T
The420Guy
Guest
How can this community allow Terry Owen be sent to prison for three to five years?
It is my hope that someone, somewhere can respond with the urgency due such an inhumane tragedy.
Because from the way the elements of this story collide -- a local musician, U.S. drug policy, mandatory minimum sentences, selective prosecution, a disease called Crohn's, the county prison project, and America's neighbor to the north -- it may seem so surreal that we could easily convince ourselves that it would, eventually, be corrected by the institutions charged with administering justice.
Owen is a professional musician. He moved to State College in 1996 to play saxophone for the now-defunct Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band. They were legendary in their time, having toured internationally and crossing paths with the likes of B.B. King.
Bringing Owen to America wasn't easy. To obtain a visa, he had to prove he "exceeded" the band's qualifications. Owen was dubbed the No. 1 "sub man" in Canada, acting as a stand-in for bands that couldn't bring a saxophonist on tour. After his stint with Queen Bee ended, he lived a modest life, continuing to entertain local audiences with the band Maxwell Straight.
But everything changed for Owen on June 18, 2002. On that day, federal agents raided the home of Ronald Hertzog, self-appointed "commander" of the "First Pennsylvania Citizens Militia." Seized in the raid were machine guns, hand grenades, 30-pound mortar shells and blueprints to Penn State's electrical system.
Meanwhile, Owen awoke to find agents going door to door telling residents to leave their homes. He questioned the order. That night, agents returned to raid his home and confiscated 25 marijuana plants.
Owen suffers from Crohn's disease, an illness so obscure that a Daily Collegian article that ran last year referenced it several times without ever spelling it correctly.
Symptoms may include loss of appetite, nausea and weight loss -- all of which are known to be alleviated to some extent by marijuana.
According to an Institute of Medicine study published in 1999, "The accumulated data indicate a potential therapeutic value for cannabinoid drugs, particularly for symptoms such as pain relief, control of nausea and vomiting and appetite stimulation."
After spending a week in jail, Owen had lost 18 pounds.
Despite suffering from this illness, having no prior criminal record, and not possessing scales, bags or any drug-dealer implements, the district attorney's office chose to charge Owen as a drug dealer with intent to distribute.
The jury did as instructed; being bound by a law that defines this intent based primarily on the amount found in a person's possession, jurors convicted Owen.
Presiding Judge Thomas Kistler, having virtually no power over sentencing, staged a subtle protest from the bench and trimmed 24 hours off Owen's sentence. Anyone sentenced to a five-year prison term must serve it in state prison.
But I imagine that in a county sharply divided over the price of a new prison, prosecutors didn't want to draw the ire of taxpayers curious to know why they were paying to incarcerate a first-time, nonviolent drug offender.
So, in a move that shocked even the most ardent anti-drug advocates, the district attorney's office appealed Kistler's order, seeking to tack 24 hours back on to Owen's sentence. The higher court rejected the appeal and allowed the shorter sentence to stand, saying in so many words that the charge applied to Owen was really intended for drug dealers, and he clearly wasn't one.
Compare this outcome to a nearly identical case three years ago. In 2000, Christopher Johnstone, a Penn State professor and former Patton Township supervisor, was arrested for possessing 28 plants 4 to 6 feet tall and about two pounds of dried marijuana hidden throughout the house in coffee cans, peanut butter jars, in the den, in the freezer and baked into brownies.
At the time, Centre County District Attorney Ray Gricar seemed more concerned about Johnstone's job at Penn State than prosecuting him on drug charges.
In a 2001 Centre Daily Times article, Gricar was quoted saying, "It was clear Mr. Johnstone was not a dealer. The marijuana was for his own use. ... I didn't want him to lose his job."
Johnstone received probation and a $1,000 fine.
Support for Johnstone was overwhelming. Todd Keith, identified as a resident director of the ABC House for The Second Mile, wrote an editorial in defense of Johnstone. While praising Gricar for his temperate and enlightened handling of a case some politicians seek to exploit, Keith qualified his adulation with something rather prophetic:
"I just hope, if Johnstone had not been a Penn State professor or a Patton Township supervisor, and instead had been a teenager or a blue-collar worker, Gricar's decision would be the same."
Mr. Gricar, is this why you have tried so hard to pass the buck to your assistant district attorneys? Will you hold yourself accountable and work to correct this miscarriage of justice or must we do it for you?
Owen, who is a Canadian citizen, has become a pawn in a larger political chess game. Canada has progressed further than the United States in reversing its antiquated drug laws. The Canadian courts have pushed the country toward decriminalization; not only legalizing marijuana for medicinal use, but mandating that the government provide it to patients. The Bush administration has vehemently opposed it and has threatened numerous retaliations. One such retaliation appears to be making an example out of one their own.
Owen seems to have been caught in the crossfire.
Justin Leto is a former campus organizer and a local writer and editor. He currently lives in Lemont.
Pubdate: Tue, 30 Sep 2003
Source: Centre Daily Times, State College, Pa
Copyright: 2003, Centre Daily Times
Contact: cdtletters@centredaily.com
Website: Happy Valley Breaking News, Sports & Crime | Centre Daily Times
Terry Owen: terryowen@buzztoneweb.com
It is my hope that someone, somewhere can respond with the urgency due such an inhumane tragedy.
Because from the way the elements of this story collide -- a local musician, U.S. drug policy, mandatory minimum sentences, selective prosecution, a disease called Crohn's, the county prison project, and America's neighbor to the north -- it may seem so surreal that we could easily convince ourselves that it would, eventually, be corrected by the institutions charged with administering justice.
Owen is a professional musician. He moved to State College in 1996 to play saxophone for the now-defunct Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band. They were legendary in their time, having toured internationally and crossing paths with the likes of B.B. King.
Bringing Owen to America wasn't easy. To obtain a visa, he had to prove he "exceeded" the band's qualifications. Owen was dubbed the No. 1 "sub man" in Canada, acting as a stand-in for bands that couldn't bring a saxophonist on tour. After his stint with Queen Bee ended, he lived a modest life, continuing to entertain local audiences with the band Maxwell Straight.
But everything changed for Owen on June 18, 2002. On that day, federal agents raided the home of Ronald Hertzog, self-appointed "commander" of the "First Pennsylvania Citizens Militia." Seized in the raid were machine guns, hand grenades, 30-pound mortar shells and blueprints to Penn State's electrical system.
Meanwhile, Owen awoke to find agents going door to door telling residents to leave their homes. He questioned the order. That night, agents returned to raid his home and confiscated 25 marijuana plants.
Owen suffers from Crohn's disease, an illness so obscure that a Daily Collegian article that ran last year referenced it several times without ever spelling it correctly.
Symptoms may include loss of appetite, nausea and weight loss -- all of which are known to be alleviated to some extent by marijuana.
According to an Institute of Medicine study published in 1999, "The accumulated data indicate a potential therapeutic value for cannabinoid drugs, particularly for symptoms such as pain relief, control of nausea and vomiting and appetite stimulation."
After spending a week in jail, Owen had lost 18 pounds.
Despite suffering from this illness, having no prior criminal record, and not possessing scales, bags or any drug-dealer implements, the district attorney's office chose to charge Owen as a drug dealer with intent to distribute.
The jury did as instructed; being bound by a law that defines this intent based primarily on the amount found in a person's possession, jurors convicted Owen.
Presiding Judge Thomas Kistler, having virtually no power over sentencing, staged a subtle protest from the bench and trimmed 24 hours off Owen's sentence. Anyone sentenced to a five-year prison term must serve it in state prison.
But I imagine that in a county sharply divided over the price of a new prison, prosecutors didn't want to draw the ire of taxpayers curious to know why they were paying to incarcerate a first-time, nonviolent drug offender.
So, in a move that shocked even the most ardent anti-drug advocates, the district attorney's office appealed Kistler's order, seeking to tack 24 hours back on to Owen's sentence. The higher court rejected the appeal and allowed the shorter sentence to stand, saying in so many words that the charge applied to Owen was really intended for drug dealers, and he clearly wasn't one.
Compare this outcome to a nearly identical case three years ago. In 2000, Christopher Johnstone, a Penn State professor and former Patton Township supervisor, was arrested for possessing 28 plants 4 to 6 feet tall and about two pounds of dried marijuana hidden throughout the house in coffee cans, peanut butter jars, in the den, in the freezer and baked into brownies.
At the time, Centre County District Attorney Ray Gricar seemed more concerned about Johnstone's job at Penn State than prosecuting him on drug charges.
In a 2001 Centre Daily Times article, Gricar was quoted saying, "It was clear Mr. Johnstone was not a dealer. The marijuana was for his own use. ... I didn't want him to lose his job."
Johnstone received probation and a $1,000 fine.
Support for Johnstone was overwhelming. Todd Keith, identified as a resident director of the ABC House for The Second Mile, wrote an editorial in defense of Johnstone. While praising Gricar for his temperate and enlightened handling of a case some politicians seek to exploit, Keith qualified his adulation with something rather prophetic:
"I just hope, if Johnstone had not been a Penn State professor or a Patton Township supervisor, and instead had been a teenager or a blue-collar worker, Gricar's decision would be the same."
Mr. Gricar, is this why you have tried so hard to pass the buck to your assistant district attorneys? Will you hold yourself accountable and work to correct this miscarriage of justice or must we do it for you?
Owen, who is a Canadian citizen, has become a pawn in a larger political chess game. Canada has progressed further than the United States in reversing its antiquated drug laws. The Canadian courts have pushed the country toward decriminalization; not only legalizing marijuana for medicinal use, but mandating that the government provide it to patients. The Bush administration has vehemently opposed it and has threatened numerous retaliations. One such retaliation appears to be making an example out of one their own.
Owen seems to have been caught in the crossfire.
Justin Leto is a former campus organizer and a local writer and editor. He currently lives in Lemont.
Pubdate: Tue, 30 Sep 2003
Source: Centre Daily Times, State College, Pa
Copyright: 2003, Centre Daily Times
Contact: cdtletters@centredaily.com
Website: Happy Valley Breaking News, Sports & Crime | Centre Daily Times
Terry Owen: terryowen@buzztoneweb.com
