My mother always told me that having a genuine and youthful excitement about life would keep me young. I have tried to live with this principle in mind. For instance, you could have found me at the very first performance of Lord of the Rings, praying (okay, let's downgrade that to hoping) that I would not be hit by a car on my way to see the final episode of The Return of the King. You would also find me at every new Disney animation film, laughing louder than the kids. It's a principle that has given me hope for the future and allows me to avoid becoming jaded in my old age.
The federal government is testing my philosophy. Of course, I won't try to take this personally but I am facing a tough reality that tests my childish hopes. As most of you know, I represent several medical marijuana collectives in Lake Forest. Despite California law that confirms the right of medical marijuana patients to obtain marijuana for their illnesses, the City of Lake Forest insists that collectives and dispensaries can be absolutely banned in the city.
Okay, so we both have our legal positions. That's what the courts are for. Unfortunately, the City of Lake Forest has spent an awful lot of money defending its position. My clients are not nearly as wealthy, or maybe I am just a cheap date, but I have yet to reap the benefits of even a fraction of what the City has paid to its attorneys. My tools for this battle have been my mind and my research and writing abilities. They have always served me well. In fact, one of the things I like about being an appellate lawyer is that you don't have to get your hands dirty, as you might in trial, and its not nearly as confrontational. When the facts of a case are boiled down to the essentials, an appeal is really about judicial error. Being an analytical type, I am comfortable in this playground.
By the feds have changed that game plan. Being a good lawyer is just not enough. Having the strength of California law on your side is meaningless. As I prepare for oral argument on the issue of whether the city can ban collectives, I have just discovered - yes, within the last hour - that my clients are gone. First, the feds seized the bank accounts of the property manager and told the landlord that he or she better evict these evil collectives. If the property manager failed to do so, then the feds just might seize the real property as well. Three-day notices to quit were promptly served. Today I am told by an unnamed (and frightened) source that my clients were told if they did not vacate within three-days, the feds would raid the collectives and shut them down.
To use a term employed in tennis -- Advantage City. No due process, no right to adjudicate issues in an unlawful detainer and the appellate court, no discussion, just goodbye and don't slam the door behind you. What happened to my clients? Perhaps once they are closed down, they might not have the ability to continue the fight. Times are tough, but maybe they will get tougher for me now that my clients have been sent packing.
This is not the America that I have believed in, a land that pays respect to the rights of others and the rule of law. Worse yet, I have to wonder what will happen to the patients. I include in my concern the "seemingly healthy young males" that might be suffering from cancer and other diseases but don't advertise their diseases so judgmental people can determine, without medical expertise, if these people are truly suffering. I also find myself thinking about the man who showed up recently at one of the collectives, struggling to get up the stairs with his crutches and legs that refused to obey him. And what about the guy who has been struggling to overcome AIDS since 2000? Don't these people have any rights? It is a sad day to have to tell these people that their medicine is beyond their reach.
As Michael Moore has often said, we are living in a country ruled by fear. I refuse to give in to fear. I have the law and the Constitution on my side! Oh, wait, there is someone knocking on my door. The pounding is getting heavier. I'll be back . . .