AMERICAN FACES 10 YEARS IN JAIL FOR TENDING PLANTS

The case of a U.S. woman who fled to B.C. after being charged for
watering plants at the home of a medicinal marijuana advocate
highlights the gap between Canadian values and America's war on drugs.

With her peasant skirts, willowy looks and gentle voice, Renee Boje
appears to be just the sort of British Columbia flower child one would
expect to meet in Robert's Creek, a short ferry ride up the coast from
Vancouver.

But not everyone agrees. American drug enforcement officials insist
Ms. Boje, 30, is a serious criminal on the run from justice, a woman
guilty of such a horrible crime that she must be punished as harshly
as rapists and murderers.

What is her crime? She is charged in the United States with growing
and conspiring to sell marijuana. If she is found guilty, the
mandatory minimum sentence she will receive is 10 years in prison.

Flower child or felon? Federal Justice Minister Anne McLellan will
make a key decision about that question sometime after Oct. 15, the
deadline for submissions in what is fast becoming a politically
charged extradition case.

American authorities have asked Canada to turn over Ms. Boje, an
American citizen, so she can stand trial in California. The charges
she faces stem from a July 1997 raid on the Bel Air mansion of a
cancer survivor who advocates marijuana's medical benefits. The legal
and public battles that have followed the raid highlight sensitive
questions in American politics, including how to deal with the medical
use of marijuana; the excesses of the war on drugs; the dangers of the
exploding prison population; even tensions of American federalism.

And now, with Ms. Boje fighting to stay in her Canadian refuge, the
Bel Air raid forces Canadians to confront a question: Just how brutal
does another country's criminal justice system have to be before
Canada refuses to hand someone over to that system?

Strange as it may sound, this swirling controversy has the most modest
of sources: the AIDS virus that infected the body of an American
author named Peter McWilliams.

In 1996, Mr. McWilliams -- who had sold more than two million copies
of his self-help books, including Ain't Nobody's Business If You Do,
an attack on the criminalization of consensual activities -- was told
by his doctor that his HIV had become AIDS, and with it had come
cancer. Chemotherapy and radiation followed, leaving him racked with
nausea so powerful he couldn't continue his treatments.

Mr. McWilliams tried every anti-nausea medication available, without
success. With his doctor's consent, he turned to marijuana. The nausea
vanished, allowing his treatment to go on. A medical marijuana
crusader was born.

Mr. McWilliams met a second man, Todd McCormick, who, at 26, had spent
most of his life battling cancer, also with the aid of marijuana, and
had become a leading expert in the medical uses of the plant. Mr.
McWilliams commissioned Mr. McCormick to experiment with the plant and
write two books on growing and using medical marijuana.

With the hefty advance he was given, Mr. McCormick rented a stucco
mansion in Bel Air and gathered assistants and activists to help with
his project. Ms. Boje, a university-educated freelance artist, was
hired to illustrate the texts.

It was an exciting time for medical marijuana advocates. In 1996,
California's voters had approved Proposition 215, the "Compassionate
Care Act," which made it legal under state law for seriously ill
people to purchase and use marijuana if recommended by a doctor.
"Compassion clubs" sprang up to buy marijuana from growers on behalf
of patients. Several other states prepared to follow California's example.

In Bel Air, the "Cannabis Castle," as the rented mansion was dubbed,
became a well-known symbol of the thaw. Mr. McCormick and Mr.
McWilliams talked openly about their work and made little effort to
disguise their extensive experiments breeding various marijuana
strains. Potted marijuana plants grew on balconies and in neat rows in
the back yard.

The U.S. federal government, however, was dismayed. Federal officials
denounced the idea of medical marijuana as a stalking horse for the
legalization of the recreational use of the drug. White House
officials disparaged medical marijuana as "Cheech and Chong medicine"
and aggressively campaigned against state referendums on the issue.

Despite the best efforts of the federal government, every state vote
on medical marijuana -- there have been seven so far -- has strongly
approved the idea. More states are preparing to hold referendums. And
last year, a report by a branch of the renowned National Academy of
Sciences embarrassed the White House by agreeing that marijuana was
useful in controlling symptoms associated with AIDS. It supported
patients' access to the drug if other options failed.

These developments failed to soften the White House, and federal
officials insisted that the letter of federal law would be enforced.
The California referendum had legalized medical marijuana under state
law only; it remained strictly illegal under federal law. The federal
government therefore warned California doctors that if they
recommended medical marijuana to patients, they would be aiding and
abetting a federal crime and could be prosecuted. They could also
lose their federal licences to prescribe drugs, which would put them
out of business. (A federal judge recently ruled that such
prosecutions would unconstitutionally infringe on doctors' right to
free speech.)

Congress tried to block officials from counting the ballots in a
medical marijuana referendum in the District of Columbia when it
became clear the proposition would easily pass (it did). And federal
law enforcement officials continued to aggressively prosecute federal
legislation banning marijuana without regard for the new state laws.

The result was a July 1997 raid on Mr. McCormick's "Cannabis Castle."
Some 4,000 plants were seized and numerous charges, including
trafficking, were laid against Mr. McCormick and Mr. McWilliams.
Authorities produced no substantial evidence that Mr. McCormick was
selling his marijuana. They simply took the number of plants as proof
of intent to traffic, dismissing the argument that the two men had
more plants than they needed for personal use because they were
conducting breeding experiments.

Ms. Boje, who never owned any of the plants, also had production and
trafficking charges laid against her, mainly on the grounds that she
had allegedly been seen watering Mr. McCormick's plants and moving
them around to get better sunlight. Those charges were dropped. But
fearing that they would be reinstated, she fled to British Columbia on
a lawyer's advice.

The charges were indeed laid again and Ms. Boje, now an international
fugitive, applied to the Canadian government for refugee status. She
cited several grounds, including the gross disproportion of the
sentence she faces if convicted, and what she claims is a politically
motivated prosecution whose real target is California's medical
marijuana law. She also points to the inhumane conditions in many
prisons in the United States, where soaring drug convictions in
particular have led to severe overcrowding and dangerous conditions.
This is a particularly concern for female prisoners who, according to
human rights reports, are often subject to rape and torture at the
hands of fellow prisoners and prison authorities.

American officials responded to Ms. Boje's flight with a demand that
Canada extradite the Californian.

Ms. Boje has lost rounds in court, and now both her refugee claim and
the extradition request are bound for the desk of federal Justice
Minister McLellan.

As difficult as Ms. Boje's predicament may be, Mr. McCormick and Mr.
McWilliams suffered worse fates. An American federal judge refused to
allow the two men to present evidence at trial that marijuana was for
them a medical necessity. He further ruled that they couldn't mention
Proposition 215, or argue that at the time of the alleged federal
offence it was legal to do what they did under California law. Mr.
McWilliams was even forbidden from telling the jury that he had AIDS
and cancer.

Barred from raising any defence, the two men had no options left. Mr.
McCormick pleaded guilty in exchange for having some charges dropped,
and was sentenced to five years in a federal prison named "Terminal
Island."

Underweight and suffering from severe scoliosis and nerve damage, he
asked prison authorities if he could be prescribed the synthetic drug
Marinol, which contains one of the active ingredients in marijuana.
The officials refused. Instead, they tested Mr. McCormick for
marijuana use and got a positive result. Mr. McCormick insisted the
result came from use prior to his being imprisoned -- trace elements
can linger in human cells for up to a month and he wasn't tested prior
to being jailed -- to no avail. Prison officials punished him with two
months in Terminal Island's solitary confinement unit, where he can
currently be found.

Mr. McWilliams also agreed to plead guilty. Released on bail pending
sentencing, he was required to submit to drug testing every week. With
the bail secured by his mother's house, he didn't dare touch the
marijuana he needed to keep from throwing up his AIDS medicine. In
June, Mr. McWilliams was found dead in his bathroom. He had choked on
his own vomit.

"He was a beautiful man," Ms. Boje says. "He had a lot of wisdom and a
lot of humour."

She fears a similar fate is being prepared for Mr. McCormick. He was
underweight before he went to prison and that will only get worse in
solitary confinement, Ms. Boje worries. He's had no medication or
physiotherapy since he was jailed. "I feel that they're trying to do
the same thing to Todd. They're ultimately trying to kill him."

As fearful as Ms. Boje is for Mr. McCormick, she is serene about her
own fate. "I really trust that the universe will take care of me."

Ms. Boje's universe, however, has narrowed down to the person of Ms.
McLellan. The federal justice minister can reject the American
extradition request on several grounds, the strongest of which is
likely that to send Ms. Boje back to the United States would be
"unjust and oppressive."

John Conroy, Ms. Boje's lawyer, argues that it's a question of
proportion. In Canada, he says, Ms. Boje would likely receive a fine
and, perhaps, a criminal record if convicted on similar charges. And
that's if charges were even laid. Mr. Conroy points out that in many
cities in Canada, there are growing clubs that provide marijuana to
patients recommended by doctors. These clubs are well-known to the
police but, provided they operate within certain limits, they are left
alone. One such club in Vancouver has more than 1,300 members, Mr.
Conroy says.

And that's something that Canadians support and want expanded. "The
public in Canada shows something in excess of 85-per-cent support for
medical marijuana," Mr. Conroy notes.

The federal government, after years of refusing to deal with the
matter, has begun to study the medical uses of marijuana and grant
exemptions to bona fide patients. The Ontario Court of Appeal has
further directed the government to expand and formalize the system for
granting exemptions, or have the entire law restricting marijuana
struck down.

Given this environment, Mr. Conroy says, "it seems to me to be
outrageous, and the public should be outraged, that the American
federal government wants to take this young woman and stick her in a
prison for a minimum of 10 years." That Ms. Boje would be found guilty
seems all but a formality since she, like Mr. McWilliams and Mr.
McCormick before her, would likely be forbidden from even mentioning
medical marijuana or the fact that what she did was legal under
California state law.

"The disproportionality between the Canadian situation and the
American federal government's position is phenomenal," Mr. Conroy
says. While Canada is liberalizing its laws and attitudes, the United
States has gone in the opposite direction -- to such an extent, in
fact, that numerous American judges and judicial organizations have
attacked the increasingly tough mandatory minimum sentences for drug
crimes as profoundly unjust. Some American judges have resigned rather
than impose mandatory minimum sentences. The gap between Canadian laws
and values and the American punishment facing Ms. Boje is so extreme,
Mr. Conroy feels, that Ms. McLellan must decide that handing Ms. Boje
over to the Americans would indeed be "unjust and oppressive."

But the political repercussions of such a decision would be great.
Drugs are a major concern of American foreign policy, and the U.S.
State Department has already criticized Canada for being "soft on drugs."

It would also be unprecedented. A Quebec court did once refuse the
extradition to the United States of a man accused of cocaine
trafficking, but the Supreme Court of Canada reversed that decision.

Yet, Mr. Conroy thinks that case might actually work in Ms. Boje's
favour. The Supreme Court didn't give reasons for its decision, he
notes, but the dissent in the Quebec court distinguished between the
case before it and one in which someone is found in possession of a
small amount of marijuana. The fact that Ms. Boje's case revolves
around medical marijuana, Mr. Conroy feels, puts it squarely in line
with the hypothetical example that all the Quebec judges agreed would
mean a refusal of extradition.

Ms. Boje is confident for simpler reasons. "I just have
faith."

She came to Canada, she says, only because that's what happened to be
on the other side of the border she crossed. Once here, she was taken
with the tolerance and decency she experienced. "I do feel I've landed
in a pretty amazing place. I feel blessed in that respect. I really
had no idea in coming to Canada that it was like this."

In Robert's Creek, she has found a place where the universe is indeed
taking care of her. In this community, artists and environmentalists
abound -- "lots of women in peasant skirts," she says. If she wins,
she says she'd like to build "a collective healing community." It
would be "a place to go for healing in nature. That's my ultimate dream."

Spoken like a true flower child.