Bermuda’s Underbelly: The High-Stakes Gambit of a Hash Mule

He was somewhere in Bermuda with a belly full of hash when the fuzz began to close in. Kenneth Butterfield, our protagonist, wasn’t about to let them take a peek inside his personal Bermuda Triangle. The 45-year-old maverick had flown in from the U.K., his insides a ticking time bomb of hash pellets. The customs at L.F. Wade International Airport, sensing something amiss, demanded an X-ray. Butterfield, in a move that screamed more “gonzo” than “guilty,” flat-out refused.

What ensued was a trip to King Edward VII Memorial Hospital, not for sunburn treatment, but for a drug test that quickly turned into a scene straight out of a psychedelic spy novel. Over the next day, Butterfield’s body began its own version of a magic show, producing 44 hash pellets in a performance that would have made Houdini blush. An encore of eight more the following evening brought the total haul to a staggering 110.76 grams of hash.

This wasn’t just a personal debacle for Butterfield but a cautionary tale for anyone daring enough to treat Bermuda like their personal stash box. The streets of Bermuda, where hash is worth its weight in gold, buzzed with tales of Butterfield’s folly. With the hash valued at over $22,000, our reluctant mule had inadvertently become the island’s most infamous exporter.

As Butterfield braces for his sentencing, his tale serves as a stark reminder of Bermuda’s complex dance with cannabis legislation. The U.K.’s grip on Bermuda’s laws had turned the island into a stage for tales of desperation, ingenuity, and the wild, wild east of hash smuggling.

Butterfield’s saga is more than just a cautionary tale; it’s a psychedelic odyssey through the legal labyrinth of a paradise lost to draconian drug laws. As the sun sets on Butterfield’s misadventure, one can’t help but ponder the island’s future, both as a paradise and a battleground for cannabis reform.