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The420Guy
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STANDING UP FOR STONERS
Attorney Jeff Steinborn Fights For Your Right To Party
In the midst of the bandanna-wearing, tie-dyed crowd attending this
weekend's Hempfest, Jeff Steinborn will be the guy in the suit. As a
Hempfest organizer, he'll be smoothing his necktie and saying, "You're
beautiful, you look great, but if you want to be taken seriously in this
world, you've got to dress like me." Especially if you come to court, as
Steinborn's customers do.
When he's not advocating the reformation of marijuana laws, he's in court
as an attorney challenging them. Either way, "Dress to win," he says.
Specializing in drug cases since 1968, the dapper 58-year-old Seattle
criminal attorney and cannabis activist is the go-to defender for anyone
busted for marijuana violations. Jerry Sheehan of the ACLU tags Steinborn
as an expert on drug laws and civil rights, and a county deputy prosecutor
says simply, "He's the best, isn't he?" His admirers and detractors alike
think he's what lawyering's all about--providing the most informed and
aggressive defense available. After three decades of fighting laws and
governments, he has earned an apropos title, the Public's Defender.
Aided by partner Alison Kay Chin in his small Pioneer Square law office,
Steinborn juggles dozens of cases at a time, attracting an average of three
new clients a week. He passionately believes potheads are victimized by the
system and has earned a prize-fighter's reputation trying to prove it in
the courtroom.
"Most of the accused," he says, "are demonized by the public and police.
But my clients mostly are real nice folks. I don't represent any predators,
child molesters, thieves, or wife beaters."
Steinborn personally keeps a low media profile and would rather be writing
or talking about his cases than about himself. But he explains what
motivates him: "I started out with the idea of being a lawyer who stood up
for the rights of individuals," says Steinborn, who thinks draconian is too
nice a way to describe today's drug laws. "That's the reason I became a
lawyer."
As a law grad in his 20s, Steinborn launched his court career taking
draft-evasion cases during the Vietnam years. When the drug war blossomed
in the late 1960s, "I found myself sucked in. It was a natural."
His belief in the decriminalization of weed and the unfettered distribution
of medical marijuana keeps his heart pounding, he says. Once someone is
charged, "You can lose everything, from your home to your freedom."
Despite some decriminalization and other legal changes over the years, dope
smoking remains a hazardous pastime, in Steinborn's perspective.
Marijuana's main mind-boggling effect has been on our leaders. "They're mad
with power," he says, chuckling. "The last 25 years, the government's been
getting everything on its wish list from the courts or the legislators.
Cops today really think they've got the power and responsibility to poke
into your private life."
Steinborn, co-author of Marijuana: The Law and You (now only available
used), considers himself the government's antidote. Though an officer of
the court, he freely gives out legal tips to dopers on the Net or at public
appearances. "I think I am allowed to tell you of some of the devices out
there [used] to trick and capture you," he says. In particular, he warns
growers of the biggest threat: the anonymous tipster, the citizen
informant, the partner-turned-snitch.
"Police are terrorizing these people," Steinborn says of those who come to
him. "They bully them into confessions and do it routinely."
In the end, it's costing a lot of money just to spoil people's fun, he thinks.
"How dare they spend a dime," Steinborn asks with a smile, "to keep us from
the giggles and the munchies?"
BEATING THE MAN
Think you might become a casualty of the war on drugs? Here are some of
Seattle drug attorney Jeff Steinborn's best tips on, shall we say,
observing the law:
Once you're suspected, you're fish in the barrel. At the border, officers
can search you and your vehicle with a dog--without a warrant. If you look
funny, smell bad, have been crossing too much, somebody will pull you over.
When arrested under any circumstances, don't talk. Whatever you say will be
rewritten and enhanced. So shut up, shut up, shut up. You can say "Oh #####"
or "Excuse me, officer, do you have any toilet paper?" But that's about it.
Your house may be searched. Your mom's house may be searched. Your bank
accounts will be frozen. Your home, your car, your boat, and maybe even
your lawn mower will be seized. Be ready to deal with this very traumatic
loss without turning into a blubbering fool.
The prosecutor determines the sentence by what crime is charged, after
which the judge can only evaluate categories and rubber-stamp predetermined
sentences. In the U.S., a felony is nearly an economic death sentence. You
get most of your rights back, but discretionary niceties such as
employment, insurance, or credit are often impaired. Boeing and Microsoft
won't consider you.
Prior to the actual trial, it used to be that some folks would get off on
what many mistakenly refer to as "technicalities." As my mother used to
say, "The Constitution is not a technicality!"
Newshawk: Beth
Pubdate: Mon, 20 Aug 2001
Source: Seattle Weekly (WA)
Issue: Aug 16-22, 2001
Copyright: 2001 Seattle Weekly
Contact: letters@seattleweekly.com
Website: Home | Seattle Weekly
Details: MapInc
Author: Rick Anderson
Note: Multi-part series
Attorney Jeff Steinborn Fights For Your Right To Party
In the midst of the bandanna-wearing, tie-dyed crowd attending this
weekend's Hempfest, Jeff Steinborn will be the guy in the suit. As a
Hempfest organizer, he'll be smoothing his necktie and saying, "You're
beautiful, you look great, but if you want to be taken seriously in this
world, you've got to dress like me." Especially if you come to court, as
Steinborn's customers do.
When he's not advocating the reformation of marijuana laws, he's in court
as an attorney challenging them. Either way, "Dress to win," he says.
Specializing in drug cases since 1968, the dapper 58-year-old Seattle
criminal attorney and cannabis activist is the go-to defender for anyone
busted for marijuana violations. Jerry Sheehan of the ACLU tags Steinborn
as an expert on drug laws and civil rights, and a county deputy prosecutor
says simply, "He's the best, isn't he?" His admirers and detractors alike
think he's what lawyering's all about--providing the most informed and
aggressive defense available. After three decades of fighting laws and
governments, he has earned an apropos title, the Public's Defender.
Aided by partner Alison Kay Chin in his small Pioneer Square law office,
Steinborn juggles dozens of cases at a time, attracting an average of three
new clients a week. He passionately believes potheads are victimized by the
system and has earned a prize-fighter's reputation trying to prove it in
the courtroom.
"Most of the accused," he says, "are demonized by the public and police.
But my clients mostly are real nice folks. I don't represent any predators,
child molesters, thieves, or wife beaters."
Steinborn personally keeps a low media profile and would rather be writing
or talking about his cases than about himself. But he explains what
motivates him: "I started out with the idea of being a lawyer who stood up
for the rights of individuals," says Steinborn, who thinks draconian is too
nice a way to describe today's drug laws. "That's the reason I became a
lawyer."
As a law grad in his 20s, Steinborn launched his court career taking
draft-evasion cases during the Vietnam years. When the drug war blossomed
in the late 1960s, "I found myself sucked in. It was a natural."
His belief in the decriminalization of weed and the unfettered distribution
of medical marijuana keeps his heart pounding, he says. Once someone is
charged, "You can lose everything, from your home to your freedom."
Despite some decriminalization and other legal changes over the years, dope
smoking remains a hazardous pastime, in Steinborn's perspective.
Marijuana's main mind-boggling effect has been on our leaders. "They're mad
with power," he says, chuckling. "The last 25 years, the government's been
getting everything on its wish list from the courts or the legislators.
Cops today really think they've got the power and responsibility to poke
into your private life."
Steinborn, co-author of Marijuana: The Law and You (now only available
used), considers himself the government's antidote. Though an officer of
the court, he freely gives out legal tips to dopers on the Net or at public
appearances. "I think I am allowed to tell you of some of the devices out
there [used] to trick and capture you," he says. In particular, he warns
growers of the biggest threat: the anonymous tipster, the citizen
informant, the partner-turned-snitch.
"Police are terrorizing these people," Steinborn says of those who come to
him. "They bully them into confessions and do it routinely."
In the end, it's costing a lot of money just to spoil people's fun, he thinks.
"How dare they spend a dime," Steinborn asks with a smile, "to keep us from
the giggles and the munchies?"
BEATING THE MAN
Think you might become a casualty of the war on drugs? Here are some of
Seattle drug attorney Jeff Steinborn's best tips on, shall we say,
observing the law:
Once you're suspected, you're fish in the barrel. At the border, officers
can search you and your vehicle with a dog--without a warrant. If you look
funny, smell bad, have been crossing too much, somebody will pull you over.
When arrested under any circumstances, don't talk. Whatever you say will be
rewritten and enhanced. So shut up, shut up, shut up. You can say "Oh #####"
or "Excuse me, officer, do you have any toilet paper?" But that's about it.
Your house may be searched. Your mom's house may be searched. Your bank
accounts will be frozen. Your home, your car, your boat, and maybe even
your lawn mower will be seized. Be ready to deal with this very traumatic
loss without turning into a blubbering fool.
The prosecutor determines the sentence by what crime is charged, after
which the judge can only evaluate categories and rubber-stamp predetermined
sentences. In the U.S., a felony is nearly an economic death sentence. You
get most of your rights back, but discretionary niceties such as
employment, insurance, or credit are often impaired. Boeing and Microsoft
won't consider you.
Prior to the actual trial, it used to be that some folks would get off on
what many mistakenly refer to as "technicalities." As my mother used to
say, "The Constitution is not a technicality!"
Newshawk: Beth
Pubdate: Mon, 20 Aug 2001
Source: Seattle Weekly (WA)
Issue: Aug 16-22, 2001
Copyright: 2001 Seattle Weekly
Contact: letters@seattleweekly.com
Website: Home | Seattle Weekly
Details: MapInc
Author: Rick Anderson
Note: Multi-part series
