What you’re about to read is more than a memoir. It’s a chronicle of the scars I carry: from betrayal, from backroom deals, from decades of a broken system. You’ll meet the people who helped me. The ones who hurt me. The cops who shook my hand, then raided my home. The prosecutors who used their offices to fund their lifestyles. The judges who smiled as they judged me.
You’ll learn how I sold weed to members of the Cincinnati Reds. How I became the subject of a CIA investigation. How I went from being “just another white guy” in the suburbs to a central figure in America’s great cannabis reckoning.
You’ll see that this was never about marijuana. Not really. This was about control. About race. About power.
The war on cannabis has never been a war on a plant. It is a war on people.
The stigma surrounding cannabis is not the true threat. The real contagions are greed and hate—two forces embedded deep within the bones of our justice system. Marijuana prohibition was never born from science. It was born from racism and fear. And those roots still grow.
This book is what I saw as a soldier in that war.
