James M. Redwine

Drug Use

Blame Lucy

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Louis and Mary Leakey discovered some early human ancestors in Tanzania, Africa’s Olduvai Gorge in 1959. Donald Johanson discovered who may be our original grandmother in Ethiopia’s Great Rift Valley in 1974. He named her Lucy because he was a Beatles fan and listened to the song “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” right after his discovery. It may be uncharitable to Johanson and paleontology to point out many believe the song was a paean to LSD. On the other hand, those who question Lucy’s bona fides may find solace in this theory.

At the opposite end of those Doubting Thomas’ is the atheistic biologist Richard Dawkins from the University of Oxford who pushed human origins back to as much as five million years ago and posited his meme theory. Dawkins suggests that it is our replicating genes that determine who and what we are and why we behave as we do. One of his famous analogies to explain the evolution of human biology and behavior is to suggest we envision a long line of mothers holding hands all the way back to Lucy. And, as for me, my experiences with my mother and my wife, Peg, convince me there is some credence to the science of the Leakeys, Johanson and Dawkins.

Let’s envision Lucy, our grandmother, in her African cave while our mythical grandfather, call him Adam, goes out to hunt a mastodon for dinner. Adam is struggling with how to trick the massive beast to stampede over a cliff, but Lucy is back home planning for Adam’s return. After Lucy rearranges the lodge pole front door for the tenth time, she surveys the cave’s interior. She is dissatisfied with the position of the bearskin rug she had Adam move just yesterday. She makes a mental note to have Adam shake out the bearskin and figure out a way to attach it to the granite wall of the cave.

Next, Lucy inventories the two stone cooking utensils that Adam carved out for her last week and decides she must have another small one for their new baby’s meals. Lucy switches the positions of the two vessels for the third time. They look better to her now. Lucy gives the baby a bath in the stream running in front of their cave and realizes with only a few days of work with his stone hoe Adam could divert water right to their cave. Lucy resolves to mention her idea to Adam over a handful of fermenting blackberries when he returns.

Meanwhile Adam is full of a sense of accomplishment because he has skinned the mastodon and is hauling the hide, one ivory tusk and a huge chunk of meat back for Lucy to admire. Adam assumes his work is done for a week or two because Lucy will need to tan the hide, process the meat and make sewing needles from the tusk as she cooks dinner and nurses the baby.

Gentle Reader, you may wonder, or you may not care, why we are discussing the lives of Lucy, Adam and baby from thousands of years ago. Well, I will tell you. About three years ago Peg and I moved into our cabin on the prairie. By unspoken agreement Peg took over all space but my barn. This worked out fine until over the two years of COVID Peg had time to organize every inch of her Girl Cave, the Bunkhouse, the Cabin and even the neutral territory of our garage. Last week spring truly arrived and Peg turned her gaze on my barn. It has not been pretty.

As long as she did not have to look at my laissez-faire system of “if it ain’t in my way, why worry about it”, well, she didn’t worry herself with it. But once she opened the overhead doors and found the mother lode of “my stuff”, she focused her female/Lucy type DNA upon my space. It reminded me of when my sainted mother would venture into my room on a Saturday morning and turn it upside down. Peg and Mom and Lucy and all wives and mothers in between have spent about two million years of two X chromosomal fixation with organization of sons’ and husbands’ behavior. I guess my three-year barn reprieve is over.

Hope Is The Plan

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It is not what I have not known that has caused me the most concern, it has been those things I have known for sure that turn out to be wrong. Usually when I have had no doubt of my position on an issue it matters little if the facts belie my stance as only personal embarrassment is the result. However, as a judge, when I have cavalierly approached a problem, say the best way to legally process non-violent drug offenders, real harm may have resulted. At the least, real good that might have been done may not have been.

I do not assert that I now have the answer to what is the best way for a judge, at least one judge, to handle non-violent users of illegal substances. In fact, I seem to have transitioned from absolute certainty that the best way to save the miscreant and society was to slam a prison gate for a significant time to fearing I have no solution.

I am still comfortable incarcerating anyone who harms others physically, police officers for example. But when one harms only him or herself or even engages in the sharing of substances with other consenting adults not for profit, expending significant public resources to prosecute and lock them up no longer strikes me as rational.

While I have spent years helping to prosecute and/or judge many non-violent offenders it was yesterday’s chance encounter with someone on the other side of the Bench that caused my most recent re-examination of my judicial philosophy concerning these issues. This person shared with me that he has already done several years in prison for illegal drug sales to and from acquaintances. He works full-time and helps support his children. He is still on active probation. His sentence is one I might have imposed had he come before me.

Each year of prison cost taxpayers near $20,000 not considering the taxes an inmate could have paid in had he been working those years. This person I was talking with is a skillful and willing workman. Of course, many drug users often have difficulty finding a job or showing up for work and holding on to a job. That is where a good probation system is key. Assuming society does not believe non-violent drug users should be imprisoned for life, all such offenders must be released sometime.

I am acutely aware that almost all low-level non-violent drug offenders are not “first timers”. Often parents, clergy people, police officers and friends have tried to help drug addicts for years before formal legal proceedings are filed. Then, many times an offender is given another chance to rehabilitate themselves, usually with generous allowances made for “backsliding”. But, if the offenders are harming mainly themselves, society is only wasting taxpayer resources to “punish” a repeat offender who sins again. I can attest that it is extremely frustrating to have someone who has been given repeated opportunities fall off the wagon. On the other hand, the alternative simply kicks the can down the road and takes resources away from other more pressing public problems.

Please remember I have already admitted I have no solutions. On the other hand, I think, a cost benefit analysis is not unreasonable. At least with the non-violent drug abuser I spent time with yesterday it appears to be the best answer. I do not offer this approach either as a general panacea or a prophylactic for our country’s drug pandemic. But, if we encourage some to become producers instead of consumers of public resources, the ones who are not redirected will be fewer and we will all be better off.