High Above the Law

The victory in Columbia motivated the pro-pot lobby to try for a statewide change. And they've picked up some unlikely allies, potentially leading to a legitimate statewide debate about medical marijuana.

Earlier this year, state Rep. Tom Villa of St. Louis agreed to sponsor House Bill 1831 — the proposed law for which Patterson testified. It would have allowed patients who have a doctor's prescription for pot to receive a special license from the state to grow up to three marijuana plants and possess up to 3 ounces of processed weed. Villa, who works at his family's business distributing light bulbs, is anything but a pothead. When asked whether he partakes, he points to his round belly and then to his bald head. "Do I look like I do?" he quips. "I'm 61. I'm pretty boring, I guess. I have no experience with it at all."

It was a sense of compassion that moved him to sponsor the legislation, Villa says. Besides, Villa is a former majority whip and has served eight terms as a Democrat from liberal south St. Louis, so he doesn't fear conservatives attacking him for a pro-pot stance.

Wayne Cooper, the chair of the House's Health Care Policy Committee, seemed receptive to the medical marijuana bill during the hearing in April. He's a Republican and a former Christian missionary to the Philippines — not exactly the type to favor medical marijuana. But advocates often find allies among physicians, who know that weed is beneficial to glaucoma and cancer patients.

Cooper was alone in voicing his support during the April hearing. Most of the other 10 representatives looked as disinterested as Rep. Kathy Chinn, a 52-year-old pork farmer from Clarence. Chinn says she's against legalizing any drug. "I thought she had things she needed to express," Chinn said when the Pitch asked what she thought of Patterson's testimony. "I do not judge her. That is not what I do."

Cooper had scheduled the hearing with only two weeks left in the legislative session, meaning there wasn't enough time for the bill to get a full vote from the House. But getting a hearing is something, Villa says. "There is some light at the end of the tunnel," he says. "Just not this year."

This summer, proponents will hone the bill's language in hopes that the committee might send it on to the House for debate.

And a debate over medical marijuana on the House floor of a state controlled by conservatives would get the movement some needed attention, says Dan Viets, a 54-year-old lawyer from Columbia. Viets has spent 20 years defending kids busted with small amounts of dope and is one of the state's most active pro-pot lobbyists. It's unlikely that Missouri will soon join the other 12 states with some form of medical marijuana law, but Viets hopes to at least send a message. "Why in the world would we not trust our doctors with marijuana when we trust them with morphine, codeine and amphetamines?" he says.

Patterson has already experienced what it's like to smoke medical marijuana legally. In April, while traveling to California for a conference put on by Patients Out of Time, she visited the office of a Bay Area doctor who's known for prescribing cannabis. She smoked a joint with him in his office. She says the doctor estimated that her speech improved by 75 percent.

Even more than helping to stop the stutter, pot does something else: It helps her forget.

Tension between Jacqueline and Travis Patterson started building during a long cold spell back in December 2004. Travis was working construction, but the severe cold had kept his job site closed from late November. Jacqueline was six months pregnant with their fourth child, and the bills weren't getting paid.

On Christmas, the kids came downstairs to find a bunch of poorly wrapped gifts under the tree. There was one for Jacqueline: gold butterfly earrings with amethyst and peridot stones. Jacqueline knew Travis had spent his last check on the presents. It was sweet, but it was also the last of their money.

A couple of weeks passed before the fight broke out. Patterson accused her husband of squandering money. Another couple was staying with them at the time, so they tried to keep their shouts down to keep their friends from hearing the argument. At some point, Jacqueline took off her wedding ring and threw it at Travis. He answered by making fun of her speech, something he hadn't done before.

"He stuttered the way I do," Patterson recalls. "As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked like, 'I can't believe I just said that.'"

She didn't talk to him the rest of that night or the next morning. By then, the cold weather was over, and he went to work. When he came home that night, Patterson was cooking a boxed dinner, a Skillet Sensation, with green beans on the side. Travis tried to apologize, but she pushed him away. "It was just the sweetest apology in the world, but I was too mad to accept it."

After dinner, Travis approached her again. She was in the kitchen struggling to take off a necklace. She's stubborn about that sort of thing. It'll take her 10 minutes to screw the cap on her youngest child's bottle, but she keeps turning until she gets it on. As Travis tried to help with the necklace, Patterson hit him with stinging words. "I would rather be raped again, a thousand times over, than get help from you."