The first sign that something was off was the sound of truck doors being slammed outside, a puzzling break to the peace inside the yurt located down a long driveway in a wooded rural outstretch not far from the quaint town of Annapolis Royal, N.S.
Within moments, a ceremonial leader named Michael Adzich had been arrested, and police were inside the tent-like structure, leaving gobsmacked six women who were in the last hours of a three-day spiritual retreat.
“It felt so violating to our space,” Jennifer Wilson, who attended the November 2022 ceremony as a helper, told a Halifax court this week.
What RCMP officers found at the site, a tar-like substance located inside a freezer, is now at the heart of an unusual case this week in Nova Scotia Supreme Court, pitting what the federal government effectively deems to be an illegal drug against Adzich’s right to religious freedom.
Ayahuasca, a plant-based tea originating in the Amazon, is a psychedelic substance that some adherents credit with life-altering experiences, often calling it a medicine or a sacrament, or even “grandmother,” that helps with trauma or connecting with the earth.
The religious ceremonies surrounding the substance run deep in parts of Indigenous South America, but in recent decades interest from outside the region in ayahuasca has risen, both as a potential mental health or addiction therapy, and a spiritual practice.
Westerners have flocked to retreats in places like Peru, giving rise to the term “ayahuasca tourism.” Celebrities such as actor Will Smith have spoken of their experiences, and NFL star Aaron Rodgers’s ayahuasca ceremony was featured in a Netflix documentary.
But a crucial element of ayahuasca, the component N,N-dimethyltryptamine, commonly called DMT, remains illegal in many countries including Canada, which lists it as prohibited in the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act, the legislation that makes hundreds of drugs, including cocaine and heroin, illegal.
Following his arrest on Nov. 14, 2022, Adzich, 52, was charged with possession of DMT for the purpose of trafficking, along with importation and production.
Adzich’s lawyer is arguing his client’s right to freedom of religion was infringed upon, and wants Justice Josh Arnold, who is hearing the case, to order that ayahuasca be explicitly excluded from the act.
His lawyer, Asaf Rashid, said in an interview the heart of the argument is the “use of ayahuasca should be considered a part of a protected spiritual practice, not subject to offences under the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act.” He said multiple studies and surveys have found ayahuasca doesn’t cause harm.
In the Peruvian Amazon, ayahuasca is a sacred medicine. Drinking the dark tea derived from the plant is part of a ritual that leads to vomiting and hallucinations, but proponents say it has major healing effects. As the ayahuasca experience becomes more common outside of the Amazon, Mark Kelley takes a closer look at what it’s all about.
The case has until now fallen under the public radar, and Adzich has tried to avoid attention, although more than 30 supporters were seated in the public gallery in court on Tuesday, the first day of the hearing.
Adzich declined an earlier request for an interview but is expected to testify in the case. He has pleaded not guilty.
Far more public in Canada have been battles over another psychedelic, psilocybin, also known as magic mushrooms, including a number of raids in recent years at unauthorized dispensaries.
Lawyer Paul Lewin, who represents one man charged in an Ontario case, launched a Charter challenge in 2023, arguing that psilocybin is a “freedom of thought tool,” and that freedom of thought is protected under the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. He said a judge is due to rule on the case in October.
“We don’t wrap adults in bubble wrap, we allow adults to make decisions for themselves,” he said of ayahuasca. “If we’re talking about an important spiritual experience, it doesn’t have to be perfectly safe for the government to allow it.”
He and others have drawn parallels between psychedelics and earlier court cases involving medical marijuana that rolled back some restrictions, followed by the federal government’s decision in 2018 to legalize recreational cannabis.
But the Adzich case, for all its fascinating nuances, may rest in part on a more mundane question. Under the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act, people or groups can seek an exemption that allows them to possess and use a prohibited substance, including for scientific or religious reasons.
Adzich did not apply for an exemption, according to court records. His lawyer declined in an interview to say why until more evidence is presented in court.
But a defence legal brief said Adzich had learned it took one church, in Montreal, 16 years to finally secure an exemption in 2017, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees along the way. That was “not feasible” for Adzich, whose “spiritual calling beckoned to him.”
However, a Health Canada official said in a court affidavit filed this spring that the average time to process a request and grant an exemption is now 13 months. The agency said 12 exemptions for ayahuasca have been granted for religious purposes.
Investigation prompted by Miami seizure
The Charter challenge, if it succeeds, would make ayahuasca legal in Canada. The prosecution is opposed to Adzich’s application.
A report by a psychedelic researcher commissioned by the prosecution concluded “existing regulatory channels” allow for legally sanctioned ayahuasca ceremonies, but suggested underground groups without oversight could be safety risks.
“I believe that the legislation is a full answer to anyone that is seeking access legitimately to controlled substances in Canada,” prosecutor Glen Scheuer said in an interview.
A brief filed by the prosecution alleges the case stems from a seizure of a black tar-like substance by U.S. Customs in Miami. Homeland Security learned the package was destined for a woman living in New York.
She allegedly told authorities Adzich had asked her to repackage the item, then send it to him in Canada. He allegedly told her it was tobacco and “flower waters,” but to label it as birthday gifts and coffee.
In court records and in witness questions, Scheuer has raised questions about the safety of ayahuasca, pointing to concerns about people with heart issues or on antidepressants. There have also been reports of users having accidents, or being the victims of crime, while under the influence of ayahuasca.
Those who drink ayahuasca sometimes vomit, a reaction known as purging. In interviews and testimony, adherents say ayahuasca ceremonies can be both profound and deeply difficult, especially if someone has intended to dig into past trauma.
Allan Finney, the executive director of Ayahuasca Canada, a loosely organized group that provides safety and legal advice, said he first attended a ceremony in Peru when he was 59 years old.
He said he “scared the hell out of myself” as he was confronted with fearful childhood experiences, and vowed never to do ayahuasca again. But a shaman convinced him it was only the beginning, he said, and he attended more.
“Ayahuasca just turned my life around,” he said. “There’s this idea that ayahuasca is a psychedelic, like it’s some kind of a recreational substance. I can guarantee that if you think ayahuasca was recreational, I’ll sit down with you in a ceremony. You take some ayahuasca and then tell me how recreational it is.”
Court records filed by the defence say Adzich first took ayahuasca in 2009, later trained with healers from the Amazonian Shipibo tribe and is qualified as an ayahuasca ceremony facilitator.
Witnesses who attended the November 2022 retreat have described filling out an intake form that included questions about any health conditions.
They said the evening ayahuasca ceremonies included drinking the liquid from a cup and Adzich singing traditional songs known as “icaros.” During the days, there were sharing circles and walks in nature.
A sharing circle was about to begin when police descended on the yurt. Officers were respectful, witnesses said, with one asking whether he should remove his shoes.
Still, it was a wrenching end to a weekend of deep vulnerability, witnesses said, with one calling the police raid a “knife in the heart.”
