WAMM-BAM, THANK YOU, UNCLE SAM!

DEA Agents Trample On Local Medicinal Marijuana Operation

THE WAR ON DRUGS is making a comeback --with a vengeance. Six days short of
the Sept. 11 anniversary, federal DEA agents put federal tax dollars to work
by raiding the Wo/Men's Alliance for Medical Marijuana (better known as
WAMM), a Santa Cruz-based cooperative and one of the most successful
medicinal marijuana programs in the nation.

At 7am, Sept. 5, a dozen camouflage-clad agents showed up at the Davenport
home of Valerie and Michael Corral, who founded WAMM a decade ago. Pointing
their weapons, the agents told wheelchair-bound WAMM member Suzanne Pfeil to
stand up. "I can't stand up. I told them I was sorry," said Pfeil, who
suffers from post-polio syndrome. DEA agents then arrested a pajama-clad
Valerie Corral, along with her husband Michael.

According to DEA spokesman Richard Meyer, the Corrals were arrested and
taken into custody in San Jose on federal charges of intent to distribute
marijuana, but by midafternoon they had been released, with the U.S.
Attorney's office declining to file charges.

Their release ended a three-hour standoff between 30 WAMM members and
supporters and the Drug Enforcement Agency agents. Bearing placards
announcing "Warning: Federal Crime in Process" and "Marijuana Is Medicine,"
outraged WAMMers blockaded the dirt road that leads to the Corrals' property
in the hills near Davenport.

Destroying WAMM's 2002 crop took the DEA under an hour, as clocked by a WAMM
security camera that captured chain-saw-wielding agents mowing down 130
pungently aromatic plants, which moments before stood 6 to 8 feet tall and
were only weeks away from harvest.

But leaving the property proved more complex. When these same agents
realized they were hostage to an imminent confrontation, they called the
Santa Cruz County sheriff's office, which has worked closely with the
Corrals to make sure the WAMM operation remains within state law.

Summoned to the scene around 2pm, a reluctant-looking Sgt. Terri Moore cut
through a chain padlock and arranged for the safe passage of the agents, who
left in a cavalcade of SUVs and U-Haul trucks once Valerie Corral told WAMM
member and security chief Daniel Rodriguez to let them through.

Still, the battle wasn't over yet.

"Shame on you!" shouted WAMM members as the agents drove past, their
expressions masked by tinted windows

"The whole thing is an outrageous joke, an act of violence under guise of
the law, theft at the federal level [and] war against the people of
California, who voted to have this medicine, which they are stealing," said
Joe Wouk as agents drove away.

WAMM was born out of founder Valerie Corral's efforts to alleviate her own
epilepsy seizures, which began soon after she suffered a head injury in a
car accident three decades ago. In 1974, Coral discovered marijuana was far
more effective than pharmaceuticals, and for the next 18 years she and her
husband cultivated a few plants each year to supply themselves and their
friends.

In 1992, they were arrested twice for cultivation--and both times, they
cited their right to grow marijuana for medical use as a defense. Valerie
Corral was instrumental in drafting California's Prop. 215, whose 1996
passage allowed patients and their caregivers to grow pot for medicinal
purposes.

Prop. 215's passage also led to the birth of various "pot clubs," which
charged their members for services and products, often for as much or more
than the going street value. But WAMM remains a collective in which members
volunteer time in exchange for marijuana and hospice-style services.

As one WAMM-member put it, "WAMM is a club people are literally dying to get
into. Many of us have AIDS and cancer. Forty members passed to the other
side this year."

Since the passage of Prop. 215, many pot clubs have been shut down,
including several in the San Francisco Bay Area. Thursday's raid was the
latest round in an escalating tug of war between local and federal
authorities.

In addition to California, seven other states--Alaska, Arizona, Colorado,
Hawaii, Maine, Oregon and Washington--allow the cultivation of medical
marijuana. But U.S. Attorney General John Ashcroft maintains that Prop. 215
and other such measures violate federal drug law.

After the raid, members of the cooperative and media drove up to the farm
that sits on a sun-soaked south-facing ridge. But though the farm has an
ocean view, the vista was marred by the ravaged scene that greeted them.

Framed by a "Love Grows Here" sign, the once flourishing garden had been
reduced to a mess of stumps and tangled wire, on which the occasional leaf
hung raglike--a sight that spurred some into action and others to tears.

"This was such a beautiful place. What can you say, but 'fuck'? I remember
watering this plant," said Sheri Paris, as she salvaged some crushed leaves.
"I sincerely believe some of our members are going to be suicidal. They
won't be able to get the medicine they need to deal with cancer, AIDS,
glaucoma and the unbearable muscle seizures that quadriplegics suffer."

Meanwhile, a sobbing Diana Dodson wanted to know why the DEA is terrorizing
sick people. "We've lost 40 members this year, and that number will increase
because of this raid," said Dodson, who has AIDS.

Dale Gieringer, who is California coordinator of the National Organization
for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, noted that since Sept. 11, 25 people have
been busted for medical marijuana in California, but only one for terrorism.

Danny Rodriguez said his partner, who also does WAMM security, was
handcuffed and held for an hour after he followed the DEA agents to the farm
at the start of the early morning raid. "It kills me to think Americans are
doing this to other Americans, " said Rodriguez, who also has AIDS.

"[D]ead members are buried here. They have desecrated a sacred spot in many
ways," said Deb Silverknight, a retired nurse.

Sitting in a chair amid the carnage, Ralph Trueblood said, "Maybe this will
be the turning point in the federal war on marijuana. ... For nine years,
our members have been able to get their medicine. Now that's interrupted. I
believe there will be a great outpouring of public sympathy."

Also grieving in the garden was Harry Boyle, 24, and his caregiver and
fiancée, Courtney Connolly. Connolly says Boyle's experience has changed her
perspective on marijuana. "I used to be anti all drugs, and I don't smoke at
all, but I see how much it helps him and all the people here. They can
sleep, eat, function, and be in a good mood," she said.

Boyle, who has been diagnosed with a brain tumor, says smoking helps him
cope with headaches and the stress of chemotherapy. "I was unable to even
keep down the anti-nausea pills," says Boyle, who dropped from 200 to 160
pounds before he joined WAMM.

While Jean Hanamoto described the scene as a tragedy, her husband, George,
who is one of the chief gardeners, tried to look at the bright side. "Maybe
this will be a shot in the arm for volunteerism," he said. "Nothing pulls
people together like getting their shit messed with!"

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