Destiny's Child

Highwitness News: Who are the real criminals of the Drug War? A beautiful, spirited woman named Renee Boje? Or the US government that wants her behind bars?

High Times, July 2001

By Dan Skye

The night before I meet Renee Boje I get a disturbing phone call. She is on a silent retreat. She's not speaking.

The tickle of panic. How, exactly, am I supposed to interview her? Am I going to get the silent treatment?

I manage to sound unfazed by the development and assure the caller that I'm coming anyway, and will need someone to meet me at the ferryboat landing when I arrive on British Columbia's Sunshine Coast, where Renee lives.

The Sunshine Coast is about a 45-minute ferry ride from Horseshoe Bay near Vancouver. It got its name for obvious reasons. The towns along its shoreline are situated on the edge of a peninsula that extends into the Strait of Georgia and receives a warming southwestern exposure to the sun's rays. The Sunshine Coast is also home to a community of Canada's most effective cannabis activists, and Renee has found a home among them.

She needed one. That's because Renee Boje is a fugitive fighting extradition to the US, a pawn caught in the machinery of the War on Drugs.

It was 1997 when she ran into Todd McCormick. A cancer victim and longtime user of medical marijuana, McCormick is probably the most visible proponent of medical use [Interview, Jun. '01 HT). He had joined forces with author Peter McWilliams to establish the means to cultivate and distribute medical pot on a major scale. McWilliams, who had gained fame with his Life 101 series of self-help books and the widely praised Ain't Nobody's Business If You Do, commissioned McCormick to write a comprehensive volume to be titled How To Grow Medical Marijuana. McCormick would write it while tending a massive garden in Los Angeles. Renee Boje a virtual innocent, fresh out of college with a fine-arts degree, who had never been a marijuana activist, was hired to do the illustrations for the book. It was her first professional job and it thrust her into a maelstrom of calamity.

The house where the garden was I located was under surveillance, and was ultimately raided in July '97. Despite California's new law legalizing medical pot in the state, the Feds busted McCormick, who is now serving a five-year prison term. McWilliams was later arrested and convicted as the "ringleader." Denied marijuana to combat his AIDS/cancer condition, he died last year.

Though McCormick and McWilliams steadfastly denied Renee's involvement with the operation, cops alleged that they had observed her watering plants and taking bong hits. She was busted as well and held for three days. Though she was grilled by the DEA and stripsearched an astonishing 15 times, she refused to offer any information about the garden, an operation she defined as a "moral undertaking." She was charged with conspiracy, cultivation and possession with intent to distribute.

Following her release, she was forced to submit to random drug tests and pop-up visits from probation officers. Her phone was tapped and DEA agents trailed her constantly.

That October, her charges were suddenly dropped. Relieved, Renee returned to her artwork and set about organizing fundraisers for McCormick. However, in May '98, word filtered down through her attorney that the Feds planned to reinstate the charges. Facing a 10-year mandatory-minimum prison sentence, she fled north to Canada.

When my ferry docks on the Sunshine Coast, I call the contact number I've been given. Renee, herself, answers. Good news for me. She ended her silent retreat last night.

Those who describe her invariably cite her aura, her keen sense of her own spirutality -- this, despite having been on the run for over three years, bouncing across Canada in disguise, living hand to mouth with bounty hunters tracking her. Truth be told, she is a beguiling, sylph-like presence, wearing a touch of glitter around her eyes, dressed delicately in a crocheted sweater and a long, flowing Skirt. She speaks in a soft, lilting voice, punctuating her speech with slight, little laughs. Her sentences take tiny upturns at their end, like little pleas, as if asking, "Do you understand me?" She calls herself "very shy."

I ask her about her recent silent vigil. "1 did it to honor the forest and the plants," she explains. "Also, to honor the Year of the Snake, which focuses humanity on harnessing kundalini energy. I need to prepare myself for what lies ahead. It's so important for me to stay balanced and strong right now."

Regardless of what the Year of the Snake may represent, this calendar year will see her fate determined. In February 2000, she was arrested at the Vancouver Compassion Club and faced immediate deportation. She filed for refugee status, which was disallowed. However, her right to appeal was upheld. Now Canadian Minister of Justice, Anne McClelland, must decide whether Renee Boje can remain free in Canada or be returned to the US to stand trial.

"I feel like I'm supposed to do this," Boje offers. "I know this happened for a reason. I think my case demonstrates that the US government is not coming from a compassionate place. It doesn't care about people."

She worries deeply about Todd McCormick, and continues to mourn Peter McWilliams, whom she calls "an angel, someone who is still with us, working for the movement on an unseen level."

But the concrete demands of her defense are formidable. Her attorney, John Conroy, has advised her to generate all the media attention she can muster. Countless sympathizers have expressed their support for Renee, and McLelland's office has been flooded with letters from a wide-ranging list of notables, including Woody Harrelson, Dr. Lester Grinspoon, Robert Anton Wilson, Ethan Nadelmann and Noam Chomsky. Additionally, a number of Canadian legislators have registered their concern. Attorney Conroy says, "I find it difficult to believe that Renee would be sent back. She meets all the criteria for refugee status in Canada."

This summer, McClelland will hand down her decision. If she refuses to grant political asylum, Renee's last recourse would be an appeal to the Supreme Court of Canada, a process that will cost C$250,000 (about $170,000). To that end, she and supporters are mounting fund raising projects like the Healing Herb Festival.

While a single woman's freedom may hang in the balance, larger issues are at stake, harkening back to the Vietnam War, when American draft evaders fled to Canada rather than participate in a pointless, dirty war. If Renee Boje is granted asylum, will other US marijuana offenders seek similar shelter? If Canada just says "No" to the US and its War on Drugs, how do the two nations reconcile their differences?

"I have to believe I'll win this," says Renee. "I don't have any other choice. In the bigger picture, I feel incredibly blessed to be in this position -- incredibly fortunate to be using my life to further the issue of medical marijuana. I know a bad outcome could destroy me. It's very dark what's going on in the US. But the universe is taking care of me. And that's where I have to place my trust."

Go to reneeboje.com for information on her case and the Healing Herb Festival.



Copyright © 2000 Renee Boje Legal Defense Fund. All rights reserved.