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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.
 

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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