bailey is Managing Director of Last Prisoner Project. Julian Andrade is an LPP constituent. Case details are drawn from court records.
