By Bridget Carolan
By Bridget Carolan
State’s Attorney Marilyn Mosby announced in January that she would no longer prosecute marijuana possession cases. Much like her photoshoot with Vogue after she announced the charges against the six officers in the Freddie Gray case, she rushed first to the New York Times following her marijuana announcement for a photoshoot in her typical style—highlighting her flawless jawline and gazing wistfully into the distance, unsmiling.
Although the headline captured the attention of the nation, her timing was calculated and her motives were clear. Despite having held office for nearly five years, her overwhelming sense of responsibility to her city came now, January 2019, when she conveniently realized that there was racial discrimination in marijuana possession charges. With biting words, she announced that there “is no public safety value” in the prosecution of marijuana cases. She isn’t wrong about this. Despite using marijuana at the same rate, black people are nearly four times as likely to be arrested for it, as study after study shows.
What she failed to emphasize, however, was that her prosecutors regularly pursue cases in which marijuana law is leveraged to their advantage. Most notably, if a police officer claims that they smelled weed, that is legal justification to conduct an otherwise unconstitutional search. Here is the kicker—there is not requirement that they uncover any marijuana during the search in order to justify it. This leaves a massive loophole for discriminatory enforcement, even after her announcement.
Gary Tuggle, interim Police Commissioner in January, and current commissioner Michael Harrison have both responded to the announcement with their commitment to upholding the law, not the State’s Attorney’s policy, but both emphasized the low-priority they give to marijuana possession cases. Mosby has used this non-cooperation to transfer blame to the police department. In shifting responsibility, she strategically ignores that prosecutorial discretion leaves it completely within her rights to stand stronger against the racial injustice marijuana laws have created.
Were she to announce that she would not prosecute cases where the search was the result of a claim of the ‘scent of marijuana,’ she could shape police behavior away from this racist practice. She also intends to continue to prosecute Possession With Intent to Distribute—contending that in cases with “baggies or scales,” she would prosecute as long as it was above the criminal minimum of 10 grams.
Baltimore stopped prosecuting most marijuana possession cases long ago—since 2014, only an average of 27 cases are pursued a year. Although 27 cases is 27 too many, I agree, the splashiness of her announcement coupled with the major loopholes she left for her and her prosecutors are cause for serious skepticism.
As for the police department’s role in this, it looks like a new one just came to town. The State legislature approved the Johns Hopkins Private Police force last month and the bill is expected to be signed by Governor Larry Hogan. Although it will take a few years to implement, Johns Hopkins represents the single biggest employer in Baltimore city, and as such, the police force is bound to have no small impact on the city. Opponents of the private police bill fear that the new force will create a real opportunity for racial discrimination. Especially with the high-profile wrongful death of Tyrone West at the hands of a Morgan State police officer, there are real grounds for worry.
A set of progressive department policies from Ronald Daniels, president of Johns Hopkins University, would offer a good first step in pushing the policing conversation to one that is more equitable. With news of the biggest police-corruption scandal in the city’s history, the Gun Trace Task Force breaking last year, the Baltimore Police clearly have a lot to learn. Perhaps the Hopkins Police Force could serve as an example for what equitable policing looks like in Baltimore.
For progress to be made, the commitment to progressive policies has to be more than Mosby’s political parade. Marijuana stands forefront of the criminal justice conversation, so it would be a good place to start. Building from the energy of the opposition should come a specific set of demands for Johns Hopkins Private Police policy—the movement has shown early success in getting a more robust set of community based structures written into the bill itself.
How Hopkins chooses to handle marijuana arrests with their new police force will serve as a signal about the future of policing in Baltimore—whether the new department mimics the Baltimore Police’s tough on crime, racially discriminatory practices, or whether it represents a new, progressive page in Baltimore’s history.