SLASH AND BURN

Saratogan Leads Commando-Type Operation To Stamp Out Marijuana Growers

Is it a bird? Is a plane? No, it's Sonya Barna, sometimes nicknamed The
Patton of Pot, being dropped down from a helicopter, as part of her
team--and her mission--to wipe out as much marijuana in California, as
possible. Barna is operations commander of the Campaign Against
Marijuana Planting, or CAMP.

She works for the California Department of Justice's Bureau of Narcotic
Enforcement, under the office of the state attorney general, Bill
Lockyer. The campaign targets large-scale commercial operations.
Counties throughout the state survey their own domain and when they spot
a suspicious outcropping, they alert CAMP.

Then, CAMP springs into action, usually enlisting about 15 men for each
project. Barna, 38, is the only female operative at the moment and she's
the only commander, overseeing the entire CAMP operation statewide, from
training those under her command to whacking the field herself with a
machete.

"I don't ask them to do anything I don't do," says the 5-foot-4-inch
commando leader, who has been in law enforcement her entire career.
That's why, though other commanders might be at the command post, on the
ground, some miles away, Barna dons the garb and goes in to do this hot
and dirty work as often as necessary.

"I actually like getting dirty," she says, with a grin.

Statewide there are three teams ,15-23 members to a team. If the area
they are assigned to demolish is hard to reach by hiking, CAMP crews are
obliged to helicopter in. They are harnessed at the command post,
usually two people facing each other.

Before taking off they check each other's equipment--harness, buckles,
boots, leg straps to make sure nothing is loose. Then they are swung
through the air on a 150-foot line for a distance that may be as much as
two miles, before being deposited at the spot they'll be working.

The helicopter pilots who transport them are so skilled in vertical
flying that they can land their charges accurately in a circle about 18
feet in diameter. One man lies on his belly throughout the flight to act
as liaison between the dangling passengers and the pilot.

He's called the STABO master (Short-Term Airborne Operation), the one
who helps avert trouble, who cuts the human cargo off, if necessary.

Barna's thoroughness and tenacity is suggested by the fact that she,
along with the rope manufacturer, helped design the ropes now used in
the procedure. Before the changes she initiated, the ropes had to be
knotted, which made the process more cumbersome, dangerous and
time-consuming.

"Dirt acts like a razor blade on knots," she says, so the use of knots
was more hazardous, as well. The rope is as strong as the rigging used
on a ship. Other changes Barna has made include keeping the crews
mobile, instead of stationing two on permanent assignment in Humboldt
and Mendocino counties. (Both areas where CAMP crews are not very
popular.)

Scything down the crops is strictly summer work--meaning July to
October. That's when things move at high gear. The rest of the year
Barna spends training and recruiting her teams. She teaches most of the
classes herself.

Sheriff's departments from the 56 counties that have signed on for the
program send her a representative or two each year, plus backup members.
Thus, local authorities are part of the team, trained and seasoned to be
well-versed in commando tactics by the time illegal crops are spotted in
their jurisdiction.

Training is rigorous, including survival schools based on tactics used
during the Vietnam War, such as STABO. "My work is 100 percent
physical," Barna says. Dangerous as the helicopter missions can be, she
is proud of the fact that there have been no injuries in the three years
that the STABO techniques have been used.

Because of the shininess of its leaves, almost iridescent, as Barna
describes them, marijuana is fairly easy to spot from the air. Even when
disguised by other plants and situated in inaccessible places, it
telegraphs itself, partly because it requires sunlight.

Marijuana planting has changed drastically in just a few short years,
Barna says. Now, instead of small, hippie-type plantations grown for
personal recreational use (and spending money), operations uncovered
today are huge--run by organized crime.

"One garden in Kern County took three teams three days to demolish. It
was 59,000 plants, the largest garden we've ever eradicated. And we're
getting the people responsible," Barna says.

These days a typical garden CAMP uncovers is controlled by Mexican
nationals. Planted by drug lords, it's often found in remote areas of
national parks or preserves. Mexican nationals are hired to live with
the crop during the growing months, to protect it from predators and
prying eyes.

At harvest time the crop is smuggled back to Mexico for sale and
distribution. These are the operations, large and crime-driven, that
CAMP targets. The legalization of marijuana for medical use, hasn't had
much impact on Barna's job, because those operations are relatively
small.

But, in dealing with organized crime operations, doesn't she fear for
her life? "No," Barna says, "they're after bigger game than me. I was in
more personal danger when I worked undercover at the Stonegate
Apartments on the east side of San Jose. Small time dealers are more
trigger-happy, will turn to violence over a sum as small as $20."

When she worked for the San Jose Police Department, "I arrested a major
kingpin, a PCP distributor Barna says. San Jose was the Mecca. We seized
all the assets. I brought Keith in on it (her husband who was with the
FBI), interviewed informants." Those days were decidedly dicey.

The large marijuana operations CAMP targets are strictly big business.
These growers aren't users themselves. They are in it for the fortune to
be made. And what a fortune. The guide the state uses is that each
marijuana plant produces a pound of product and the going price is
$4,000 a pound.

Marijuana is literally more valuable than gold. And science is doing its
part to produce an ever more potent output.

Plants, whose THC content--the psychoactive ingredient that flows
through marijuana--used to be approximately 2 percent per plan, are now
sometimes analyzed at the rate of 38 percent per plant. For Barna it's
further reason to keep on fighting the fight.

To those who say that her teams' accomplishments are only a drop in the
bucket, that her efforts are like spitting in the ocean of the state's
biggest cash crop, she points to the impressive successes of the last
few years. CAMP is getting faster and more proficient at its job.

"We've eradicated double what we used to: 200,000 plants in '99; 347,000
plants eradicated in the year 2000. This haul translates to $1.3
billion, in terms of money," Barna says. And every load she can keep
from getting in the lungs and lifetime habits of children, she considers
a job well done.

For her, it's a mission, personal crusade. "If I can help get drugs off
the street, then I'm doing my job. I want 110 percent of me in this,"
she says.

She has three children--all boys. Daniel is 20, a student at American
River College. He'll take up the family community service banner this
year, by working as a firefighter in Santa Cruz. Andrew is 7 and Bronson
is 4. Both boys go to Sacred Heart School in Saratoga.

Her husband is Keith Barna, owner and CEO of Barna P.I. & Security. He
retired four years ago, after being a special agent for the Drug
Enforcement Administration. The Barnas live in an historically
significant house, dating from 1896: the original section was once a
Wells Fargo stagecoach stop.

These two security minded folks met when he worked for the FBI and she
was with the San Jose Police Department: the two agencies were working
together. For months her partner tried to fix her up with Keith: "He
thought we'd click, because we're both not typical cops," she says.

Yet, they didn't meet until they attended a company Christmas party.
"She took my eye right away," Keith says. "She's beautiful and she has a
vibrant personality." He began to call her Red Sonya, since she was
wearing a red dress at that party. They married after dating for about a
year and they've been husband and wife for 10 years.

Because of their relationship, the state and federal agencies in drug
enforcement began to work more closely together, Sonya says. Since she
works out of the Sacramento office, her absences put a considerable
strain on a marriage, particularly when young children are involved.

Both the Barnas are well aware that there's a 75 percent divorce rate in
their line of work. But Keith, having been in a similar business, can
empathize. He realizes the importance of her mission, and is proud of
her accomplishments and her steady rise through the ranks. She was a
grunt in 1984, when she first worked for CAMP, "washing trucks, hacking
and stacking," Barna says.

"She is extremely dedicated to what she does," Keith says. "Her love for
children permeates everything. She does everything possible to keep
[marijuana] out of the hands of children. If she weren't doing this
work, she'd be counseling children, in some way," he adds.

Keith is the Little League coach for Andrew's baseball team. Andrew is a
pitcher and currently holds the highest batting average on the team.
Younger brother is a whiz at T-ball.

Keith's mother is Lillian Barna, a retired superintendent of San Jose
Unified School District. Since her work took her to different locales,
Keith's father, a nuclear engineer, followed along. That enlightened
approach to his wife's career seems to be showing up in the next
generation.

Sonya Barna had her 15 minutes of fame when a segment on CAMP was aired
on 60 Minutes a few months ago. That's where the nickname The Patton of
Pot originated. Her drive can be traced to her mother, a college teacher
in social welfare, who pulled herself out of the Brawley fields.

Widowed when Sonya was 3, she became a single mother of three with a
store to manage and an education to pursue. That kind of tenacity can
now be found in her daughter, whose academic career includes a
bachelor's degree in criminology from California State University,
Fresno.

"I wanted to be a special agent, but a family friend said I needed
street experience first." That's when she landed the job with the San
Jose Police Department. Today, she's commanding an operation with a
staggering number of agencies--it's a task force in the United States,
and includes the Bureau of Land Management, the California National
Guard, the California Highway Patrol, the U.S. Forestry Service and the
Drug Enforcement Administration, as well as the county agencies that
have signed on.

Somehow the egos and energies of all these agencies and personalities
are addressed and melded by one compact woman into a Vietnam-type
commando team. And as the helicopter blades begin to whir, the vehicle
to rise, another raid on the largest agricultural cash crop in
California begins.