Marijuana Missionary

WOMAN'S MEDICINAL CLINIC FIRES CONTROVERSY IN THOUSAND OAKS

THOUSAND OAKS--In an anonymous office park in this conservative city, a
self-styled revolutionary is hard at work. The sleeves of her brocade
blazer pushed up, long auburn hair piled in a messy twist, Andrea Nagy is
dispensing marijuana to a patient.

While the patient, who has undergone 13 intestinal surgeries in two years,
waits in a nearby chair, Nagy drops buds of the illicit weed onto a digital
scale. One-eighth of an ounce, $40.

"She's an angel," sighs Katie DiSilva, a 37-year-old mother, who says her
ulcerative colitis and Crohn's disease rage mercilessly without marijuana.
"God's on her side."

If an angel, Nagy's a controversial one. It has taken all of four months
for this slight 28-year-old spitfire to become one of Ventura County's most
infamous business owners--or primary caregivers, as Nagy prefers to be
considered. It was in September that the legal secretary turned pot
crusader opened the Rainbow Country Ventura County Medical Cannabis Center
with half a dozen clients. Nagy's Thousand Oaks dispensary now serves 46.

With a single-minded ferocity, Nagy has forced the issue of medical
marijuana use on the police, district attorney and elected officials in
law-and-order Ventura County. So far, they have treated her gingerly. At
every City Council hearing and in every newspaper possible, Nagy testifies
that her patients need marijuana for their multiple sclerosis, cancer and
AIDS. Personally, Nagy uses marijuana to treat chronic migraines.

Come narcs or personal bankruptcy, she is hellbent on distributing the drug
she grows at her center. She has taken a leave from her secretary's job to
run the center, and says she has sunk thousands of dollars into the
business.

"I might be a freedom fighter because my parents fled communism," said
Nagy, whose family left Hungary when she was 11. "I think everyone owes it
to themselves to claim their inalienable rights."

But the county in which Nagy (pronounced Nadj) is staking her claim just
happens to be a bastion of DARE classes and conservative politics. Small
wonder, then: Not everyone here cottons to Nagy's cannabis crusade. Some of
Nagy's critics grudgingly admit respect for her political savvy and freely
express empathy for her patients. But they worry about the message her
dispensary is sending. Even many of those who oppose her cannabis center
are reluctant to criticize Nagy publicly.

Privately, some critics cite a criminal conviction and a string of motor
vehicle violations that, they claim, suggest a pattern of lawlessness. In
1991, Nagy was arrested, charged and convicted of cultivating marijuana in
her Newbury Park home. She was sentenced to 250 hours community service and
five years probation--later reduced to four.

An avowed lead foot, Nagy estimates that she has had a dozen speeding
tickets in as many years. Her court records show 11 motor vehicle citations
since 1990. Just last month, a jury convicted her of reckless driving in
connection with an incident where Nagy was zipping along the Ventura
Freeway at speeds of 85 mph or greater, according to court records. She was
sentenced to 36 months probation and 10 days in a work-release program.

Saying that she should have been charged with speeding, not reckless
driving, Nagy has appealed. "The big thing that occurred to me when I
looked at the case was that she has a problem with authority figures and
the law," said prosecutor Ryan Wright. "I think even her lawyer
acknowledged that. She is more than assertive."

Critics stress that federal law clearly outlaws growing, possessing or
distributing pot, although California voters approved a medical marijuana
initiative, Proposition 215, in 1996.

"I mean, we're teaching our kids to 'just say no' to drugs," said Thousand
Oaks Mayor Mike Markey, a retired police officer who wants Nagy's shop
shuttered. "And she's here selling marijuana?"

But, he added, Nagy is canny in her tactics. She obtained a business
license for her dispensary, has met with law enforcement and brings a crowd
of patients to public hearings. "She's working the system," he said. "In my
mind, I don't know if she's smart or what, but she knows how to work the
system."

"She certainly seems to be a professional person," said Thousand Oaks City
Councilwoman Elois Zeanah, who refused in December to shut down Nagy's
business. "And she's certainly being hounded right now. We'll see how
strong she is. It takes a strong person to receive the hounding she is
receiving now and not buckle."

Nagy says her interest in medical cannabis--and marijuana legalization,
period--comes from personal experience. Her searing migraines first started
in puberty. A joint offered by a friend when Nagy was 13 loosened the
muscles and eased the pain, almost immediately. Nagy was convinced.

At the same time that Nagy--the daughter of a baker and a physical
therapist--was using marijuana to treat herself, she also became a budding
activist. During high school, Nagy served on Thousand Oaks' youth council,
which advises city leaders on teenagers' concerns. She moved briefly to
Indiana with her mother and missed enough school to face this decision:
repeat a year at Thousand Oaks High School or finish out classes at the
continuation high school. She chose the latter, and became senior class
president at Conejo Valley High School.

Viewing legal prohibitions against marijuana as ridiculous, Nagy took to
growing her own headache remedy--as her criminal record attests.

Now working on her associate's degree at Moorpark College, the Thousand
Oaks resident hopes to become an environmental lawyer. Those who know her
best say Nagy can accomplish almost anything she sets her mind to. In this
case, she sits in the middle of a legal thicket.

While no one has moved to shut Nagy down, law enforcement is keeping tabs
on her business. Sheriff's deputies have dropped by twice to check on her
club--which so far has generated one unsubstantiated citizen complaint. The
second time, they came with video cameras.

"Nobody wants to take medicine from someone who is seriously ill or dying,"
said sheriff's Capt. Chris Godfrey. "The state law allowing them to use
marijuana they grow themselves has to be respected. But that has to be
balanced against the public health and safety concerns that her marijuana
storefront is opening a Pandora's Box."

Although her cannabis center has a "pharmaceutical-related" business
license, Nagy lacks a certificate of occupancy from the city. That means
she can't apply for further permits that would allow her to make any
renovations to help grow her flourishing crop.

A judge recently refused to order the city to grant the certificate.
Although the City Council has failed to muster enough votes to impose a
moratorium on medical marijuana outlets, Nagy isn't exactly welcomed with
open arms either. City leaders will examine the medical marijuana issue at
a Feb. 3 meeting.

Two city officials--Markey and Councilman Andy Fox--have asked the U.S.
attorney's office to look closely at Nagy's shop and crops. The federal
prosecutors have been in contact with local officials, said U.S. attorney's
spokesman Thom Mrozek. "We have not taken, as of this time, any enforcement
activity against the marijuana club," he said.

Meantime, federal officials are trying to shut down six cannabis centers in
Northern California.

And there is the small matter of suspicious-looking men in dark suits
hanging around Nagy's house and office, she says. Nagy reports being
watched at least three days in the last week. "It was the same people in
the same suits in the same car just sitting around and walking by," Nagy
said. "They said they were investors looking at the [office] building.
Right."

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