"NAZI" METH LABS INVADING NORTH TEXAS

DECATUR -- They're called Nazi meth labs, though they have nothing to
do with the Third Reich or white supremacy, much less with science.

These are clandestine mom-and-pop operations that make what once was
called "the poor man's cocaine" -- methamphetamine -- and their
numbers are increasing in the United States at an alarming rate, law
enforcement authorities say. The increase is riding expanded
production of meth by Mexican cartels who operate "super labs" in
Mexico and California and supply most of the meth that's sold in the
United States, drug agents say. Increased demand and once-secret
recipes that are simple and available on the Internet have created an
opening for mom-and-pop labs to get a piece of the business, agents
say.

From $60 in raw materials -- including anhydrous ammonia, lithium
batteries and common cold tablets -- dealers can quickly produce more
than $1,000 worth of meth, said Sgt. Robin Melton, a narcotics
investigator for the Wise County Sheriff's Department. Usually sold
in clear-plastic bags for about $100 a gram, meth cooks can quickly
recoup their costs.

The trend "is just starting to hit Texas," said Drug Enforcement
Administration special agent Guy Hargreaves, who is based in
Washington, D.C.

The number of meth labs seized in Texas climbed from 33 in 1997 to
181 in 1999, the DEA said. Through October, 180 labs have been seized
this year.

Drug investigators say the labs are beginning to appear in the
southern half of the state, recently turning up in the Houston area
for the first time.

Those numbers are small, however, compared with the number of
seizures in Oklahoma, Arkansas and Missouri. There, authorities say,
Texans can glimpse a full-blown problem that could be developing
here. Like old-time moonshiners, small-time meth producers in that
three-state region set up their labs in remote rural areas.

Last year, seizures of clandestine meth labs totaled 396 in Oklahoma,
334 in Arkansas and 438 in Missouri, according to local, state and
federal law enforcement reports that were channeled to the DEA.

Agencies have no clear estimate of the human suffering related to
meth use. Several meth "cooks" are killed each year while mixing the
explosive ingredients in the synthetic drug, the DEA says. The
National Institute on Drug Abuse warns that meth "is a powerfully
addictive stimulant associated with serious health conditions,
including memory loss, aggression, psychotic behavior, and potential
heart and brain damage; it also contributes to increased transmission
of hepatitis and HIV/AIDS."

Officials say that as the problem develops in Texas, they expect an
increase in abuse and neglect cases in users' families, spiraling
costs for law enforcement and environmental cleanup needed at lab
sites, and increased addiction that will strain drug rehabilitation
programs.

Long-term use can cause skin lesions, weight loss, rotting teeth and
bouts of paranoia that can lead to abusive behavior, said Jane
Maxwell of the Texas Council on Alcohol and Drug Abuse.

"I think that this generation is forgetting that speed kills; they're
forgetting about the violence associated with it and the physical
abuse that comes with the paranoia," Maxwell said. "And it takes a
toll on the human body. You're injecting some pretty toxic chemicals."

Users come from all socioeconomic backgrounds.

Low-income users are more numerous because meth is cheaper than other
drugs, said Sabina Stern, program coordinator for the Collin County
Substance Abuse program.

"In my experience, they're adult males from their late teens on up,"
Stern said. "They're undereducated and underemployed." But meth is no
longer the "poor man's cocaine," as it was once known. Meth now cuts
across socioeconomic classes -- from pickup-driving good ol' boys to
Internet Web site technicians in Silicon Valley who reportedly drop
it in their morning coffee to keep them awake after working or
partying all night. The front lines in the battle against meth labs
are in rural locales such as Wise, Denton and Johnson counties, where
the labs flourish because of access to supplies of anhydrous ammonia
fertilizer, a key ingredient in homemade meth.

"The methamphetamine problem is worse than we've ever seen," said
Kirk Beauchamp, commander of the North Central Texas Narcotics Task
Force, which covers Wise, Denton and Collin counties.

"It is hitting rural areas like Wise County especially hard because
they can steal the ammonia from farmers, ranchers or local co-ops,
and there's usually little or no security," Beauchamp said.

Wise County, just northwest of Tarrant County, and the western half
of Denton County were among the first areas in Texas to experience
the new wave of meth labs. Investigators have seized an average of
one lab a week over the past four months. In Fort Worth, officials
have been averaging four a week. And Tarrant County's narcotics task
force saw the amount of meth seized in the last year climb from 20
pounds to more than 70 pounds. Meth is usually sold in one-gram doses.

Wise County authorities believe that they are identifying only a
fraction of the clandestine operations. Because the ingredients can
fit anywhere -- inside a recreational vehicle, a kitchen counter or a
field in the middle of nowhere -- it's almost impossible to catch the
meth cooks in the act of concocting a batch.

DPS spokesman Tom Vinger said it's generally accepted that the number
of clandestine labs has increased sharply because meth is so much
simpler and faster to make, with recipes readily available for free
on the Internet.

Hargreaves said it doesn't take a genius to make the drug.

Every ingredient used in the so-called "Nazi meth" method -- except
the chemical fertilizer -- can be found in retail stores. These
include common cold remedies containing pseudoephedrine, rock salt,
ether and engine starter fluid. The old method required a knowledge
of chemistry; "meth cooks" jealously guarded their recipes and
required a much longer time -- a week to 10 days -- to make a batch
that can now be made in a few hours.

The name "Nazi" meth stems from one of the first speed cooks to be
caught in southwestern Missouri, Hargreaves said. The cook placed a
recipe on a letterhead that included a Nazi eagle insignia and a
swastika.

"I don't know if the guy was a white supremacist or not, but the name
stuck," he said.

The name does not stem from the use of meth by the German army in
World War II, although the Nazis and the Allies used the drug to keep
soldiers energized for battle or other duties, Hargreaves said.

Methamphetamine is as addictive as cocaine, according to the DEA. But
while crack-cocaine binges rarely last longer than 72 hours, a meth
binge can last as long as two weeks before a user finally "crashes."
There have been few accounts of violence associated with meth use in
Texas. But Child Protective Services officials say neglect cases
within families are increasing.

Families that are involved with meth tend to be disorganized, CPS
spokeswoman Marleigh Meisner said. "These families are not providing
care to their children.

"In one case, we had a young father that wasn't abusing his children
but was abusing his wife," Meisner said. "By all previous accounts,
before he became addicted to methamphetamine, he was a stable father
with no history of violence."

Meth makers can also harm their neighbors by accidentally starting
fires while manufacturing meth or by producing toxic gases.

This year, Collin County has recorded three structural fires
triggered by the volatile mix of chemicals used in the labs, Collin
County Fire Marshal Steve Dissenbaugh said.

"The issue of public safety is one of the most important issues
involving these mom-and-pop labs," Hargreaves said. "It's one of the
reasons why you should care. Because there may be the equivalent of a
pipe bomb in a neighbor's house."

Officials also voice concerns about the labs' effect on the environment.

Local and state law enforcement agencies in North Texas have already
seen a substantial increase in cleanup costs paid generally with
federal funds. Through October, $489,000 had been spent to clean 171
lab sites. Last year, $267,000 was spent to clean up 85 sites; in
1998, $5,000 was spent to clean one site.

Cleanup is essential, Joseph Corcoran, special agent in charge of the
DEA's St. Louis division, told Congress last August during testimony
before the House Judiciary Subcommittee on Crime. Corcoran told the
panel that "the chemical contamination of the hazardous waste
contained in these labs ... poses a serious danger to our nation's
environment. Each pound of methamphetamine generated in a clandestine
lab can result in as much as 5 pounds of toxic waste, which
clandestine lab operators routinely dump into our nation's streams,
rivers and sewage systems ...

"Because of the possibility of explosions and direct contact with
toxic fumes and hazardous chemicals, law enforcement officers who
raid clandestine drug labs are now required to take special hazardous
materials handling training." Graduates of the DEA's Clandestine Lab
School in Quantico, Va., each receive more than $2,000 in safety
gear, he said.

Last year, the DEA exhausted $11 million budgeted to clean up 3,800
seized labs nationwide and has raised its budget this year to $13.5
million. They have spent more than $5 million to train state and
local law enforcement to handle cleanup after a lab is seized.

The EPA considers the chemicals from the labs hazardous materials and
requires officers to be trained in the use of special suits and to
wear those suits when handling the labs.

Danger from chemicals hasn't stopped meth cooks from attempting to
steal anhydrous ammonia from farmers' storage tanks. In July 1999, a
46-year-old man suffered chemical burns while attempting to steal
anhydrous ammonia from a farmers' co-op near Cross Plains in Callahan
County, about 130 miles west of Fort Worth. When the valve was
broken, a vapor cloud formed and burned the man's skin and lungs,
Callahan County Sheriff Eddie Curtis said.

And although it is illegal to carry the ammonia in anything except a
regulation container, officers frequently find the fertilizer stored
in containers such as milk jugs and thermoses.

Last year, the narcotics task force caught several people suspected
of being meth lab operators on Paul Wood's ranch near Boonsville in
southwestern Wise County. That seemed to deter others from
trespassing for a while.

But after more than a year without the fertilizer, Wood recently
found evidence of someone having tampered with a valve on a large
ammonia tank.

"I think someone was out here trying to get some," Wood said, "but
they didn't even have the sense to look at the gauge and see it was
empty."

Staff writer Domingo Ramirez Jr. contributed to this report.