STATE WORKS TO EMULATE OKLAHOMA'S METH LAW

Missouri's Limits on Pseudoephedrine Easy to Defeat, Recovering Addict
Says

Thirty years of injecting methamphetamine into his hairy, tattooed
arms has taken its toll on Stanley Harris. But he's still an ace when
it comes to meth mathematics: Two people buying Sudafed or -- even
better -- generic-brand cold medicine at eight area Walgreens equals
1,600 pills.

"Then we're going to be able to make a quarter pound of death," said a
grinning Harris, exposing his upper gumline, left toothless by his
addiction. "Because that's what it is. It's not meth. It's death."

This year, Missouri lawmakers hope to strike at the heart of the meth
scourge by controlling a key ingredient: pseudoephedrine. A handful of
bills have been filed, seeking to restrict sales of tablets.

The legislation could pit retailers and powerful drug companies --
which make millions of dollars off the products -- against law
enforcement and, many say, the good of a slightly inconvenienced public.

On a recent tour of Springfield, Harris explained how he got around
Missouri's two-package limit on the pills with ease.

He would start at the Dollar General store a few blocks from his west
Springfield home. Then he'd zip right across the street to a
convenience store for another 50 pseudoephedrine pills.

"That's 100, and then, bam, down to the Fast 'n' Friendly at Kansas
and then to O'Reilly's if I needed Heet (a fuel additive used in
making meth)," Harris said.

Once on Kansas Expressway, Harris and his buddies would head south to
the Walgreens at Republic Road and Scenic Avenue. One by one, they
bought two packages apiece, constantly peering over their shoulders
for anything suspicious.

Then it was back up Kansas, popping into every Walgreens for more
pills and an occasional grocery store to stock up on boxes of matches.

The ease with which meth makers like Harris could obtain their
supplies has pushed Missouri lawmakers to find a solution.

The measures being considered mimic provisions of an Oklahoma law
passed in April. But a bill filed by Sen. Norma Champion,
R-Springfield, would go the furthest.

She proposes following Oklahoma's lead: allowing only pharmacists or
registered technicians to sell pseudoephedrine tablets and requiring
customers to show photo identification and sign a log.

The information would be available immediately to police.

"It's a little bit of a nuisance for the person who needs a cold
tablet," Champion said. "But most people are willing to put up with a
bit of inconvenience in order to try to control the meth
production."

Tighter Restrictions

Champion's measure, Senate Bill 27, would also classify
pseudoephedrine as a Schedule V narcotic, allowing police to track how
much pharmacies are buying and selling.

Pharmacies would have to move such medications behind a counter and
away from the public. Gelcaps and liquid cold medicine would be exempted.

If opposition to restrictions in Missouri is anything like it was in
Oklahoma, lawmakers here can expect stealth lobbying in statehouse
corridors. "The only ones that resisted it were the major drug
companies ...," said Mark Woodward, spokesman for the Oklahoma Bureau
of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs Control.

Missouri already restricts sales of pseudoephedrine to two or three
packages, depending on the type of medication.

But that doesn't keep meth makers from "smurfing"-- going from store
to store buying the legal limit at each.

Hoping to fit in with the older crowd, Harris first tried meth as an
11-year-old growing up in Fair Grove. In the 33 years since, he's had
three heart attacks, flatlined twice and been told his pockmarked arms
would likely have to be amputated.

Years of shooting up literally rotted the inside of his elbows,
leaving cavernous holes that had to be scrubbed vigorously with iodine
to prevent infection. As the wounds healed, he pierced lesser-used
veins in his forearms.

Harris, who's been clean for about four months, was injecting 4 grams
of meth a day at the peak of his addiction. Then he got busted and did
two stints in Missouri prisons. Now he's a roofer who regularly
answers to a parole officer and attends various drug rehabilitation
groups.

The graying father of three has been doing a lot of thinking about the
life he wasted chasing his next meth high.

"It's one of the best feelings followed by the worst feeling in your
life," he now admits.

Going Too Far?

Groups representing pseudoephedrine makers and retailers support sales
restrictions. But Oklahoma's law and Champion's bill overreach, they
say.

Kevin Kraushaar, a representative of the Consumer Healthcare Products
Association, testified against the legislation during a Senate hearing
last week.

He cited a study that said pseudoephedrine medications save the U.S.
health-care system billions of dollars by keeping sick people out of
emergency rooms and doctors' offices. Kraushaar also said other states
have seen fewer meth labs because of limits on the wholesale purchase
and distribution of pseudoephedrine products.

"There are other success stories out there besides the state of
Oklahoma," said Kraushaar, whose trade group is based in Washington,
D.C.

Walgreens, one of the country's largest drugstore chains, supports a
new Illinois law that requires cold tablets with pseudoephedrine as
their only active ingredient to be placed behind the counter or in a
locked case on the floor, said company spokesman Michael Polzin.

"We think that's a reasonable compromise to make in the interest of
public safety," he said. "We don't want to put our pharmacies in the
position of law enforcement."

But converting pharmacies into repositories for a highly sought-after
meth ingredient could also bring unintended consequences, Polzin said.
"It makes pharmacies more of a target for criminals," he said "I think
that's a legitimate concern."

The Consumer Health Products Association also supports limits on
retail sales and a requirement that retailers notify states if they
sell pseudoephedrine products. Education programs, more stringent
penalties for cooking or dealing meth and "full federal funding" for
law enforcement efforts are also key, the group says.

Dave Overfelt, president of the Missouri Retailers Association, said
recently that Champion's bill would add hassle and expense to the
workload of pharmacists.

"My research has shown me that the pharmacists who have to deal with
this in Oklahoma are having tremendous problems with law enforcement,
who are coming in and disrupting the pharmacy on a daily basis,
basically going from trying to catch the meth cookers to harassing the
pharmacist who has a lot of other duties to protect the health and
welfare of the public ...," Overfelt said.

"And, quite honestly, I think they've gone too far
there."

But despite efforts to the contrary, large quantities of
pseudoephedrine are ending up in the wrong hands. And black-market use
doesn't exactly give legitimate companies the incentive to support
greater restrictions.

"I don't think that the drug companies are pro-meth dealers or
pro-meth cooks," said Missouri Attorney General Jay Nixon, who likes
Oklahoma's law. "But they certainly are pro-profit."

The problem has gotten bad enough in Missouri that St. Charles County,
Poplar Bluff and other local jurisdictions have adopted restrictions
of their own.

Harris, the recovering addict, said he started cooking meth in 1999
after he realized how easy it was to make the drug with cheap
store-bought materials.

"If I couldn't have bought the (pseudoephedrine) pills ...
manufacturing methamphetamine never would have been in my life," he
said.

Locking up the pills and requiring customers to show photo ID would be
an invaluable deterrent, Harris said.

"The pills is the whole key to this thing," he said. "Without the
pills, there's no dope."