Pubdate: Sun, 09 Feb 2014
Source: Seattle Times (WA)
Copyright: 2014 The Seattle Times Company
Contact:  http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/409
Author: Bob Young

POT-DELIVERY SERVICE FILLS VOID FOR EAGER BUYERS

Supply and Demand - Legal Pot Stores Are Months From Opening, Leaving 
Consumers in Limbo. Delivery Services Are Trying to Meet the Need.

Wombat sat in his car in a Wallingford parking lot, waiting to make a 
drug deal.

Shannon, 33, hopped in, her first time buying pot from the delivery 
service that Wombat - not his real name - works for. It's called 
Winterlife and because of its questionable legality, its employees 
use animal pseudonyms, such as Otter, Owl and Fox.

Shannon showed Wombat her ID. He showed her a couple different 
strains of pot in clear tidy packages and an array of pot-laced 
cookies, truffles and chocolate bars. She bought a quarter-ounce of 
Purple Wreck for $80 and several edibles for $25. This wasn't medical 
marijuana. This was the newly legal recreational variety.

Shannon didn't want to disclose her full name and occupation. But she 
did nothing illegal, according to Washington's voter approved 
recreational-pot law.

The law allows adults to possess up to an ounce of pot and a pound of 
marijuana-infused edibles. Where and how they got the products are 
not legally relevant, said Alison Holcomb, chief author of the law 
and criminal-justice director at the ACLU of Washington.

Winterlife is filling a void, said Evan Cox, one of the company's 
founders and owners. Pot consumers have been in limbo ever since 
Washington's new law took effect in December 2012. They can legally 
possess weed but there's no place for them to legally buy it until 
state-regulated stores open in late spring or summer.

Winterlife isn't the only service offering delivery of recreational 
pot. Others can be found in Craigslist ads, including Raccoons Club, 
a Winterlife spinoff.

But Winterlife is the most prominent with its advertising, 
appearances in local media and sophisticated website. Winterlife has 
more than 1,000 customers, said Cox, AKA "Possum."

"It's so convenient," Shannon said. "It's as easy as ordering pizza 
but faster."

But services that now sell recreational pot are committing a felony 
under state law, Holcomb said. Only state-licensed businesses can 
sell marijuana.

Cox acknowledged that he's taking a calculated risk. He believes 
Winterlife's precautions and overarching policy of "no kids, no 
shipping and no BS" makes his business legally defensible.

The Seattle Police Department may not go after Winterlife, according 
to a spokesman. "It's not legal. It undermines the spirit of the law. 
But like anything else, our department takes all the complaints and 
dedicates our resources in a way that makes sense and is going to be 
most impactful," said Sgt. Sean Whitcomb.

He compared the delivery services to speeding drivers. "They're doing 
about six miles over the limit on the freeway. They're banking 
they're not going to get stopped," Whitcomb said.

In previous stories about Winterlife on KOMO 4 and in The Stranger 
newspaper, Cox hasn't used his full name or allowed himself to be 
clearly photographed. But emboldened by such comments from the 
police, he was willing to do both for The Seattle Times.

Sales staff

"Hey it's Wombat at Winterlife."

Wombat was on to his second delivery, a little after noon, on a 
recent day. The new customer he called lives in the suburbs and 
Winterlife only delivers in Seattle. They arranged a meeting in the 
University District.

Wombat, 25, is a culinary school graduate. He's extremely polite, 
well-groomed and always uses his turn signals. He was a customer 
himself, he explained, built a relationship with his delivery guy, 
Otter, and couldn't turn down the opportunity, he said, to make good 
money at Winterlife as its business grew.

He picked his own animal name. He wanted something to distinguish him 
from the Bear and Bull, Owl and Elk.

His mom is nervous about the job, he said. "I tell her it's as legal 
as can be at the moment."

Wombat gets paid a percentage of what he sells. Some days he sees 10 
customers; on others it's more like 30. Most people buy 
quarter-ounces, he said, which tend to run about $80. Many customers 
tip as well.

"I think there's more risk of robberies than being busted by Seattle 
police," he said.

Wombat hasn't been robbed. But Cox said he was held up at gunpoint. 
Since then the company has done better at screening customers, he said.

Thieves tend to reveal themselves in questions they ask and in other 
ways, Wombat said. "We have filters for weeding out nefarious 
customers," Cox said.

Inventory

About 30 percent of Wombat's customers are happy to have him come to 
their homes, he said. The rest prefer to rendezvous at public sites, 
especially cautious first-time customers and tourists.

Wombat met Obie, 49, in a parking lot off Northeast 45th Street, near 
Interstate 5.

Obie, who didn't want his full name used, said he learned about 
Winterlife through friends on Facebook.

After 27 years of abstaining, Obie said, he's eager to try pot again 
now that it's legal and drug testing is less likely at his job.

He's tired of waiting for the state stores to open, he said. "What 
good is it being legal if you can't get it? What's the point?"

Obie is interested in the Critter Box, a $350 starter kit, that 
includes two kinds of marijuana, three kinds of hash, edibles, a 
vaporizer, a pipe and even wicks you use to ignite pot without having 
to inhale butane from a lighter.

Whenever a customer buys a Critter Box, Winterlife says it donates 
$100 to South Sound Critter Care, a nonprofit animal-rehabilitation 
center in Kent.

Obie purchases the package and tips Wombat.

"It's about time," Obie said of his legal bounty.

In terms of selection and prices, Shannon said Winterlife is "awesome."

She feels the quality of her neighborhood dealer's weed has recently 
slipped. "My guy is going to have to up his game if he wants to stay 
competitive," she said.

Law enforcement

Although companies like Winterlife could compete with stiffly taxed 
and regulated legal pot businesses when they open, state officials 
don't seem worried.

"We'd like to think local law enforcement would take care of local 
laws. Our job is to take care of licensees that fall under our 
system," said Brian Smith, spokesman for the state Liquor Control 
Board, which is creating and overseeing a recreational marijuana 
system that plans to license 334 stores and 2 million square feet of farms.

Holcomb believes Seattle police will continue to tolerate delivery 
services. Initiative 75, approved by the city's voters in 2003, made 
enforcement of adult use of marijuana the lowest priority for Seattle 
police, she noted.

King County Prosecuting Attorney Dan Satterberg also appears less 
than eager to crack down. "We're going to use our limited 
prosecutorial resources in cases that impact public safety. And 
because we're in a legal limbo on marijuana we'd take into account 
what a reasonable jury would conclude," said Ian Goodhew, 
Satterberg's deputy chief of staff.

Winterlife may make that decision easier. Cox said he plans to 
transition into a state-licensed marijuana processing business and 
away from delivery and retail.

Legalization expert Mark Kleiman doesn't expect companies like 
Winterlife to survive once state stores open. Pot sold in stores will 
be more appealing to customers, Kleiman said, because it will be 
tested for impurities, certified as safe, and labeled with the 
percentage of THC, pot's main psychoactive chemical, in it.

Winterlife's pot comes from medical marijuana collective gardens in 
Washington, Cox said. But it doesn't come with such assurances.

And if illegal-delivery services ever become a competitive threat to 
state stores, Kleiman said the solution is pretty simple. "Take one 
of these guys away in handcuffs and they'll stop," said Kleiman, a 
UCLA professor who has been a state consultant on marijuana policy.

Deliveries in the legal system would be a great idea, he said. It 
would help state sanctioned merchants overcome obstacles such as city 
and county bans on stores. Deliveries would allow residents in those 
jurisdictions to get weed without traveling far, or buying from an 
illegal dealer.

"Cities can say 'no' to a store," he said. "But they can't say 'no' 
to a sedan parked in front of a house when they make a delivery."

Both he and Holcomb advocated for delivery during the state's 
rule-making process.

But the Liquor Control Board opted against it. The law appears to 
explicitly prohibit deliveries, Holcomb said, and the board decided, 
for now, to be faithful to the letter of the law.

Seattle Times staff researchers Gene Balk and Miyoko Wolf contributed 
to this report.
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MAP posted-by: Jay Bergstrom