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Cannabis Campaigners' Guide News Database result:
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UK: Dope: its no longer a bust
John Naish The Times
Thursday 05 Sep 2002 The newly announced three-strikes rule for cannabis smokers will, I am sure, make one social minority very happy. I don't mean the habitual tokers, but the many police officers, who, from the evidence of my unfortunate substance-related encounter some years ago, treat cannabis arrests as a waste of time. I bet they can't wait for next July, when the new policy will start to allow people caught once or twice with cannabis for personal use to hand over the drug, accept a formal warning and go on their way. Only if such users are careless enough to get caught three times in 12 months will they face arrest and caution. Until July, anyone with a sliver of dope still faces the charade I experienced. I fell foul of the law after a week in northern England chasing dull news stories at drab conferences. On my return home I fancied a little treat and remembered a friend's claim that a certain South London pub doorway was a safe and certain place to buy hash. I went, scored and, in a flash, the dope dealer vaporised and I found myself in a police van. "What's your name, son," demanded one of the four officers surrounding me. I was unable to answer as I had a mouthful of Jamaican pattie which was proving difficult to swallow. "Oh dear, son. Got a dry mouth have we?" he asked. His colleagues rocked with laughter. It set the tone for the next two hours. As the Sherpa van nosed through Brixton police station's huge gates, voices yelled from surrounding windows. "What's he in for," asked one. "Dope!" shouted the driver. "Rots your brain," cried a voice three storeys up. "Shrinks your willy," yelled another. "Gets you nicked," shouted a third. Laughter all round again. Except from me. I was clearly the butt of a well-worn routine. Once inside, my possessions, shoelaces, necktie and belt were taken from me, my pockets and baggage searched for hypodermics, and I was taken off to a cell for a full body search. And I mean a full body search. "Humiliating, isn't it?" said the officer as I stood back upright. It can't have been a joy for him either. I was then interrogated as to my drug-taking, to which I admitted to having "smoked a little pot at university", and was than treated to a standard verbal dressing down for engaging in petty lawbreaking that helped to fund criminal activities of a far more serious nature. It didn't seem the right time to debate the case for decriminalising cannabis, thus breaking the criminal cycle. It seemed a perfect time to show respect for the law, as indeed I do (with this obvious exception). I was only too aware that a colleague had been charged with possession of a tiny amount of cannabis and convicted, thus ruining any chance of working abroad in countries such as America. It may have helped my case that I was wearing a suit at the time of the offence and was prepared to display appropriate contrition. But the officers clearly felt they could be performing more worthwhile tasks and were irritated at my stupidity in getting caught in such a manner. So after a worrying interlude in a cell, I was taken to the front desk for a formal telling off. I agreed (gladly) to an official caution in return for signing a form acknowledging that I had committed the offence. I apologised to the sergeant for wasting his time. He said I had managed to tie his officers up with paperwork for the next hour and asked me please not to do it again. As I walked free, two of the arresting officers waved a plastic bag containing the pea-sized lump of cannabis I had bought. "How much did you pay?" one asked. "Christ, you were ripped right off. This is really stale. We know where you could get much better." It didn't seem right to ask where.
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