EX-WRESTLER'S TUSSLE WITH PHANTOMS DRIVES HIM TO REHAB

Addict cuts down trees, uses chain saw to destroy cabin after meth binge
leaves him short of the euphoria he craves.

After snorting methamphetamine around the clock for three sleepless weeks,
the addict's binge cycle turned dangerous.

The paranoid stage, called "tweaking," had set in, marked by severe
depression, violent aggression and hallucinations.

To chase away phantoms, Jack began ingesting grams at a time of his potent,
home-brewed crystal - quantities strong enough to kill several people if
they lacked tolerance for the drug. But he could not recapture the euphoric
high.

Imagining that FBI agents were roosting in the oaks surrounding his rural
cabin, Jack cut the trees down.

When he became certain that night breezes camouflaged DEA signals, he
cranked up the stereo to drown them out.

Yet the authorities pressed closer, until, in a flash of illumination, Jack
thought he found their hiding place.

"I heard twigs scratching against the cabin and realized it wasn't twigs at
all. It was them, hiding behind the drywall," he said.

Jack, 34, decided to strike first - with a chain saw.

"I totally lost it. I hacked through the walls and wound up destroying the
whole cabin. No more tree people. No more noises. Just me, all (obscenity)
up," he said, puffing on a cigarette, the only stimulant allowed at the
Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Treatment center in midtown St. Louis.

Jack entered the state-funded institution in March as part of a plea
bargain for a burglary conviction.

For a homeless man taking his 23rd shot at rehab, Jack looked and acted
remarkably fit. He sported a stylish haircut, courtesy of a hairdresser
undergoing treatment at DART. His taut arms flexed with the power that made
him a high school wrestling standout growing up in north St. Louis County.

More impressive was his engaging demeanor. He maintained steady eye
contact, doled out effusive compliments and peppered his conversation with
self-deprecating humor ("You know what they say: Rehab is for quitters!")

A closer look revealed the ravages of a drug-addled life.

Flat, pale lines marked collapsed veins. Needle scars peppered his ankles,
calves, even his jugular vein.

That fresh haircut revealed a four-inch scar from a drug deal gone bad. And
those were only the visible damages.

"I'm on nine different medications. I have neuropathy in my legs,
pancreatitis, my liver is shot, my lungs are shot," Jack said, lighting up
another cigarette.

He has been addicted alternately to methamphetamine and heroin for the past
15 years. The heroin came first. Jack turned to the meth as a pick-me-up
when heroin made him sluggish at work.

When the meth tweaking peaked, he'd complete the cycle with a shot of
heroin to cushion the crash.

"After I wrecked the cabin, I went back to my apartment and shot a
half-gram of heroin," he said, declining to specify the locations. "It was
a Monday morning. I vomited and then went to sleep."

After Jack awoke, he took a long shower. For the first time in weeks, he
felt hungry. He drove to a favorite restaurant, where he knew the waitress.

"She asked if I wanted to go out dancing after she got off work. I said,
'Dancing on a Monday?' She laughed and said, 'What are you talking about?
It's Saturday!' "

He had slept for five days.

Burglarizing homes to buy heroin resulted in Jack's most recent conviction.
If he wants meth again, however, he doesn't have to steal for it.

"All I need is a few ounces of anhydrous ammonia, some lithium batteries,
any cold medicines, some Coleman fuel and a few coffee filters," he said,
sketching a crude diagram of the operation he ran in the cabin.

"I can make a couple of ounces of pure crystal meth in a few hours. Half a
gram of my stuff - I call it 'The Bomb' - would keep you running for days."

For years, Jack juggled addictions with family life and a good-paying
construction job. Returning home from work after dark one day, he turned on
the light to find the house empty. Fed up with the tweaking, his wife had
moved out with their two sons and just about everything else.

"All that was left were my clothes, in a pile on the living room floor,"
Jack said.

He eventually lost the house and his job. He did three years in prison for
a drug conviction. For the past few years, he has lived on the streets.

In the short stint at the DART unit, Jack had learned to appreciate life's
small pleasures - a good meal, the center's dance parties, and getting to
stay up late to watch television on Fridays and Saturdays.

"I feel like I can really quit for good this time," he said. "But I've
always had good intentions."