THE LAND PROP. 215 FORGOT

Pot A Different Story Outside The Cities

Out here in the suburbs, medical marijuana users don't just get
stoned -- they often get stonewalled. This is not San Francisco or
Oakland, where your friendly neighborhood cannabis clubs can seem as
ubiquitous as 7-Elevens, and as conveniently located, too.

No, out here, the whole process can be a real trip.

At least it is for Mark Barnes, a 42-year-old quadriplegic from
Pleasanton who says he needs marijuana to quell spasms so painful and
intense they could knock him out of his bed in the morning. Whenever
Barnes needs a "refill," his wife, Kathy, has to find a sitter for
the couple's 6-year-old daughter. Then she will lift Mark out of his
wheelchair for the trip to the Oakland Cannabis Buyers' Cooperative,
where workers will check his doctors' referral card and send him to
other area sellers who can fill his prescription.

"I don't think (marijuana cooperatives) will ever come out this way,"
said Barnes, a former construction worker paralyzed 12 years ago when
he fell off a platform in Oakland. "And now, it's going to be tough
even to get it at all. We're going to have to go underground again.
It's a real hassle."

In the aftermath of Monday's Supreme Court ruling that federal
authorities can shut down marijuana distribution centers, users
elsewhere in the state soon may experience the logistical and legal
difficulties medicinal marijuana patients in Contra Costa and the
Tri-Valley have long faced. Soon, Barnes and others may have to
return to the bad old days of obtaining pot either from a dealer on
the street or by growing their own.

More than 20 marijuana distribution centers have sprouted in the
state since Proposition 215 passed in 1996, and, until Monday's U.S.
Supreme Court ruling that federal law trumps state initiatives, there
was little threat of any of them being smoked out by the feds.

Not so, however, in Contra Costa and the Tri-Valley, where medical
pot advocates remain underground and sometimes are arrested for
growing plants at home with a doctor's permission. They see the
county as not being pot-friendly despite widespread public support --
63 percent voted in favor of 215 -- in the county for medical
marijuana use.

Some now worry that Contra Costa's model of dealing (or avoiding
having to deal) with medical marijuana may become the norm.

"They don't make it easy out here for someone," Barnes said. "Ask anyone."

Take the case of Martinez advocate Bob Judd. Since 1997, Judd has
worked on opening a marijuana dispensary in downtown, but he says
city officials have blocked his efforts through delays and inaction
and a strict ordinance that states a center cannot be within 1,000
feet of a school or park and within 300 feet of a residence. Police
Chief Dave Cutaia, who handles enforcement of the ordinance, said his
understanding was that Judd never asked for a use permit for a
specific site and that he was given information "like any other
business trying to open in Martinez," Cutaia said.

Judd said he felt Proposition 215 was more legally binding than
Martinez's ordinance, "so I went ahead and became a caregiver to
about 10 to 15 people, gave them the medicine they needed. It's been
five years and no one messed with me."

The same could not be said for 43-year-old medical marijuana advocate
Ken Estes, who was charged last July with cultivation and possession
for sale after Concord police seized 1,500 plants from his home.
Estes, paralyzed since a motorcycle accident two decades ago, has a
preliminary hearing set for Wednesday in Superior Court in Martinez.
He said he ran a dispensary for about 300 patients, nothing more.

Last December, Crockett medical marijuana user Mike Lee was arrested
for cultivating 100 plants. Charges were never filed against Lee, but
he says that he was evicted by his landlord because of his arrest and
that he cannot afford to grow plants anymore. He goes to Oakland for
his marijuana, which he uses for chronic gastritis.

"In Contra Costa," Lee said, "they pretend Prop. 215 never passed."

Judd says he has ceased dispensing marijuana to patients after the
Supreme Court ruling, but Estes continues to sell from his new
location in Berkeley.

"I'm willing to risk my freedom to give people a choice in
treatment," Estes said. "I'm no drug dealer."

Contra Costa Deputy District Attorney Phyllis Franks declined to talk
about Estes' case. But Barnes says he will testify that Estes gave
him and his wife plants so that he could avoid the trek into Oakland
to obtain marijuana. Though Barnes says he no longer grows marijuana
at his Pleasanton home, he said a home-grown operation is preferable
to traveling to Oakland or San Francisco.

"This Supreme Court decision is scaring the crap out of me," Barnes
said. "I'd like those justices to come to my house and see me try to
get out of bed in the morning without the pot. I tried taking
(FDA-approved) Baclofen for the spasms, but it didn't work like just
a few hits (of marijuana). In minutes, I stop shaking."

A drug that effective, Barnes said, he cannot live without.

"I'm not some potheaded bad person," he said. "I just want to get up
in the morning."