ADDICTS' REALITY PROVES TOUGH PILL TO SWALLOW

As I took my seat among the circle of 15 men, I was jolted by the
hodgepodge gathering.

Black, white. Young, old.

Homeboys in Nikes and good old boys in cowboy boots.

A young executive type in a red pullover sat next to a rough-looking
character in a torn work shirt who sat next to a Plano boy in Doc
Martens and a Guess sweat shirt.

I'm not sure what I expected drug addicts to look like. I certainly
knew that addiction affects all sorts of people. But seeing them,
sitting among them ... .

Well, it was sobering.

A few months back, I interviewed some people who believe our drug
problem would be greatly eased by legalizing drugs. Prohibition didn't
work, they say. And it isn't working with drugs.

Then I spent an evening riding with some Dallas cops who strongly
disagreed. Clear laws, firmly enforced - that's the key, they say.

On Wednesday evening, I took the question to the source - to addicts
themselves.

Trinity Recovery Center is a residential treatment and detox facility
in Oak Cliff. Some go there voluntarily. Some go by court order - a
last chance before prison.

These Wednesday-night follow-up meetings are a freebie, a service
offered to help former residents stay clean and sober.

Tough talk

The meeting began with updates from the men on their progress. One of
the first to talk was David. He's 43 but looks 63. And he confessed to
another recent drug binge.

The anguish in his voice was gut-wrenching. "I went through $22,000 in
17 days," he said. "I found myself sitting outside of a rock house ...
my wife and kids home hungry. ..."

He didn't have to elaborate. Most in the room had been
there.

Around they went, telling stories of struggle and success. The
rough-looking fellow in the torn shirt cried a little as he told of
his vow to stay off drugs - and out of prison.

"The last time I got home, I promised my little girl that I would
never leave her again," he said in a choked voice.

When I asked the men whether they thought it would be a good idea to
make drugs legal, most seemed horrified.

"No way," they said. Most have been in prison or jail, and the thought
of going back is one thing that keeps them clean.

"If it was legal, I'd still be out there shooting drugs," the young
man from Plano said.

"I tried to commit suicide twice rather than go back to prison," said
Terry, a man in his 40s who looked afraid of nothing.

"I'm on probation now," he said. "One slip and I go in for 10 years,
straight time. But I'm not going back. That's why I came here."

But the men were also quick to paint a muddled picture. Laws are no
solution to the drug problem, they said.

"I can go to a town I've never been in, and in five minutes I can find
dope," said David.

What's more, prison never cured an addiction, they said. Eddie is a

young man who has been to prison twice. "It makes you worse. You come
out with a hardened attitude," he said.

Calling for help

Our society's real folly, the men said, is in building more and more
prisons while drug treatment dwindles.

At Trinity Center, a top-rated facility, state funding has just cut
treatment from 90 days to 35.

"I tried to get help 15 years ago," Terry said. "I tried hard. And it
wasn't there."

After we had talked a while, I turned to the question that was most on
my mind: What could have been done to keep them away from drugs in the
first place?

The lively discussion suddenly fell silent. I looked around the room
at blank faces.

"Nothin'," someone finally said.

"Nah," said another. "Nothing would have stopped me."

As a parent, as a citizen, that answer shook me. Are we really that
powerless?

Well, as it turns out, going to the source might not be the best place
for that particular question. I learned far more in a chat with the
counselors.