GOING TO POT

Legal Wrangling Takes Its Toll On Medicinal Marijuana Crusader

Did you ever wake up to find -- a day that broke up your mind, destroyed
your notion of circular time ...

- -- The Rolling Stones, Sway, 1971

Canada's best-known medicinal marijuana crusader isn't returning phone calls.

In fact, he hardly answers the phone at all, according to his wife, Marie.

"He's going through a nervous breakdown," says Marie.

The continued pressure and harassment from legal authorities, and upheaval
within the medical dope community has taken its toll on Grant Krieger.

What the Krieger camp dubs a hostile takeover of its foundation's patient
list by a once-trusted cohort hasn't done much to soothe the 47-year-old
activist's multiple sclerosis symptoms, or his faith in mankind.

"He says he hates people," says his wife. "I'm not sure if he even trusts
me anymore."

The Krieger Foundation -- a body that supplies the chronically ill with pot
to reduce the always hideous symptoms -- has fallen on hard times.

There are days when hope seems to have gone up in smoke, admits Marie.

On the horizon is the Crown's appeal of a June 2001, court decision
granting Krieger the right to supply medicinal marijuana, using the
argument of necessity.

Some of those suffering from MS, Lou Gehrig's disease, Hepatitis C and
other chronic conditions have contemplated suicide before turning to
Krieger for relief.

But in December, in an Edmonton courtroom, that reasonable, compassionate
decision will come under fire.

It's a sad commentary on how today's phobia over a plant used
therapeutically with impunity for centuries can magnify the misery of the
sick and disabled.

And just as those helping the ill are being persecuted in the courts, we
have a federal government that began growing cannabis on the basis of a
medical experiment now dithering in granting any kind of approval for
medical marijuana.

Ironically, it's dope smokers who are usually tagged for being lethargic
and inert.

"Anybody can sit on their butts ... that's why it's up to us," says Marie,
adding the judge in last year's ruling concluded the Kriegers could harvest
and ingest to their hearts' content.

"The Crown is doing this (in December) because Grant's a thorn in their side."

More likely, the powers-that-be see their ability to control the right of
consenting adults to consume what they wish eroding.

It's a slippery slope -- all the way down to exercising basic civil
liberties. The horror of it all is unfathomable.

In the meantime, says Marie, the legal wrangling ensures lawyers will
prosper, eating up resources that could be aiding the ill.

While all of Grant's cash, which includes an $800 monthly disability
pension -- goes into the foundation, Marie's earnings from her job tending
to oilfield equipment customers puts food on the family table.

"We've carried the financial brunt of this and we've given away product
because people needed it," says Marie.

And even at that, at least one lawyer dispensing advice to the Kriegers
says they'll be fighting a losing battle in December, she says.

On the law enforcement front, Marie says police in Alberta still hold about
$20,000 worth of the family's growing equipment.

On Vancouver Island, a trusted grower who did nothing but supply the
Krieger Foundation with "four to five pounds every 45 days of really good
stuff" was just busted, notes Marie -- putting a major crimp in the
medicinal pipeline.

Privately, she says, some police narcotics officers in Alberta have
expressed to her their disgust over the course of events.

Thanks to prohibition, the foundation is forced to turn to shady,
unscrupulous dealers, some of whom have recently ripped them off or
breached what was once a contract.

"The law continues to make it a great business for cutthroats and
criminals," she says.

Two days after our first talk, Marie is more upbeat.

"We're plowing ahead ... Grant will probably be back sooner than we
thought," she says.

That is, until police and courts with their mandate to serve and protect
win the next round.