So, let’s break this down: Anya Trundy, Maine’s deputy director for legislative affairs, just admitted that she purposefully withheld a report from lawmakers that was legally required. But don’t worry, she frames it as a “very human response”—because, you know, deliberately keeping crucial information from elected officials is just part of the human experience now, right?
This was no minor oversight. Trundy’s deliberate action came at the tail end of a contentious legislative session, with the report meant to include critical data on Maine’s cannabis industry, including public health and spending info. But hey, who needs transparency when you’re in the middle of trying to push through a cannabis reform package (LD 40) that might be easier to pass if you can just sweep the messy details under the rug?
In fact, Trundy admitted that she decided to sit on the report so it wouldn’t “throw another log on the fire,” essentially admitting that she was prioritizing political maneuvering over the public’s right to know what the hell is going on in the cannabis industry.
We’re talking about reports that have historically contained key industry data—production capacity, revenue, compliance issues, and more. This kind of data is exactly what lawmakers need to make informed decisions about cannabis policy.
But Maine OCP and DAFS don’t seem to care about that. Instead, it looks like they’re more concerned with keeping things running smoothly behind closed doors—especially when it comes to pushing through legislation that serves the interests of lobbyists and the Mills administration.
But it gets worse. Trundy, who also happens to be the point person for responding to public records requests, is part of an agency that has routinely failed to respond to basic FOAA requests in good faith—personally Ive had some take almost a year to even get a response.
It’s almost like they don’t want the public to know what’s really going on. Maybe they’re worried that more transparency would shed light on how ineffective, disorganized, and downright shady the Office of Cannabis Policy really is.
And let’s not forget: Trundy’s taxpayer-funded salary was a cool $152,000 in 2024, while OCP Director John Hudak was pulling in more than $171k. This is what your tax dollars are going to: A bureaucratic game where important reports get buried, transparency is actively sabotaged, and public
Officials continue to collect six-figure salaries for a job they seem to be doing their damned best to make harder to monitor. At the end of the day, the real question is: How much more of this nonsense are Maine’s lawmakers, and the public, willing to tolerate?
Because it’s clear that the folks at Maine OCP are more interested in protecting their political agenda than they are in doing the job they were hired to do—serve the people and provide the information we deserve.
This is an opinion piece and does not necessarily reflect the views of Beard Bros Pharms.
More work from Derek here at Beard Bros Pharms:
A Look Inside Maine’s Medical and Adult Use Cannabis Markets.
When Was Maine’s First Cannabis Recall?
RECAP: Maine Cannabis Summit Recap Hosted by State Rep. David Boyer
Derek Shirley was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. At the age of 19, he received a felony for 4 ounces of cannabis. After, he became a “cannabis nomad” living in Ohio, Arizona, and Maine, which he now calls home, and lives with his wife Sequoia and son Haze.
Being a cannabis nomad had its advantages, like relying on all markets for his medical cannabis needs which gives him a unique perspective of the cannabis markets. Currently, he is an influential pro-cannabis activist in the state of Maine who helps local people and small businesses navigate their local and state governments without picking a political party specializing in protecting and preserving the small medical cannabis farmers of Maine. For fun, Derek enjoys screen printing and making cannabis memes under the pseudonym @gettinghighwithcats on IG.
