THE FIGHT OVER MEDICAL MARIJUANA

SONORA, Calif. -- Monday was judgment day in Department Two of Tuolumne
County Superior Court, with a couple dozen defendants awaiting their
sentences. Some shuffled awkwardly into the courtroom in orange jail
uniforms, legs shackled in chains. Others came in civilian clothes with
their families, hopeful that the judge might be softened by a mother's
presence, or at least by a clean T-shirt.

Mainly this seemed to be a routine, dreary lineup of robbers, parole
violators, drunken drivers. One fellow, at least, was notable for his
creativity under pressure: He had pulled a gun in an insurance office and
demanded cash. Told there was none, he said, well, fine, make me out a
personal check. Needless to say, Lt. Columbo would not be required to crack
the case.

Also there was the matter of the People of California vs. Myron Carlyle
Mower. Now here was an interesting true crime tale. Mower is a severe
diabetic, legally blind, unable to hold down food. The only thing that
seems to help his condition is marijuana. Mower believed Californians had
cases like his in mind when they voted in 1996 to legalize medicinal
marijuana.

The law believed different.

Guess who won?

Eighteen months have passed since 5.3 million Californians voted for it,
and still the battle over medicinal marijuana rages on. Perhaps this is
because Proposition 215, like most initiatives, was about more than what
was printed on the ballot. It became a chance for the citizenry to
question, however obliquely, the whole War on Drugs strategy.

Indeed, some advocates of narcotics decriminalization described the
proposition's victory as a message to the nation's drug generals: Call off
the war, find a better way. No more prisons crammed with users. No more
narcotics units corrupted by evidence room cash. No more Tijuana mansions
for drug lords made rich by a policy of prohibition. In this context, the
reaction of many law enforcement officials was predictable: No surrender.
Fight to take back every inch of ground lost to the potheads.

Caught between the trenches of this larger struggle, unfortunately, are
sick people like Mower. His doctor has described the 35-year-old's
condition as "severe and terminal." He vomits whenever he eats. He cannot
work. He has lost his teeth, gone blind in one eye and all but blind in the
other.

"The only time I have observed his condition to be medically improving,"
his doctor noted in a letter filed with the court, "is when he has been
home and is reporting smoking marijuana on a daily basis. He cultivates a
small number of plants in his home for personal use only."

The drug law enforcers didn't buy the diagnosis. Acting on an anonymous
tip, investigators raided his house last summer and discovered 31 plants.
This, they concluded, was 28 plants too many. All but three were ripped
out, and the detectives went looking for Mower. They found him in the
hospital, hooked to a morphine drip.

"My health was all in that garden," Mower told them. "You guys don't know
what you've done to me."

In the hospital interview -- conducted before Mower was read his rights --
he acknowledged that he also was growing marijuana for two other sick
people. He later recanted this statement, and attempted in trial to
demonstrate that his garden's potential yield was hardly abundant. He was
convicted nonetheless. Mower had grown more plants than Tuolumne County
deemed necessary, and that was that.

"I'm a felon now," he said glumly in court Monday. When they called his
name, he put a hand on his lawyer's shoulder and followed her to the
defense table. His face was a sickly blend of gray and yellow. He said
little, and the judge pushed through the paces.

Had the probation report been read to him?

Yes, your honor.

Was he willing to sign it?

Yes, your honor.

His attorney guided his hand to the appropriate line. Mower signed -- a
promise to limit his pot garden to three plants, and to pay more than
$1,000 in fines, and to submit to five years of house searches and drug
tests. They even made the blind man surrender his driver's license. In
exchange, the people of California agreed not to stick Mower's failing body
in state prison for the crime of growing medicine. He better be grateful.

Peter H. King is a columnist for the Sacramento Bee in California.