BUNCHA DOPES

[ sidebar: FYI: Don't say I didn't warn you. ]

After the U.N. weapons inspectors left my house lastnight, I decided it
might be a good time to be honest about things for once. I think the same
could be said of recently-put-out-to-pasture SLO Police Chief Jim Gardiner.

Jim should just admit he smoked the marijuana he confiscated and be done
with it. No one will mind - it's not like he's the chief of police or
something. He's just like you and me, who sometimes do things we know we
shouldn't, but go ahead anyway just because it's fuuuuuuun.

Jim's final days haven't been very fun for Donovan No Runner. If you're
getting tired of reading here what I think about Donovan and his pot, join
Jim. He's sick of it, too - no doubt because it's a really dumb way to
close the door on his illustrious cop career. Right on his big toe. Ouch.
That's gotta hurt.

To recap: Donovan No Runner smokes marijuana. His doctor says he can. State
law says that if Doc says, then that says it and there's nothing more to
say. The State Supreme Court has ruled that people like Donovan have the
legal right to smoke medical marijuana, ha ha, and there's nothing you
narcs can do about it.

To recap further: Yes they can. And they did. The SLOPD took away Donovan's
dope in a manner that suggests it's going to start choosing what laws to
enforce, and you know the rest of the story. If you don't, keep reading. If
you do, go have a brewski, then come back at the end of this column -
there's a new development you may find interesting. No, really.

So anyway, after Jim and the SLO County District Attorneys Office decided
to take the law into their own hands - something you don't see every day -
by keeping Donovan's dope, they essentially told the State Supreme Court to
go suck eggs and be sure not to get any on those nice black robes. Then
Donovan went to court to get it back and Judge Barry LaBarbara presided
over this farcical flap with the sort of decorum it has no right to expect.
Give the guy his reefer back, said LaBarbara. No way, said the lawbreakers.
So then -

I have to stop a moment to clarify something I said earlier. You think
you're sick of reading about this? Well, I'm sick of writing about it. But
it's not my fault. It's my duty. I mean, have you heard anything about this
case from any other local news source besides this one? Nope. And that's
really weird because it's a great story. Think about it. Here we've got the
cops and the DA defying a judge - who used to be the DA - over a
health-and-drugs issue involving a guy who, after having his stash trashed,
hires a slick lawyer and takes the cops to court, then camps out on the
courthouse lawn in protest, and is ultimately victorious, but remains
thwarted by a recalcitrant DA and a departing police chief who thumbs his
nose at justice as his final comment on the law he'd sworn to uphold, lo
these many years, leaving the mess for his successor to clean up. Wow,
sounds like something right out of "Law & Order." Why do you think no other
media have covered it? At first I thought maybe they were smart and we were
dumb for once, that maybe because it's not all that interesting or
relevant. Then, right when I was about to tell the editor what an idiot he
was, Time magazine saves my job by unleashing an in-depth cover story about
the whole medical marijuana controversy that's raging across every corner
of the nation right now, except for SLO County, it would appear, at least
according to the Tribune and KSBY, both of which seem to think the
aforementioned is just a big yawner not worth aforementioning. I guess they
figure if they don't report it, it didn't happen. Sorry, guys. Not so.

Where was I? Oh, right. So Jim and the DA were laughing at LaBarbara for
thinking he's got any say in this matter just because it's a state law or
something. After handing down his decision, Hizzoner wondered aloud why the
city and county thought they had a dog in this hunt, when the only one who
"could have a place in this action" would be the federal government, and
they weren't anywhere to be seen. Apparently nobody told the pot thieves
that they were in a state court. You'd think Jim would have known that.

As for what's going to happen to Donovan's dope, the answer remains as
elusive as my paycheck on alternate Fridays. Jim told LaBarbara he wanted
30 days to "think about" the matter, and that when he cleaned out his desk,
he didn't find it, but that it's around somewhere, then he added that it
was in good condition the last time he "inspected" it, which I think is the
latest teen code word for "smoked some truly killer reefer." Come on, Jim,
out with it. I won't tell anyone.

But since his forthrightness wasn't forthcoming, I gave up getting him to
fess up, so he just handed in his keys to the police station, leaving
Donovan and LaBarbara and me wondering whether the new police chief,
Deborah Linden, will think as much of the law as Jim.