Twenty years ago, federal and state law enforcement officials, along with local and national media, descended upon the Rainbow Farm Campground in Vandalia. Five days later, two marijuana-rights activists were dead.
During the standoff, Grover "Tom'' Crosslin, 47, the campground owner, and Rolland "Rollie" Rohm, 28, allegedly set fire to the property on the day Crosslin was due in court for a hearing to revoke a $150,000 bond on drug charges. He was also wanted for federal charges of firing on a WNDU-TV helicopter. Crosslin stood to lose the property under the state's Drug Forfeiture Act.
Michigan State Police and FBI marksmen took up positions around the farmhouse where Crosslin and Rohm had holed up. Law enforcement officials tried to establish a line of communication and brought in family members, friends and attorneys to try to end the stalemate.
Marijuana in Michigan:Michigan voters legalize recreational marijuana
Crosslin was shot and killed on the fourth day of the siege after allegedly aiming his gun at an FBI agent. Rohm, his partner, was killed the next day after setting fire to the farmhouse and allegedly raising his gun to fire at an approaching armored vehicle.
In the 1990s, Crosslin tried to educate the public about the usefulness of hemp and marijuana. His stance was the basis for "summerfest'' activities conducted at his farm on Labor Day weekends back then.
Cass County's then-prosecutor, Scott Teter, told The Tribune in 2011 that he recalled daily discussions among law enforcement personnel regarding how the situation might be peacefully resolved.
"We talked about cutting off their food — the FBI said they'd sit there as long as it takes — but they (Crosslin and Rohm) were already agitated and we felt that would just accelerate it. No one had any answers."
At the time of the incident and later, people questioned why authorities chose not to simply wait out the two until they gave up. Jim Crosslin, brother of Tom, said he had offered to sit down with his brother and police over beers, but the meeting never happened.
Friends offered that Crosslin and Rohm's efforts helped promote the decriminalization of marijuana and may have helped prompt Michigan's new law that allows medical and adult-use pot.
Others would not go that far. Teter said the issue was more a case of people accepting consequences when they break the law.
"This wasn't about marijuana legalization. ... You can lobby for change; I have no problem with that," Teter said. "But if you do whatever you choose to do, you've got to accept the consequences."
Fast forward two decades and marijuana dispensaries have cropped up in many areas of Southwest Michigan. And Niles just this summer hosted its first-ever
cannabis music festival with bands, food trucks and marijuana products for sale and use on site.