In Pari Materia The Sweet Smell of Trouble

In Pari Materia The Sweet Smell of Trouble

My buddy—I will call him “DeFeyter” for purposes of this blog, since he was the only Dutch Middleweight champion in the last 75 years—bounces questions off me, from time to time. Usually the questions are bounced when we are slurping a brew and watching the Red Wings do their (most of the time) beautiful thing.

He does this because we go back a ways and because he knows I won’t charge him my normal legal-pirate hourly rate as long as we are just chewing the fat. That’s OK with me (most of the time) because it lets me be the know-it-all that I love to be. Of course there is also the tiny collateral benefit of helping to ease the mind of my friend.

On this particular occasion, the Wings were down in the dumps and so was my buddy. Now, you have to understand that DeFeyter has been blessed with a lovely daughter who has also brought a huge headache into his life.

The headache is packaged in the form of “Rupert,” a son-in-law who manages to land himself in the nasty soup more often than you might think possible.

Rupert, of course, is not his real name but I dare not risk the two-fisted wrath of my talented friend. Turns out, Rupert was off on a business venture with one of his more suspect acquaintances in said acquaintance’s ride.

Sad to say, the car had a tail light out and was pulled over by one of our County’s Finest. This particular County Mounty was possessed of a remarkably keen sense of smell.

While checking the usual paperwork on Rupert’s pal, he casually mentioned that the vehicle had a strange aroma of El Supremo wafting from the trunk. Rupert’s friend quickly proffered his Medical Marihuana card, as did Rupert, hoping to put the hound off the scent, so to speak.

Well, it didn’t work.

The deputy called for backup and eventually extracted several of the pal’s finest green-leafy plants from the trunk.

DeFeyter’s question, of course, was whether that was legal.

Turns out it is.

Even the smell of dope, without more, justified the search.

Also, the “get-out-of-jail-free” medical use certificate is only an after-the-fact defense.

Pal was snatched up by John Law and charged. Maybe he can front a defense, maybe not. Fortunately for Rupert (and DeFeyter’s daughter, one supposes) it wasn’t his car and the trunk was outside his control.

While we may not see the pal for a while, Rupert is still around to give headaches to my friend. The Wings, of course, are still around as well.



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