Raid Diaries

BAD MEMORIES OF THE DEA'S WILD DAY IN L.A.

Considered as paramilitary theater, the DEA raids last week on
medical marijuana clinics across L.A. County were a nice touch of the
old "shock" and "awe." Special care was shown in the timing, striking
as they did during a press conference held at L.A. City Hall
announcing a one-year moratorium on new collectives. The measure is
widely held by local activists as legitimatizing efforts to
self-regulate the area's burgeoning medical marijuana. At the
conference, three L.A. City Council members - Dennis Zine, Janice
Hahn, and Bill Rosendahl - said that they had sent a letter to Drug
Enforcement Agency administrator Karen Tandy requesting the feds
cease threatening clinics with asset forfeiture notices. Councilman
Zine, an ex-cop, affirmed the city's intent to "uphold the will of
our voters and adopt sensible guidelines to regulate the provision of
medical cannabis in our communities."

This minor triumph of countercultural Better Business got trampled by
a high-noon sweep of collectives from West Hollywood to the Valley.
Though DEA Special Agent Sarah Pullen shrugged off the timing as
"coincidental," the raids underscored the Justice Department's long
contempt for California's Proposition 215, the voters who passed it,
and the loose coalition of local activists and city officials trying
to ensure delivery of medical marijuana to patients.

Prominent local activist Chris Fusco's California Patients Group
dispensary in Hollywood was an apparent high-value target. "We were
down at City Hall holding a press conference," said Fusco. "Basically
having our day in the spotlight with the City Council officially
coming out and supporting medical cannabis. I was getting into the
elevator at City Hall when I heard the dispensary was being raided.
All the activists were at City Hall because of the event so we
immediately drove back. There were about 15 LAPD officers surrounding
the front of the building and about five or six squad cars. There
were DEA agents in full paramilitary combat gear with M-16s walking
around a building that serves sick and dying patients. There were
about 10 people inside the building and 30 guys with riot gear and
bulletproof shields."

"It was surreal," he added, still bemused. "Imagine pulling up and
seeing a full-on military invasion of your office!"

A call went to the medical cannabis community and soon protesters
began to gather at the busy corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and N.
El Centro Avenue. When "Jane" arrived at the scene "there were
already protesters gathered, initially about 30 people. People
already had signs, already chanting "DEA Go away!" "Uphold state
law!" was another chant directed at the LAPD. People were definitely
angry at the LAPD, though, and they took a lot of verbal abuse from
the protesters. Some of them seemed to be amused at the whole thing
and a few were laughing." The LAPD routinely conducts perimeter
defense at Federal raids, but this was clearly a special occasion.

"More and more people gathered and we began to see that they were
wrapping up and we decided we weren't gonna let them leave,
especially taking any of our friends. So we sat down in the path of
their cars and blocked them in. The LAPD set up police lines around
us and would not let anyone else join us. There was some roughing up
in the crowd - apparently three undercovers that were in the crowd as
protesters jumped one of the patients."

How did you know they were undercovers? "They tackled this guy," Jane
continued wryly. "And when they were all bent over you could see two
of them had radios and one of them had cuffs on the back of his belt.
And they were immediately surrounded by the LAPD and they began
pushing people back because we started yelling at them, shouting "DEA GO AWAY!"

"Aly," at another Hollywood clinic, knew difficulties of her own
before arriving at the ad-hoc protest. "They, meaning the DEA, came
in with guns pointed at my head and told me to get the fuck on the
ground. I dropped to my knees. Then they said said, "No. Get. The.
Fuck. On. The. Ground." So I went down on the ground and put my face
on there. Then they handcuffed me and dragged me outside. I then
noticed that our security guard was next to me. He was also
handcuffed. Thankfully our yoga teacher had just left the premises before!

"I personally didn't see any LAPD," she maintained, "but every time I
turned my head around I was told to look at the fuckin' wall. I was
told I was lucky enough that there was a female officer there to
search me. However, when I became uncomfortable with her touching me,
she made it very apparent that I didn't have any say in that and
decided to take some liberties in searching me a little bit. She
placed her full palm down the front of my pants and the back of my
pants as well.

"From start to finish," Ally said, she was detained for "about two
hours. They'd already stolen everything that they needed. All our
medication. All our money, everything. All our edibles. When we went
in to clean everything up, not only had they eaten our candy, they'd
taken our medication and medicated in the office! While they were
counting the money!"

As soon as authorities left, Aly ran to CPG, where the party had
grown to about 200 people. Witnesses tell of the double-role played
by LAPD narcotics detective Dennis Packer at the scene. A video clip
of the detective, resplendent in DEA gear, was taped by activist
Brett Stone and appeared on YouTube, much to the consternation of the
LAPD Hollywood division. Lt. Ruben De La Torre, LAPD media spokesman,
wouldn't confirm if Packer was cross-deputized with the DEA, but
Special Agent Pullen confirmed that some L.A. police officers are.

"Since we're all familiar with him," "Jane" admitted, "We pointed him
out to the crowd and there was a lot of booing and hissing."

"He was heavily against the crack epidemic and went by the name
'Pac-Man,'" revealed Fusco, with not-so-grudging respect. "He's been
like an activist against medical marijuana and I'll give him this:
He's a rugged, dirt-under-the-fingernails, true cop who's seen his
time on the line."

Eventually, Packer and company left, taking with them four people
arrested on suspicion of blocking official vehicles and failure to
comply with police orders, plus someone for vandalizing a patrol car.
Raids on other local clinics witnessed other run-ins. Lisa Sawoya
tells of the 20-odd feds and locals who crowded into her
600-square-foot Hollywood Compassionate collective expressing
surprise at the small size of the place. A posse of 30 was sent to a
competitor who'd closed down 10 days before.

By the time the dust cleared, according to Fusco, "the 30 most
prominent collectives were shut down. Earth Collective was one;
another in the Valley called the Natural Relief Center was also
closed." The owner was a prominent activist. "People don't understand
that it was a 10-year battle to get them here," Fusco stressed. "They
didn't see the battle, only the success of them opening their doors.
It's sending a message, hopefully to the people in power that the DEA
is completely lying about only going after hardcore criminals and
large-scale traffickers. CPG was the ideal of a compliant, legal
collective doing everything right, to the point where a Republican
ex-cop [Councilman Zine] was shaking our hands at the press
conference. The DEA didn't come here because we were doing wrong;
they came because we were doing everything right."

With the reverb from this federal boot-stomp still resounding
locally, medicinal pot advocates worldwide are watching events in
L.A. with varying degrees of hope. No one yet knows if the medical
cannabis community can channel the raw outrage into a positive force
for the movement. "They [patients] don't have anywhere legally they
can go," related Jane, with weary indignation. "It's horrible and a
terrible injustice. I have so many patients out there who have no
idea where they can get their medication and they're sick and they
can't eat and it sucks."