Ron Strider
Well-Known Member
A Middle Tennessee local filmmaker launched a campaign in hopes of funding a documentary about a man who "reinvented" himself as a blueberry farmer after facing a felony conviction for growing cannabis and providing it to others for medicinal use.
The "all or nothing" project, according to the documentary's website, will only be funded if it reaches its goal of at least $7,500 by Jan. 13.
When Valerie Whitcomb of Tepper Creek Films in Charlotte heard Bernie Ellis' story for the first time, she knew she wanted to tell his story via documentary: The Blueberry Farmer.
"It was a positive story of survival," she said. "It was somebody that had been through so much trauma because he was trying to do a good thing in the world, and because our laws are so antiquated that he got hurt in the process. In spite of all that, he managed to turn his life around and reinvent himself as a blueberry farmer, and I thought that whole story was powerful."
A public health epidemiologist, Ellis began providing medical cannabis to AIDS patients in 1987, and cancer patients soon after. He'd been growing small amounts of marijuana on Trace View Farm in Maury County for about 15 years "without incident."
But in 2002, Ellis looked up to find a law enforcement helicopter circling his farm. He believes a local drug dealer to whom he refused to sell cannabis turned him in.
According to a press release about the film, Trace View Farm was "raided" and approximately seven pounds of usable cannabis was confiscated as evidence.
"The feds made it a federal case because they wanted to confiscate my farm, which is worth about $1.5 million," Ellis said, though an agreement – after about seven years – only took a portion of it.
"My career essentially went away," he said. "I was helping four people when they raided me. And all of them died within a few months, much more miserable deaths than (they) would have had I been able to continue to help them."
Now, Trace View Farm is a location in which people may pick or order seasonal berries and jams, among other products.
But Ellis continues to advocate for the legalization of medicinal cannabis, which 29 states and the District of Columbia have done, and was previously available in Tennessee, among other states, in the 1980s and later repealed.
He insists that those who aren't benefitting from cannabis use while they're sick are those who haven't tried using it, likely because they're afraid of breaking the law.
"Saint Augustine said centuries ago that 'an unjust law is no law at all,' and I agree completely with that," Ellis said. "I believe the fight that we're in right now around medical cannabis is a civil rights battle... Today, to deny sick people a substance that would give them more good with less harm than virtually anything available from the pharmaceutical industry is fundamentally a civil rights issue.
"We certainly shouldn't be (behind) on this. We know better," he insisted.
In hopes of changing minds — and the law, eventually — Ellis and Whitcomb have started work on the documentary, and hope for a wide-scale audience.
Rather than aiming for a local film festival, Whitcomb launched a fundraising campaign to not only finish production and post-production, among other costs, but to pay fees to enter the film into five prestigious international film festivals.
And although some may still be against legalization, they hope people will still consider seeing the film anyway.
"I think if nothing else, (viewers should) look at the disproportionate punishment associated with a crime for which there were no victims," Ellis said. "The average federal prison sentence for a medical cannabis conviction is twice as long as the sentence for a manslaughter conviction. I could kill someone and do less time than providing cannabis. I could be a serial rapist and my farm would not be at risk of being confiscated. Our laws are just so out of whack around this."
The Kickstarter campaign raised $3,085 of its $7,500 goal from nearly 50 donors as of Friday morning. The campaign ends Jan. 13.
Whitcomb hopes to release the film and create a discussion about the legalization of medical cannabis.
"Very few people I think would ever say that being arrested and prosecuted by our government was a good thing or is a good thing. I'm here to say it was a good thing," Ellis said. "My own spiritual awakening, my own commitment to service, my own connection with the natural world, none of those would be at the level they are now without this experience.
"This film is a good place to start for those people, but it's by no means the end of the discussion," he said. "It's the beginning of the discussion, we hope."
News Moderator: Ron Strider 420 MAGAZINE ®
Full Article: Tennessee filmmaker raising funds for medical marijuana film
Author: Kelly Fisher
Contact: Customer Service | The Tennessean
Photo Credit: Getty Images
Website: The Tennessean
The "all or nothing" project, according to the documentary's website, will only be funded if it reaches its goal of at least $7,500 by Jan. 13.
When Valerie Whitcomb of Tepper Creek Films in Charlotte heard Bernie Ellis' story for the first time, she knew she wanted to tell his story via documentary: The Blueberry Farmer.
"It was a positive story of survival," she said. "It was somebody that had been through so much trauma because he was trying to do a good thing in the world, and because our laws are so antiquated that he got hurt in the process. In spite of all that, he managed to turn his life around and reinvent himself as a blueberry farmer, and I thought that whole story was powerful."
A public health epidemiologist, Ellis began providing medical cannabis to AIDS patients in 1987, and cancer patients soon after. He'd been growing small amounts of marijuana on Trace View Farm in Maury County for about 15 years "without incident."
But in 2002, Ellis looked up to find a law enforcement helicopter circling his farm. He believes a local drug dealer to whom he refused to sell cannabis turned him in.
According to a press release about the film, Trace View Farm was "raided" and approximately seven pounds of usable cannabis was confiscated as evidence.
"The feds made it a federal case because they wanted to confiscate my farm, which is worth about $1.5 million," Ellis said, though an agreement – after about seven years – only took a portion of it.
"My career essentially went away," he said. "I was helping four people when they raided me. And all of them died within a few months, much more miserable deaths than (they) would have had I been able to continue to help them."
Now, Trace View Farm is a location in which people may pick or order seasonal berries and jams, among other products.
But Ellis continues to advocate for the legalization of medicinal cannabis, which 29 states and the District of Columbia have done, and was previously available in Tennessee, among other states, in the 1980s and later repealed.
He insists that those who aren't benefitting from cannabis use while they're sick are those who haven't tried using it, likely because they're afraid of breaking the law.
"Saint Augustine said centuries ago that 'an unjust law is no law at all,' and I agree completely with that," Ellis said. "I believe the fight that we're in right now around medical cannabis is a civil rights battle... Today, to deny sick people a substance that would give them more good with less harm than virtually anything available from the pharmaceutical industry is fundamentally a civil rights issue.
"We certainly shouldn't be (behind) on this. We know better," he insisted.
In hopes of changing minds — and the law, eventually — Ellis and Whitcomb have started work on the documentary, and hope for a wide-scale audience.
Rather than aiming for a local film festival, Whitcomb launched a fundraising campaign to not only finish production and post-production, among other costs, but to pay fees to enter the film into five prestigious international film festivals.
And although some may still be against legalization, they hope people will still consider seeing the film anyway.
"I think if nothing else, (viewers should) look at the disproportionate punishment associated with a crime for which there were no victims," Ellis said. "The average federal prison sentence for a medical cannabis conviction is twice as long as the sentence for a manslaughter conviction. I could kill someone and do less time than providing cannabis. I could be a serial rapist and my farm would not be at risk of being confiscated. Our laws are just so out of whack around this."
The Kickstarter campaign raised $3,085 of its $7,500 goal from nearly 50 donors as of Friday morning. The campaign ends Jan. 13.
Whitcomb hopes to release the film and create a discussion about the legalization of medical cannabis.
"Very few people I think would ever say that being arrested and prosecuted by our government was a good thing or is a good thing. I'm here to say it was a good thing," Ellis said. "My own spiritual awakening, my own commitment to service, my own connection with the natural world, none of those would be at the level they are now without this experience.
"This film is a good place to start for those people, but it's by no means the end of the discussion," he said. "It's the beginning of the discussion, we hope."
News Moderator: Ron Strider 420 MAGAZINE ®
Full Article: Tennessee filmmaker raising funds for medical marijuana film
Author: Kelly Fisher
Contact: Customer Service | The Tennessean
Photo Credit: Getty Images
Website: The Tennessean
