To read the full piece, click here.
A group of Chinese men who have been languishing in prison since the 1990s is calling on Governor Kathy Hochul to commute their sentences because they want to be deported voluntarily.
Many of the men say they were strong-armed into committing crimes by Chinatown’s human smuggling gangs of the 1990s. Some say they are innocent of the crimes they were convicted of and that language and cultural barriers along with tough-on-crime policies of the mid 1990s led to their sentences. While some gang leaders were convicted of serious crimes like murder and subsequently released after serving their sentences, these men will likely remain in prison for the rest of their lives, unless the governor or the courts intervene.
Haiguang Zheng, 59, is among the Chinese immigrants serving decades-long sentences tied to violent crime cases in Chinatown during the 1990s. After years of appeals and reflection, he does not want to return to life in the United States, which he had only known outside of prison for roughly a year. Currently incarcerated at Sing Sing Correctional Facility, in Ossining, New York, he has been in prison for nearly 30 years.
Read more: The Lost Prisoners of Chinatown’s Gang Era
Zheng said that after spending many years behind bars, and without legal status in the United States, he would find it extremely difficult to survive here even if he were released, given his criminal record. He hopes to be deported back to China, where he might still have a chance to care for his 82-year-old mother, whose health is steadily declining. “No matter what the future holds, I have to face it,” he said.
Another inmate, Yanghao Lu, 52, is serving 75 years to life at Green Haven Correctional Facility, in Stormville, New York, for his role in a 1995 kidnapping case. Lu also longs for the day he can be reunited with his father in China. After his mother died by suicide, burdened by guilt over her son’s situation, his elderly father’s only wish is to see his son one more time. “He called me the other day,” Lu said. “He just said, ‘Come home, son. Come home.’”
In 1996, Zheng was convicted of multiple charges, including kidnapping, rape, and sexual abuse related to a gang-related kidnapping, and sentenced to 84 and two-thirds years to life. He disputes key parts of the prosecution’s case, maintaining he was unknowingly drawn into the kidnapping and has also denied the rape allegations since his arrest. One of his attorneys pointed out that DNA testing was never committed in the case and the two witnesses during his trial provided conflicting testimony when asked to identify their attacker.
Lu similarly denied committing rape and is now receiving legal assistance through CUNY Law School’s Second Look Project, which provides legal assistance for inmates serving long sentences.
Advocates say that cases like Zheng’s and Lu’s were shaped by language barriers, limited understanding of the legal system, and the turbulent era of human smuggling and gang activity in New York’s Chinatown in the ‘90s, when tough-on-crime prosecutors pushed uniquely harsh sentences for gang-related crimes. Decades later, the community they knew has changed dramatically, and many of these men remain largely forgotten in prison.
The New York Chinese Prison Ministry, a faith-based group that visits Chinese inmates, estimated that at least 20 Chinese men are still incarcerated under similar circumstances, many serving decades-long sentences. Some inmates describe themselves as low-level participants — new immigrants who were indebted, vulnerable, and coerced or misled into criminal activity.
“It is a crisis of undocumented Chinese immigrants having been rushed through the criminal legal system with limited understanding of the process, a process which is impossible to understand for just about anyone, and ending up with massively long and unjustifiable sentences,” said Steven Zeidman, a professor at CUNY School of Law and the founder and co-director of the Second Look Project.
Both Zheng and Lu were prosecuted during an era defined by aggressive policing and tough-on-crime policies. In the early 1990s, a surge in migration from China, particularly from Fujian province, coincided with the expansion of human smuggling networks known as “snakeheads.” Many migrants took on heavy debts, often exceeding $30,000, and faced exploitation or violence during and after their journeys. Zheng and Lu, both from Fujian, were drawn by the promise of the American dream and hoped to lift their families out of poverty. They became part of that migration wave, but ultimately spent most of their lives behind bars.
By the mid-1990s, kidnappings tied to unpaid smuggling debts, a phenomenon largely unfamiliar today, had become widespread. In 1994 alone, New York City recorded 60 kidnappings, more than half involving Asian victims.
Advocates said some migrants were swept into these crimes as minor players but received disproportionately harsh sentences. They noted that the issue sits at the intersection of immigration, criminal justice, and history, which raised difficult questions about accountability, fairness, and what justice should look like decades after a conviction.
The prison ministry has launched a campaign urging Governor Kathy Hochul to grant clemency to inmates who serve lengthy sentences and wish to return home, arguing that repatriation would be a humane solution after decades of incarceration.
The push comes as New York lawmakers debate broader criminal justice reforms, including proposals to allow judges to revisit lengthy sentences. State Senator Julia Salazar has criticized past sentencing laws as overly punitive and ineffective at improving public safety.
“They’ve already paid their price,” said Gary Chin, a chaplain with the prison ministry. “At the very least, they deserve the chance to go home.”
