CAMP DREW LINE IN BLOOD

Slain Man Said He'd Rather Die Than Give Up Land

VANDALIA -- More than two years ago, Grover (Tom) Crosslin, the owner
of Rainbow Farm campground in southwest Michigan, foreshadowed the
standoff that ended with his death this week, along with that of his
partner, Rolland Rohm.

After receiving a letter from the Cass County prosecutor in March 1999
threatening the campground's forfeiture if marijuana-smoking festivals
didn't stop, Crosslin replied in writing:

"Our friends at the Michigan Militia have their ideas of how we should
handle your threats, but as I said, we are pursuing a peaceful change
to the laws.... I have discussed this with my family, and we are all
prepared to die on this land before we allow it to be stolen from us."

The two-page letter was released Thursday by Cass County Prosecutor
Scott Teter in an effort to detail the farm and farm owner's troubled
history with his office.

Teter, who stood before a few dozen journalists and Rohm's father, who
was there videotaping the news conference, came under scrutiny during
the past week for his office's prosecution of Crosslin and Rohm, and
the fatal standoff.

Authorities say Crosslin was fatally shot Monday evening after he
leveled a semiautomatic rifle at an FBI agent. Rohm was fatally shot
Tuesday morning by state troopers after pointing a rifle at one of
them, officials said.

Protesters, friends and some family members have kept vigil all week
under a canopy on M-60, a few miles from the farm.

"It was unarmed murder," said Trena Moss, who knew Crosslin and Rohm
and who runs the Hillsdale County chapter of the National Organization
for the Reform of Marijuana Laws. "Teter was out to destroy this place."

Teter disagreed. He stood almost an hour at a Cassopolis senior center
telling his side. He was stoic and, at times, somber.

"No one wanted this to happen," he said.

Speaking of the investigation of drug activities at the campground, he
said: "We haven't handled this one any differently than any other."

Teter also said he thought the two men weren't bad people, but rather
people who made bad choices.

"This is not about whether marijuana should be legalized," he said.
"You can't ignore the laws you don't agree with."

Crosslin, through his farm, Web site and flyers, long advocated the
legalization of marijuana, particularly for medical purposes.

"You have the opportunity to help us change the world in a positive
direction," Crosslin wrote to Teter in the 1999 letter, "or you have
the opportunity to continue the path your (sic) on and have the blood
of a government massacre on your hands."

Teter's office began getting complaints about the campground in 1998.
By 1999, a State Police undercover team was buying drugs at the
property during festivals. Teter said investigators bought marijuana,
acid, cocaine, mushrooms, amphetamines and prescription drugs.

But Crosslin and Rohm were never caught selling, Teter said, so he
couldn't charge anyone.

"We didn't want to raid the festivals," he said of the 3,000-strong
gatherings. "We didn't want another Kent State."

Teter said a quirk in the drug law made it difficult to prosecute
because drugs were used and sold outdoors.

It wasn't until May 9 that his office got a search warrant for
Crosslin's house on the campground, but it was for suspected tax-code
violations. When investigators got there, Teter said, they smelled pot
and saw paraphernalia on a table.

They came back a few hours later with another warrant. Crosslin and
Rohm were arrested that day and later charged with manufacturing
marijuana -- more than 200 plants -- and maintaining a drug house.
Crosslin was also charged with possession of a firearm by a convicted
felon -- he'd been convicted of attempted assault with a deadly weapon
in 1995.

In August, the two men held more festivals, Teter said. This violated
the condition of their bond. A court date was set for Aug. 31. When
they didn't show up, another warrant was issued, deputies were sent to
the campground and the standoff ensued.

"We aren't talking about people smoking a couple of joints, though
that's illegal, too," Teter said. "We had no choice but to
investigate. There were kids at these festivals. There were flyers
advertising them in our high schools."

Teter said it will take at least three weeks for all the agencies'
reports to come together so the whole affair can be reviewed. He asked
the Michigan Attorney General's Office to review it also.

Whatever is found, many still won't agree the men had to
die.

"This is a tragedy that was directed by the FBI under their rules of
engagement and official protocol that only includes a shoot-to-kill
option with a show of lethal force," said Dori Leo, Crosslin and
Rohm's attorney.

Crosslin predicted as much in his letter to Teter 2 1/2 years ago:
"It's your choice. If you choose to send out your secret police, I
hope you are standing there on the front line to witness the results
of your actions."

Wednesday, at the news conference, Teter answered questions about
those actions. Then he listened to Rohm's father, John Livermore.

"I forgive you," Livermore said, voice trembling. "That's between you
and God."