KIDS CALLED METH'S SILENT VICTIMS

National Expert at Local Conference on Drug Use Says Children Are Put at Risk.

Bobby's tiny body - belly bloated and ribs bulging - lies on a
stainless-steel autopsy table, a testament to methamphetamine's grim
toll on children. Ron Mullins tells Bobby's story everywhere he goes.
A graphic photograph of the boy's corpse is a reminder of the worst
sort, he said.

"We had the opportunity to rescue him, and we didn't," said Mullins,
national training coordinator for the National Alliance for Drug
Endangered Children in San Diego.

The baby boy, who was born to a meth-addicted mother in New Mexico,
was discovered during a drug raid. Lying in soiled sheets, Bobby
couldn't catch his breath long enough to eat.

His lungs were severely impaired from living inside a home where
cooking meth and getting high took precedence above all else.

After 25 years with the New Mexico State Police, Mullins - now retired
- - has dismantled hundreds of makeshift labs used to cook the toxic
homemade concoction.

"This drug is like nothing I've ever seen," he said. "This drug will
absolutely steal your soul."

But adults who smoke, snort and inject the destructive stimulant don't
just end up hurting themselves, Mullins said.

They neglect, abuse and contaminate children in the process, the
ex-cop told more than 60 people Tuesday morning at a conference
sponsored by Community Partnership of the Ozarks.

Law enforcement officials, firefighters, child protective services
workers and medical professionals were among those who attended.

"I call children silent victims," he said. "Quite often no one speaks
for them. You have to be their voice. They're counting on you."

Mullins' presentation is peppered with sobering pictures of what
happens to human flesh when meth cooks "flop," or make dangerous mistakes.

Spilled chemicals lead to severe skin rashes and respiratory problems.
And flare-ups or explosions can singe hair, cause serious burns or
even kill those who risk the highly volatile cooking process.

One in every six meth labs results in a fire or explosion, Mullins
said.

Last month, a man allegedly cooking meth in the basement of a
southwest Greene County home was severely burned when the lab exploded.

Three children inside the house when the lab blew up were removed and
placed in the custody of relatives.

When children are taken into state custody, the Missouri Department of
Social Services is required by law to place them with family members
when possible.

But children handed over to family members after meth lab busts are
rarely out of harm's way for long, said Bill Dyer, group supervisor
for the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration's Springfield office.

All too often, parents arrested for manufacturing meth make bail and
regain custody of their children, Dyer said. Sometimes within 24
hours, he said.

Formally filing charges against the parents makes little difference,
said Greene County Senior Assistant Prosecutor Todd Myers.

"It is not uncommon for children to be placed back in the custody of
their parents even if there are charges pending against the parents
for a drug violation," Myers said.

Social workers with Missouri's Children's Division said custody issues
are complicated by the state's emphasis on kinship care.

"It's a balancing act," explained Vanessa Johnston with the Children's
Division.

Decision-making involving drug-endangered children often leads to
interagency friction, Mullins said. Both Myers and Melissa Haddow,
executive director of Community Partnership of the Ozarks, noted the
issue is not easily solved.

But the protocols for dealing with children at a meth lab, established
by the alliance and implemented in other communities, seem to be
making a positive impact, Mullins said.

On-site decontamination vehicles, mentorship programs and accurate
tracking of exposure to meth and its ingredients are needed in Greene
County, Mullins added.

"Nobody's addressing the problem," he said. "But it is fixable.
Children are damaged (by meth exposure), but they're not doomed."

Community Partnership of the Ozarks is especially interested in the
prospect of a decontamination vehicle - essentially a 30-foot
recreational vehicle where children are given clean clothes and a
urine sample is collected. It's also a place for investigators to
conduct initial interviews.

"It is absolutely a priority of ours," Haddow said.

The vehicle would cost between $75,000 to $100,000, Haddow said,
adding that the partnership is actively seeking donors and even
considering buying a used RV.

Having a comfortable place for kids to go when police officers raid
meth labs is the first of many steps toward improvement, Haddow said,
admitting that the region hasn't adequately addressed issues
surrounding drug-endangered children.

"It's not anyone's fault in the community," she said. "It's simply
that no one knew what to do."

Haddow added: "We needed to get everybody here to hear the same story.
I think this really opened up a lot of eyes about how serious and
systemic the problem is in our community."