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Chris Jetter — owner of Blue Mountains, "The Original Rocky Mountain High" — participates in a free happy hour dab bar last month in downtown Denver. Jetter and his partners call Blue Mountains a nonprofit "recreational cannabis community," or collective.
Chris Jetter — owner of Blue Mountains, “The Original Rocky Mountain High” — participates in a free happy hour dab bar last month in downtown Denver. Jetter and his partners call Blue Mountains a nonprofit “recreational cannabis community,” or collective.
Eric Gorski of Chalkbeat Colorado
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The bus with tinted windows sits idling in a parking lot on Colfax Avenue, right across from the Denver Justice Center, of all places.

Chris Jetter stands at the vehicle’s door in a “Yes We Cannabis” T-shirt, carding people.

He’s put out word on Facebook that anyone 21 or over is welcome to come down for a free “dab” — a concentrated form of marijuana heated and smoked with a bong-like contraption called an oil rig.

This is a promotion for Blue Mountains, a nonprofit “recreational cannabis community” that Jetter and his partners believe provides them the legal cover to grow and stockpile marijuana, and to provide it to like-minded members at or below cost and tax-free.

An untold number of similar collectives have formed in Colorado since Amendment 64’s passage in November, hoping to meet consumer demand before retail pot stores’ anticipated opening in 2014.

It’s unclear, however, whether recreational pot collectives will withstand legal scrutiny. Some officials warn that the arrangements not only put participants at risk — they also threaten Colorado’s careful attempts to craft regulations meant to generate tax revenue and to ward off a federal crackdown on the state’s new pot frontier.

Jetter, 41, is a well-known presence on the state’s marijuana scene. He started a bong-manufacturing business after high school, launched an online directory of head shops and co-owned a medical marijuana dispensary in Denver until last year.

“We’re trying to provide cannabis to people in the state of Colorado who are 21 and over and want it,” Jetter said. “Simple as that. We want to be involved with the community. We want to give back to the community. We want to do all those things a good collective should do.”

Felons run some collectives

Other collectives are not as transparent. Some are run by convicted felons barred from the medical-marijuana industry because of their records, said Robert Corry, a Denver lawyer whose firm has helped establish more than a dozen collectives since Amendment 64 passed.

Some are limited-liability companies, some are partnerships and others have no formal structure, Corry said.

The nonprofit collective MJ Proper Inc. — which claims to operate exclusively for “charitable, scientific, and educational purposes” — offers on its website to deliver six packs of cannabis-infused beer, cookies and bud bags to adults 21 and over who “display personal responsibility with the highest moral standards.”

Qualified adults become members by placing an order, it says.

“Our specific purpose is to enhance, elevate, and promote community awareness, understanding and support for the safe, responsible growing and consumption of recreational cannabis,” MJ Proper said in a statement in response to an interview request.

MJ Proper’s principal office address, listed in its articles of incorporation, matches that of a south suburban Denver suites hotel.

Collectives also thrive among medical-marijuana patients and caregivers, though restrictions on caregivers banding together exist.

Corry takes an expansive view of Amendment 64, which allows adults 21 and over to possess an ounce or less of marijuana and grow up to six plants for personal use. The law also allows for the transfer of an ounce or less “without remuneration,” or payment.

The argument for collectives rests on language in the amendment that permits “assisting” in that personal use. Corry contends the wording allows an unlimited number of adults to join in and designate their six plants to a collective for “assistance.”

Collectives, the thinking goes, can stockpile pot and offer it to members for reimbursement for out-of-pocket expenses — but not for profit.

Corry said he urges collective operators to keep copious records of their rent, power, fertilizer, chemicals and other expenses. He said he believes collectives also can include their labor costs, but he advises against it because documentation is more difficult.

“Words are important,” Corry said. “You can’t say, ‘I’m selling marijuana’ or ‘This costs $200.’ I tell people, ‘Mind your words and assume everyone is a cop.’ “

Motives questioned

Law enforcement officials predicted collectives would take advantage of a loophole in Amendment 64 to assemble large pot grows, said Tom Gorman, director of the Rocky Mountain High Intensity Drug Trafficking Area, a federal program that works with law-enforcement agencies to reduce drug trafficking and production.

Gorman questions how collectives accurately determine reimbursement costs and wonders about the underlying motivation.

“Why would you do that if it’s not for money?” Gorman asked. “Are they so thrilled with marijuana and think it’s such a great thing that it’s their responsibility to offer it as cheap as possible? Why would you go through all the trouble for no profit at all?”

Corry said some collective operators just enjoy growing and using with others. Some — like Jetter’s Blue Mountains — are building a following with an eye toward possible licensing as a recreational pot business.

Jetter said the collective has more than 100 members and maintains a modest grow of 34 plants on 2½ acres zoned for agricultural use.

The collective’s five-member board meets weekly and reviews costs every 90 days, Jetter said. To get established, he said Blue Mountains is charging $300 an ounce, well below the $500 it could charge.

“We want to get our name out there and make a name for ourselves and show it can be done legally and responsibly,” Jetter said.

Members sign an “assistance agreement” certifying they are playing by the rules. Blue Mountains advertises free delivery to meet-up spots along major highways and will arrange home delivery.

The collective has arranged for the party bus to park outside bars, where it offers free samples of pot to those 21 and older.

Foot traffic was a little slow on the recent Friday it staked out a spot on Colfax. Over about an hour, a half-dozen friends and acquaintances stopped by for dabs, blowing smoke and cracking jokes.

The lines were down the block on the weekend of 4/20 celebrations, which marked the big rollout of Blue Mountains, Jetter said. He envisions catering to the college crowd and corporate VIPs.

Jetter said he and his partners may keep the collective running — and shun the for-profit system — if the state adopts regulations that are too restrictive. He opposes as anti-free market pending legislation that would require growers and sellers to initially be part of the same company and for stores to grow most of what they sell.

That model, known as vertical integration, governs the medical marijuana industry and is supported by law enforcement, medical marijuana trade groups and others.

Sitting on the bus, Jetter voiced concerns about “draconian, archaic requirements” and exorbitant taxes and fees.

Then his lawyer — dressed in a suit, seated up front — chimed in.

“It would be tragic if the government overregulated the retail industry and everyone would have to come to you,” Corry said with a smirk.

Tax-free status worries some

That kind of talk worries those who have spent months crafting the state’s proposed recreational marijuana regulations.

“This loose association, not subject to regulatory oversight, is exactly what we were trying to avoid,” said Sam Kamin, a University of Denver law professor who sat on an Amendment 64 task force that crafted recommendations to legislators. “The concern is if regulated marijuana is heavily taxed and these sort of cooperatives open up, not subject to tax, it will undercut the model the state is trying to put in place and raises the specter of federal enforcement.”

In California, federal authorities have routinely targeted nonprofit collectives that operate medical-marijuana centers, Kamin said. Colorado officials crafting recreational-marijuana rules often mention trying to avoid federal intervention, although how to do that is unclear.

“There are a lot of areas of Amendment 64 where you might say there are gray areas open to interpretation,” said Larry Abrahamson, retired district attorney for Larimer and Jackson counties, who also served on the state task force. “I think to get too liberal in the interpretation at this stage, before regulations are put in place, can be risky.”

Boulder attorney Jeff Gard said the collective model appears to blur the lines between commercial centers and personal use and cultivation spelled out in Amendment 64. Nothing in the amendment mentions assigning one’s cultivation rights to someone else, he said.

“It seems to me it’s one step ahead of where the law is right now,” Gard said.

Some collectives would seem fine, he said — for example, people who don’t want to grow their respective six plants at home bonding together to jointly lease and tend a warehouse. But hundreds of people assigning their growing rights to a collective carries the risk of felony prosecution, Gard said.

Courts may take hard lineThe state Court of Appeals is unlikely to look kindly on liberal interpretations of pot laws, either, he said. He cited the court’s decision last month to uphold the firing of a quadriplegic man for off-the-job medical-marijuana use. The court found employees have no protection to use it anytime because marijuana is illegal under federal law.

Gard said seeking legislation defining what “assisting” means in the context of collectives is a better course than testing the law with felony cases.

So far, it appears law enforcement and prosecutors are taking a wait-and-see approach.

Denver District Attorney Mitch Morrissey declined to discuss the legality of collectives but said their existence demonstrates why such laws should not be created through constitutional amendments written by authors who “often leave a lot of loopholes in them.” He also warned that collectives that deliver run the risk of being robbed.

Jetter said he is aware of the risks of the path he has chosen.

He has faced pot-related charges before, most recently in 2010 in Adams County after an alarm went off at his dispensary grow site, he said. Felony charges were dismissed, court records show.

In 2000, Jetter received a deferred sentence after pleading guilty to possession of 8 ounces or more of marijuana, a Class 5 felony, records show. Such cases are dismissed once a sentence is completed, so Jetter was not blocked from receiving dispensary licensing.

Jetter said he’s confident the collective rests on strong legal ground.

“When you are in this business, and you’ve been in this business as long as we have, you understand the risks and you know what you’re doing,” he said. “You make sure you run a tight ship.”

Eric Gorski: 303-954-1971, egorski@denverpost.com or twitter.com/egorski