Pubdate: Sat, 13 Aug 2005 Source: Vancouver Courier (CN BC) Copyright: 2005 Vancouver Courier Contact: http://www.vancourier.com/ Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/474 Author: Naoibh O'Connor, staff writer Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/mmjcn.htm (Cannabis - Medicinal - Canada) Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/find?196 (Emery, Marc) MARIJUANA'S MARTYR Shortly before he's scheduled to speak at the Maritimes United for Medical Marijuana music festival in Lawrencetown, Nova Scotia, Marc Emery heads to town for a bite to eat. The 47-year-old well-known pot activist orders chowder for lunch, but decides it's too runny and requests something else. Slowly the restaurant empties of customers, and a man sits down at the counter to speak to the waitress. She seems nervous and appears to want Emery to leave. Nothing strikes him as odd-yet. "I didn't notice this at the time. I'm on my own and the restaurant is empty, which is uncharacteristic because it's like high noon and it's the only restaurant in town," he says. When Emery leaves, he finds a car parked behind his and another one behind it. It's gotten busy all of a sudden. "But you don't think anything of it until you say, 'Hi' to the guy [by the car] and he nods back and then pulls out his badge and says, 'Mr. Emery, you're under arrest.' Then you're surrounded by a dozen police officers and cars are coming in and flashing at you. It's hands up and, 'You're wanted on a warrant of extradition from the United States of America.'" Emery is describing his July 29 arrest by Canadian police at the request of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration following an 18-month investigation. "That's when your life freezes-the incredible long seconds when all of a sudden you have a perfectly clear understanding of everything that's happened and is going to happen. I was perfectly at ease. I said [to myself], 'The battle is finally engaged.'" So started what could become the denouement of the "Prince of Pot's" years-long fight to legalize marijuana in this country and influence drug policy across the globe. This time, however, the stakes are high. By openly selling marijuana seeds to buyers south of the border, and essentially taunting proponents of America's unforgiving War on Drugs, Emery could languish in a U.S. federal prison for life. He's no stranger to jail cells, considering he's been arrested 21 times and locked up 16 times on drug-related charges in Canada. But Emery doesn't expect American prisons to be as "civilized" as their counterparts in this country. While jails are always physically uncomfortable, he describes Canadian police and correction officers as decent. In a daily blog, written during his three-month stint in a Saskatchewan jail for passing a joint, Emery reported he never saw a prison guard disrespect an inmate, including himself. "You can be grateful to be a Canadian, even in jail," he says. Now he's mainly concerned about the fate of codefendants Keith Williams, 50, and Michelle Rainey-Fenkarek, 34. If Emery's extradited to the U.S.-a process that may take years-he faces three charges: conspiracy to produce marijuana and conspiracy to distribute marijuana seeds, which carry penalties ranging from 10 years to life, and conspiracy to engage in money laundering, which carries a penalty of up to 20 years. His next court appearance is Aug. 25 in Vancouver. Almost two weeks after the arrest, talking animatedly with a reporter in his 22nd-floor apartment in Coal Harbour, he's unrepentant. The arrest has hurt him personally and financially. Supporters paid the $50,000 bail-$10,000 from money raised at rallies and four sureties of $10,000 each. Bail conditions require him to be "of good behaviour" and prohibit cellphone use, among other restrictions. He's already given up his leased Ford Thunderbird convertible and at the end of August he'll vacate the $2,800-a-month top-floor apartment, which he shares with 35-year-old fianc,e Cheryl Redick, for cheaper digs. The apartment is where he's interviewed federal NDP leader Jack Layton for Pot-TV and entertained actor and fellow pro-marijuana activist Woody Harrelson. Despite its hefty rent, the tidy two-bedroom-plus-den is unremarkable except for its decor and a spectacular view of Coal Harbour, the mountains and Stanley Park. A pile of Cannabis Culture magazines sit on a table by the front door. The living room's blue and white colour scheme reflects shades of ice, according to Emery. Hockey memorabilia covers the walls, while rink and puck-shaped tables, chairs and art reflect his love of the sport. A big screen rectangular TV takes up the better part of one wall. Hockey is Emery's principal interest outside his pro-pot crusade. The combination of the two is reflected in his prized Canucks jersey adorned by the number 420-a code that symbolizes April 20, as well as the time of day, when marijuana users light up en masse. Emery claims he hasn't smoked a joint in two days, but doesn't miss it, although he typically enjoys one or two a day. Wearing plain brown pants and shirt, Emery's dress is relatively conservative. Through the interview, he frequently leans forward, gestures with his arms and pulls out old magazines, newspapers and photos, from a memory box to make his points. Over the past two weeks, media interest has been intense. The following day, he expects his first American interview with the New York Times. "So I'll make sure I spill my guts and make sure they can give me the death penalty. I'll tell the truth about everything, which I always do," he says, adding the article will likely spark calls from other U.S. reporters. Redick, a soft-spoken Joni Mitchell look-alike, works quietly on a borrowed laptop in the den-her computer was seized-as Emery discusses his predicament. A designer who doesn't generally smoke pot, Redick met Emery in London, Ont. at age 12. She often stopped by the bookstore he ran as a young man. He hired her at 15 to clean his business on weekends, but they only hooked up romantically three years ago. Uncomfortable speaking to the press, she defers most questions to Emery, but in a later phone interview concedes the last few weeks have been an ordeal. "My heart breaks every day," she says. "It's overwhelming." Redick's already had trouble renting a new apartment-one potential landlord already turned the couple down, which she fears might be for political reasons. Emery, meanwhile, is the antithesis of the stereotypical laid-back, slow-witted pot-head, answering questions in an alert, rapid-fire manner, recalling dates and details of incidents that happened decades earlier. He divulges stories from his private life without hesitation. Has he tried other drugs? Yes. Mushrooms four times between 1997 and 1999; LSD, Christmas Day 2002; and Ecstasy in 2000. "They're so rare I can tell you when I did them," he says. No subject is taboo, nothing is too personal to reveal-even the explicit sexual experience that coincided with his first joint at age 22. While at a girlfriend's place on Dec. 21, 1980, (he notes the exact date) the genesis of his life's work was sparked. "There was a full moon that night. It was a gorgeous time." He was about to engage in a sexual act when his girlfriend offered him a joint. "She said, 'Stop.' I looked up and she said, 'Let's smoke this,'" recalls Emery. "We smoked that joint and I always remember it profoundly because it was like I... saw sex in a much different way for the first time. Instead of it being about the goal-the orgasm, it opened me up to the process. The whole point is to enjoy what you're doing, not to get somewhere. I realized that's the underlying philosophical ethos that happens when you smoke pot." Emery, who adopted four children, now aged 23 to 31, from two previous relationships, is equally candid about his voluntary vasectomy at age 19. At 17, his girlfriend, also 17, had a second trimester abortion, which traumatized him to the point he never wanted to get a girl pregnant again. It took two years to convince doctors to perform the operation and he claims to be the youngest man in Canada to voluntarily have the surgery. "But it was the best thing that ever happened because it allowed me to experience looking after the children I adopted. Also, typically, I've always been the kind of person who'd never abandon anyone I was responsible to, and I'd probably have 10 kids by now because women would have liked to have gotten pregnant with me because I was the kind of guy who'd stick around." A native of London, Ont., Emery is one of four children of Eileen and Alfred Emery. His father, who died two months ago, immigrated from the poorest part of Birmingham, England in 1951 with only Grade 8 education. Alfred worked at a factory in London until retirement, and was a union leader and NDP supporter. Although Emery helped his father campaign for the NDP in his youth, he maintains he's not a "left-wing hippie." He regards The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged author Ayn Rand, a proponent of objectivism-a philosophy that rejects socialism-as one of his principal influences. He suspects he inherited his theatrical flair, so evident at political rallies, from his mother Eileen, who still lives in London. She suffers from Alzheimer's and hasn't been told of her son's latest legal troubles. One person firmly in Emery's corner is his 44-year-old brother Matthew who still lives in his hometown. Matthew calls Emery a great humanitarian. "He's a fabulous brother to have. He's very generous and he was fabulous to his parents," he says. "I'm proud to have him as my brother. We were brought up to be people who try to help other people. He's a good man welcome in my house anytime. He is the most charitable, humanistic person you'll ever meet. If you're starving he'll feed you. If he can help you, because you're down and out, he will." Matthew, a businessman, believes his brother's cause is worth sacrificing for and maintains if he's ultimately extradited it will only help the movement. "If the government sells him down the river, it just shows you what type of government we have. Even if he [is extradited] it'll do exactly what he wants for the cause anyway-it'll make him a martyr." Matthew put his house up to cover a portion of the bond for Emery's bail and suspects most Canadians oppose jailing his brother. "If he sold coke, I'd straighten him out myself. Then there would be a fight. But marijuana, no. I think it has many medicinal properties. The government could tax it and make a fortune," he says. "I think Marc Emery could possibly be prime minister one day. You've got to remember people are becoming very frustrated with the government. The problem with [Marc] is he's too far ahead of his time." Emery was precocious and entrepreneurial from an early age-he jumped from Grade 3 to Grade 5-but never graduated high school. At nine, he launched his first company-a stamp business, followed by a comic book company at 11. "When I was 14, I tallied up what I sold in that week and said to my dad, 'I made more than you,'" he recalls. From then on, Emery said he paid $40 a week room and board to his father, who he still speaks about with great affection and admiration. Emery moved out of the family home at age 16 and ran his own book store called City Lights Bookshop, living in its unused storage room. His foray into the field was financed with $6,000 from selling his comic books, while his father helped him get a $4,000 loan from an insurance company, which Emery paid back in four months. But his parents argued for three days about whether to let their son quit school. His mother had grandiose ideas of Emery attending Harvard, although he has no clue where the money would have come from. City Lights Bookshop proved successful, however, and his first newspaper headline appeared in the London Free Press in 1975. Entitled, "Runs his own bookstore at 17, finds business booming," the article featured photos of a youthful looking Emery sporting oversized glasses. Years later, Emery sold the store to employees, then lived in Asia between 1992 and 1994. He, his partner and two children, eventually landed in Indonesia where Emery helped a family with their restaurant and guest lodge. The relationship soured after he built a house on the property at his own expense. [Foreigners can't own property there]. According to Emery, the family agreed he would live in the house for six years before turning it over to them. Once construction was completed, however, they refused to let him back on the land. Three months later, he left the country after attempts to get the house back failed. Emery was 36 when he moved to Vancouver, where he scraped out a living selling pot magazines and books before opening Hemp B.C. in 1994. It was a near-instant success. Later, Emery launched Pot-TV, Cannabis Culture magazine and the B.C. Marijuana Party, for which he ran as a candidate in many elections. "I said I'm going to pay all my taxes and obey all [government] regulatory laws and I'm going to do everything totally straight," he recalls of his strategy at the time. "Then I'm going to transparently break these cannabis laws. I didn't want people to think there are sinister motives involved. If you hide things, people suspect stuff." Aside from paying taxes, Emery claims to have given away $4.5 million to legal fees and countless other causes over the years-pro-marijuana marches around the world, a drug addiction clinic, the B.C. Marijuana Party, ex-romantic partners, his children, and even $8,000 toward Green Party leader Adriane Carr's proportional representation petition. Police have seized most of his papers, but he produced one statement of account from Canada Customs and Revenue Agency that indicates he paid $12,000 in tax for the month of December 2003. His annual tax payments varied from $39,000 to $142,000 between 1999 and 2005, totaling about $585,000 over those years, according to Emery's calculations. "I never live ostentatiously. I've never had money to burn... the police haven't seized any other assets. There's nothing to get. The income tax department, if I had stashed money, would know about it," he argues. "Both the RCMP and the DEA have been tracking all my financial transactions... if there was any money, they would have found it. They can't believe I'm actually as good as I say I am. 'You mean he gave away $4.5 million that he could have kept himself?' Yeah, I did because I don't need any money. I have no hobbies. My parents brought me up properly. I am happy with who I am without adornment." Emery likely raised the ire of the U.S. government in 2002-if not before-when he and supporters taunted American drug czar John Walters, director of the White House's Office of National Drug Control Policy, during a speech he gave at a Vancouver Board of Trade meeting that October. The pro-pot faction bought a table of 10 for the event, then proceeded to shout "Liar" and "Bullshit" whenever Walters said something disparaging about marijuana. "That stung me too," acknowledges Emery, who sees himself as Luke Skywalker to Walters' Darth Vader. "I would say heckling John Walters while he's surrounded by 75 Secret Service men and humiliating him in his public debut in Canada [might have incited them]. All the investigations started right after that." No one from the Office of National Drug Control Policy would comment on the Emery case, but Special Agent Jeffrey Eig, a Seattle-based spokesman for the DEA, calls Emery the head of a criminal organization that collected millions of dollars in revenue. He also argues that marijuana cultivation and use is devastating to the population of both Canada and the United States. "The bottom line is this is not the marijuana of the '60s. Marijuana of the '60s had an average THC content of about one to two per cent. This marijuana that we're looking at in many cases is averaging over 14 per cent of the psychoactive ingredient," Eig says. "So it's not the same marijuana that people are maybe thinking back on." Among those in attendance for Walters' Board of Trade speech was then mayor Philip Owen-a champion of the four-pillars approach to drug enforcement. Like Emery, Owen considers the American War on Drugs a farce. "The Republican Party are just bullies. [John Walters] came here to bully the mayor. 'We got this kooky mayor that's talking about drug policy reform. We better shut that down.' That's the way they operate," Owen says. "They weren't getting anywhere with Ottawa and they saw this cell of activity in Vancouver with a crazy mayor [Owen] and a nut bar Emery. They decided [Walters] would go out there and straighten everybody out-Mr. Big Tough Guy. It just blew up in his face. It was a disastrous meeting. They got bad publicity and we haven't heard from Walters since." Owen challenges the oft-quoted DEA argument that there are more American youth in treatment for marijuana use than any other drug combined, calling it a "mischievous and misleading" statement. "This is the B.S. that they shovel," he says, explaining U.S. states run drug courts, which give those accused the option of going to drug treatment or going through the criminal justice system where they could get a criminal record. "Of course you're going to get all the kids [in treatment]. What are they going to say? 'Oh no, I want to go through the criminal justice system.'" But Owen suspects Emery overplayed his hand when he decided to sell marijuana seeds to U.S. customers, forcing the American government to act. "I just think Emery has defied the [U.S.] law. He's probably got to pay some price, but a life sentence is just ridiculous because during that time marijuana will be treated far more leniently than it is now," Owen says. Back at his apartment, Emery responds with evangelical fervor when it's suggested that most people, even if they agree with his position, wouldn't consider legalizing pot a cause worth risking prison over. Only injustices like apartheid might be worth that kind of penalty. Why not fight for the poor and downtrodden? "This is apartheid," he replies. "Why are we kept separate from everyone else? It's something you are. It's like being homosexual. It's like being Christian. It's like being Islamic. You choose your philosophy-it's like practising Falon Gong. This is a practice we have that is a spiritual belief. Millions of people require marijuana medically, or even therapeutically, but I'm talking about the people who, like me, believe in marijuana and regard it as the most important plant ever put on earth, with more uses than any other plant. That's always been my biggest problem-that I can't get people who don't smoke marijuana to see that what's going on is the pogrom equivalent to a holocaust. Do you know 24 million people since 1955 have been arrested for marijuana-24 million people, that's the size of this country." A followup suggestion that some might be offended by any comparison to a genocide, or particularly the Holocaust during the Second World War, doesn't phase Emery. "They're offended because people like to think they have the monopoly on pain. It's like gay people getting resentful if you imply that you're more discriminated against than they are. Gay people don't go to jail. People bash them. People can beat them up, people can be sometimes very rude and misunderstanding, but we're talking about a culture where we, in 2005, still go to jail by a quarter of a million every year." Emery noted that the penalty for pot use in 24 countries around the world is death-and they're not afraid to use it. But he shows little fear about the penalty he could face if he's ultimately extradited to America. "I welcome a confrontation with the United States, [although] I don't welcome the inevitable punishment of being in a maximum security institution for the rest of my life, because I'm a good guy." - --- MAP posted-by: Derek