Finally, on Oct. 15, 2014, Lanier was released from the Federal Correctional Complex in Coleman, Fla., northwest of Orlando. The specific reasons for his release are murky. Did Lanier provide additional information? Was there some other kind of quid pro quo? Was this simply reflective of shifting views on marijuana or a sense that 27 years for a nonviolent first offense was sufficient punishment? The motion is under seal, and the relevant U.S. attorneys did not respond to messages seeking comment. Says Lanier, “I can’t say enough about the Obama Administration and the Justice Department having the grasp on reality. When you see it from the inside, you realize that the majority of the War on Drugs offenders with major time are nonviolent.”

At age 60 he was given a passport to a world at once familiar and foreign. He returned to South Florida to find people taking photos on phones they kept in their pockets. And then uploading so their friends could see them instantly. He marveled that “folks no longer used road maps.” When Lanier went to get his Florida driver’s license the first week of his release, he was asked to sign a screen. He reached for a pen.

HE PLOTTED A SERIES OF ESCAPES IN HIS MIND BUT KEPT REACHING THE IRREDUCIBLE CONCLUSION: “YOU AIN'T GETTING AWAY FROM THE FEDS AT A MAX SECURITY PRISON.”

Eventually he began to access the modern world, including setting up an email account under the user name Randylanierfree. Reconnecting with his family has been both harder and more gratifying. The son who was an infant when Lanier went to prison turns 30 this month, with twin sons of his own. Lanier’s daughter, now 37, is living in Colorado. (The irony is lost on no one that today she can head to state-sanctioned dispensaries and buy the same marijuana that landed her dad in prison.) Lanier remarried while in jail but divorced after his wife was convicted of money laundering and deported to South America. He now lives with Pam, his first wife. “Me and my ex,” he says smiling, “we’re taking it slow but trying to rekindle it.”

Lanier is on probation until October of this year. Leaving Florida even for something as innocuous as visiting his 90-year-old mother, requires permission. After working at Swap Shop flea market, he is now a “behavioral health technician” at Epiphany, a South Florida sober-living facility. Though not part of his job description, Lanier is happy to impart life lessons—“We’re here to be happy; that’s a big point I make,” he says—to clients who have included former NBA player Jayson Williams (SI, Dec. 12, 2016).

Money is sparse. The man who once owned places in the Caribbean and Manhattan now lives paycheck to paycheck. He shops for clothes at thrift stores. He’s struggling to save up for a laptop. “That’s O.K., man,” he’s quick to add. “Money and greed corrupted me. I’m happy as can be, loving every day.”

Ben Van Hook

If he’s immeasurably far removed from devoting millions to his racing career, that doesn’t mean it’s over. Lanier spends most of his free time around tracks, and he’s happiest when breathing air scented with exhaust fumes, at places where the dopplering of cars forms the audio track. Thanks to Facebook, he’s been able to reconnect with all sorts of racing associates. He’s hooked up with a local outfit, the Performance Driving Group, to serve as a professional driving instructor at various tracks. He hangs out at garages, learning new automotive technology, and recently became an “athlete affiliate” for a sports gaming app called FireFan. “Bottom line,” he says, “I very much still consider myself a race car driver.”

The notion of his return to the heights he experienced in the 1980s veers on absurd. But racing—not unlike drug distribution—is a multilayered organism. Lanier figures he’ll start club racing at low level events and go up from there. Several months ago, after getting the O.K. from his probation officer, he entered a race in Ohio. “I was doing better than these kids!” he says. “The beauty of this sport is that the clock don’t lie. If you still have it or if you’ve lost it, your time will let you know.”

To prove this point Lanier rips off some more laps at Homestead, borrowing the Camaro. Once he puts on his helmet and straps in, his storytelling stops. Cruising on the straightaway is fun, but the real joy comes in the turns. He is in command, hitting the berms and apexes perfectly, shifting imperceptibly and throttling before he’s onto the straight. As he drives his eyes occasionally flick to the rearview mirror. But mostly he stares ahead, through the windshield, into his future.

SI True Crime, an ongoing series from SPORTS ILLUSTRATED, dives deep on stories of sports crime and punishment through in-depth storytelling, enhanced photos, video and interactive elements.

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