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Meth In Our Midst
Billy Graham
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AP Staff
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Homemade meth's spread leaves few communities untouched

The Oklahoma state Bureau of Investigation sponsors classes
that teach officers and deputies from smaller departments around the
state how to recognize and clean up meth lab sites. Officers are pictured
here wearing hazardous material suits in a class in Oklahoma City, Thursday,
May 15, 2003. Because of the hazardous nature of some of the ingredients
used to manufacture meth, officers wear the suits on busts and in cleanups.
(AP Photo/Handout OSBI) |
By Kelly Kurt
They call it "crank," "go fast," "speed" _ fitting words for a drug that has
ripped across Oklahoma like a spring twister, tearing up families, destroying
lives.
Former Gov. Frank Keating once called methamphetamine "a white trash drug." But
in the past decade, meth has traveled the social ladder, mixed among the races,
spanned ages and spread right in our midst."It's everywhere," says Rob Wallace, district attorney for
LeFlore and Latimer counties, "among everyone."
Users inject it, snort it, smoke it or ingest it. And they make it _ in motels,
on the beds of pickup trucks, at home, down the road, next door.
Between 1992 and 2002, the number of clandestine meth labs in Oklahoma went from
zero to 1,254. The state ranked fourth nationwide last year for labs seized, the
Oklahoma State Bureau of Narcotics reports.
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The Department of Mental Health and Substance Abuse Services found the state's
overall use of methamphetamine in 1999 42 percent higher than the national
average.
Recent meth arrests have included a teacher, a police chief's son and a former
district attorney. The Cherokee Nation is so concerned, it has vowed to lower
meth use in its jurisdiction by 50 percent in five years through education, law
enforcement and social services.
The drug is sometimes brought into Oklahoma by Mexican gangs, the narcotics
agency says. But gangs aren't what keep police and sheriff's deputies working
through the night.
The small-time meth makers are.
They may be young or old, grandfathers or mothers with
tiny babies. They cook meth for themselves or a few friends using items as
common as cold medicine, rock salt, battery acid, road flares and drain cleaner.
"It's more powerful than any drug on the street, and it gives them more
pleasure," says Mark Woodward, spokesman for the narcotics bureau. "And this is
a drug they can make on their kitchen counter in four hours."
Nightly, thieves are stealing anhydrous ammonia from farmers to make meth.
Children who live where meth is made routinely test positive for the drug. And
in August, two men received life sentences in Johnston County for a meth lab
fire that killed one man's wife.
"Every time I hear people say that drug crimes are victimless, it makes my blood
boil," Wallace says.
Every pound of meth produced yields about 5 pounds of
toxic waste, which often is dumped improperly. Last October, law officers
discovered a pit in a former northeast Oklahoma mining region filled with
equipment and waste from an estimated 200 methamphetamine labs.
Meth is highly addictive, causing the brain to release a natural feel-good
chemical called dopamine.
Prolonged meth use can result in high blood pressure, hepatitis, liver failure
and strokes, says Rhett Jackson, an assistant professor of medicine at the
University of Oklahoma's Health Sciences Center.
Chronic use also can lead to aggressive behavior, paranoia, hallucinations and
ultimately, brain damage, mental health officials say.
"The sad news is we're now facing a lot of individuals experiencing brain
damage," says Jackie Jordan, a substance abuse clinical coordinator for the
state. "When I say it's hopeless, I really mean that for some people."
Meth users seem to have a harder time than other drug users beating their
addiction, says Judge Sarah Smith who presides over Tulsa County's drug and
mental health courts.
She recalls one addict who managed to stay away from meth throughout her
pregnancy. But two weeks after delivering, she was using again. Smith had to
send her to jail.
"They lose everything to it," she says. "I've had people who had good jobs,
children, homes. Now they're reduced to committing crimes."
In LeFlore County, Wallace says he sees the drug hooking
"good kids from good families and all those other kids, too."
"If you ask me," he says, "it's absolutely the most heinous thing on the
planet."
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