The War on Scott Walt

Scott Walt is not a murderer or a rapist or even a dealer of harmful drugs, yet he has been in Federal prison for over 15 years. His crime? He sold a plant that grows wild out of God’s earth.

Sometime around October 3, 1994, Scott Walt went surfing in the Pacific Ocean, as he did nearly every day, a luxury afforded him by his life as both a carpenter’s foreman for a large government contractor and a marijuana dealer. The waves had been his passion since he was nine years old, growing up in Encinitas, California, and he felt lucky that he was able to spend as much time on the beach as he did. It would be hard to argue that, up to that point, Scott’s life had been anything but a success. Eight years before he’d married Dawn, a beautiful blonde California girl, and had two young children, who were just starting school. The family went to Club Med twice a year, he’d bought a home on a lake stocked with bluegill, catfish, bass and perch, his wife drove a Lincoln Continental, while Scott, a nature lover, preferred his Ford F-350 4x4. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about that day in October fifteen years ago, other than Scott has not surfed or even visited a beach since.

Around the same time that Scott Walt was seeing the ocean for the last time, Jurgen Hans Thode, a courier within the marijuana business that Scott was connected to, was selling him out to the Feds. Thode, a Vietnam vet, lived in a world of illusion. Though little more than a mule, he fancied himself a marijuana Tony Montana. The problem was, he lacked heart and street sense. When Thode went to pick up 57 pounds from a group of Mexicans, he had no idea the Feds were on to him. He flipped the moment he was caught. They took him back to his house and plotted the ruination of Scott Walt’s life.

That night, Thode called Scott and asked to borrow $1200 so he could go to Minnesota to make a delivery. The next morning Scott went to visit him. While they were in Thode’s garage, Scott noticed undercover cops across the street. Sensing a set-up, but knowing that he had no weed either on him, in his truck or at his home, Scott figured he was in the clear and turned to leave. Thode asked him how much he should charge on his next delivery. Shrugging him off, Scott said, “I don’t know, 800 or 850,” then got in his truck and split. Two sheriff’s cars rolled up on him at a stoplight and that was the end. They put Scott in a car, drove to an alley and handed him over to the Feds. In an attempt to flip Scott, one of the agents told him, “OJ has a better chance of getting off.” Scott kept his mouth shut, but the agent’s comment proved prophetic.

They tore through his house, finding nothing in the way of drugs, scales or paraphernalia, only $7500 dollars that came from the Mary Kay Cosmetics business his wife ran from their home. The agents told his wife he’d be out on bail in a few days. Scott has not been home since.

While Scott was sitting in Federal lockup in San Diego, the feds took Thode to Minnesota to set up a number of buyers. There was something about the limelight that appealed to this Vietnam vet who fancied himself the Scarface of sinsemilla. They put him up in a hotel, and one by one, Thode lured low-level marijuana dealers to their doom. Before testifying against Scott Walt, there was a “practice” trial against a kid who had the misfortune of being in possession of a 9mm when he was arrested. Thode must have done pretty well because the kid got 17 years. Then it was back to California for the main event.

Claiming that Scott Walt “ran a drug empire from behind iron gates to shield himself from law enforcement,” the US Attorney put Thode on the stand, where he proceeded to spin tales that lessened his own participation and increased Scott Walt’s culpability. On the testimony of one man – no surveillance evidence, no wiretaps, and without finding marijuana in his possession at any time – and a few pieces of scrap paper found at Thode’s with numbers written on it, Scott Walt was convicted of being the kingpin of a far-reaching conspiracy to traffic marijuana from the West Coast through Minnesota to parts East. At first, they took Scott’s house because Thode testified that he once saw 500 pounds there, but a jury eventually gave it back. They took his truck because Thode recalled seeing 100 pounds there too. His assets were frozen, damning Scott to a court-appointed attorney. Aside from the arresting officers, Thode was the only witness at trial.

After stating that he was hamstrung by mandatory minimum laws that forced him to hand down a sentence far greater than that of most murderers, the judge reluctantly sentenced Scott Walt to 24 years and four months in jail. The DA was asking for thirty, because the kid in Minnesota was found with a gun. Thode did one year in FCC Lompoc, a minimum security prison camp 175 miles northwest of Los Angeles, and is now, quite possibly, living in a basement apartment somewhere near you.

After a few years, Scott’s wife divorced him; he’s watched his children, now aged 18 and 20, grow up on visiting days. He’s been incarcerated for 15 years and is only 2/3 through his sentence – all on the testimony of a man who was caught with 57 pounds in his hands.

Scott Walt is down but not out. He’s one of the most positive-thinking individuals you could ever meet. When asked recently about his feelings towards Jurgen Hans Thode he said, “The universe has a funny way of balancing those things out. I have spent far too many years dealing with this existence to hold any deep regrets for Mr. Thode. I amuse myself (and others) with the proposition that my crime is the lack of character judgment and my sentence is based on that error.” Scott is currently engaged to Sabina, a woman who understands his situation and will wait for him to get out. With Sabina’s help and in conjunction with his first wife Dawn, he’s been raising his kids as best he can from behind prison walls. In his spare time he paints pictures, from memory, of the Pacific Ocean whose waves it was once his passion to attempt to conquer.

This is one in a series of profiles HIGH TIMES is doing of prisoners who have been incarcerated for over ten years in the Federal system for non-violent marijuana offenses.  If you or someone you know is in this predicament, and they wish to tell their story, contact chris@hightimes.com.