Let's Be Blunt, Gov. Christie:

WHAT'S UP WITH N.J.'S MEDICAL MARIJUANA LAW?

Is the administration trying to pull the plug on New Jersey's medical
marijuana law?

Of all the shitty ways to die, ALS is arguably the shittiest. Also
known as Lou Gehrig's disease, ALS stands for amyotrophic lateral
sclerosis, and in short it is slow death brought on by the steady and
methodical withering of the nerves that control your muscles. First,
you can't button your shirt. Then, you can't walk and eventually, you
can't breathe. The cruelest irony is that the disease does not affect
higher brain function, and so even at the very end, you are a fully
present mind trapped in a lifeless body, a ghost in a dead machine.
Upon diagnosis, most victims live three to five years. A small
percentage live for up to 10 years, but only with the assistance of a
ventilator, and few would call that living. There is no cure.

The hardest part of enduring ALS-harder than the burning ass, the
complete helplessness and the terrible return to infancy-is
maintaining the will to live. That's what marijuana did for Diane
Riportella-it made her not want to die.

"It alleviates the pain and it helps me eat because I have no
appetite," says 54-year-old Riportella, lying in her bed on the second
floor of the upscale home she shares with her husband in one of the
tonier Zip codes of Egg Harbor, N.J. "But more importantly, it puts a
smile on my face and makes me at peace with all this," she says,
gesturing toward the vast array of pill bottles on her night stand and
the tank of oxygen with the thick, white accordioned snake that
connects it to the respirator mask she has removed to answer a
reporter's questions. "It makes me feel like I could live another day
with this disease."

She asks her husband to sit her upright and frowns as she shows off
her limp, withering limbs that hang off her body like wilted branches.
It wasn't always like this. Before she was diagnosed three years ago,
Riportella used to be a fitness trainer at the gym where she met her
husband, Paul, 13 years her junior. "Yeah, she's kind of the original
cougar," he says with a smile. She ran marathons to raise money for
leukemia and breast cancer research, raising nearly $200,000 over the
years by her reckoning. She was always helping out others in need. She
even cooked eggs for clean-up workers at Ground Zero after 9/11.

Advancing the cause of medical marijuana will likely be her last
fight. And she has fought hard. Riportella has been outspoken about
her use of medical marijuana and testified before the New Jersey
Legislature, along with other terminally ill advocates for medical
marijuana, imploring lawmakers to pass the Compassionate Use Act,
which former Gov. John Corzine signed into law Jan. 18 as one of his
last official acts as governor.

"That's what turned the tide-the stories of patients," says Roseanne
Scotti, Director of the Drug Policy Alliance NJ, which advocates for a
more rational and humane response to the drug issue, and which played
a key role in recruiting terminally ill patients who were
self-medicating with marijuana to testify before the Legislature. "You
can get all the peer-reviewed scientific journals arguing about
molecules and receptors, but that's not nearly as persuasive as a
person with MS standing in front of you telling how nothing worked
until a doctor told them off-the-record to try marijuana and it
brought them instant relief from their pain and suffering."

The law was scheduled to go into effect on the first day of July and
if Corzine was still governor, almost everyone who has been involved
in the passage of the law agrees, that timeline would have been met.
But last fall, voters replaced Corzine with Republican Chris Christie,
a former federal prosecutor. New Jersey's Compassionate Use Act has
been on the slow train to enactment ever since.

Last month, the Christie administration asked for-and was granted by
the Legislature-a 90-day extension for implementation. But Riportella,
like many advocates for medical marijuana, worries that implementation
of the law may be delayed indefinitely.

"Any delay will engender more delay," says Ken Wolski, executive
director of the Coaltion For Medical Marijuana New Jersey. "My
greatest fear is that this is the first of many delays."

All eyes are on Jersey, including lawmakers in Harrisburg, where the
seeds of medical marijuana legislation have already been planted in
committee. If and when New Jersey's Compassionate Use law goes into
effect, it will be the most restrictive in the land. The list of
medical conditions that would qualify patients is exceedingly short
and unrelentingly grim: Cancer, HIV/AIDS, glaucoma, seizure disorders
such as epilepsy, Lou Gehrig's disease, multiple sclerosis, muscular
dystrophy, severe muscle spasms, inflammatory bowel disease (including
Crohn's disease), or any terminal illness if a doctor has determined
the patient will die within a year. Qualified patients will be
restricted to two ounces per month (by comparison, Washington state
allows patients up to 24 ounces every 60 days). Unlike all 13 of the
other states that have passed medical marijuana laws, Garden State
residents will not be allowed to grow their own.

For the sick and cash-strapped, this is the law's biggest
bummer.

"To allow patients to grow their own medical marijuana is such an
advance in medical care, it allows patients to grow their own medicine
for pennies," says Wolski, who has been advocating for medical
marijuana in New Jersey for 19 years. A retired nurse, Wolski used to
work in the state Department of Corrections. Wolski said he first
became aware of the gravity of the medical marijuana issue when he was
vacationing in Amsterdam. There, he says he met an American expatriate
from Kentucky who had served a year in prison for growing his own
medical marijuana. The ex-pat was going blind from glaucoma and his
doctor had advised him to try pot, which helped stem the onset of
blindness. The authorities showed him no sympathy, throwing him in
jail and seizing his farm.

Shortly thereafter, Wolski took up the cause. The first victory came
in 2002 when he persuaded the New Jersey State Nurses
Association-which represents 35,000 registered nurses statewide-to
sign on to a resolution in favor of medical marijuana. In 2004,
medical marijuana was bundled into a needle-exchange bill, but the
combination was too unpalatable for the bill ever to get out of committee.

"Apparently, dealing with two drug issues at once made their head
explode," he says.

Still, the winds of public opinion were already shifting. A 2002 poll
conducted by Rutgers' Eagleton Institute of Politics that year found
that 82 percent of New Jersey residents supported passage of a medical
marijuana law. Shortly thereafter, the Drug Policy Alliance joined the
fight, and helped corral wider support from the medical community,
including the New Jersey Palliative Care Association and the New
Jersey Academy of Family Physicians. "The support of the medical
community gives you credibility," says Scotti. The Drug Policy
Alliance also managed to get TV host Montel Williams, who suffers from
MS and is a vocal proponent of medical marijuana, to join the cause.

In 2005, state Sen. Nicholas Scutari reintroduced medical marijuana as
a standalone bill. Though a Democrat, Scutari is hardly soft on drugs;
after all he is a former prosecutor. But he says he saw the light when
he learned of a friend with a terminal disease who moved out to
California to take advantage of their medical marijuana law. In fact,
the early version of Scutari's bill was like California's medical
marijuana law. It would have allowed qualified patients to grow up to
six plants for personal use-but in the intervening five years it
became far more restrictive in the pursuit of bi-partisan support.
Legislators were determined to avoid things turning out like the
dreaded "wild, wild west," a reference to both California, where until
recently pot dispensaries outnumbered Starbucks, and Colorado, where
1,000 people a day are applying for medical marijuana. And pot
dispensaries still outnumber Starbucks.

Still, some proponents wonder if all the compromises went too far. "In
our opinion, it was a much better bill [in 2005]," says Wolski.

"It is what it is," Scutari says. "I still think it's a good piece of
legislation that will allow sick people access to medical marijuana.
As for amending it [to loosen restrictions], we'll see."

Other proponents of the law see it as a good first step, a beachhead
in hostile territory. "When people see that the sky has not fallen, we
can revisit it and open it up more," says Assemblyman Reed Gusciora,
one of the law's co-sponsors.

"We got the best bill we could get passed, we believe it is a huge
step forward that will provide a lot of sick people relief," Scotti
says. "Unfortunately it excludes a lot of people-people with chronic
pain, people with post-traumatic stress disorder."

As it stands now, the Christie administration has until October to
come up with the rules and regulations that will govern the
manufacture and distribution of medical marijuana in New Jersey.
Following that comes a 90-day period of public comment, which would
take us into January 2011.

Once the regulations are amended and approved, the state would begin
registering patients and selecting operators for the six Alternative
Treatment Centers called for in the law (exact locations are yet to be
determined, but the law calls for two in North Jersey, two in Central
Jersey and two in South Jersey, with more to be added if demand is
proven to exceed supply).

It would take the ATCs a few months to get up and running, and then to
begin growing marijuana plants, which can take up to 120 days to
mature. By that timeline, assuming there are no further delays, the
earliest grievously ill patients like Diane Riportella could get
access to medical marijuana without fear of arrest would be about a
year from now; a lifetime for someone given just five years to live.

"I was actually just in the hospital the other night with a lung
cancer patient whose malignancy has spread to his brain and he wants
to start using medical marijuana," says Anne Davis, executive director
of NORML NJ, a volunteer organization that supports medical marijuana
laws. "He doesn't have any more time. He is sick right now and he
probably won't be around a year from now."

And it would appear that further delays are on the horizon. Last
month, the Christie administration floated a trial balloon that would
radically rewrite the letter of the law, which calls for medical
marijuana to be manufactured and dispensed by private operators.
Christie has publicly stated that he would like Rutgers University to
be the sole grower of medical marijuana-and become a hub of marijuana
research-with teaching hospitals to serve as dispensaries. Most
proponents of the law are opposed to these changes, labeling them a
bad idea at best and at worst a thinly veiled attempt to delay
implementation of the law indefinitely.

"We don't support the idea of Rutgers being the only supplier and
teaching hospitals being the only dispensaries for a number of
reasons: First, monopolies never create ideal goods or services; more
options always makes for a stronger marketplace," says Scotti of Drug
Policy Alliance. "Second, you have to remember that medical marijuana
is still in conflict with federal law and for that reason no state has
ever gotten into the business of growing and dispensing it themselves.
It's always been turned over to private operators who shoulder the
risk of federal prosecution. We would be asking state and hospital
employees to violate federal law. New Mexico [whose medical marijuana
law closely mirrors New Jersey's] considered the same thing but
ultimately decided against it."

That is true, says Dr. Alfredo Vigil, Secretary of New Mexico's
Department of Health, which is responsible for administering the
state's medical marijuana law. Vigil says New Mexico briefly
considered using hospitals as pot dispensaries but quickly decided
against it. "You have to remember that our law came into effect under
the Bush administration and they were crystal clear that they were
hostile to this law and would take any opportunity to prosecute people
in violation of the federal law against marijuana," he says. "We are
talking about asking health care professionals to put their licenses
in jeopardy. Plus, it seems like a fairly inefficient model. Hospitals
aren't used to being drug dispensaries and that's a complicated
business. On top of that you are talking about doubling or tripling
the flow of patient traffic, adding more parking, more staff and more
facilities, all of which is expensive and time-consuming."

As for the prospect of the state of New Mexico growing its own pot:
"That approach quickly proved impractical and unrealistic," Vigil
says. "First, the state doesn't own any fields-people were joking
about tilling the patch of grass outside the Department of Health.
Ridiculous. Second, we license and certify the sale of alcohol, but we
don't make it for the simple reason that we have neither the
facilities nor the expertise."

As for Rutgers becoming a hub of marijuana research, Vigil says it
would be nice, in a better world. "As a scientist, I am hobbled by a
severe lack of knowledge about how that drug works and so it is very
hard to have a scientific conversation about its medicinal use," he
says. "But the federal government has very strongly delayed and denied
serious research into it for decades. And [the Rugters plan] would be
asking a university that receives federal money and contracts to risk
losing all that along with accreditation. States like New Mexico and
New Jersey that have passed medical marijuana laws are essentially
creating a shell around an illegal activity and there is a temporary
truce with the feds. But that doesn't mean those conflicts have been
resolved."

The University of Massachusetts tried for nine years to establish
itself as a hub of marijuana research, which requires a special
license from the Drug Enforcement Administration. Here's how that went
according to the project's official website:

Dr. Lyle Craker originally submitted the application for a license to
DEA in June 2001. In December 2001, DEA claimed it was lost. We
subsequently resubmitted a photocopy but were told in February 2002
that the photocopied application was invalid since it didn't have an
original signature. In July 2002, the original application was
returned, unprocessed, with a DEA date stamp showing it had been
received in June 2001. Craker resubmitted the original application to
the DEA on Aug. 20, 2002, which the DEA finally acknowledged receiving.

And on it went. Fast forward through five years of red tape,
culminating in legal action against the DEA that snaked through the
Federal Court of Appeals and the Supreme Court and ended with DEA
Administrative Law Judge Mary Ellen Bittner's Feb. 12, 2007,
recommendation that the research license be granted. The DEA thought
about it for two whole years before finally deciding to overrule the
judge and deny the license once and for all, making it clear in a
strongly worded ruling that, after nine years of back and forth, this
would be the final word on the matter.

Given UMass' experience with the DEA, some proponents of the
Compassionate Use law believe the Christie administration is
intentionally leading medical marijuana down a blind alley with the
Rutgers plan, knowing full well that it would languish for years in
legal limbo before inevitably hitting a wall. They find it odd that a
man who has built his political profile on the inelegant mantra of
getting 'government the hell out of your way' is essentially asking
the federal government for permission to make medical marijuana a
reality in New Jersey, knowing that the answer is no.

"This is just another delay tactic to prolong the period of time
before medical marijuana is available for as long as possible," says
Wolski of the Coalition For Medical Marijuana New Jersey. "Rutgers can
always apply to become one of the growers, but don't let it hold up
the whole program."

There are other reasons for proponents not to trust the Christie
administration's intentions. For the entirety of the four years it
took to get the Compassionate Use law passed, proponents like CMMNJ,
Drug Policy Alliance and NORML had a seat at the table. Lawmakers
welcomed their advice and input. But when the Christie administration
came in, the door was closed.

"Back in February we offered a set of regulations for implementing the
law that we had assembled with various lawyers and experts," says
Wolski. "They wrote back to say 'Thanks but no thanks, we're not
taking any input from advocates.'" Six months later the original
deadline has come and gone, and still there are no regulations for
implementing the law.

"They haven't reached out to any medical marijuana experts. That's
like trying to build a bridge without talking to a bridge engineer,"
says Chris Goldstein, who sits on the board of directors at both NORML
and CMMNJ. "So I am not surprised they are totally confused. Why not
just stick with the law we passed? It's the most innovative law in the
country. Why are we starting over?"

"When you are talking about the growing and distribution of a
controlled dangerous substance you want it done correctly," says
Michael Drewniak, spokesman for Christie. "I mean, we could either do
it now or do it right. The law as written is not a bad law, but we
cannot allow this to become another Colorado or California. This
governor, coming from a law-enforcement background, doesn't want to
see that happening. So we are taking a breather."

Meanwhile, people are dying. Though the Christie administration has
been granted a 90-day extension, time is running out for people like
Diane Riportella and she can't go to the Legislature for more. She's
already outlived her health-insurance policy. Two months ago, a
respiratory infection nearly took her out. In that time, she's had no
access to medical marijuana. At first she was too sick to smoke, and
by the time she pulled through and bounced back her source had dried
up. Instead, she has had to rely on morphine, which is delivered to
her house via Fed Ex unmolested by law enforcement. She doesn't like
morphine, it makes her dopey and sleep all the time. And she's already
grown addicted. Her face is flushed red and she has chills, which she
says means she is going through withdrawal. She glumly asks her
husband to give her another dose, and he shoots it into her mouth with
a syringe. Then he puts the oxygen mask back on her as she waves a
glassy-eyed goodbye. Soon the bedroom sounds like the inside of Darth
Vader's head as he covers her in a warm blanket and she drifts off to
sleep.

A fundraiser to help the Riportellas defray medical costs will be held
Sept. 25 at the Flying Cloud Cafe in Atlantic City. Contact
Gifts4Diane@comcast.net to purchase a ticket or make a donation.