HIGH STAKES

Now Three Years Old, Michigan's Medical Marijuana Law Is Still
Getting Sorted Out

Marijuana has twice played a role in bringing significant changes to
the life of Barb Agro.

The first time was a blessing.

A former police dispatcher, the 71-year-old great-grandmother from
Lake Orion suffers from arthritis in both of her knees.

"It's really bad," she says.

Because she's allergic to aspirin, she used Tylenol to ease the pain
for years. "But the amount I had to take was so much," she says. "I
worried about it damaging my kidneys."

Then her son Nick gave her a brownie made with marijuana when she
visited him at his home in Colorado several years ago. And her life
immediately changed for the better.

"It was like a godsend," is how she describes the effect the
controversial medicine had on her. "It was amazing. I could sleep
without any problem because I wasn't in any pain."

So she persuaded her husband Sal to give it a try. A retired GM
worker, he'd also spent four decades coaching youth sports.

"That gruff Italian guy who's really a big marshmallow," is the way
he's described in one newspaper article.

But all those years of throwing footballs and baseballs took their
toll. He had bone spurs on his neck and shoulders. "He couldn't lift
his arms over his head," says Barb.

The pot worked for him too.

So the views of this hard-nosed coach and his wife, who had spent
years working around cops, changed.

"Talk about doing a complete turnaround," Barb says.

Like most parents, they had taken a tough stance regarding drugs when
their three sons were in their teens. "We told them we better not
find any of that stuff in the house," recalls Barb, talking with the
Metro Times from her winter home in Wildwood, Fla.

Now she's a convicted felon, and her husband of 45 years is dead from
a heart attack suffered a week after Oakland County narcotics
officers wearing masks and wielding weapons raided their home and
confiscated 17 plants the Agros believed were being grown legally
under the medical marijuana law voters approved in November 2008.

As the third anniversary of that ballot measure's passage is being
marked this week, medical marijuana proponents are trying to figure
out how to deal with a series of setbacks, as municipalities, police,
prosecutors and the courts do their best to put a chokehold on the law.

Leading the way is state Attorney General Bill Schuette.

While still serving as an appellate court judge, Schuette helped
create the group Citizens Protecting Michigan's Kids to spearhead the
campaign to defeat that act, known as Proposal 1 on the ballot. That
effort proved to be a spectacular failure, with 63 percent of the
state's voters disregarding the dire warnings being sounded by
Schuette and others opposed to allowing patients access to pot.

Since being elected Michigan's chief law enforcement officer one year
ago, he's acquired newfound power to continue waging the battle
against medical marijuana, the patients who use it, the caregivers
who grow it, and the dispensaries where it is sold.

As attorney general, Schuette is able to set the tone for cops and
prosecutors across the state. And the legal opinions that he writes,
though lacking the force of law, are given careful consideration by
the state's judges and help inform their decisions.

What Schuette's critics say is that he construes the law in the
narrowest possible terms, with his opposition to marijuana bordering
on an obsession. As a result, patient access to medicine is being
curtailed and there is a growing sense among some that, rather than
providing them with protection, the law has become a kind of trap for
those who adhere to the spirit of the measure but don't follow it to
the letter.

"It's gotten really scary for a lot of people," says Brandy Zink, who
is with the group Americans for Safe Access. "For some, the feeling
is that having a medical marijuana card is like having a target on
your back. Because of what the state is doing, they are considering
going back underground."

Others, she says, are looking for ways to fight back.

The Agros can be counted among them.

House of cards

After the state's medical marijuana law took effect, Sal and Barb
Agro became certified patients. Rather than smoke it, they preferred
to ingest their medicine in baked goods made with marijuana butter.
They also used topical marijuana oil, rubbing it on sore joints to
help alleviate the pain.

One problem with the law is there is no explicit provision allowing
for these types of products. It is one of many so-called gray areas
that have thrown a cloud of confusion over the whole issue.

In fact, few things about the law seem indisputable. But this much is
certain: Patients who receive a recommendation from a doctor and
register with the state are allowed to grow as many as 12 plants and
possess as much as 2.5 ounces of smokable marijuana.

Those unable to grow their own pot can designate someone else to be
their "caregiver." Caregivers, like patients, must be certified by
the state. Each caregiver can have as many as five patients. Because
caregivers can also be patients, it is possible that a single
caregiver with the maximum number of patients can have has many as 72
plants growing at any one time.

According to those involved in drafting what is officially known as
Michigan's Medical Marihuana Act, the limits were put in place in
order to keep grow operations small enough to avoid attracting the
interest of the federal Drug Enforcement Administration.

That is an important point because of this crucial factor: Even
though medical marijuana laws have been passed in 16 states and the
District of Columbia, pot remains illegal under federal law. In fact,
it is still classified as a Schedule 1 controlled substance along
with drugs such as heroin. Ironically, one of the distinguishing
features of a Schedule 1 drug is that it is considered by the U.S.
government to have no accepted medical use.

For its part, the Obama administration has done a good job of making
an uncertain situation even more unsettled by sending decidedly mixed signals.

As Zink points out, following eight years of open hostility from the
George W. Bush administration, people "got high on hope" when the
more liberal Obama moved into the White House.

And, in the beginning, that hope proved to be justified.

In an October 2009 memo, David Ogden, then the deputy attorney
general, told U.S. attorneys around the country that, "as a general
matter" they "should not focus federal resources" on "individuals
whose actions are in clear and unambiguous compliance with existing
state laws providing for the medical use of marijuana."

But, as the Los Angeles Times reported this October, "... the Obama
administration has been steadily ratcheting up enforcement efforts.
Also last month, a federal firearms official sent a letter to gun
dealers warning them against selling to medical marijuana users. The
last bank in Colorado willing to handle money from dispensaries
closed those accounts last week, concerned about federal prosecution.
And the Internal Revenue Service has begun to order some dispensaries
to pay millions of dollars in back taxes and penalties, ruling that
they can't deduct expenses because their business is illegal."

"It is disingenuous of the Obama Administration to say it is not
attacking patients while obstructing the implementation of local and
state medical marijuana laws," Steph Sherer, executive director of
Americans for Safe Access, told reporters earlier this year. "The
president is using intimidation tactics to stop elected officials
from serving their constituents, thereby pushing patients into the
illicit market."

As a result, it can't be said that any use of marijuana in Michigan
- -- even by certified patients -- is strictly legal. Instead, the
state's law is designed to protect qualified patients and caregivers
from arrest and prosecution by state and local authorities.

At least that is what the advocates who drafted it intended.

But, as the Agros and others have discovered, police, prosecutors and
now the courts -- by interpreting the law in the narrowest of ways --
have made any involvement with medical marijuana a potentially
precarious venture.

That's especially true for those who set up dispensaries such as
Clinical Relief, which was located in Ferndale until narcotics
officers from the Oakland County Sheriff's Department raided it last year.

Nick and Tony Agro -- the sons of Sal and Barb -- were two of the
people running the clinic, which was modeled on similar operations
that Nick co-owned in Colorado.

Although the Michigan law approved by voters didn't explicitly allow
for dispensaries, it didn't say they were prohibited either.

It is easy to see why an entrepreneur like Nick Agro would think a
place such as Clinical Relief would be legal. After all, it was
Schuette himself, while still an appellate court judge campaigning
against the measure, who declared, "There is not a single paragraph,
sentence or word within Proposal 1 that prohibits pot shops from
opening in Michigan. ..."

From the patient point of view, that's a good thing.

For one thing, as Zink of ASA says, there are not nearly enough
certified caregivers to grow the medicine needed for the nearly
119,000 patients currently approved by the state.

Complicating matters is the fact that patients who don't own their
own homes are at the mercy of landlords. (Zink herself says she had
to mount a fight to stay in an apartment owned by a landlord who
objected to her simply "medicating.")

Obtaining the material to get started can be difficult. One
acknowledged shortcoming of the law is that it contains no specific
provisions saying that anyone can legally sell the seeds or clones
needed for a patient to begin growing. Also, the equipment is costly
- -- and that expense can be an impediment for patients who are too
sick to work and living on disability payments. It can also take four
months or more to go from seed to the point where a plant becomes medicine.

There are other factors as well, such as crop failures. Add it all
together, advocates say, and it only makes sense that patients have a
stable, independent source that can provide them with medicine when
they are in need.

"People need to have access to their medicine," says Zink. A viable
network of dispensaries appears to be the only way to guarantee that access.

And so, the Agros say, they were careful to make sure everything was
done "by the book" when setting up Clinical Relief. They worked with
the city hall in Ferndale. They had the mayor come by for a visit.
The chief of police did a walk-through.

When it opened for business, dozens of patients a day began rolling
in -- sometimes literally, using wheelchairs.

Among those seeking medicine were cancer victims, some of them
terminally ill. There were also MS patients and people suffering from
migraines or ruptured discs in their backs. Others appeared to be
perfectly healthy, but Barb Agro, who worked as the clinic's
receptionist, learned that looks can be deceiving.

She tells the story of two young men who came in. One of them, a
good-looking guy she figured to be about 25, showed his card and went
to obtain his meds. The other took a seat. They ended up talking, and
he said that he was the other guy's driver; the fellow getting meds
couldn't obtain a license because he suffered from epilepsy.

"And here I was thinking, 'He doesn't really need this.'"

Although it is impossible to say with certainty how many recreational
users obtain cards as a way of avoiding arrest, there is no doubt
they are out there, as are doctors who will write a recommendation
for anyone who walks through their door and has the money to pay.

"There's crooks in every business," Barb Agro says.

For the most part, though, she saw the clinic as a place that
provided a legitimate service to people who very much needed it.

Then, on Aug. 26 last year, Oakland County narcs came storming in,
wearing ski masks and holding guns. They forced her to the floor and
handcuffed her and the others who were there. Records and equipment
were confiscated. Cash and pot that Nick Agro estimates together
amounted to about $80,000 or $90,000 were taken as well.

Such seizures are a big part of the motivation for such raids,
asserts Nick Agro. With the money getting divvied up between the
Oakland County Sheriff's Office and the Prosecutor's Office, it
amounts to nothing more than "policing for profit," he says.

The law enforcement side, not surprisingly, presents a much different
view. The way they see it, large numbers of people are attempting to
take advantage of the law, looking to make a profit by slipping
through every loophole they can find.

"Across Michigan, our communities are struggling with an invasion of
pot shops near their schools, homes and churches," Schuette said last
week to explain why his office was joining in a civil suit brought by
Chesterfield Township against Big Daddy's dispensary. "Local
governments have the right to protect their communities from illegal
marijuana dispensaries."

(Unlike Clinical Relief, which authorities claim was operating
illegally, Chesterfield Township -- and now the AG's office -- are
trying to force Big Daddy's closure by seeking a court ruling that
the facility is a "public nuisance.")

At the same time Clinical Relief was being raided, members of Oakland
County's Narcotics Enforcement Team also hit Everybody's Cafe
dispensary in Waterford Township and some private residences
associated with the businesses -- including the home of Barb and Sal
Agro, and the homes of their sons Nick and Tony.

As with other dispensaries in the state -- by some estimates there
were as many as 200 to 300 in operation before authorities began
cracking down on them -- they operated under the premise that, as
long as the transactions were occurring between certified patients on
both ends of the deal, the sales were legal under the law.

Oakland Sheriff Mike Bouchard painted a much different picture. After
the raids, he did his best to depict the dispensaries and the grow
operations that supplied them as truly nefarious.

According to news reports, Bouchard claimed that undercover officers
"observed the clinics selling marijuana to customers without
state-issued ID cards and that associated caregivers were growing
more plants and had more patients than allowed under state law."

(Among other things, it has since come to light that, in the case of
Clinical Relief, undercover narcotics officers made purchases using
realistic-looking state medical marijuana ID cards that they had
created themselves.)

Bouchard also claimed that the businesses were being operated like an
"organized crime" ring.

At least 15 people were charged as a result of those raids conducted
in August of 2010. Among them were Barb, Nick and Tony Agro.

That was before any so-called test cases began working their way
through the courts. Since then, a three-judge panel on the Michigan
Court of Appeals overturned a lower court ruling, declaring in August
of this year that the "medical use of marijuana, as defined by the
Michigan Medical Marihuana Act, does not include patient-to-patient
sales of marijuana, and no other provision of the MMMA can be read to
permit such sales."

Not all dispensaries have closed as a result of that ruling, however.
Part of the reason for that, it appears, is that it is up to
individual county prosecutors to determine if they want to take a
hard line or not.

For the time being, at least, dispensaries in Wayne and Washtenaw
counties appear to be operating without problem. In Oakland County,
on the other hand, it is beyond risky business.

As for the Agros, their problems didn't end with the raid on Clinical Relief.

Stacked deck

Just as she believed the dispensary was operating well within the
law, Barb Agro felt confident there were no problems with the small
grow operation she and Sal had going at their home in Lake Orion.

Which is why, when one of the deputies asked if there were plants
growing at her home, she had no qualms about answering truthfully.
She gave a statement saying that both she and her husband were
certified as patients and caregivers. That allowed them to grow
legally. She said there were about 17 plants in their basement.

As the clinic was being raided, the cops were also searching the
homes belonging to sons Nick and Tony. A neighbor of one jumped in
her car and drove to tell Sal what was happening. Sal rushed out of
the house and sped over to make sure his family members -- including
his grandkids -- were safe. In his rush, says Barbara, he left his
wallet on the table and the door to their house unlocked.

When he returned home, police were there searching the place. They
ripped out the plants and seized $11,270 in cash. Barb Agro says that
$11,000 was kept in a lock box in anticipation of putting a down
payment on a car they were planning to purchase. The $270, she says,
was taken from the wallet Sal had left behind.

Because their house was unlocked at the time, the couple was charged
with growing illegally. The law states that marijuana being grown by
patients or caregivers needs to be kept in a locked enclosure.

Sal never lived to have his day in court. He died of a heart attack
about a week after the raid. His family blames the stress of the bust
for his death.

As for Barb, she went on trial this past June. One of the significant
aspects of the proceedings was the Oakland County Prosecutor's
Office's argument that the jury shouldn't be allowed to hear that
Barb was a patient and caregiver. The contention was that, because
the plants weren't in a locked enclosure, Barbara Agro wasn't in
compliance with the medical marijuana law. And because she wasn't in
compliance, she could not use the fact that she was a patient when
attempting to mount a defense.

The judge agreed with the prosecution. When some members of the jury
sent notes to the judge asking if Agro was indeed a patient, the
judge informed them that the question couldn't be answered.

The verdict came back "guilty."

Agro was sentenced to 90 days of probation and ordered to perform 20
hours of community service.

An appeal of the conviction is planned. The argument will be that the
jury should have been allowed to hear that Agro was growing pot as a patient.

Attorney Neil Rockind, who represents one of the other
owner-operators of Clinical Relief, says the notion that someone on
trial can't tell a jury the circumstances behind their case is
particularly troubling.

You don't need to be a lawyer to see the unfairness inherent in that.

Rockind is also troubled by the cops and prosecutors who bring the
full force of the law down to bear on people who are attempting to
comply with the act, but fail to follow every aspect of it completely.

There is such a thing as discretion, he says. You don't have to try
to lock up everyone who does something that puts them out of compliance.

There is a case in Shiawassee County where a certified patient was
growing the proper number of plants in a dog kennel that was fenced,
the gate locked. The problem was the enclosure lacked a roof. After
the trial court dismissed the charges, the Court of Appeals ordered
them reinstated. The state Supreme Court has agreed to hear the case.

As Rockind points out, the authorities, instead of prosecuting, could
just as easily have told the guy his growing situation didn't meet
the standards laid out in the law and given him a week to correct it.

The case of Barb Agro, he says, represents the "epitome" of that kind
of prosecutorial abuse.

Despite the hardships, Agro remains cheerful, her spirits buoyed by
the fact "our consciences are clear."

"We were following the law," she asserts. "And we were helping people
who need help."

The only real pain, she says, is the heartache of losing the man who
shared his life with her for 45 years.

"Compared to that," she says, "Everything else is a piece of cake."

Her legal problems don't end with the appeal, however. She and her
sons Nick and Tony, along with others arrested following the raid on
the Clinical Relief dispensary, are scheduled to go on trial in January.

Attorney Rockind, looking at the bigger picture, thinks part of the
problem is that public officials aren't used to seeing the public
rise up and take power away from them.

"Government doesn't like the idea of something that's long been
illegal, all of a sudden they can't get to it. And that's what the
medical marijuana act did -- it took power away from government and
gave it to individuals."

The mistake some made was believing the struggle ended in 2008, when
the measure passed.

"People were thinking the war was over," Rockind says. "But for it to
really be over, the other side has to agree that it is over. But that
hasn't happened yet."

Wild cards

As it stands now, most of the court rulings having been against those
who want the state's medical marijuana law viewed in a way that gives
patients easy access to medicine and offers broad protection from prosecution.

Gerald Fisher is an attorney and professor at the Thomas M. Cooley
Law School in Auburn Hills. Last year, working as a consultant for
the Michigan Municipal League and the Michigan Townships Association,
Fisher studied the issue.

Fisher tells Metro Times that at least part of the problem is that
those who drafted the Michigan Medical Marihuana Act created
intentional ambiguities in an attempt to "go as far toward
legalization as possible."

Fisher doubts that any form of medical marijuana legalization at the
state level is valid because federal law is pre-eminent. That view
was bolstered recently when a Wayne County judge sided with the city
of Livonia, which had instituted a far-reaching anti-medical
marijuana ordinance that has as its centerpiece the prohibition of
any "enterprises or purposes that are contrary to federal, state or
local laws or ordinances ..."

The ACLU, representing two patients who own property in the city,
sought to have the ordinance declared illegal.

"The ACLU readily admitted that the federal Controlled Substances Act
prohibits all of the activity authorized by the Michigan Medical
Marihuana Act," said Livonia City Attorney Don Knapp following the
ruling by Wayne County Circuit Court Judge Wendy Baxter.
"Nevertheless, they wanted the courts to ignore that obvious fact and
strike down Livonia's zoning ordinance which prohibits violations of
federal law. Judge Baxter recognized this conflict of laws and held
that state law is pre-empted by federal law."

The ruling is being appealed by the ACLU. It is likely that, whatever
the Court of Appeals decides, the issue will remain unresolved until
the state's high court hears the case.

At this point though, Fisher's view is that those who drafted the law
"did no one any favors by putting so many ambiguities in there."

Attorney Karen O'Keefe is with the nonprofit activist group Marijuana
Policy Project based in Washington, D.C. A Michigan native, she
played a key role in drafting the language of Michigan's medical marijuana law.

At the time it was written, she says, no state had a law on the books
regulating dispensaries. (That situation has changed since then:
Colorado, for one, now regulates and taxes dispensaries. Although
California has long had storefront shops, they have yet to be
directly authorized under that state's laws.)

She says that, lacking any model for state-approved dispensaries when
Michigan's law was being prepared to go before voters, ambiguity
regarding distribution was necessary to put the measure in the best
position to be passed.

"There's no question that explicitly allowing dispensaries at that
stage would have complicated the issue," she says.

The way she sees it, though, the main problem with the law isn't the
way it is written, but rather the refusal of opponents to accept the
will of Michigan's voters. As for claims that the public was duped,
she points out that, three years after the law passed, with voters
having had plenty of opportunity to see how it is working, the level
of support remains virtually unchanged. A poll conducted by Marketing
Resource Group, Inc., earlier this year found that 59 percent of
voters would approve the law, while 35 percent would not. Two percent
leaned toward approving, while 2 percent leaned against.

Which means that the real backlash is coming from politicians and law
enforcement, not the general public. There doesn't seem to have been
any picketing being done by outraged citizens trying to drive
dispensaries out of business. Instead, it is law enforcement that is
clamping down, and local municipalities that are passing laws that
attempt to stop not just dispensaries but also cultivation.

"It doesn't look like voters have changed their minds," O'Keefe says.
"That's what makes the backlash we're seeing particularly surprising."

Surprising, maybe. But it is intense nonetheless.

According to the MPP, "no less than 16" bills that attempt to rein in
the state's medical marijuana law have been introduced in the
Michigan Legislature. According to the group, the "most alarming" of
these bills "would essentially nullify the law's core protections in
some or all of the state. ..."

Fortunately for those who want to see patients and caregivers
protected, any bill that seeks to change the voter-approved measure
would have to obtain a super-majority of 75 percent in both houses of
the Legislature.

The state attorney general, however, doesn't face that kind of
constraint. And Schuette, regardless of what opinion polls might say
in terms of public support of the law, continues to keep sounding the
alarm. In an opinion piece published in the Detroit Free Press
earlier this year, the state's attorney general wrote:

"As a result of the way the law was written, Michigan's law
enforcement community is rightly concerned about the sales and use of
marijuana getting out of control, which puts everyone's safety at
risk. That is why I will continue working with prosecutors, police,
the Legislature and the courts to ensure the law is used as the
voters intended, not as a vehicle for criminal behavior that
endangers our families and communities."

It is that sort of characterization that infuriates those on the
other side of the issue.

Winning hand?

Jamie Lowell is one of the founders of the Third Coast Compassion
Center in Ypsilanti. Despite the crackdown going on in some other
parts of the state, his Washtenaw County facility remains open,
providing patients with a choice of medicines.

It is not exactly a comfortable spot to be in these days. But he and
others continue to remain open for business, hoping that, despite the
adverse court rulings that have determined that at least some forms
of dispensaries are illegal, the approach being taken at Third Coast
will hold up if ever tested.

The way Lowell sees it, the only real problem with dispensaries are
the ones being caused by the authorities.

"In places where they are being left alone, we are seeing lots of
positive results," he says. "The problems are all coming from those
in opposition. Health and safety aren't a problem. The problem is
raids and criminal charges and civil suits. It is this opposition
that wants to keep presenting the facade that there are serious
problems going on, but that's not really true."

The question being raised by Lowell and others in the same camp is,
"What do we do now?"

There's little disagreement that the answer to that question is
political action. What makes things complicated is trying to figure
out the exact form that action should take.

Lowell thinks that members of the "community" need to organize
politically and campaign either for or against specific candidates
based on what their position is regarding the MMMA. "We need better
lawmakers," he says. "And we need better judges."

(There is currently a campaign to recall Schuette under way. But,
given that a much-higher-profile effort to recall Gov. Rick Snyder
failed to collect the more than 800,000 signatures to get the recall
on the ballot, the campaign to collect the same number of names to
get a Schuette recall on the ballot seems an extreme long-shot at best.)

Although Lowell's allies in the movement don't disagree with the idea
that patients and caregivers should be looking to reward supportive
politicians with donations, campaign help and votes, not everyone
agrees that is where the primary focus of political efforts should be
at this point.

This is a movement where there are different competing interests,
sometimes directly at odds with each other. What's good for those who
want to use recreationally isn't necessarily good for patients. While
some advocates may think a proposal to regulate and tax operations is
a sure way to gain public support at a time when public coffers at
every level are painfully thin, those in it strictly to make money
may not be all that eager to start turning over a share of their
profits to the taxman.

Both Americans for Safe Access and the Marijuana Policy Project are
working on draft legislation intended to strengthen the rights of
patients and ensure they have easy access to medicine.

"There is a lot of infighting that goes on," says Greg Francisco,
founder of the Michigan Medical Marijuana Association.

Complicating matters even more is the fact that, if you look at the
history of this movement, politicians tend to follow the public's
lead rather than getting out in front and setting the agenda. That's
why advocates had to go through the expense and tremendous effort of
gathering signatures to get the MMMA in front of voters.

Brandy Zink, of ASA, notes that she worked for a decade as a lobbyist
in Ohio without having any legislative success there. She thinks the
same is likely to be true of Michigan.

Which is why she is among a group of people who meet weekly at the
Detroit offices of attorney Matt Abel, who heads a practice that
focuses exclusively on marijuana issues.

Abel says that he is mystified by many of the rulings he's seeing
handed down. And, although he remains hopeful that the state Supreme
Court will reverse the exceptionally narrow interpretation being
displayed by the Court of Appeals, he's also not taking any chances.

At this point, he says, much consideration is being given to the idea
of going back to the state's voters with another ballot measure.
There is a possibility that something could be ready in time for the
November 2012 presidential election.

It won't be easy. Such efforts are expensive, usually costing upward
of $1 million. And those participating in the discussions have yet to
reach a consensus on the best tack to take.

Should voters be asked to support a measure that explicitly calls for
the legalization of dispensaries? Or a measure that calls for
decriminalization for everyone? Or should they go all the way and
seek to completely end prohibition in Michigan?

In some respects, that approach, he says, helps both recreational
users and patients. Certainly, the sort of attacks on patient and
caregiver rights that is currently being mounted by Attorney General
Schuette would be derailed.

And even if it didn't contain language calling for taxation (the
Legislature could always pursue that if it wanted to after the
measure passed), a fair number of voters who have no desire to ever
fire up a joint might be won over by the savings that would be
realized by locking up far fewer people and having law enforcement
freed up to spend more time trying to catch murderers and robbers and
rapists instead of spending precious resources pursuing people like
Barb and Sal Agro.

As complicated as it all can be, one thing remains clear: If there is
not concerted political action by those who believe that marijuana is
a legitimate and useful treatment for a wide variety of afflictions,
then the forces of opposition are going to continue whittling away at
the progress represented by the passage of the Medical Marihuana Act
three years ago.

Standing by and relying on the courts and politicians isn't really a
viable option.

"People on our side have no choice but to fight," Abel says.

What remains to be seen is whether the disparate fingers of this
movement will remain separate, or if they can be clenched into a fist.