So it seems the Seattle Police Department has released its specific directions to its officers on how to handle medical marijuana cases.
A couple of highlights:
Seattle police are under orders to focus on community safety issues where marijuana is concerned. If you have medical marijuana authorization (properly documented), it looks like the Seattle PD will take a 1-gram sample and admit it into evidence, but leave you the rest up to your legal limit. If you exceed that legal limit, but, again, have documentation, they'll take whatever exceeds it, but leave the rest. This may include actually packaging a useable supply for you (!).
Prosecutors are apparently reluctant to go after genuinely sick people, at least if those people have made a good-faith effort to get their medical marijuana paperwork in order. Also, Seattle police have been asked to try not to arrest the seriously ill.
And again I say, we live in interesting times. I do wonder whether packaging up someone's medical marijuana supply for them and letting them keep it qualifies as some kind of federal violation, but I applaud the Seattle PD's apparent willingness to make sure that sick people get to keep the medicine state law entitles them to.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Policy Discussion: Hallucinogens
A while back, I mentioned that psilocybin mushrooms are "as illegal as LSD" in our dear, drippy (at least on this side of the Cascades) Washington. One thing worth discussing here is why, exactly, LSD is so very illegal. As illicit drugs go, LSD and "magic mushrooms" would seem to be low-end offenders. They're apparently not addictive, certainly not in any physical dependency sort of way, the lethal dose seems to be ... well, if there is one, it's apparently very high, and they furthermore don't seem to shred your liver, lungs, heart, or spleen. So what's the big deal?
Well, aside from the "we don't like lotus-eaters" factor and the (probably overblown) dread of some guy blitzed out of his mind on the stuff taking a shotgun to the mall, the major concern seems to be that the stuff might just shred your pretty brain meats. Unlike claims about "reefer madness" and "dope fiends," this is an argument with some teeth: apparently, long-term users can start to show some psychological ill-effects, and then there's the possibility of people who already aren't on the best terms with their brains getting worse as a result of hallucinogens. There's some indication that people with underlying mental problems can have them "triggered" by the drug.
And that's not getting into the more immediate potential for a "bad trip," or the longer-term risk for LSD users of having a trip abruptly resurface at inconvenient moments, like in traffic.
Reason enough for outright prohibition? Maybe. Psychological damage is not fun. Then again, compare to the long-term effects of alcohol abuse.
Reason enough for possession to constitute a class C felony? ... yeah, maybe not.
Well, aside from the "we don't like lotus-eaters" factor and the (probably overblown) dread of some guy blitzed out of his mind on the stuff taking a shotgun to the mall, the major concern seems to be that the stuff might just shred your pretty brain meats. Unlike claims about "reefer madness" and "dope fiends," this is an argument with some teeth: apparently, long-term users can start to show some psychological ill-effects, and then there's the possibility of people who already aren't on the best terms with their brains getting worse as a result of hallucinogens. There's some indication that people with underlying mental problems can have them "triggered" by the drug.
And that's not getting into the more immediate potential for a "bad trip," or the longer-term risk for LSD users of having a trip abruptly resurface at inconvenient moments, like in traffic.
Reason enough for outright prohibition? Maybe. Psychological damage is not fun. Then again, compare to the long-term effects of alcohol abuse.
Reason enough for possession to constitute a class C felony? ... yeah, maybe not.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
"Supremacy" What?
So last week, I mentioned that if WA starts selling Mary Jane out of the State liquor stores, it's likely to get smacked with a suit under the Supremacy Clause (Article VI, Paragraph 2 of the Constitution of the United States of America). A little explanation might be in order here.
The Supremacy Clause is the bit of the Constitution whereby We the People declare federal law to be superior to state law. That is, where state law and federal law conflict, federal law wins. This is why, for example, Washington State can't declare its citizens exempt from the federal income tax.
Now, marijuana, whether or not WA legalizes it, will be illegal under federal law for the foreseeable future (read: "until Congress pulls its head out of the prohibitionist sand"). That, however, does not automatically mean that each state has to use its own laws and expend its own resources to enforce that illegality. The states are free to stand back and let the federal agencies handle federal law.
California cannot stand in the way when the DEA is arresting medical marijuana providers. However, it does not (under current law) have to help the DEA. You follow? This is why, if selling pot became legal in CA, the federal government would be on shaky ground in suing to try to make CA keep marijuana illegal: CA would effectively just be withdrawing its support from the "War on Drugs," where MJ is concerned, not engaging in any action that would bring it into conflict with federal law.
WA selling MJ out of its state-run liquor stores? That's another matter. That would have WA employees, and thus the state itself, in direct violation of federal law, and where state and federal laws conflict, the federal law wins.
You can't put a state in jail, but you (or, rather, the federal government) can sue it in federal court to get an injunction-- basically having a judge tell WA, "No, you're not allowed to do this." WA can appeal, but the appeal isn't likely to be very successful. On this score, the Supremacy Clause is pretty clear.
What happens if WA goes ahead and tries it anyway? Well, that's where you start getting terms like "crisis" popping up in the papers, and the president maybe sending in the national guard.
The Supremacy Clause is the bit of the Constitution whereby We the People declare federal law to be superior to state law. That is, where state law and federal law conflict, federal law wins. This is why, for example, Washington State can't declare its citizens exempt from the federal income tax.
Now, marijuana, whether or not WA legalizes it, will be illegal under federal law for the foreseeable future (read: "until Congress pulls its head out of the prohibitionist sand"). That, however, does not automatically mean that each state has to use its own laws and expend its own resources to enforce that illegality. The states are free to stand back and let the federal agencies handle federal law.
California cannot stand in the way when the DEA is arresting medical marijuana providers. However, it does not (under current law) have to help the DEA. You follow? This is why, if selling pot became legal in CA, the federal government would be on shaky ground in suing to try to make CA keep marijuana illegal: CA would effectively just be withdrawing its support from the "War on Drugs," where MJ is concerned, not engaging in any action that would bring it into conflict with federal law.
WA selling MJ out of its state-run liquor stores? That's another matter. That would have WA employees, and thus the state itself, in direct violation of federal law, and where state and federal laws conflict, the federal law wins.
You can't put a state in jail, but you (or, rather, the federal government) can sue it in federal court to get an injunction-- basically having a judge tell WA, "No, you're not allowed to do this." WA can appeal, but the appeal isn't likely to be very successful. On this score, the Supremacy Clause is pretty clear.
What happens if WA goes ahead and tries it anyway? Well, that's where you start getting terms like "crisis" popping up in the papers, and the president maybe sending in the national guard.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Well, now, this is cute.
A big thank you to Pete Guither over at DrugWarRant.com for providing a link to this.
As cynical as the argument that we shouldn't have "one more mind-altering substance" (it's here already and widely used, legal or not) out there makes me, I do see a bright spot or two here.
Well, sort of.
Kerlikowske is a former Seattle Chief of Police, and not in any "ancient history" kind of way, thus a man whose attitudes might be taken as representative of the harder-line local attitude. He opposed a ballot initiative making marijuana enforcement a "lowest priority" matter in Seattle, and he obviously opposes legalization now.
What I find interesting about him and his stance is that he, a career law-enforcement officer, is saying that the War on Drugs is over, and has been since 2009. I think a few Republican politicians, not to mention a few law enforcement officers, might disagree with him on that, but at least somebody mainstream in the other Washington is taking the idea that drug abuse is a medical condition to be treated rather than a criminal problem to be incarcerated seriously.
Then again, he's also signaled the likely federal response to state legalization. Note that while suing over simple legalization may be on shaky legal ground, it's quite likely that WA selling pot out of state liquor stores would be fit matter for a suit to force WA to comply with federal law under the Supremacy Clause.
Fun.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Interesting Times in Washington State
There's one major caveat, of course, to the efforts to legalize marijuana in WA: regardless of what happens here, marijuana remains a federal schedule I drug. As far as the feds are concerned, marijuana has no medical use and is just plain flat-out illegal, no matter who's selling it.
So, if Washington State actually does pass a bill legalizing marijuana-- and, what's more, regulating and selling it through state liquor stores-- what happens?
If pot was just legal in WA, this would be pretty simple: local law enforcement ignores (or is supposed to ignore) the drug trade, while the DEA still has the authority to enforce the federal law. How much federal agents would actually do would depend on several factors: the DEA has a limited budget and only so many agents, and would likely only go after major operators.
... Not that this would be much of a shield for any smaller ones swept up in the process.
This already happens vis-a-vis medical marijuana; the state allows the defense, the federals don't, and the question boils down to which system you're in.
What makes this fun is that the State of Washington is actually considering selling the stuff itself through state-owned liquor outlets. This looks on its face like it threatens to make the state itself a drug trafficker.
Could state liquor store employees be hauled off to the federal pen by the DEA? Would the agency or agencies responsible for regulating the trade be prosecuted for drug conspiracy? Could Christine Gregoire, if she signs the bill, be hauled in as a ... a drug kingpin?
It seems absurd, but if there's a reason they couldn't (aside from the sheer public spectacle and probable outrage), I can't think of it. It may be that the state is ultimately shielded only by the practicalities of the situation. The simplest approach would probably be for the federal government to sue to prevent the state from putting any marijuana-distribution system into place.
And then there's the Obama aspect: as chief executive, he has a great deal of influence over what the DEA and Justice Department do, or don't do.
History is a messy business, it seems.
So, if Washington State actually does pass a bill legalizing marijuana-- and, what's more, regulating and selling it through state liquor stores-- what happens?
If pot was just legal in WA, this would be pretty simple: local law enforcement ignores (or is supposed to ignore) the drug trade, while the DEA still has the authority to enforce the federal law. How much federal agents would actually do would depend on several factors: the DEA has a limited budget and only so many agents, and would likely only go after major operators.
... Not that this would be much of a shield for any smaller ones swept up in the process.
This already happens vis-a-vis medical marijuana; the state allows the defense, the federals don't, and the question boils down to which system you're in.
What makes this fun is that the State of Washington is actually considering selling the stuff itself through state-owned liquor outlets. This looks on its face like it threatens to make the state itself a drug trafficker.
Could state liquor store employees be hauled off to the federal pen by the DEA? Would the agency or agencies responsible for regulating the trade be prosecuted for drug conspiracy? Could Christine Gregoire, if she signs the bill, be hauled in as a ... a drug kingpin?
It seems absurd, but if there's a reason they couldn't (aside from the sheer public spectacle and probable outrage), I can't think of it. It may be that the state is ultimately shielded only by the practicalities of the situation. The simplest approach would probably be for the federal government to sue to prevent the state from putting any marijuana-distribution system into place.
And then there's the Obama aspect: as chief executive, he has a great deal of influence over what the DEA and Justice Department do, or don't do.
History is a messy business, it seems.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Watch Your Back....
So a few years back, a couple of truck drivers along the border with our northern neighbor got picked up by the border patrol when shipments (and yes, considerably more than 40 grams) of marijuana were discovered in their cargo. In the one case, the marijuana was in an empty space in front of 18 pallets of beer. In the other, the marijuana was hidden inside a modified propane cannister.
Despite the large quantities, the prosecutors ultimately couldn't prove to the jury's satisfaction (despite the large quantities involved) that the two had been carrying the MJ intending to turn it over to someone else at the other end-- most likely because they couldn't show that the truck drivers had any idea what they were carrying.
Did these two walk free? No. Why? They were convicted of possession of a controlled substance-- more than 40 grams of marijuana, a class C felony.
Now, wait a minute: if the jury wasn't sufficiently convinced that they knew what they were carrying to say they were carrying it with intent to deliver, how the hell did they get themselves convicted of possession?
Simple answer: our two unfortunate drivers couldn't prove that they didn't know. The case is State v. Bradshaw, 152 Wn.2d 528, 98 P.3d 1190 (2004), and it appears to stand as good law.
Simple possession in this state is "almost" a strict liability offense-- a category of usually-minor offenses that you don't have to have any kind of criminal mental state to commit. To give you an idea of how it works, here's a rough sketch.
Most crimes require an "evil-doing hand" (actus reus) and an "evil-thinking mind" (mens rea). Murder, for instance: you can commit it by killing somebody on purpose ("DIE!"); as a known, but not intended, side-effect of another action ("Look, pal, it's you or my favorite pen, and I like my favorite pen way better!"); or by acting with amazingly reckless disregard for human life ("You know what's really fun? Driving the wrong way down I-5. You should see the looks on people's faces!"). There are all sorts of permutations and stages and categories, like manslaughter and vehicular homicide, but they all have this much in common: if you kill somebody without having your head on wrong in some way (being a drunk driver counts as having your head on wrong), it's called an accident, and they don't generally lock you up for that.
On the other hand, if you drive through a light while it's red, what you are thinking at the time isn't worth much, unless it's to convince the judge to show mercy. That's a strict liability offense; most traffic infractions are.
So how is drug possession "almost" strict liability? Well, you get a chance to duck it: if you can prove to the jury by a preponderance of the evidence (51% or more) that you really, truly had no idea that you had that package of [fill in illicit substance here], you're off the hook.
That's you, the hypothetical defendant, trying to prove a negative, so it's a mercy that you only have to get the jury as far as "probably didn't know."
It's easy to see the policy behind this one: we don't want every drug mule who gets arrested to get off easily on the "Hey, wait a minute, man, I had no idea that was there!" defense. Doesn't everybody try to use that one?
The problem is this: supposing you're a regular cross-border commuter. Nefarious Canadian drug smuggler A knows of your schedule and home address, and decides that you're the perfect mule. Rather than bring you in on his schemes, risk exposure, and and have to pay you a cut, however, he just duct-tapes a kilo of powder cocaine behind your left-rear fender, gives your address, the make and model of your car, and the location of the package to his buddy, B, in the States, and off you go with your package-- none the wiser. B will pay you(r car) a quiet visit at about 3 AM the following morning.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
When the border guards eventually (inevitably?) pick you up, exactly how are you going to convince the jury that you probably didn't know that package was there? Especially if they haven't caught A or B? There are ways, yes, but sure ways? Even if you can bring in loads of friends to say what an upstanding person you've always been, how can you ever be sure the jury won't look at the bridge of your nose, the way your ears stick out, or the way your tie hangs and think, "Yeah, I suspect that's the face of a hypocrite"?
You can't.
If the prosecutor doesn't have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that you knew what you were carrying, the jury is no longer bound to weigh a "can't be sure" in your favor. In short, it's a recipe for convicting the innocent alongside the guilty.
As a note, we are apparently one of only two states that handles things this way; the other is North Dakota.
So watch yourselves, out there.
Despite the large quantities, the prosecutors ultimately couldn't prove to the jury's satisfaction (despite the large quantities involved) that the two had been carrying the MJ intending to turn it over to someone else at the other end-- most likely because they couldn't show that the truck drivers had any idea what they were carrying.
Did these two walk free? No. Why? They were convicted of possession of a controlled substance-- more than 40 grams of marijuana, a class C felony.
Now, wait a minute: if the jury wasn't sufficiently convinced that they knew what they were carrying to say they were carrying it with intent to deliver, how the hell did they get themselves convicted of possession?
Simple answer: our two unfortunate drivers couldn't prove that they didn't know. The case is State v. Bradshaw, 152 Wn.2d 528, 98 P.3d 1190 (2004), and it appears to stand as good law.
Simple possession in this state is "almost" a strict liability offense-- a category of usually-minor offenses that you don't have to have any kind of criminal mental state to commit. To give you an idea of how it works, here's a rough sketch.
Most crimes require an "evil-doing hand" (actus reus) and an "evil-thinking mind" (mens rea). Murder, for instance: you can commit it by killing somebody on purpose ("DIE!"); as a known, but not intended, side-effect of another action ("Look, pal, it's you or my favorite pen, and I like my favorite pen way better!"); or by acting with amazingly reckless disregard for human life ("You know what's really fun? Driving the wrong way down I-5. You should see the looks on people's faces!"). There are all sorts of permutations and stages and categories, like manslaughter and vehicular homicide, but they all have this much in common: if you kill somebody without having your head on wrong in some way (being a drunk driver counts as having your head on wrong), it's called an accident, and they don't generally lock you up for that.
On the other hand, if you drive through a light while it's red, what you are thinking at the time isn't worth much, unless it's to convince the judge to show mercy. That's a strict liability offense; most traffic infractions are.
So how is drug possession "almost" strict liability? Well, you get a chance to duck it: if you can prove to the jury by a preponderance of the evidence (51% or more) that you really, truly had no idea that you had that package of [fill in illicit substance here], you're off the hook.
That's you, the hypothetical defendant, trying to prove a negative, so it's a mercy that you only have to get the jury as far as "probably didn't know."
It's easy to see the policy behind this one: we don't want every drug mule who gets arrested to get off easily on the "Hey, wait a minute, man, I had no idea that was there!" defense. Doesn't everybody try to use that one?
The problem is this: supposing you're a regular cross-border commuter. Nefarious Canadian drug smuggler A knows of your schedule and home address, and decides that you're the perfect mule. Rather than bring you in on his schemes, risk exposure, and and have to pay you a cut, however, he just duct-tapes a kilo of powder cocaine behind your left-rear fender, gives your address, the make and model of your car, and the location of the package to his buddy, B, in the States, and off you go with your package-- none the wiser. B will pay you(r car) a quiet visit at about 3 AM the following morning.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
When the border guards eventually (inevitably?) pick you up, exactly how are you going to convince the jury that you probably didn't know that package was there? Especially if they haven't caught A or B? There are ways, yes, but sure ways? Even if you can bring in loads of friends to say what an upstanding person you've always been, how can you ever be sure the jury won't look at the bridge of your nose, the way your ears stick out, or the way your tie hangs and think, "Yeah, I suspect that's the face of a hypocrite"?
You can't.
If the prosecutor doesn't have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that you knew what you were carrying, the jury is no longer bound to weigh a "can't be sure" in your favor. In short, it's a recipe for convicting the innocent alongside the guilty.
As a note, we are apparently one of only two states that handles things this way; the other is North Dakota.
So watch yourselves, out there.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Disdain and Fear
In general, our culture doesn't think much of drug users.
This is an old truth, one with some pedigree to it. While opium and such have been legal for a very large percentage of human history, a general suspicion of drugs and those who partake of them has been with us since ancient Greece, if not before.
The basic concern, the source of much of the disdain, seems to be that, regardless of how harmless a drug may be, those under its influence aren't good for much while its effects last. "Drunkards" and "potheads," though one's innebriating substance is (now) legal and the other is (presently) not, both share this core source of contempt: neither has a reputation for being reliable, trustworthy, or capable. The popular conception of either one under the influence is, at best, a sort of floppy person better suited for staring through the ceiling than going out to buy a carton of milk, much less filling out the yearly income tax.
In other words, people tend to kind of think of them as a bit of a waste of space. He who uses is seen as wasting his life, wealth, and health, and eventually likely to sink into a dissolute spiral of increasingly destructive behavior. That's where the contempt comes from.
The "fear" aspect of our society's prohibitive angle on this seems to come partly from a fear of what an addict might do to get a fix or might do under the influence. Certainly, this had something to do with the hysteria surrounding crack cocaine, for example. But that fear seems to melt away, given time (though the effects remain). A deeper issue is probably the idea that addict-hood is, in effect, catching-- a contagious, socially-transmissible disease-- especially when we're talking about teens or preadolescents.
We as a culture do not trust our young people very far. People will often balk at the notion of saving adults from themselves; children, not so much. "The children! We have to protect the children!" is a politically-potent rallying cry whether we're talking about violent video games, violent movies, pornography, the theory of evolution, premarital sex, drug abuse, or Harry Potter.
... So it seems that a portion of the reason why we lock drug dealers and/or addicts up with such vigor is the idea that they are not merely wasting their own lives and damaging their own relationships, but that they threaten to corrupt our own relationships with our children, as well.
Now, unlike the '80's hysteria over rampaging, crack-addled brown people, this is a valid concern. The problem is how to deal with it, and it appears that our prohibitionary, largely punitive approach, treating drugs as a matter for the criminal justice system rather than the health care system and locking up ridiculous numbers of people (who we then need to feed, house, clothe, etc.), doesn't work.
The war on drugs is a bust (and not a drug bust). That much seems to be agreed; where we differ seems to be whether to double down or try something else.... And it does appear that the place that has decided to try something else on the grandest scale so far has not burned down, fallen over, and then sunk into the swamp.
A society generally jails two kinds of people: those it morally disapproves of and those it fears. Drug abusers and dealers may fit into both categories to varying degrees and with more or less justification, but the real question is not whether they fit under the heading of "people we feel should go to prison," but whether the problem fits under the heading of "something we can solve by sending people to prison."
If it's not, then it seems likely that it's time to bite back our disdain and fear and try something more practical.
This is an old truth, one with some pedigree to it. While opium and such have been legal for a very large percentage of human history, a general suspicion of drugs and those who partake of them has been with us since ancient Greece, if not before.
The basic concern, the source of much of the disdain, seems to be that, regardless of how harmless a drug may be, those under its influence aren't good for much while its effects last. "Drunkards" and "potheads," though one's innebriating substance is (now) legal and the other is (presently) not, both share this core source of contempt: neither has a reputation for being reliable, trustworthy, or capable. The popular conception of either one under the influence is, at best, a sort of floppy person better suited for staring through the ceiling than going out to buy a carton of milk, much less filling out the yearly income tax.
In other words, people tend to kind of think of them as a bit of a waste of space. He who uses is seen as wasting his life, wealth, and health, and eventually likely to sink into a dissolute spiral of increasingly destructive behavior. That's where the contempt comes from.
The "fear" aspect of our society's prohibitive angle on this seems to come partly from a fear of what an addict might do to get a fix or might do under the influence. Certainly, this had something to do with the hysteria surrounding crack cocaine, for example. But that fear seems to melt away, given time (though the effects remain). A deeper issue is probably the idea that addict-hood is, in effect, catching-- a contagious, socially-transmissible disease-- especially when we're talking about teens or preadolescents.
We as a culture do not trust our young people very far. People will often balk at the notion of saving adults from themselves; children, not so much. "The children! We have to protect the children!" is a politically-potent rallying cry whether we're talking about violent video games, violent movies, pornography, the theory of evolution, premarital sex, drug abuse, or Harry Potter.
... So it seems that a portion of the reason why we lock drug dealers and/or addicts up with such vigor is the idea that they are not merely wasting their own lives and damaging their own relationships, but that they threaten to corrupt our own relationships with our children, as well.
Now, unlike the '80's hysteria over rampaging, crack-addled brown people, this is a valid concern. The problem is how to deal with it, and it appears that our prohibitionary, largely punitive approach, treating drugs as a matter for the criminal justice system rather than the health care system and locking up ridiculous numbers of people (who we then need to feed, house, clothe, etc.), doesn't work.
The war on drugs is a bust (and not a drug bust). That much seems to be agreed; where we differ seems to be whether to double down or try something else.... And it does appear that the place that has decided to try something else on the grandest scale so far has not burned down, fallen over, and then sunk into the swamp.
A society generally jails two kinds of people: those it morally disapproves of and those it fears. Drug abusers and dealers may fit into both categories to varying degrees and with more or less justification, but the real question is not whether they fit under the heading of "people we feel should go to prison," but whether the problem fits under the heading of "something we can solve by sending people to prison."
If it's not, then it seems likely that it's time to bite back our disdain and fear and try something more practical.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Violent, Drug-Addled Brown People Are Coming!
1986 really has to rank as a low point in American drug policy. Swept up in a wave of terror of a drug claimed (inaccurately) to produce instant addiction in first-time users and to lead to violent behavior, Congress passed sentencing "guidelines" mandating especially stiff sentences for possession of crack cocaine.
It seems on a cursory glance that the main real differences between powdered cocaine and crack are:
1) users sniff powder, but smoke crack;
2) powder's effects last longer;
3) more affluent users sniff. Poor people smoke. Take a wild guess what this means for racial demographics in this country.
The result has been over two decades of grimace-inducingly sharp racial sentencing disparities.
Recently, the federal government has (finally!) twigged on to the problem here, and has been thinking about correcting it-- maybe just a little, maybe entirely. So far, though, it doesn't look like anything has come of this-- and please note that the linked bit of news dates to 2007.
Happily, Washington State doesn't seem to make any distinction. Crack possession is seemingly charged as, "Possession of a controlled substance (cocaine)."
Mind you, that's still a class C felony, but it's one more topic we're a bit ahead of the federal government on.
It seems on a cursory glance that the main real differences between powdered cocaine and crack are:
1) users sniff powder, but smoke crack;
2) powder's effects last longer;
3) more affluent users sniff. Poor people smoke. Take a wild guess what this means for racial demographics in this country.
The result has been over two decades of grimace-inducingly sharp racial sentencing disparities.
Recently, the federal government has (finally!) twigged on to the problem here, and has been thinking about correcting it-- maybe just a little, maybe entirely. So far, though, it doesn't look like anything has come of this-- and please note that the linked bit of news dates to 2007.
Happily, Washington State doesn't seem to make any distinction. Crack possession is seemingly charged as, "Possession of a controlled substance (cocaine)."
Mind you, that's still a class C felony, but it's one more topic we're a bit ahead of the federal government on.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
So Just What is a "Schedule I Drug," Exactly?
Drug schedules are one of those odd creations that pops up all over, including in foreign law. They're a classification system for drugs, and widely used. The observant will have noticed that there are references to drug schedules in the British reference guide I linked to below, and "magic mushrooms" count as a Schedule I drug in Washington State.
The reason for all this international appeal is the way these things got their start: a treaty. The Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs of 1961 (amended in 1972), is apparently the model, laying out four schedules, the drugs in each, and charging the World Health Organization (WHO) with figuring out which drugs belong where. Amusingly, the progression on these goes: I, bad; II, not so bad; III, really not so bad; IV, really bad-- literally something that's in Schedule I, but worse than others in Schedule I.
The treaty doesn't directly explain its rationalle for putting drugs in particular schedules. The original document apparently just listed what went in which schedule, then charged the WHO with categorizing drugs on the basis of which schedule's contents they were most "similar to." Also, it's a limited list: the treaty only addresses narcotics. Hallucinogens had to wait their turn.
The Single Convention wasn't self-executing-- that is, it didn't transform the laws of the countries that signed on with a wave of its magic wand. Complying with the treaty was a matter for the national legislatures. The United States' take on this was the Controlled Substances Act, which provides, among other things, five schedules-- and this time, an explanation of what is supposed to go in each.
At the U.S. Federal level, Schedule I is supposed to consist of drugs that have a "high potential for abuse," no accepted medical use, and a "lack of accepted safety" for use of the drug under medical supervision-- there is no "safe" use that will avoid dependence. Schedule II is similar, but has medical uses. Schedule III covers drugs with less potential for abuse, a medical application, and consequences of abuse limited to "moderate or low" physical or "high" psychological dependence. Schedule IV contains medical drugs with lower potential and consequences for abuse than in III; V contains medical drugs with lower risks and consequences than IV.
Simple enough: nice and sequential, with its contents largely governed by findings of the DEA and FDA. Only, Washington State also cooked up its own set of drug schedules (conveniently, the rating standards appear identical to the Federal rules), and what goes where in this state is governed by the state board of pharmacy, which can take the DEA and FDA's findings into account in making its own.
Good fun-- and there's nothing to say that the state and federal schedules have to be exactly the same. As a side note, marijuana is still a Schedule I drug in Washington despite its legality for certain medical purposes.
I'm looking forward to seeing how many (or few) more years that lasts.
The reason for all this international appeal is the way these things got their start: a treaty. The Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs of 1961 (amended in 1972), is apparently the model, laying out four schedules, the drugs in each, and charging the World Health Organization (WHO) with figuring out which drugs belong where. Amusingly, the progression on these goes: I, bad; II, not so bad; III, really not so bad; IV, really bad-- literally something that's in Schedule I, but worse than others in Schedule I.
The treaty doesn't directly explain its rationalle for putting drugs in particular schedules. The original document apparently just listed what went in which schedule, then charged the WHO with categorizing drugs on the basis of which schedule's contents they were most "similar to." Also, it's a limited list: the treaty only addresses narcotics. Hallucinogens had to wait their turn.
The Single Convention wasn't self-executing-- that is, it didn't transform the laws of the countries that signed on with a wave of its magic wand. Complying with the treaty was a matter for the national legislatures. The United States' take on this was the Controlled Substances Act, which provides, among other things, five schedules-- and this time, an explanation of what is supposed to go in each.
At the U.S. Federal level, Schedule I is supposed to consist of drugs that have a "high potential for abuse," no accepted medical use, and a "lack of accepted safety" for use of the drug under medical supervision-- there is no "safe" use that will avoid dependence. Schedule II is similar, but has medical uses. Schedule III covers drugs with less potential for abuse, a medical application, and consequences of abuse limited to "moderate or low" physical or "high" psychological dependence. Schedule IV contains medical drugs with lower potential and consequences for abuse than in III; V contains medical drugs with lower risks and consequences than IV.
Simple enough: nice and sequential, with its contents largely governed by findings of the DEA and FDA. Only, Washington State also cooked up its own set of drug schedules (conveniently, the rating standards appear identical to the Federal rules), and what goes where in this state is governed by the state board of pharmacy, which can take the DEA and FDA's findings into account in making its own.
Good fun-- and there's nothing to say that the state and federal schedules have to be exactly the same. As a side note, marijuana is still a Schedule I drug in Washington despite its legality for certain medical purposes.
I'm looking forward to seeing how many (or few) more years that lasts.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Psilocybin, or "Magic," Mushrooms - what do a glass jar, a paper bag, and a chunk of fungus have in common?
Magic mushrooms are an odd case, as far as drugs go. Psilocybin, the typical active ingredient providing the "magic," is a Schedule I drug under federal law. The same goes for another mushroom-manufactured hallucinogen, psilocyn. So far, so good, right?
The catch is that psilocybin mushrooms grow wild pretty near everywhere, and their primary negative effect seems to be the risk of eating the wrong mushroom (a problem I gather is inherent to mycology). The mushrooms themselves aren't often mentioned on drug schedules, and so have had their illegality challenged-- sometimes with success.
Not so much in Washington State.
Washington State courts first tackled the issue of whether psilocybin mushrooms are illegal in 1984 in State v. Patterson. The court decided that, by the wording of Washington's Schedule I (more on drug schedules, coming soon!), even though coca leaves and opium poppies (the natural origins of cocaine and heroin, respectively) are mentioned elsewhere in the schedules, mushrooms qualify for the full ton of bricks that comes with a Schedule I drug because they are, in the schedule's language, a "material ... which contains" psilocybin.
The court thus put naturally-occurring, raw mushrooms in the same category as, say, pills, and went on to pound a few more nails in by declaring that 1) the mention of psilocybin in Schedule I, even without mentioning mushrooms, was enough warning and 2) the common confusion over whether the mushrooms are illegal (a "mistake of law") is no defense.
The courts don't seem to have looked back, since. "Magic mushrooms" are a Schedule I drug in the State of Washington, as illegal as LSD.
The catch is that psilocybin mushrooms grow wild pretty near everywhere, and their primary negative effect seems to be the risk of eating the wrong mushroom (a problem I gather is inherent to mycology). The mushrooms themselves aren't often mentioned on drug schedules, and so have had their illegality challenged-- sometimes with success.
Not so much in Washington State.
Washington State courts first tackled the issue of whether psilocybin mushrooms are illegal in 1984 in State v. Patterson. The court decided that, by the wording of Washington's Schedule I (more on drug schedules, coming soon!), even though coca leaves and opium poppies (the natural origins of cocaine and heroin, respectively) are mentioned elsewhere in the schedules, mushrooms qualify for the full ton of bricks that comes with a Schedule I drug because they are, in the schedule's language, a "material ... which contains" psilocybin.
The court thus put naturally-occurring, raw mushrooms in the same category as, say, pills, and went on to pound a few more nails in by declaring that 1) the mention of psilocybin in Schedule I, even without mentioning mushrooms, was enough warning and 2) the common confusion over whether the mushrooms are illegal (a "mistake of law") is no defense.
The courts don't seem to have looked back, since. "Magic mushrooms" are a Schedule I drug in the State of Washington, as illegal as LSD.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
An Interesting Resource
This is a media guide to drugs published in Britain by the apparently-frustrated independent drug-information organization, DrugScope. It seems they got tired of seeing British media pouring on the hysteria when covering drugs, drug addiction, and drug addicts, and therefore published this handy (and free!) booklet.
Please keep in mind when using this that it's a British publication, and its legal discussions apply only to British law. Certain bits of drug user culture also seem to differ: I didn't even know that cannabis came in any edible form that didn't involve a lot of baker's cocoa until I read this.
http://www.drugscope.org.uk/Resources/Drugscope/Documents/PDF/Publications/DrugScopeMediaGuideSpreads.pdf
Please keep in mind when using this that it's a British publication, and its legal discussions apply only to British law. Certain bits of drug user culture also seem to differ: I didn't even know that cannabis came in any edible form that didn't involve a lot of baker's cocoa until I read this.
http://www.drugscope.org.uk/Resources/Drugscope/Documents/PDF/Publications/DrugScopeMediaGuideSpreads.pdf
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