News (Media Awareness Project) - US CA: State's 'Patton Of Pot' Faces Balancing Act In Drug War |
Title: | US CA: State's 'Patton Of Pot' Faces Balancing Act In Drug War |
Published On: | 2001-12-27 |
Source: | Orange County Register (CA) |
Fetched On: | 2008-08-31 08:59:53 |
STATE'S 'PATTON OF POT' FACES BALANCING ACT IN DRUG WAR
Sonya Barna Aims To Eradicate Marijuana Grown For Profit, Yet Be
Sympathetic To Its Medical Users.
SACRAMENTO -- She has been dubbed the "Patton of pot," California's
street-smart commander of the state's war on marijuana. Sonya Barna
works on the front line in the long-running battle, hovering in
helicopters, hiking through forests and hunkering down in a sparse
Sacramento office.
Barna heads California's Campaign Against Marijuana Planting, the
state's 18-year effort to shut down the multibillion-dollar industry.
With the pot season over, the state announced last week a near-record
year: CAMP pulled up nearly 314,000 plants worth about $1.25 billion.
Despite that success, Barna is steering her $655,000-a-year program
through treacherous political terrain. Its budget has been cut
dramatically since its early days, forcing CAMP to scale back the
number of anti-drug SWAT teams it can field from seven to three. And
California voters put the operation in an awkward position when they
approved Proposition 215, forcing Barna to balance her mission to
eradicate marijuana production with the people's desire to allow
medical patients to use pot to ease their ailments.
While other drugs, such as crack cocaine and heroin, are largely
stigmatized in the media and in society, marijuana remains hip and
cool to many.
As Barna sees it, a crucial part of her job is to change that, to help
redefine marijuana as a potent drug that can damage your memory, sap
your ambition and push you down a slide into aimless obscurity.
Barna, a mother of three, is intimately familiar with the personal
challenges facing children and parents.
During one of her regular searches of her oldest son's room four years
ago, Barna discovered a pot pipe in the 17-year-old's room. She sat
him down for a serious talk and has since put drug use behind him,
Barna said.
But Barna, a former San Jose police officer, is sympathetic to the
goals of Prop. 215, the 1996 initiative that gave Californians the
right to use pot to combat ills from AIDS and cancer to arthritis and
migraines.
"If someone is dying of cancer and a marijuana cigarette helps them,
one plant that they might have or that their caregiver might have is
one thing," Barna said. "Really, who is that hurting?"
Attorney General Bill Lockyer, Barna's boss, has been working to honor
the intent of Prop. 215 and still crack down on people who grow pot
for profit.
The task of deciding what's what falls to Barna.
To Barna, Prop. 215 did more than create a way for people with AIDS
and cancer to use pot to ease their pain; it opened the door for drug
cartels to expand their operations.
Barna has directed her teams to focus on the big scores, not small
growers tending a few plants. That she leaves for local law
enforcement.
Dennis Peron, who helped put the initiative on the ballot and has a
farm in Clear Lake where he has grown pot for patients, supports
targeting growers "in it for greed and money."
But he sees Barna as a lonely soldier making a last stand. "The war is
over," Peron said. "Marijuana will be legalized in my lifetime."
Barna's principal role is to assemble the anti-pot teams and lead
raids. CAMP has a skeleton crew and draws officers from across the
state for raids. Since 1983, the teams have destroyed about $9 billion
worth of plants.
The raids, which often involve helicopters sweeping low in search of
the emerald-green plants, have their critics in marijuana-friendly
parts of California.
Many view Barna and the program a lot like the owners of speakeasies
viewed Elliot Ness and his anti-alcohol teams during Prohibition.
"They're terrorizing citizens," said Marie Mills, a lead organizer of
the Civil Liberties Monitoring Project, a group in pot-rich Humboldt
County that keeps tabs on CAMP. "I don't see it as a valuable service,
and what they do get is not even touching the tip of the iceberg."
Pot plots take a toll on the state's forests. Growers use more than
fertilizer to raise their crops. They use potent chemicals that
pollute nearby streams and rivers.
Sonya Barna Aims To Eradicate Marijuana Grown For Profit, Yet Be
Sympathetic To Its Medical Users.
SACRAMENTO -- She has been dubbed the "Patton of pot," California's
street-smart commander of the state's war on marijuana. Sonya Barna
works on the front line in the long-running battle, hovering in
helicopters, hiking through forests and hunkering down in a sparse
Sacramento office.
Barna heads California's Campaign Against Marijuana Planting, the
state's 18-year effort to shut down the multibillion-dollar industry.
With the pot season over, the state announced last week a near-record
year: CAMP pulled up nearly 314,000 plants worth about $1.25 billion.
Despite that success, Barna is steering her $655,000-a-year program
through treacherous political terrain. Its budget has been cut
dramatically since its early days, forcing CAMP to scale back the
number of anti-drug SWAT teams it can field from seven to three. And
California voters put the operation in an awkward position when they
approved Proposition 215, forcing Barna to balance her mission to
eradicate marijuana production with the people's desire to allow
medical patients to use pot to ease their ailments.
While other drugs, such as crack cocaine and heroin, are largely
stigmatized in the media and in society, marijuana remains hip and
cool to many.
As Barna sees it, a crucial part of her job is to change that, to help
redefine marijuana as a potent drug that can damage your memory, sap
your ambition and push you down a slide into aimless obscurity.
Barna, a mother of three, is intimately familiar with the personal
challenges facing children and parents.
During one of her regular searches of her oldest son's room four years
ago, Barna discovered a pot pipe in the 17-year-old's room. She sat
him down for a serious talk and has since put drug use behind him,
Barna said.
But Barna, a former San Jose police officer, is sympathetic to the
goals of Prop. 215, the 1996 initiative that gave Californians the
right to use pot to combat ills from AIDS and cancer to arthritis and
migraines.
"If someone is dying of cancer and a marijuana cigarette helps them,
one plant that they might have or that their caregiver might have is
one thing," Barna said. "Really, who is that hurting?"
Attorney General Bill Lockyer, Barna's boss, has been working to honor
the intent of Prop. 215 and still crack down on people who grow pot
for profit.
The task of deciding what's what falls to Barna.
To Barna, Prop. 215 did more than create a way for people with AIDS
and cancer to use pot to ease their pain; it opened the door for drug
cartels to expand their operations.
Barna has directed her teams to focus on the big scores, not small
growers tending a few plants. That she leaves for local law
enforcement.
Dennis Peron, who helped put the initiative on the ballot and has a
farm in Clear Lake where he has grown pot for patients, supports
targeting growers "in it for greed and money."
But he sees Barna as a lonely soldier making a last stand. "The war is
over," Peron said. "Marijuana will be legalized in my lifetime."
Barna's principal role is to assemble the anti-pot teams and lead
raids. CAMP has a skeleton crew and draws officers from across the
state for raids. Since 1983, the teams have destroyed about $9 billion
worth of plants.
The raids, which often involve helicopters sweeping low in search of
the emerald-green plants, have their critics in marijuana-friendly
parts of California.
Many view Barna and the program a lot like the owners of speakeasies
viewed Elliot Ness and his anti-alcohol teams during Prohibition.
"They're terrorizing citizens," said Marie Mills, a lead organizer of
the Civil Liberties Monitoring Project, a group in pot-rich Humboldt
County that keeps tabs on CAMP. "I don't see it as a valuable service,
and what they do get is not even touching the tip of the iceberg."
Pot plots take a toll on the state's forests. Growers use more than
fertilizer to raise their crops. They use potent chemicals that
pollute nearby streams and rivers.
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