SPEED TRAP

Tifney Smith went from a size 10 to a size zero.

Single mother Suzi Cappelli got by on two hours sleep, using the extra
hours to clean her home and entertain her 5-year-old son.

For a couple of minutes of work, Alesha Schmidt made at least $400 a
day.

At first, the women said, methamphetamine seemed the answer to their
problems. But the drug that seemed to give them so much quickly turned
on them, eventually taking over their lives and turning them from
superwives and moms into junkies.

Like thousands of women across Utah who have tangled with meth, 26-
year-old Jill Bartschi of Salt Lake City had divided loyalties. First
came meth. Then came her husband and 3-year-old son.

"There were a lot of times I'd put a movie on [for my son] and say,
'God, just watch the movie and let me get high,' " said Bartschi, who
worked as a school principal's assistant for two years while using
meth. "I had all these little rationalizations, justifications, addict
rules -- you can't use it if he's in the room. But if he's in the
bathtub, I can run in the other room and get high."

The stories of these women, all recovering meth addicts, aren't
unique. There is an alarming sameness to them: At first, meth seems
like a wonder drug that makes everything possible, from losing weight
to finding endless hours of stamina.

Almost inevitably, though, users lose everything they thought they
gained, and much, much more.

Simply put, methamphetamine is a powerful, cheap stimulant that lures
users at nearly every socioeconomic level. It is the one drug Utah
women abuse at a rate nearly equal to that of men, and the
repercussions affect children, families and even state government.

In 1999, 34 percent of the women booked into the Salt Lake County Jail
tested positive for meth, according to a National Institute of Justice
report. Of 34 metro areas surveyed, only San Diego, at 36 percent, was
higher.

The same report ranked Salt Lake-area men third in the nation for
using meth -- but they were only 25 percent of those booked into jail.

In 2000, nearly half of the 3,449 people who entered publicly funded
treatment in Utah for meth were women, according to the state's
Division of Substance Abuse. By comparison, women have made up fewer
than a third of users seeking treatment for other drugs.

The scope of the meth problem is undoubtedly much larger, however,
since these numbers reflect only users receiving publicly funded
treatment, said Angela Smart, a research consultant for the division.

Even more frightening: The female meth user is most often also a meth
mother.

State statistics show 90 percent of women admitted for meth treatment
have dependent children. And most female users are between the ages of
18 and 32, typical child-bearing years.

Officials are sounding a warning: if the current rate of abuse by
women, particularly mothers, continues, nearly all state agencies,
from child services to education and drug treatment, will be affected.

"I've worked with child protection for six years, and these are
absolutely the most abused and neglected children I've seen," said
Lisa Jorgensen, a caseworker for the Division of Child and Family Services.

Skinny Supermoms: Smith, now 29, was looking for more hours in the day
when she tried meth four years ago. She had a 6-year-old son at home
in Clearfield and worked a full-time job. "It just seemed like there
was always somewhere to be, something to be doing," she said.

On meth, she said, "I'd feel I could paint the side of the house with
a toothbrush."

Meth's attraction to women is simple: a single dose -- snorted,
smoked, swallowed or injected -- awakens a user's senses and supplies
them with a feeling of overwhelming vigor. They stay awake for days or
even weeks during binges.

Smith's closet was a study in meth-triggered obsession. Black shirts
on black hangers. Green ones on green hangers. White on white. All of
her pants hung on rose-colored hangers. T-shirts, also hanging on
white hangers, were alphabetized by the words on them.

"I don't think a lot of [women] are trying it for recreation," said
Smart, who surveys incoming inmates at the Salt Lake Metro Jail and
state prison each year. "They're taking it to clean their homes after
coming home from working two jobs."

Michelle Young, a mother of three from Kearns, initially found family
happiness with meth. One morning, a friend offered her a line of meth
to snort. Over the next several months, Young, a high-school dropout
who had earned a GED and become a gas station manager, began doing a
line or two every other day, spending about $20 a week.

"I could spend time with my children. I had time for my husband. I was
getting all of the housework done. Everybody was happy.

"I was a foster parent. I was a room mother. You name it, I was doing
it. That's why I liked meth so much. It made me supermom."

That was in 1994. By the time she was arrested six years later, Young
was a meth fiend, smoking as much as an ounce daily.

There's also another attraction for women -- quick weight loss. Meth
works as an appetite suppressant, similar to "generic speed" diet
pills popular decades ago. Some women call meth "Jenny Crank," a
reference to Jenny Craig diets.

Trying the drug for the first time, Bartschi was amazed to find she
hadn't snacked in hours. At the time of her last arrest in late 2000,
Schmidt had dwindled to 98 pounds -- 32 pounds below her normal weight.

Thrill Ride: For many, using meth is a thrill ride.

"Have you ever been skydiving? It's the biggest thing you've ever done
that's so scary but the funnest," Smith said.

Smith started using meth after watching her boyfriend come home from a
20-hour work day and still have energy to wash his truck. She endured
the eye-watering, gagging effects of snorting before she began smoking
the drug.

"I'm not going to lie, meth is a lot of fun," says Smith, who is
currently in a treatment program at the Davis County Jail's Work Center.

Cappelli, a 32-year-old with auburn curls and wholesome looks, started
using drugs and alcohol at age 13, moving on to cocaine in her 20s.

A single mom, she initially pledged to stay away from meth. But
friends told her it produced a better high than cocaine, and lasted
longer. Plus, she said, it was cheaper.

Friends told her she would be fine if she remembered to lie down for
two hours a day and to eat something. She would sleep from 4 to 6
a.m., then have a cup of coffee and a hit of meth before waking her
son for school.

"I used to tell people I was a functional drug addict because I could
hold down a job," said Cappelli, who held various jobs -- operating a
cement mixer, driving a truck -- during her addiction.

Good Intentions: West Valley City Police Lt. Charles Illsley says meth
addiction follows a predictable cycle. "It starts out a well-meaning
attempt to organize a household, to look better and get a husband and
to hold down a job."

But the love affair between women and meth sours quickly.

The 22-year-old Schmidt graduated from Roy High School in 1998 with a
3.5 GPA. Shortly before graduation, she was introduced to meth by her
boyfriend's mother. She became a manager of a warehouse for a
miracle," she said.

Bartschi also completed a treatment program in order to get her son
back. "It was either drugs or my son," she said. "For me, it was very
easy."

Smith nearly killed herself before she stopped using
meth.

In 2000, Smith entered drug court and passed every drug test for 10
months. She was still using meth, but every day she ate a toxic dose
of two chlorine tablets -- the ones used to keep hot tubs clean -- in
a successful strategy for passing urine tests.

"It was like having the flu so horribly bad I couldn't move. My
eyelids hurt. I felt constantly like I had to puke but I couldn't,"
Smith said.

Finally, she deliberately allowed herself to test positive, thinking
she'd get thrown in jail for a couple of weeks -- enough time to clean
her system. Instead, she was ordered to a four-month Davis County Jail
program.

She now works as a receptionist at a real estate company.

The women admit they're still tempted. Young recently turned down an
offer to get high on a drive to Wendover.

Cappelli, who works in customer service for a car rental company,
sometimes misses her circle of drug-using friends. She sees some of
them occasionally -- on the nightly news.

Others are in prison for crimes like aggravated kidnapping and assault
with a deadly weapon. "Today, I would never even dream of letting
these people in my house," she said. "The thought of it makes me cringe."