There is a tale of two Trulieves: one celebrated on Wall Street as the first American marijuana company listed on the New York Stock Exchange; the other sending algae-filled water from its property onto mine in rural Jefferson County.
Trulieve, a Florida-based medical marijuana company and one of the nation’s largest cannabis producers, operates a more than 1-million-square-foot cultivation facility in Jefferson County, the rural North Florida community I have called home for much of my life and where my family has deep roots.
I wish, however, the company cared as much about Main Street as they do about Wall Street.
For nearly 200 years, before Florida was even a state, my family has lived on the same land in Waukeenah. Seven generations have called this place home.
Over those generations, neighbors became lifelong friends, and friends became family. That’s the beauty of a small rural community. People know one another. They look out for one another.
That is why protecting places like Waukeenah matters and deserves thoughtful stewardship so future generations can experience the same sense of belonging and connection that so many of us have been fortunate to enjoy.
That all changed for me, my family and our community when Trulieve moved in right next door in 2019.
Their indifference to the noise, water and odor pollution they have generated is the greatest threat to our community’s way of life in my family’s history. We are left to hope that state regulators can do what patience and pleading have not – make Trulieve be the good neighbor they promised to be.
To be honest, I was not happy to learn Trulieve was moving next door. But you’re always hopeful when things change. I was prepared to see their building where my family had watched cattle roam and watermelon grow.
And I was excited that they would bring jobs to our little community, allowing families to stay closer together instead of driving 30 minutes or more for work.
But I wasn’t expecting an 80-acre factory complex – dubbed “Megatron” by Trulieve – with 11 buildings totaling more than a million square feet, with their own electric substation to keep the operation going 24/7.
I also was not expecting a torrent of water rushing onto our property, cutting an erosion scar a quarter mile long, nearly 6 feet deep, and in places 20 feet wide, while carrying fluorescent green algae that contained who knew what and threatening to pollute nearby creeks and waterways all the way down to St. Marks.
I was not expecting a nonstop roar of sound like aircraft ready to takeoff.
I was not expecting the smell. I’d never known what marijuana smells like. I sure do now, but that’s actually the less offensive of odors coming from the factory which sometimes smells like a field of skunks that never leave.
And when we erected our own camera to monitor the water coming onto our property, Trulieve did not reach out to make things right. Instead, they had their attorney send a “cease and desist” letter, ordering us to remove the camera that can barely see their property over an eight-foot wall they recently erected. Robert Frost was wrong. Good fences do not make good neighbors.
I am encouraged that state regulators with the Suwannee River Management District and the Florida Department of Environmental Protection are on the case. I wish it didn’t take the threat of fines to convince Trulieve to be a good neighbor.
But something good has come from this. I have seen our community come together – not just for me, but to protect the health, safety, and future of Jefferson County. People here really do care about each other. That’s what good neighbors do.
Felicia Lamb is a lifelong resident of Jefferson County whose family has lived and worked the same land in Waukeenah for nearly 200 years. Raised in a family of cattlemen and farmers, she has a deep appreciation for the land, its natural resources, and the heritage of rural North Florida.
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