Wiz Khalifa’s Festival High: Romanian Police Crash the Party

Mia Reynolds, 12/19/2025Wiz Khalifa’s performance at Romania's Beach, Please! Festival turned controversial when he lit a joint on stage, resulting in his arrest for cannabis possession. Despite a light fine, a court later sentenced him to nine months in prison, highlighting the clash between celebrity culture and local laws.

The rapper, whose laid-back image almost outshines his chart-topping records, reeled the crowd in without breaking a sweat. “See You Again” drifted over the water, while “Young, Wild & Free” had an energy perfect for a crowd ready to forget about Monday morning. But that carefree vibe—fueled by Wiz’s signature nonchalance—hit a wall no chorus could dissolve. Right there, under the flash of fans’ phones and a sky streaked with festival lights, Wiz lit up a hand-rolled joint for all to see. For a second, the move felt inevitable, even iconic; the audience let out a bellow, hands thrust high, as if the summer itself was rolling along with him.

And then time snapped. In places where weed is as common as a frothy iced coffee (Los Angeles comes to mind), maybe nobody would’ve blinked. But this was Romania, where cannabis is still classified as a ‘high-risk drug’ under the law—no amount of festival buzz or international stardom softens the stance.

Police didn’t even wait for the baseline to drop again. By the time the set wrapped, uniformed officers were escorting Wiz off the stage. A search turned up more than 18 grams of cannabis—scant by some standards, but in this context, a mountain. The initial penalty? An $829 fine. Practically pocket change for someone used to headlining global festivals, right? Things could’ve ended there, forgotten as just another chapter in festival lore.

But Romanian prosecutors had another plan. They appealed, pushing for a stiffer consequence. Months drifted by, the memory of that smoky stage perhaps fading for everyone but the authorities. Then came December: the Constanța Court of Appeal handed down a nine-month prison sentence for “possession of high-risk drugs, without right, for own consumption.” That statement, with all its bureaucratic chill, didn’t leave much room for negotiating backstage.

It’s tempting to imagine a celebrity cocoon—fans waiting outside the courthouse, legal teams unspooling delays—but here, no such buffer formed. Fame, as it turns out, sometimes acts more like a magnifying glass than a shield, especially in jurisdictions disinterested in red-carpet leniency.

Wiz tried to smooth things over not long after his arrest, penning a public apology: “Last night’s show was amazing. I didn’t mean any disrespect to the country of Romania by lighting up onstage... I’ll be back soon. But without a big ... joint next time.” There was something oddly touching, maybe even a touch naive, in his response—a certain American optimism that laws abroad might bend for the sake of good vibes and a festival crowd’s delight.

Reality tends to stick, though. As of early 2025, Wiz Khalifa remains on the circuit, even appearing at a Gunna show days before news of the verdict dropped. Whether this case will spiral into an international tug-of-war, with extradition requests ping-ponging across embassies, remains unclear.

What’s unmistakable, though, is this: music festivals invite risk, mischief, a sense that the ordinary rules are on holiday. That’s the secret sauce—somewhere between confetti canons and a raucous crowd, that illusion of unfettered freedom bubbles up and spreads. But as this story proves, laws don’t always get lost in the lights and noise. Sometimes, even a single cloud of smoke can cut through the haze and change everything.

In the end, Wiz’s evening on the Black Sea will echo long after the Instagram Stories time out. For the fans, the abrupt ending felt like a song’s final note coming too soon. For the artist, that chill of reality was probably even sharper. As comforting as it would be to believe that music transcends borders, there are always rules lurking just past the edge of the stage—ready, if not entirely willing, to steal the show.

Some summer nights by the sea are meant for dancing, singing, and, apparently, unexpected legal drama. That hot July evening at Beach, Please! Festival in Constanța, Romania, 2024, promised all the usual festival trimmings—sunburned shoulders, music thumping through sand-dusted flip-flops, maybe even a few stray beach balls riding the breeze. Nobody, not even those perched on friends’ shoulders for a better view, seemed to anticipate how things would suddenly swerve toward the surreal once Wiz Khalifa took the stage.The rapper, whose laid-back image almost outshines his chart-topping records, reeled the crowd in without breaking a sweat. “See You Again” drifted over the water, while “Young, Wild & Free” had an energy perfect for a crowd ready to forget about Monday morning. But that carefree vibe—fueled by Wiz’s signature nonchalance—hit a wall no chorus could dissolve. Right there, under the flash of fans’ phones and a sky streaked with festival lights, Wiz lit up a hand-rolled joint for all to see. For a second, the move felt inevitable, even iconic; the audience let out a bellow, hands thrust high, as if the summer itself was rolling along with him.And then time snapped. In places where weed is as common as a frothy iced coffee (Los Angeles comes to mind), maybe nobody would’ve blinked. But this was Romania, where cannabis is still classified as a ‘high-risk drug’ under the law—no amount of festival buzz or international stardom softens the stance.Police didn’t even wait for the baseline to drop again. By the time the set wrapped, uniformed officers were escorting Wiz off the stage. A search turned up more than 18 grams of cannabis—scant by some standards, but in this context, a mountain. The initial penalty? An $829 fine. Practically pocket change for someone used to headlining global festivals, right? Things could’ve ended there, forgotten as just another chapter in festival lore.But Romanian prosecutors had another plan. They appealed, pushing for a stiffer consequence. Months drifted by, the memory of that smoky stage perhaps fading for everyone but the authorities. Then came December: the Constanța Court of Appeal handed down a nine-month prison sentence for “possession of high-risk drugs, without right, for own consumption.” That statement, with all its bureaucratic chill, didn’t leave much room for negotiating backstage.It’s tempting to imagine a celebrity cocoon—fans waiting outside the courthouse, legal teams unspooling delays—but here, no such buffer formed. Fame, as it turns out, sometimes acts more like a magnifying glass than a shield, especially in jurisdictions disinterested in red-carpet leniency.Wiz tried to smooth things over not long after his arrest, penning a public apology: “Last night’s show was amazing. I didn’t mean any disrespect to the country of Romania by lighting up onstage... I’ll be back soon. But without a big ... joint next time.” There was something oddly touching, maybe even a touch naive, in his response—a certain American optimism that laws abroad might bend for the sake of good vibes and a festival crowd’s delight.Reality tends to stick, though. As of early 2025, Wiz Khalifa remains on the circuit, even appearing at a Gunna show days before news of the verdict dropped. Whether this case will spiral into an international tug-of-war, with extradition requests ping-ponging across embassies, remains unclear.What’s unmistakable, though, is this: music festivals invite risk, mischief, a sense that the ordinary rules are on holiday. That’s the secret sauce—somewhere between confetti canons and a raucous crowd, that illusion of unfettered freedom bubbles up and spreads. But as this story proves, laws don’t always get lost in the lights and noise. Sometimes, even a single cloud of smoke can cut through the haze and change everything.In the end, Wiz’s evening on the Black Sea will echo long after the Instagram Stories time out. For the fans, the abrupt ending felt like a song’s final note coming too soon. For the artist, that chill of reality was probably even sharper. As comforting as it would be to believe that music transcends borders, there are always rules lurking just past the edge of the stage—ready, if not entirely willing, to steal the show.