THE AGONY OF ECSTASY

Rave Bill Takes Aim At Party Drugs

Senate Tweaks Law That Was Designed To Close Down Crack Houses

New Orleans -- Dawn was approaching when the outlaw wizard stepped center
stage at the State Palace Theatre to survey his electronic wonderland.
Laser lights strafed the grand old chandeliers overhead, and deafening
machine music rattled the opera boxes. The floor was packed with young,
sweaty dancers.

"Great crowd," J. Donnie Estopinal said. And then, with a boyish smile, he
added: "I wonder which ones are the cops?"

The 32-year-old hefted a chugging smoke machine and aimed it toward the
audience of more than 3,300. If there were any undercover drug agents in
the Canal Street theater -- and there almost certainly were -- Estopinal
was suddenly gone before their eyes, vanished in a billowing white cloud.
It was a rare moment of low visibility for the rave promoter whose parties
have been ground zero for a federal war on raves.

The newest front in that government campaign is a Senate bill that has wide
support on Capitol Hill. The legislation has a catchy name -- the RAVE Act,
which stands for "Reducing America's Vulnerability to Ecstasy."

The act would tweak a 16-year-old federal drug law, originally crafted to
prosecute owners of crack houses, by expanding its definition of a site
devoted to drug enterprise to include one-time events and outdoor
gatherings. Its clear model has been the case of United States of America
vs. Estopinal, even though, to date, the government has found victory as
elusive as stage fog.

Estopinal said his only knowledge of drugs at his raves is the "same common
sense knowledge that tells me there's drugs at concerts and clubs
everywhere." The government case against Estopinal fizzled and charges
against him were eventually dropped, but that has not deterred authorities
from using the New Orleans case as a template. The campaign has sent a
chill not only through the electronic dance world, but also the ranks of
civil liberty advocates.

"What's extraordinary here is the government recasting of the drug laws to
take an activity that has never been considered criminal before and then
criminalize it," said Graham Boyd, an attorney with the ACLU Drug Policy
Litigation Project. "Basically, we're talking about putting on a party."

Not so, says Sen. Joseph Biden, D-Del., who introduced the RAVE Act and has
taken a prominent role in Senate hearings over the past two years regarding
ecstasy and other club drugs.

"Despite what opponents of the bill would have you believe, promoters who
sponsor events where people can dance in a safe, drug-free environment have
nothing to fear from my bill," Biden said. "My legislation is aimed at the
promoters who seek to profit from knowingly putting their customers at risk."

Opponents of the RAVE Act say the law could be stretched to go after
concert promoters who book reggae artists and sell marijuana-themed T-
shirts, or venues that host jam bands in the Grateful Dead tradition and
sell black-light posters.

The legal saga of the State Palace is a jumbled tale of British dance party
traditions, Beltway politicking and a law originally written to nail shut
the doors of inner-city drug havens. In 1986, the Crack House Laws were
created to help police fight the anonymous churn of cocaine houses. Dealers
arrested in the morning were replaced by afternoon, so the law presented a
more practical target in the property owners. The law made it a felony to
knowingly house and profit a drug enterprise.

In New Orleans in January 2001, a federal grand jury was asked: Are rave
promoters really all that different from the property owners who collect
cash for letting drug dealers set up shop under their roof? The answer came
in a sealed indictment against Estopinal and the owners of the State Palace.

When authorities came after Estopinal and the owners of the venue, Robert
and Brian Brunet, they pointed to a parade of limp youngsters taken to
hospitals. When he introduced the legislation, Biden cited Drug Enforcement
Administration estimates that 400 teens attending State Palace raves had
overdosed over a two-year period, a total hotly contested by Estopinal.

The government did win a plea bargain, but it was a muted victory. All
charges against Estopinal and the Brunets as individuals were dropped. Instead,

the corporation that owned the State Palace entered a guilty plea on the
crack house law and accepted a $100,000 fine.