STATE BATTLES RISE IN METHAMPHETAMINE LABS

'A Meth Cook Not In Jail Is Cooking'

EVANSVILLE, Ind. -- With tears in her eyes, Denise Quintanilla begged the
judge to spare her a life sentence in prison.

''You know, this is my life, and I pray that the Lord's guiding you, you
know. I'm scared,'' the 33-yearold mother of three told U.S. District Judge
Richard L. Young.

Married to an imprisoned drug lord, Quintanilla was convicted last fall of
trafficking in methamphetamine, helping to funnel drugs worth $250,000 from
Texas into Southern Indiana.

Police say she is just one player in an ever increasing cat-andmouse game
between methamphetamine traffickers and authorities in Indiana, Kentucky
and elsewhere in the Midwest.

In the federal court system in Southern Indiana, the number of defendants
charged with meth trafficking increased from 7 percent of the caseload in
1995 to 28 percent in 2000. Elsewhere in the Midwest, meth cases have
clogged court systems and cost taxpayers millions to clean up discarded
meth labs -- at the price of about $125,000 per lab.

The problem, at least in Indiana, appears concentrated in rural areas, said
Tim Morrison, an assistant U.S. attorney in Southern Indiana.

''Will it stay there for a long period of time? I don't know,'' Morrison
said. ''I can tell you, five years ago it wasn't here and now it is.''

Indiana State Police helped seize 681 meth labs in 2001, compared with just
six in 1995, Sgt. Todd Ringle said. In Kentucky, police dismantled six meth
labs in 1996, and 268 in 2001, according to state police figures.

''We're fighting an uphill battle,'' Ringle said. ''The numbers continue to
get higher and higher.''

In the Midwest, methamphetamine is distributed about equally by two
sources, said David Barton, director of the Midwest High Intensity Drug
Trafficking Area in Kansas City, Mo.

Organized drug rings, most from Mexico, typically import meth produced in
''super labs'' in California or other Western states at a rate of 10 pounds
or more a day.

The second source is mom-andpop producers who buy ingredients -- cold
medicine and lithium batteries, for example -- at stores and produce
methamphetamine in motels, vans and backyard sheds. They often use and sell
the drugs, and sometimes barter a portion for supplies for the next batch.

Some call methamphetamine the poor man's cocaine because it is a highly
addictive stimulant that produces a euphoria similar to cocaine, but lasts
longer -- six to eight hours compared with 20 minutes to an hour for
cocaine, Ringle said.

The price, however, is equivalent, roughly $100 for a gram, Kentucky State
Trooper Mark Applin said.

''You can smoke meth, you can snort it, you can ingest it or you can inject
it,'' Ringle said.

The drug is dubbed ''speed,'' ''crank,'' ''crystal-meth'' and ''glass'' on
the streets. Authorities say the abundance of chemicals used to make meth
- -- particularly the agriculture fertilizer anhydrous ammonium -- is a
factor in its popularity.

''It's very easy to make with a large profit return,'' Applin said. ''It
will probably be the longest-running drug problem we'll see in Kentucky in
the next 10 years.''

Nationwide, the number of meth labs seized by the U.S. Drug Enforcement
Administration increased from 287 in 1994 to 1,837 in 2000, said Joe Long,
a DEA spokesman. That does not include labs seized by state and local
authorities.

The meth problem in Indiana and Kentucky touches a wide segment of society
- -- from the farmer who needs to protect his fertilizer from theft to the
store clerks watching for customers who buy large amounts of cold tablets
containing the raw ingredients for the drugs.

Smaller-scale producers often hop from store to store to buy the needed
products. And they steal others.

The lure of drug money tears families like Denise Quintanilla's apart.

Quintanilla -- whose children are 17, 15, and 13 -- was sentenced to life
in prison. The Dallas woman maintained she is innocent. But the judge,
citing two prior felony drug convictions, said he had no choice but to lock
her up for life.

Even if Quintanilla did help traffic in meth, David Shaw, her lawyer, said
she did not deserve to be sentenced to life in prison. He argued that
''life in prison for passing on messages or running an errand is grossly
disproportionate.''

But the police on the streets -- and increasingly on the rural roads of
Indiana and Kentucky -- are not buying the argument, from Quintanilla or
anyone else involved in making methamphetamines.

Concluded Barton: ''A meth cook not in jail is cooking.''

An Indiana State Police trooper collected evidence during a methamphetamine
raid in Columbus in April of last year.