CASUALTIES OF WAR

When Does America's "Drug War" Infringe On Citizens' Civil Rights?

On the day Hart Squire's Reems Creek property was raided on suspicion of
illegal drug activity, 12 law-enforcement vehicles (marked and unmarked)
arrived, bearing some 25 federal, state and local law-enforcement officers
who wore bulletproof vests and carried holstered guns. Squire's mother
answered the door. "Sorry, we don't need any tickets to the policemen's
ball," she managed to quip.

The raid - which took place on July 19, 1999 - lasted more than three
hours. Two days before the raid, Squire had noticed helicopters circling
his land.

U.S. Forest Service Special Agent Malcolm Jowers told the Squire family
that his office had a search warrant for the property and the buildings on
it, based on evidence that Squire was growing marijuana in the national
forest nearby. The warrant alleged, in part, "There is now concealed [on
the Squire property] ... clothes [specifically described in an attached
affidavit] worn during the cultivation of marijuana and a wedding band worn
during the cultivation of marijuana [both as viewed on a
police-surveillance video of a man tending a marijuana patch near the
Squire property], the same brand of fertilizer used to grow marijuana [as
was found at the marijuana patch], the same fencing wire used, marijuana
seeds, and marijuana."

Squire reports that officers frisked his 11-year-old son, Rusty, in the
driveway - adding that the boy soon went to bed and was afraid to go
outside again, fearing he would be shot. Rusty, who has a history of
violent-trauma episodes, is one of three special-needs children Squire and
his wife, Monika Wengler, were in the process of adopting at the time.

Squire describes the officers' behavior as arrogant, and says they treated
him "like an animal, an 'other' creature, a genetic defective." The
officers interrogated Hart, his wife, his father, his mother and the
children separately. They showed each family member photos taken from a
somewhat fuzzy surveillance video taken nearby, featuring a person (whom
they alleged was Squire) tending a marijuana patch. They asked each family
member to identify the man in the video. None could. (Among other physical
differences, Squire wears a long, "rat-tail" ponytail, while the man in the
video had close-cropped hair.) The last task required of Squire and his
family was to help Jowers complete forms listing the Social Security
numbers, height, weight and other vital statistics of all family members.

In the end, none of the evidence listed on the search warrant and the
affidavit filed in support of it - nor any other incriminating evidence -
was found on the property. The officers left, making no apology, according
to Squire.

Neither Special Agent Jowers, nor any other agent who participated in the
raid, was willing to comment publicly on the case. Other U.S. Forest
Service agents and law-enforcement officers contacted for this article,
however, emphasize that they feel such searches are justified, if suspicion
of illegal drug activity exists.

Leslie Burrill, supervisor of law enforcement and investigations for the
U.S. Forest Service's central zone, notes that - since Congress passed the
Drug Control Act in 1986, directing the USFS to enforce federal drug laws
in the national forests - "a significant number of drug cases [involving
national-forest land] have been solved." Specifically, Burrill reports that
USFS enforcement efforts had cut illegal drug activity in Western North
Carolina's national forests by about 50 percent, as of 1990.

"We have [drug activity] down to a manageable level now, but we need
significant additional funding to stop it completely," he maintains. In
Burrill's opinion, the so-called "war on drugs" has been successful in this
region.

Many drug-war opponents, however, feel the price has been too high - both
in strictly monetary terms and in the currency of civil-rights violations
that they believe are leveled against often-innocent suspects.

As for Squire, he's now talking with attorneys about pursuing a court case
against the agencies involved in the raid on his property.

The Fallout

Nine months have passed since the raid, and still no hard evidence has been
found against Squire, his family or anyone on his property, according to
U.S. Forest Service records. Yet the USFS still lists the investigation as
"ongoing." Squire reports that the open-ended nature of the case has become
the most grievous aspect of the whole incident. He says he feels suspect
even walking in the woods near his property, and he wonders if his phone is
tapped - though his friends optimistically joke that such things happen
only in the movies.

Squire is also worried about the "alternative" living arrangements on his
property: He runs an organic farm and also operates a business distributing
wine and health foods there. He calls the unusual living/business situation
on his property a "family partnership," in which people who aren't
immediate family (whom Squire characterized as "renters/community members"
in a written statement procured from him during the raid) work and reside
there. At the time of the search, Squire was deeply concerned that he would
be arrested if anyone on his land were using or growing marijuana - even if
he knew nothing about it. As it turned out, no evidence of such activity
was found. He feels lucky - but he doesn't feel protected.

Squire asserts that the "psychological trauma" made him physically ill. He
reveals that he lost money during a four-day period after the raid, because
the illness prevented him from conducting business; he also reports that
the already-troubled Rusty is still traumatized by the ordeal. What's more,
says Squire, the incident could have (and may still) cost him the family he
and his wife have worked hard to build - because the final adoption
procedures for Rusty and two additional children were still in process at
the time of the raid.

Squire believes he was set up for a bogus Alcohol Law Enforcement
interview, so that agents could compare the videotaped interview with the
surveillance video. (He notes that, during 10 years in the
wine-distribution business, he'd never been called in for a face-to-face
ALE interview - until just before the raid.) The affidavit and application
for a search warrant filed by agent Jowers in U.S. District Court for the
Western District of North Carolina bears out Squire's theory. At one point,
the affidavit states, "ALE agent Webb Corthell had set up an interview with
J. Hart Squire, and U.S. Forest Service Supervisory Law Enforcement Officer
Jenny Davis [one of the lead officers on the Squire case] was going to look
at Squire [on the video] and compare him with the numerous times she had
viewed the videotape showing the suspect in the marijuana patch." After
viewing the ALE video, Davis "felt that Jonathan Hart Squire was the man in
the marijuana video," according to the affidavit.

And, according to Jowers' affidavit, Squire's mail carrier, Parker Cody,
was shown still photos from the video of a man harvesting and tending
marijuana. Cody could not specifically identify Squire as the person in the
photos but, as stated in the affidavit, "Mr. Cody offered that [the person
in the video] was one of three people on his route, one of whom was [Squire]."

Other evidence mentioned in the affidavit, purportedly linking Squire to
marijuana growing, was so circumstantial as to be nonexistent. A specific
type of fertilizer (Mineral Earth Products' Natural Fertilizer and Soil
Builder) found near the marijuana patch was traced by law-enforcement
officers to its primary regional dealer, Earl Choonard of Columbus, S.C.
According to the affidavit, "Mr. Choonard stated that his product was a
very specialized type of organic fertilizer used by herb farms, nurseries
and organic farmers, and that one of his reps had been selling the
fertilizer at the Farmers Market in Asheville over the past several years."
Although this type of fertilizer was not found on Squire's property, the
agents may have reasoned that Squire might use it, since he runs an organic
farm.

In the end, none of the items presumed to be on Squire's property - and
listed on the search warrant and on the supporting affidavit - was found
during the raid.

As a self-described "law-abiding citizen," Squire says he's now
disillusioned about his government. "It's a police state now," he asserts.
"They're creating an 'us vs. them' mentality."

The Role Of The U.S. Forest Service

Four different law-enforcement agencies took part in the raid on Squire's
land and home. At the federal level, the lead agency was the Forest
Service's Law Enforcement and Investigations Division. The other agencies
involved were: the Metropolitan Enforcement Group (MEG), a drug-enforcement
task force made up of representatives of the Asheville Police Department
and the Buncombe County Sheriff's Department; the North Carolina State
Bureau of Investigation (SBI); and North Carolina State Alcohol Law
Enforcement (ALE).

Leslie Burrill is in charge of USFS enforcement in Western North Carolina.
He supervises 35 officers, and his jurisdiction covers 4.25 million acres
in nine national forests in North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee and
Georgia. His domain includes pretty much every kind of illegal activity -
from drug violations to breaking and entering to arson to littering.

When and why did USFS eye-in-the-sky drug surveillance become prevalent?

In the 1970s, says Burrill, there was "significant impact from marijuana
growers in the national forests," but the agency had no authority to
enforce drug laws. "We could get 'em only on illegal work-activity
charges," he reports. That meant marijuana growers who planted their seeds
on federal forest lands would, at worst, spend six months in jail or pay a
$500 fine.

But the Drug Control Act of 1986 gave the Forest Service free rein to
enforce drug laws in the national forests. The law covers everything from
marijuana patches in the forests to the manufacture of synthetic drugs
(such as methamphetamine) in homemade laboratories on lands adjoining
national forests. The USFS immediately set up a surveillance program to
watch over both the national forests and neighboring private lands where
drug activity was suspected. The program has been in operation ever since -
using human observers, long-range video, and helicopter and airplane
surveillance. The Drug Control Act gives the Forest Service access to SWAT
teams, National Guard helicopters and heavy firepower.

At What Cost?

Technically, the Forest Service's Law Enforcement and Investigations
Division is part of the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Tracking the costs
of drug surveillance-and-enforcement programs here in Western North
Carolina is very difficult, according to Burrill, because of the personnel
exchanges involving local law enforcement, state police agencies such as
the SBI, and the USFS's own officers and special agents.

Burrill's department uses floating federal special agents such as Malcolm
Jowers, drawn from a four-state region. These agents can be used for any
kind of Forest Service enforcement work - not just drug raids. When asked
exactly how much his agency spends on drug enforcement in WNC's national
forests, Burrill is succinct: "We don't know." (Helicopters, for instance,
are borrowed from the National Guard.)

He estimates his annual departmental budget in North Carolina to be
$590,000 - with eight full-time officers assigned to the national forests.
Law-enforcement officers are paid $50,000 per year; special agents earn
$70,000 per year. One law-enforcement officer on a raid earns about $192
per day. These figures reflect only what the Forest Service pays; they do
not include expenses for which officers are reimbursed by state and local
agencies.

The SBI's Western District covers 16 counties in Western North Carolina.
The agency lends personnel to the Forest Service to conduct drug searches
in the national forests and surrounding areas. SBI Special Agent in Charge
David Barnes has worked what's called "eradication" - the destruction of
marijuana patches - for 20 years in Western North Carolina. He admits that
drug-enforcement costs are high: "Sixty percent of [SBI] time is spent on
drugs - including alcohol - directly and indirectly." But that includes all
of WNC, not just the national forests; he says the SBI works with the
Forest Service on drug enforcement only "infrequently."

When asked to answer accusations by Squire (and others who have publicly
criticized enforcement policies) that law-enforcement officials harass
people who live in intentional communities or pursue alternative living
arrangements (like those on the Squire property), Barnes is adamant about
the SBI's objectivity. "Just because somebody's political views are
different from our own doesn't mean we investigate them," he declares. "If
they [are alleged to have committed] an illegal act, we will pursue it.
We're serious, though, about not taking on a thug or 'jackboot' image."

Barnes also stresses that, if a renter were arrested on drug charges, the
owner of the property would not be held liable. But a property owner could
be held accountable, he reveals, if there are subsequent arrests of
renters, or patterns of illegal behavior by renters, on the same property.
And even that limited legal protection does not apply to those who share
land under alternative arrangements such as land trusts, leases or simple
verbal agreements, which can muddy the legal waters.

Burrill bristles at the charge that the Forest Service is simply harassing
people on private land, for ulterior motives: "It is still a federal
offense to grow marijuana on private land," he emphasizes, explaining that
the agency's drug-surveillance program is driven by tips. Often, he
relates, the local police are called when a suspect gathering is held on
public lands, or when neighbors feel something is amiss on an adjacent
property. Locally, the USFS receives a constant stream of complaints,
Burrill reports, and agents follow up on the ones that sound credible.

Burrill also denies that his agency harasses people just because their
neighbors don't like them. "It takes a lot of work to get a [search]
warrant," he points out. "We don't go in there just on hearsay."

The Forest Service always works with state and local authorities. The
property in question is searched and a report written up. The report goes
to the U.S. attorney general's office, which decides whether to prosecute
under federal drug laws, put the case on hold, have the agents gather more
evidence, or throw it out. Even if no evidence is found, a case can be
"ongoing" (or open) for two years or more. One to two years is typical,
according to Burrill. During that time, the original suspect may or may not
be under active investigation and may or may not be charged. Agent Barnes
says cases against people who are raided can remain open for years, simply
"on procedure." He refused to explain this phenomenon further, on the record.

But giving the authorities that much free rein has some people worried.

Drug-War Opponents

Dixie Deerman is a member of the Asheville Community of Compassion, a
coalition of local people who want to change local attitudes toward the
medicinal, industrial and spiritual uses of cannabis - both as marijuana
and as hemp.

Deerman challenges local law enforcement's practice of teaming up with
state and federal agents to conduct raids in the woods: "Agencies work
together to entangle any investigation of their activities," she charges -
in other words, to make it harder for people to tell what they're up to.

Burrill, however, maintains that "the use of multiple agencies is
necessary, to share limited resources." And that rationale is echoed by
officer Billy Dayton of MEG, an agency funded half by the city and half by
Buncombe County.

Deerman also argues that city and county agents are not required to take
part in USFS anti-drug activities. "Local law officers are not sworn to
enforce laws in 'federal enclaves' [such as Forest Service land]," she
asserts - referring to local law-enforcement's lack of jurisdiction on
federal lands. Therefore, she and fellow Community of Compassion members
argue, local law enforcement could choose to make drug raids a low
priority, and could even refuse to cooperate with federal officials.

Dayton agrees with Deerman on at least one point: "We could make drug work
our lowest priority and not cooperate with federal agents," he notes.
"[But] the root of all evil are drug violations. Your robberies will
increase, because [most] are related to drugs."

Currently, MEG draws officers from the Asheville Police Department and the
Buncombe County Sheriff's Department to help conduct drug raids. Sheriff's
Department officers, says Dayton, are pulled off the highways for drug
raids in the county (including those on national-forest land), and APD
officers are pulled from the Community Policing Team. About 30 search
warrants are issued in drug cases each year in Buncombe County, Dayton reports.

The Community of Compassion Web site says that group members advocate the
legalization of marijuana for medicinal purposes - for everything from
migraine headaches to liver disorders. They call themselves "conscientious
objectors to America's drug war" and believe that it's wrong for the U.S.
government to persecute and imprison its citizens for cultivating and using
Cannabis sativa - which they say is simply an herb.

In April of 1999, the group launched a petition drive to force a citywide
referendum in Asheville on whether to make enforcing anti-marijuana laws
the APD's lowest priority. At least 7,500 signatures must be gathered by
April 20, 2000. Group members say that thousands of signatures have been
gathered so far, though they don't yet have a specific count. The group's
proposed ordinance is modeled specifically on the Berkeley Marijuana
Ordinance of 1979, which makes anti-marijuana enforcement that city's
lowest-priority law-enforcement issue. Asheville's version is called
"Ordinance to Direct the City Manager and Police that Laws Criminalizing
the Possession, Cultivation, and Use of Cannabis be Given Lowest Priority
of Enforcement."

And The War Goes On

Susan Merrill - a homesteader and organic-herb grower who lives with her
husband and children on 30 acres in Madison County - was also raided
recently by officers from the Buncombe County Sheriff's Department, on
suspicion of illegal drug activity. Merrill says the officers, who suddenly
appeared at her door one afternoon, laughed at her when she denied growing
marijuana on the property.

Merrill reports that the officers then went off to search her family's
land. They returned some time later, saying they were sorry for the
inconvenience. The supposed marijuana, they noted, "had turned out to be
something else."

She describes her reaction as "my knees going out from under me." No
illegal activity was found, but Merrill was extremely concerned about what
could have happened: "I use scales and [plastic bags] for the measuring and
sales [of the herbs I grow]," she notes - the same accouterments often used
by marijuana growers.

Merrill explains that her husband, Michael, had cut back a thickly wooded
area on the property the previous summer; the honey-locust trees there grew
back bright green. And that, she assumes, is what was spotted from the
helicopters she heard overhead, some 15 minutes before the officers
appeared at her door. But what bothers her most is what she calls the
officers' stated certainty that she was growing marijuana on her property.
She considers that kind of attitude harassment, and likens it to the
sometimes paranoid and violent policies associated with alcohol prohibition
in the 1930s.

Hart Squire, meanwhile, emphasizes that he doesn't know whether his
property will be raided again. Because his case is still open, he suspects
he may be under continued police surveillance. "Every time I walk in the
woods, I'm a suspect," he concludes.

Sidebar:

Hemp, An Economic Victim Of The Drug War

Maria Leatherwood runs the High Mountain Hemporium, an Asheville store that
sells products made from hemp. She's become a kind of hemp activist by
accident, she says. Every day, in her shop, she explains both the uses of
hemp and the plant's current legal status: It's a non-narcotic cousin of
the cannabis plant, particularly useful because of its versatile fiber.

Hemp can be used to manufacture clothes, tree-free paper, oils and
medicinal salves, insulation, building materials (there's a house in North
Dakota made entirely of hemp), and much more (in one 1997 line of Mercedes,
hemp fibers were used in the dashboards). Leatherwood likes to say that
hemp features "everything to sustain a community," and that it should
replace tobacco in North Carolina as a cash crop. The fast-growing plant
rejuvenates depleted soils and can be grown organically, requiring no
pesticides or herbicides.

Hemp proponents say it can provide four times the fiber per acre that a
tree farm does, and can also be used to make chipboard. Our national
forests have been a controversial source of wood pulp for local paper
mills, such as Canton's Sunburst Paper Company (formerly owned by Champion
International). But this versatile weed could eliminate the need to cut
down trees to make paper and chipboard -- while providing income for local
farmers hurt by the recent turmoil surrounding what she calls a "currently
legal drug": tobacco.

So why haven't North Carolina farmers jumped at the chance to grow hemp?
Growing hemp is illegal in this state, because it carries the stigma of its
illicit cousin -- cannabis.

"In 1997, the Kentucky Hemp Growers Association had a campaign to educate
citizens. But the DEA stated that, even if hemp and its uses were
legitimate, [its legalization] would be an excuse to grow psychoactive
plants [marijuana]," laments Leatherwood. Currently, growing hemp is legal
only in North Dakota and Hawaii.

Leatherwood notes that she can sympathize with both sides in the drug war.
Her brother is a sheriff in Swain County, and law enforcement "feeds my
family," she says. But Leatherwood goes on to point out that the real
problem is the laws decreeing hemp to be illegal. Local police departments,
she concedes, are only doing their job when they enforce those laws --
which she feels need to be changed.