Victim of the Drug War

By squeezix · Jan 14, 2016 ·
  1. squeezix
    N.J.S.A. 2C:35-9

    Posted 11-01-2016 at 09:02 by squeezix
    Tags drug war, law &, order, pcp, phencyclidine
    It's taken me a long time to go public with this and I will post without fear as the record is expunged and I write here with a pseudonym.

    In the 80's a law was enacted fondly known to the legal community as "The Belushi Law" It enabled the prosecution of anyone who supplied drugs that resulted in a death to be charged with a crime akin to manslaughter. Named because they could not find a way to prosecute Jhn Belushi's girlfriend for shooting him up with the speedball that killed him. The wording of the law makes it obvious that it was designed to put away traffickers and kingpins and rode in a bill called "The Kingpin Laws" The penalty was 20 years in prison with 10 year stipulation, meaning the judge had ZERO discretion in handing down this sentence and if convicted, the offender had to serve at least 10 years before any time off was applied. This was a time in history where our ghettoes were rife with crack and children were getting shot walking to school (they were underage "clockers" for those higher up on the food chain)

    Now I need to put my experience with said judicial system in perspective. In the early 80's a family tragedy sent my parents' heads spinning. They were not attentive parents. A much older sibling committed suicide and me being a little problematic going into puberty, the focus shifted on me. And my pot use. So at 13 I was swept up in the rehab craze. At this point in history, Nancy Reagan was doing such a good job at filing drug use under Christian Guilt that many of my generation and under assume drug use is covered in the Bible and the 7 deadly sins.

    Harm reduction was definitely NOT in the interest of the cash cow rehabs. They did not take insurance and they did take 13 year old kids. In that rehab I learned about all of the drugs. Not your scare tactic DARE speeches, a little about the clinical effects, but most of what I learned were from my bunkmates and the rehab's other charges. I learned a bit about the street, I learned dangerous new tricks.

    I came from an upper middle class background. In 1983 I was a bit naive, but I do believe I had read The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test. So by the time I got out of there I was quite curious. I tried it all between 1983-1987. Loved acid, coke was OK, heroin was to become my other lover for decades, but back then I had a predilection for PCP. Great stuff, but inconsistent batches could lead to crazy times (and delirium) In those years I visited two more rehabs. PCP was not well understood back then and one of these rehabs gave me Thorazine when I was just coming down after a binge.

    Because of the first rehab I missed key parts of math. Once in high school, I was lost with pre-algebra. I couldn't get it, even with IQ scores up near 150. Emotionally troubled, outcast and missing a lot of school, I knew I'd never pass. I had a decent job at the time. Making between 250-500 per week when I was working full time was nothing to balk at for a 15 year old in the 80's so I got my GED and dropped out. Aced it, never took a class either.

    At this point I had a rep for being able to get good drugs. It was usually a good thing as I was never looking for profit and me and my friends were always high on the best. We had a lot of good times, we were really into punk rock and saw a lot of shows. I rarely went home.

    In '86 I fell in love. I'd known her for a bit but something turned magical for us. I slowed down my drug use, enthralled with this girl and we took to more wholesome ventures. Se still partied a fair bit; but it was fun rather than sustenance. We fell into a groove.

    Fast forward to the late summer of '87. I had just turned 17. 2C:35-9 had just been enacted (unbeknownst to me) and my girlfriend had a troubled hottie friend who wanted us to hang out and get high with her rather than us proceed on a date we planned. Looking back on it, this kid was the first cutter I had met. Maybe I saw some in the rehabs, but it wasn't the issue it's become since the 90's. I didn't think much of it.

    My girl and I always had a hankering to get high so we figured it was worth the hassle and made the hour+ trip with her friend to score some Dust. The shit was fire. PCP has a distinct smell of ether and good batches would soak right through the bag. Like I said we took a train to the spot and back.

    When we got to our hometown the girl was in a rush to smoke it. It was a long wait with the drugs burning a hole in my pocket, so I won't entirely blame her on the events that followed. There was an empty railyard that was quiet at night and near my home and the train station. We sparked it up there and it was hella strong. A bit strong for me, nevermind the novice. My memory gets hazy there. We were worried about her. My girl is and was a really nice girl, gentle, kind. I don't write of her a lot in this as she was and is content just being with me; non-confrontational. Her friend however had a nose for trouble and a need for attention that had become obvious over the course of the evening (first time I'd met her)

    I do remember her collapsing and having to carry her for quite awhile. I remember putting her down at the edge of the railbed close to a wooded area. I was too fucked up and too small to carry her anymore than I did. We left her there. Exactly where I will truly never know. I do know it was at least an hour before she sat down on the rails in front of the train.

    It took almost a year before any charges were filed. It took no time at all to move me out of juvenile court. My dad was an attorney. The prosecutor wanted headlines; also to show no tolerance, not even toward the son of a man he worked with and around for decades. Our fear of the law back then prevented us from calling for help when the shit went down.

    I went into a Synanon based Therapeutic Community. I was still aminor and they accepted me. I met up with some crazy shit there. A few guys died of AIDS in the rehab. A lot were in from prison programs.

    I pled out to 7 years. They gave me time served for damn near all of the rehab and I did just over a year. I got out two days before my 21st birthday.

    When I use the word victim in the context of this, please remember I made these decisions aware of the danger. I do not consider myself a victim in any way shape or form except for that first rehab and the fear of marijuana instilled in my parents by propaganda. I'm the only one of 7 kids without a Master's degree. And I blame it on Nancy Reagan.

    So by 91 I knew the streets and I knew the prison system and I knew the players. I love my life, it's been rich, I work in the fine arts. I've tasted the finest chemistry known to man. I've had doors open for me that seem to others to exist in mythology. I've never been rich. I've never been totally accepted in the default world. I di my part in saving a community from dangerous Chinese analog drugs. I helped fuel an arts and music movement and I've caught a lot of fish. I got the girl back. I exiled myself in paradise. I'm the strongest motherfucker I've yet met.

    Thanks DF and alfa. I hope what I've left here might help someone out there and I know those in a shitty legal position, especially kids, can read this and see that they are not alone in their follies.

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