Smokin' Medicine:

SUPPORTERS BELIEVE MARIJUANA'S MEDICINAL VALUE IS WORTH ALL THE BATTLES

James and Lisa Masters were preparing to take their daughters fishing
on the morning of Aug. 2, 2006, when two social workers and two
police officers knocked on their door.

"We were just finishing folding laundry, getting ready for the day,"
says James, "and we had just recently medicated."

They had picked a bad time to take their medicine. Both of the
Masterses are medical marijuana patients, whose doctors recommend
they get high to treat various physical and neurological illnesses.

The social workers raised allegations of child abuse and neglect
toward the Masterses' daughters, ages 4 and 6. The police officers,
who the Masterses were told came along in case the parents got
violent - perhaps in a fit of reefer madness - smelled the weed.

Inside, the Masterses had 18 marijuana plant clones and an imminent
harvest of 12 2-foot-high, bud-laden plants, which they say were for
people suffering from glaucoma, cancer, HIV, multiple sclerosis and
other crippling diseases.

The Masterses' home was serving as the Larimer County chapter of the
Colorado Compassion Club, a statewide network whose members provide
quality weed for medical marijuana patients, including themselves.
Though the couple had doctors' recommendations for the medicinal
crop, as allowed through a state constitutional amendment, the
Larimer County Drug Task Force snagged the pot - and Child Protection
Services snagged the Masterses' daughters. They were separated from
their parents for nearly two months before being returned with no
neglect or abuse charges.

"They came here with the understanding that we were medical
[marijuana] patients," says James. "There's no reason that two happy,
well-adjusted girls should ever be taken away from their family
because of cannabis."

James and Lisa Masters still face criminal charges for distributing a
controlled substance. The bust raises the usual questions about the
misplaced priorities of the War on Drugs. Even more, the Masterses'
upcoming trial, scheduled for June 4 in Fort Collins, is being called
a "test case" for the rights of medical marijuana patients and caregivers.

The outcome could affect how Colorado regulates the cultivation,
distribution and sale of the drug for medicinal use. Ultimately, the
trial could lead to expansion of the state's medical marijuana
program and a wider acceptance of pot as a healing remedy, instead of
just another way to get stoned.

Dr. Cannabis

Whether the issues are legal or logistical, medical marijuana
advocates say the system isn't achieving its potential.

"Patients need high-quality stuff, and [many of them] can't grow it
themselves. Then, we don't have enough dispensaries," says Dr. Robert
Melamede, a University of Colorado at Colorado Springs professor who
calls himself a "nationally known pro-cannabis scientist."

Melamede, a biology professor and former head of the UCCS biology
department, teaches various classes at the school including Biology
408, "Endocannabinoids and Medical Marijuana."

"What endocannabinoids" - that is, cannabis chemicals produced by our
bodies - "do is help protect us from free-radical damage, which, in
general, is responsible for aging. They literally regulate everything
in our bodies," says Melamede. "There are huge medicinal benefits to
cannabinoids, both endo- and exo-."

Melamede has written peer-reviewed scientific research that shows pot
doesn't just quell nausea and muscle pain, but actually can remedy
biochemical imbalances. It can effectively treat high blood pressure
and depression. Melamede argues it can even kill cancer cells.

Never mind that the federal government says pot sizzles your brain
like a fried egg. Melamede says cannabis actually protects brain
cells and serves as an effective anti-aging drug.

"There are many uses that have not been officially recognized," he
says. His Web site even hints that weed could help reduce the lethal
degree of bird flu, should it one day spread among humans.

As of last August, the state's official registry listed 1,352 medical
marijuana patients in Colorado. That includes about 175 from El Paso
County, the most of any county in the state.

"We think there's at least 45,000 patients - unrealized - in the
state," says Scott Carr, Colorado regional manager of The Hemp and
Cannabis (THC) Foundation, based in Wheat Ridge. The THC Foundation
works in four of the 11 states with medical marijuana laws, operating
health clinics that consider patients for recommended medicinal use
of marijuana. The group set up shop in Colorado in April 2006, and
Carr says it eventually will offer mobile clinics, traveling by
appointment to evaluate potential patients statewide.

"There are way too many doctors who should be [recommending
marijuana] but don't," adds Melamede. "The doctors are not up to date
with the science, and they're intimidated by the federal Nazis."

Matt Schnur, a medical marijuana user who serves as a reference for
potential patients, says he knows only a small number of doctors who
will recommend pot as treatment. They don't advertise it, he says,
for fear of ostracism from the medical community.

Melamede estimates somewhere between five and 10 local physicians in
Colorado Springs are willing to prescribe marijuana for medical problems.

"Most of the doctors don't even want to talk about it," Melamede
says. "A lot of them simply aren't tuned into what's happening in
modern science. ... They don't realize that marijuana can have a
profound positive impact on many patients, even the difference
between life and death."

Melamede feels it's unfortunate that Colorado physicians are so
reluctant to admit their willingness to prescribe marijuana, "while
in California, you'll actually see advertising for cannabis doctors."

Schnur, a graduate-level biologist who recently moved to Colorado
Springs from Fort Collins, hopes to become a court expert for medical
marijuana and wants to write the first board-certified, medical
marijuana textbook. He relocated to the Springs specifically to
research with Melamede and study at UCCS.

Schnur plans to finish his studies in cell and molecular biology and
to use "recombinant DNA technology" in developing a process for mass
production of cannabinoids, which he calls "my ultimate project."

Such a process, Schnur hopes, would generate bulk amounts of
cannabinoids that manufacturers could add to such products as chewing
gum, patches and even energy drinks.

"I can't get into the specific organism, but one problem we've had
with patients is [that] six plants are not enough," Schnur says. "I'm
working to develop a way people can provide themselves as much
medicine as [they] need without growing a plant."

Aside from his research, Schnur has started a Front Range Americans
for Safe Access chapter. He is offering free help to patients seeking
advice in educating doctors on the issue, and he has also started an
Internet forum to answer any questions about medical marijuana.

"Copernicus, Galileo - they were all mocked in their time," Schnur
says of his crusade. "I've dedicated my life to medical marijuana,
and I'll defend it to the death."

Fighting the System

Schnur's overly-ambitious-for-a-stoner passion partly stems from
getting busted for pot himself.

In May 2005, a SWAT team descended upon Schnur's Fort Collins home,
presumably after a handyman tipped off police that marijuana plants
were growing underneath the floors of the house. He was arrested for
cultivation and intent to distribute. His girlfriend and another
roommate also were charged for drug possession and paraphernalia.

Schnur, 25, has suffered from diabetes since he was 4 years old, and
he developed neuropathy a few years ago after moving from Illinois to
attend Colorado State University. Neuropathy is a degenerative nerve
condition that causes nausea, severe pain and, in Schnur's case,
swelling in his right foot.

"I'd say a third of the meals I eat, I throw up, when I don't smoke,"
says Schnur. "I had smoked recreationally, but not regularly [before
developing neuropathy], but once when my foot was swelling and I
smoked, I noticed it helped."

Schnur had a doctor's recommendation for the medical use of pot at
the time of the bust, but the physician was from Illinois. Colorado
doesn't recognize notes from out-of-state doctors, leaving Schnur in
the legal wrong.

Following a plea last April, Schnur opted for 40 days in Larimer
County's "WorkEnder" weekend-service program instead of a 20-day jail
sentence. But his doctors advised the court he wasn't able to
participate because of his medical condition, which prevents him from
being on his feet more than four hours.

The judge refused to change his ruling - Schnur says the judge
"didn't want me on home detention because he didn't want me smoking
pot all day" - so Schnur started the WorkEnder program toward the end
of last summer.

While in the program, Schnur suffered a diabetic seizure. He also
experienced foot swelling after one weekend. He says officials kicked
him out of the program, but the judge refused to offer options other
than finishing the WorkEnder stint or serving hard time.

Schnur showed up Dec. 4 for his 20-day jail sentence, spending his
time in the suicide ward so nurses could administer his insulin. He
was let out after 14 days, but still faces many hours of community
service. He also must check in for regular tests to monitor his
marijuana intake, though he's allowed to smoke for his conditions.

"It was so tragic, what happened to Matt up there in Fort Collins,"
Melamede says. "He really got screwed by the court system. He's a
very conscientious guy and a great student."

The Compassion Club

James Masters doesn't know exactly what's wrong with his body. He
might have porphyria - an enzyme abnormality - or an overstock supply
of hepatitis antibodies, although he's never had the disease or a
vaccination. What the Fort Collins native does know is that, "since
the age of 23, I've been throwing up every day," he says.

He suffers from constant nausea, stomach cramps, muscle spasms and
swelling. In the first year of his illness, James, now 29, fell into
a coma. Later, incontinence kept him from holding jobs or attending
college. Unable to provide for his young family, he suffered from
depression. The doctors prescribed him a lineup of pharmaceutical
narcotics, including diazepam, hydromorphone and antidepressant and
antipsychotic drugs.

"For the first three or four years of my marriage, I had a living
corpse on my floor," says Lisa. "They had him on 11 medications at one point."

Lisa, 31, has her own list of physical maladies. Three protruding
discs in her neck, two of which are possibly herniated. Joint
swelling and muscle spasms. Carpal tunnel syndrome in both wrists.
Bursitis in both ankles.

Marijuana, the Masterses say, provides relief from their sicknesses.
It numbs muscle and nerve pain, and nausea.

"Symptomatically, I noticed I had less episodes when I was smoking,"
says James, "but, at that point [in 2001], I had kids and I couldn't
afford marijuana."

James remembers when the state passed a medical marijuana law in
2000, but he says it meant "absolutely nothing" at the time because
there was so little information about the program. When he asked his
family physician to refer him, the doctor refused to help and even
failed to tell James about the state health department Web site for
potential patients.

Amendment 20 allows doctor-recommended patients with debilitating
diseases to smoke pot and hold up to two ounces, or six plants (with
three or fewer being mature, flowering plants), of marijuana. Under
the constitutional amendment, medical marijuana users are supposed to
register with the state.

But in a January 2006 Gunnison County court case decided in favor of
medical marijuana user Ryan Margenau, a jury held that, according to
Amendment 20, a patient doesn't have to be registered but does
require a recommendation from a Colorado physician.

"Patients don't have to go through every single step to be legal.
They can just have a doctor's recommendation, and it's worth noting
that the doctor's recommendation can be oral or written," says Brian
Vicente, one of two attorneys representing the Masterses and
executive director of Sensible Colorado, a nonprofit group that works
on behalf of medical marijuana users and supports pot decriminalization.

The staff of Colorado's Medical Marijuana Registry approves
applications but does not issue licenses or permits. The registry
won't connect potential patients with doctors who will recommend pot
for treatment. Nor does the state share information on how to acquire
or grow weed, or recognize patients who have been approved for
medical marijuana use in other states.

Through another friend, the Masterses met Thomas and Larisa Lawrence,
a Denver couple, in 2003. Thomas Lawrence is a registered medical
marijuana user, and he and his wife had begun serving as caregivers,
maintaining a garden of high-quality pot for other patients. They
shared information about doctors who would consider recommending
people for treatment.

The Lawrences created the Colorado Compassion Club in 2004 to run a
marijuana dispensary for patients, who donated money for pot, seeds
or clippings.

In the summer of 2004, the Masterses first received doctors'
recommendations, and they began coordinating with the Lawrences to
help distribute pot to patients in northern Colorado. Lisa cooks and
bakes with ganja, providing meals for patients with throat illnesses
or those who have never smoked.

Last May, James began organizing weekly gatherings to spread the word
about how to enroll for medical marijuana privileges, ultimately
opening the Larimer County chapter of the Compassion Club.

"I started holding meetings," says James, "and what I heard over and
over again from people with cancer, HIV, full-blown AIDS, was, "Where
do I get medicine?'"

Last summer, the Masterses started their own garden for Compassion
Club patients. Their first homegrown crop consisted of the 12 mature
plants that Larimer's drug task force confiscated in the August bust.

Growing by the Rules

Lt. Craig Dodd of the Larimer County Drug Task Force says his unit
has handled eight to 10 cases in the past two years in which it was
called into a home due to suspicion of drug possession, only to find
a registered medical marijuana user.

"We don't know until we actually do a search warrant if someone has a
valid certificate," says Dodd. "But they have to be within the
confines of the law."

The Masterses weren't, according to the police, district attorney's
office and a county judge who refused to throw out the charges. While
not facing any child abuse or neglect charges, they are up against
allegations that they had too many plants, and weren't registered as
caregivers for other patients.

The first allegation hinges on whether clones, rootless starts from
other plants, should be considered separate plants.

"What we explain [to patients]," says state registry administrator
Debra Tuenge, "is if it's green, law enforcement is probably going to
count it as a plant."

Meanwhile, James Masters maintains that without counting the clones,
he and his wife had enough budding plants for four patients, based on
the restrictions of Amendment 20.

James adds that they were acting as caregivers to 30 people. In their
defense, the Masterses plan to call patients to the stand during
their trial to vouch that they were receiving medicine from the couple.

Patients are supposed to name their caregivers on their state
registration. But the Masterses weren't registered as caregivers for
30 people; the state wouldn't have allowed that.

A registry policy - not stipulated by Amendment 20 - is to limit
caregivers to only five patients, says Tuenge. She declines to say why.

If patients or caregivers are charged with exceeding the limits for
the amount of pot allowable under the law, Tuenge says, they can
explain why in court and avoid prosecution.

"We definitely encounter cases where people have more than the number
of plants that are allowed," adds Dodd. "That's not a rarity at all."
And if they're growing 30 plants, instead of the legal limit of six,
"that's a pretty good indicator that it's not just for personal use"
for medical patients.

Only two registered patients have been convicted on illegal drug
charges, implying most people grow and smoke within conditions of the law.

"I don't feel anyone is abusing the registry, or the limits either,"
says Tuenge.

Still, to the Masterses and their lawyers, Amendment 20's
technicalities and loopholes have blocked regional dispensaries, such
as the Colorado Compassion Club's branches, from getting medicine to
patients in need.

"The law does not mention a five-person cap [for caregivers]," says
Vicente. "It's another example of the government arbitrarily making a
decision about medical marijuana that is negatively affecting patients."

Vicente finds optimism and maybe a precedent in the Margenau decision
at Gunnison. Just as that case proved a patient doesn't have to
register to avoid prosecution, he hopes the Masterses' case will
establish that a caregiver shouldn't have to officially document each patient.

"It could be an impact case," says Vicente. "It could set a precedent
to allow safe access to medical marijuana."

Specific details, including caregiver-patient ratios, definitions of
plants, limits of plants per patient, eligible medical conditions and
the right to compensation, might all be addressed during the Masterses' trial.

"At the end of the day, sick people should not be prosecuted for
providing care for other sick people," Vicente says, "and caregivers
should be allowed to be compensated for providing medical marijuana.
What other medicine is given away free?"

"Yeah, I want to be compensated for the work, but I don't want to get
rich," adds James Masters. "I don't have stars in my eyes."

"A Noble Path"

Ordeals such as those experienced by Matt Schnur and the Masterses
indicate that the law enforcement and criminal justice systems are
not yet ready to assimilate or accept a medical use for cannabis.

Marijuana advocacy groups try to couch the discussion in terms of
compassion. But in many cases, police, prosecutors and judges still
treat medical marijuana patients like potheads and drug dealers.
Whatever the outcome of the Masterses' trial, society appears to be
sliding toward compassion.

In the November 2006 election, Colorado voters defeated (59 to 41
percent) a proposal to decriminalize the possession of up to an ounce
of marijuana in the state. That kind of defeat is considered a
spanking in electoral terms, but supporters say the numbers are
encouraging: Four out of 10 voters didn't see pot as a harmful or
dangerous drug.

"There are definitely some drawbacks of marijuana," says James
Masters. "I do have some memory problems." But he says those are
minor compared to the blackouts he suffered from the slew of
narcotics and other pharmaceuticals he once took.

Today, marijuana is the only medicine James regularly uses, and he
credits it for allowing him to go back to college and have a
relationship with his wife and kids.

If the THC Foundation did enroll 45,000 medical marijuana patients in
Colorado, one in every 100 citizens would be able to smoke pot
legally - if there's enough pot for them to smoke.

"There are so many other families that could go through this if
somebody doesn't step up, if somebody doesn't carry through," James
Masters says of the sickness and inability of patients to get medical
marijuana.

"With every fiber of my being, I believe it's a noble path."