We don't seem to have a functioning clemency process for everyone else
In the aftermath of federal convictions for forced labor conspiracy, the organization known as OneTaste has mounted an extraordinary campaign to seek clemency — not through the quiet corridors of formal process, but through the informal networks of political influence that now define how mercy is dispensed in Washington. The case raises a question as old as justice itself: whether the law's reach depends less on what one has done than on who one knows. For the staff members whose coercion formed the foundation of the prosecution, the answer to that question carries a weight that no pardon application can easily address.
- Two women convicted of forcing staff into sexual acts for little pay were sentenced to nearly a decade in prison — but their organization immediately began working to unravel those sentences.
- OneTaste has assembled a constellation of Trump-aligned figures — Alan Dershowitz, Matt Gaetz, Roger Stone, and Steve Bannon — to press its case through back-channels that bypass the formal clemency system entirely.
- The company has cultivated direct access to the U.S. pardon attorney's orbit through a nonprofit advocate who has attended at least seven meetings at the pardon office, blurring the line between advocacy and institutional access.
- Legal scholars warn that what is unfolding represents a two-tiered justice system in which political connectivity — not the merits of a case — determines who receives clemency.
- The White House insists influence cannot be bought, yet the architecture of the campaign suggests that those without such networks face a fundamentally different clemency landscape than those within it.
In late March, a federal judge sentenced Nicole Daedone, founder of OneTaste, to nine years in prison, and Rachel Cherwitz, its sales director, to more than six. Both had been convicted of forced labor conspiracy. Prosecutors described the San Francisco company — which marketed itself around a practice called orgasmic meditation — as a sex cult, presenting evidence that staff were coerced into sexual acts for little or no pay under conditions that left them with few real choices.
The sentencing, however, did not end the story. OneTaste filed standard pardon applications through the Justice Department, but simultaneously launched what clemency experts describe as an unprecedented parallel campaign through informal channels. NYU law professor Rachel Barkow told CBS News the effort is unlike anything she has witnessed: a functioning clemency process, she said, no longer exists for those without the right connections.
At the center of the effort is Alan Dershowitz, who says he initially took the case for pay but now works pro bono, arguing the prosecution threatens religious freedom. Alongside him, OneTaste has courted Matt Gaetz, Roger Stone, Steve Bannon, and MAGA influencer Laura Loomer. Gaetz aired a segment defending the organization; Stone cited constitutional concerns. The company also enlisted attorney Adam Katz, who has worked multiple pardon cases in the current administration and wrote to the Justice Department requesting a review before sentencing.
Perhaps the most consequential relationship is with Cynthia Hughes, who runs the Patriot Freedom Project and is a close friend of Ed Martin, the U.S. pardon attorney. Visitor logs show Hughes attended at least seven meetings at the pardon office since last year, with OneTaste representatives present at two of them. Her organization has framed the prosecution as government overreach, and a source close to OneTaste was candid about her value: anyone who can open doors is worth having as an ally.
The White House has denied that money or influence shapes pardon outcomes, but the architecture of the campaign tells a different story — one in which access to the right people matters more than formal procedure. What remains unresolved is whether the campaign will succeed, and what that resolution will mean for the staff members whose accounts of coercion and harm first brought the case to court.
In late March, a federal judge handed down sentences that seemed to close a chapter: nine years for Nicole Daedone, the founder and former CEO of OneTaste, and more than six years for Rachel Cherwitz, who ran the company's sales operation. Both women had been convicted of forced labor conspiracy. Prosecutors had described OneTaste, a San Francisco company that marketed itself as teaching "orgasmic meditation," in blunt terms—as a sex cult. The evidence presented at trial painted a picture of coercion: staff members pushed into performing sexual acts, often for little or no compensation, under pressure that prosecutors argued left them with few real choices about whether to stay.
But the sentencing was not the end of the story. Instead, it marked the beginning of an aggressive, multifaceted campaign to undo it. OneTaste has filed traditional pardon applications through the Justice Department, as is standard. What is not standard—what legal experts say has reached unprecedented scale—is the parallel effort unfolding through informal channels, a network of Trump allies, media figures, political operatives, and attorneys who have become the real gatekeepers of clemency in the second Trump administration. Rachel Barkow, a clemency expert at New York University, told CBS News that what OneTaste is doing reflects a transformation in how pardons actually work now. "It's of a magnitude that I've never seen before," she said. "We don't seem to have a functioning clemency process for everyone else who doesn't have these connections."
The effort is being orchestrated in part by Alan Dershowitz, the prominent defense attorney who leveraged his access to Trump during the first administration to influence multiple acts of clemency. Dershowitz said he was initially paid by OneTaste to advise on its legal appeal, but has since worked pro bono because he believes the indictment itself threatens religious freedom. He is not alone. OneTaste has courted Matt Gaetz, the former Republican congressman from Florida who faced a federal sex trafficking investigation; Roger Stone, the longtime Trump operative and podcaster; Steve Bannon; and MAGA influencer Laura Loomer. Gaetz hosted a segment on his One America News show arguing that no one was forced to participate in OneTaste events. Stone told CBS News he sees constitutional issues in the conviction. Loomer said she does not recall the outreach and does not work on pardons.
The company has also enlisted Adam Katz, an attorney with ties to Trump's circle who has worked on several pardon cases during this second term. Before the convictions were handed down, Katz sent a letter to the Justice Department requesting a review of the prosecution. Beyond the lawyers and media figures, OneTaste has built relationships with people positioned closer to actual power. A former OneTaste employee named Marcus Ratnathicam reached out on social media to Mike Howell, who runs a nonprofit called the Oversight Project and is close to Ed Martin, the U.S. pardon attorney—the official who reviews clemency petitions before they reach the president. Howell has since become a public advocate for Daedone and Cherwitz, publishing a report in January that highlighted their case. Ratnathicam has also briefed members of Congress on the House Judiciary Committee, led by Republican Jim Jordan, about OneTaste.
Perhaps more significantly, OneTaste has cultivated a relationship with Cynthia Hughes, who runs the Patriot Freedom Project, a nonprofit that has positioned itself as a champion of those it believes have been wrongly prosecuted. Hughes is a close friend of Ed Martin and has attended at least seven meetings at the pardon office since last year, according to visitor logs. Ayer and Ratnathicam attended two of those meetings in January and February. Hughes's organization has published material arguing that the OneTaste prosecution represents government weaponization, framing it as a cautionary tale for conservatives. The group posted a video of OneTaste's current CEO, Anjuli Ayer, invoking Trump's "fight, fight, fight" mantra. Hughes previously advocated for January 6 defendants and helped secure a pardon for Michael McMahon, a former police officer. A source close to OneTaste told CBS News that Hughes's value lies in what everyone understands: "It is widely known that Cynthia has access to people in influential places, and it's no stretch that anyone who can open doors is someone worth having as an ally."
The White House has pushed back against the notion that money or influence determines outcomes. Press secretary Karoline Leavitt said anyone spending money to lobby for pardons is "foolishly wasting their money" and that the administration has a "robust pardon review process." Yet the pattern is clear: those with connections to Trump's orbit—those who can reach the right people, who understand the informal networks that now matter more than formal procedures—have a pathway that others do not. A Trump administration official acknowledged that Martin is viewed by some in the MAGA base "as their best chance" at securing pardons. The pardon attorney himself did not respond to questions about the OneTaste case. What remains unresolved is whether this campaign will succeed, and what it means for the two women in prison and the staff members whose accounts formed the basis of the prosecution.
Citas Notables
It's of a magnitude that I've never seen before. We don't seem to have a functioning clemency process for everyone else who doesn't have these connections.— Rachel Barkow, NYU law professor and clemency expert
It is widely known that Cynthia has access to people in influential places, and it's no stretch that anyone who can open doors is someone worth having as an ally.— Source close to OneTaste
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does a company convicted of forced labor think it has any standing to ask for pardons at all?
Because they've reframed the entire narrative. They're not arguing the acts didn't happen—they're arguing the acts were consensual and that the prosecution itself is the real abuse. They've found people willing to amplify that frame.
But the judge sentenced them. The jury convicted them. Doesn't that matter anymore?
It matters to the formal system. But the informal system—the one that actually decides pardons now—operates on different logic. It's about access, relationships, who you know. The conviction is just a fact in the room.
So Cynthia Hughes is the real power here?
She's a door. Ed Martin is the pardon attorney, the one who vets applications before they reach Trump. Hughes has his ear. That proximity is everything. She's proven she can move cases.
What do the prosecutors say about all this?
They're not in the room. That's the point. The people who built the case, who heard the testimony—they're not part of the informal network that now decides whether the conviction stands.
Is this legal?
Yes. The president has absolute pardon power. There's no law against lobbying for clemency, against having connections, against using those connections. It's all legal. It's just not equal.
What happens to the staff members if these women get pardoned?
That's the question no one in this campaign seems to be addressing. Their testimony becomes a historical artifact. The conviction becomes reversible. The harm becomes negotiable.