We’ve all followed the story of Hunter Biden. It’s a story of struggle, recovery, and relentless public scrutiny, played out on every platform imaginable, dissected in ways both fair and cruel. So when President Joe Biden pardoned his son, it wasn’t just an act of fatherly love but a statement about justice, forgiveness, and the power of second chances. 
Hunter’s legal troubles, largely tied to his struggles with addiction, have become a political football. But let’s not lose sight of what this is…. a human story. Addiction is a disease, not a crime of character, and millions of families across the country have watched their loved ones face similar battles. By extending clemency, President Biden didn’t just protect his son from endless public flogging—he reminded us that the justice system should aim for rehabilitation, not public humiliation and ruin. 
Some say this sets a dangerous precedent, that a president shouldn’t pardon a family member. But let’s be real: Hunter Biden has been held to a standard most people could never endure. His every mistake has been magnified, his every misstep paraded for public consumption. The pardon wasn’t about dodging accountability; it was about recognizing that the system doesn’t need to keep punishing a person who’s already faced more than his share. 
And before critics cry favoritism, let’s consider the political reality: if Donald Trump regains the presidency, he’s already promised to pardon the January 6 rioters. These are people convicted of attacking the foundations of democracy, not individuals battling personal demons. In that context, President Biden’s pardon feels less like bending the rules and more like an act of compassion—one that stands in stark contrast to the potential abuses of power we might face in the future. 
This might also be a good time to mention Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner’s father, Charles Kushner, a man convicted of illegal campaign contributions, tax evasion, and witness tampering  (after hiring a hooker to entrap his brother-in-law by seducing and recording a sexual encounter between the two and sending the tape to his sister). Yes, that guy. All done cold sober and not in the throes of addiction. He was pardoned by Trump and is now nominated to be the next United States ambassador to France.
Biden’s decision also opens the door to a broader conversation about clemency. Why is it so rare? Why are second chances reserved for the well-connected? Biden’s act could push us to consider a justice system that prioritizes mercy and rehabilitation, especially for those who’ve suffered under the weight of addiction.  Pause for a moment and consider the number of people presently incarcerated who, with readily available resources and treatment options, might conquer their addiction. Hunter had resources and struggled for years. Most people have few and lose themselves to the disease. Our society prefers to spend billions to punish while constantly bickering over expending far less in the form of tax dollars to treat.
Of course, Biden’s decision has not been without its critics. It’s to be expected. But if you have ever watched someone you love wrestle with addiction, you know it’s not about politics—it’s about survival. By pardoning Hunter, Joe Biden didn’t just act as a father; he acted as a leader unafraid to show that love and mercy still have a place in governance. 
So perhaps we should all redefine what it means to hold power. Compassion is not weakness, and mercy is not a betrayal of justice.