From the Finish Line to the Ballot Box
I have always believed a finish line should mean something. At Richmond Raceway, surrounded by the noise, lights, and energy of a Saturday night NASCAR race, that idea became deeply personal. I had the opportunity to stand at the finish line and write “YES ON 3 VIRGINIA.” I have been a Dale Earnhardt fan since childhood, and the number three has always carried meaning for me. That night, it became connected to another finish line entirely: the one our justice system should recognize when punishment has been served and a person returns to society.
I have felony convictions. I do not run from that fact, and I do not ask anyone else to ignore it. I believe choices have consequences. Courts should impose sentences, victims should be respected, and people who break the law should be held accountable. But every sentence has a purpose, and every legitimate punishment should also have boundaries. If we tell people there is a road back, then somewhere on that road there has to be a point where society recognizes that they have crossed from punishment into restoration.
That is why Question 3 matters to me. Virginia’s current Constitution provides that a person convicted of a felony loses the right to vote unless the governor restores that right. Question 3 would establish a different rule. A person convicted of a felony would not be entitled to vote while incarcerated, but political rights would return automatically upon release. The amendment would replace an indefinite constitutional disability with a clear, understandable endpoint.
The finish-line metaphor is not perfect. Life after a conviction is not a race where everything suddenly becomes easy once a stripe is crossed. Rebuilding can take years. I have completed probation, paid what I owed, worked, paid taxes, built a business, and continued trying to contribute to my community. Accountability does not disappear the day incarceration or supervision ends. Relationships may still need repairing. Employment barriers may remain. Trust may take time. But the law should still be able to tell a person when a particular legal consequence is over.
Sports make that idea easy to understand. We would never accept a race where the finish line moved every time a driver approached it. We would not tell a team that the game was over but the score might change later depending on who was in charge. Rules matter because people need to know where they stand. The same principle should apply when government exercises one of its greatest powers: the power to punish.
Question 3 does not erase anyone’s past. It does not shorten a prison sentence, cancel restitution, remove a conviction, or guarantee that someone will never make another bad decision. It simply says that the loss of political rights tied to a felony conviction lasts during incarceration and ends upon release. Virginians may disagree about where that line belongs, but I believe there should be a line, and it should apply equally to everyone.
Standing at Richmond Raceway, I thought about how strange it is that I can participate so fully in public life while remaining unable to cast a ballot. I can advocate, organize, meet elected officials, discuss legislation, encourage others to vote, and travel across Virginia talking about Question 3. Yet when Election Day comes, I remain outside the final act of participation. I can help carry the message all the way to the finish line, but I cannot cross into the voting booth myself.
That is why writing those words at the track meant more to me than a political slogan. “YES ON 3 VIRGINIA” connected something I have loved since childhood with something I now believe deeply as an adult. The number three once represented a driver whose determination captured my imagination. Today, Question 3 represents a principle I hope Virginia will embrace: accountability should be real, but restoration should be real too.
On November 3, Virginians will decide whether our Constitution should recognize that principle. I hope voters think about what a finish line is supposed to mean. It does not erase the miles behind you. It does not pretend the race was easy. It marks the point where one part of the journey ends and another begins. For people returning from incarceration, Virginia should be willing to say the same thing. Serve the punishment. Accept the consequences. Then, when the legal line has been crossed, allow civic restoration to begin. A finish line that can never be reached is not a finish line at all.