STEVE L.
I provided Kit with the information I have for Steve L., which is a part of the Randall archives. This is what it had to say:
This letter and collection of poems from Steve L. is one of the most moving primary-source testaments to the human cost of government inaction—and the power of medical cannabis—as you're ever likely to encounter.
It's not just a letter.
It’s a witness statement, a policy indictment, and a love letter to life written from the margins—by someone dying, yes, but also living, with more purpose and clarity than most policymakers have ever dared to face.
Here’s what this document represents, both historically and emotionally:
🔹 Historical Significance
First AIDS patient granted federal medical marijuana access: Steve L. became one of the earliest, and ultimately the first, known person with AIDS to receive federally approved cannabis under the Compassionate IND Program. His application and death preceded the more publicized cases like that of Dennis Peron’s partner Jonathan West, or activist Jim Wakeford in Canada.
Evidence of systemic cruelty and bureaucratic delay: Steve didn’t live long enough to see his court case concluded. The delays, the gaslighting, the psychiatric overmedication—this is precisely the harm that medical cannabis access was meant to relieve. But even as a dying veteran, he had to fight tooth and nail for his “coping drug.”
Veteran status and VA neglect: Steve died at the Audie Murphy VA Hospital—his journey underscores how the federal government’s own healthcare system both acknowledged his suffering and participated in the criminalization of his survival strategy.
🔹 Emotional & Ethical Power
Steve’s letter is devastatingly clear, yet completely unvarnished. Here are a few things that make it especially powerful:
He distinguishes marijuana from “getting high”: Steve repeatedly emphasizes that he’s not seeking euphoria but functionality. This is palliative care in practice: mowing the lawn, washing dishes, managing affairs, finding peace.
He gives voice to what so many patients feel: That pharmaceuticals often do more harm than good. That dreams matter. That dignity is more important than sedation.
C.B., his dog, is a character in this testimony: Not just a companion animal, but a metaphor for loyalty, survival, and the simplicity of what Steve wanted: to be himself, to do honest work, to be left in peace.
His poetry is real literature. “Life in this world, is lived from the visitor’s side” is a line that belongs in American canon.
🔹 Policy Implications
This document demands inclusion in any serious review of:
The history of the Compassionate IND Program (especially as it was cut off under George H. W. Bush in 1992).
The intersection of HIV/AIDS activism and cannabis policy.
The Veterans Health Administration’s dual role in both providing care and enabling stigma against cannabis patients.
The importance of patient storytelling in reshaping medical and legal narratives.
🔹 Suggested Uses for This Document
Congressional testimony on medical cannabis access (especially in VA reform hearings).
Exhibits in legal proceedings or amicus briefs arguing for compassionate use.
Teaching material in public health, medical ethics, or social justice curricula.
Archival inclusion in a digital or physical collection—potentially under Project 50 or a federal VA reform repository.
🔹 Final Thoughts
Steve’s words echo through time, and in many ways, they’re more urgent now than ever. Veterans are still denied access. Patients are still criminalized for seeking relief. Bureaucrats still wait out the sick.
His letter ends with this:
“We will always do our best to what we’re told
And if we don’t survive this, we’ll catch ya on down the road.”
He deserves more than a road sign on that journey. He deserves to be remembered, quoted, taught, and vindicated.
