DRUG LAWS CAN TURN A SMALL MISTAKE INTO A DEVASTATING LOSS

INDIANAPOLIS (Nov. 22, 1998) -- At about 10:30 p.m. on March 18, 1994, John
Edward Perkins heard what he described as a "light tap" on the door of his
condominium at 354 E. St. Clair St.

Then all hell broke loose.

While there are differing versions of what happened, one thing is certain.

For Perkins, a bachelor who suffers from a form of epilepsy, that night was
the beginning of a four-year nightmare with several devastating lessons.

Staff photo / Eric Kane STILL HAUNTED: Indianapolis resident John Perkins
plead guilty of dealing two ounces of marijuana in 1994. Since then,
authorities have cleaned out his bank account, taken his driver's license
and now want his house.

One is this: In the drug world, every friendship has a laughably cheap price.

Another is this: In the war on drugs, laws designed to break major dealers
are used just as efficiently to grind up the small-fry who get caught on
the fringes.

Perkins, now 44, a former factory worker, would plead guilty to selling a
small amount of marijuana in the belief the small penalty would be the end
of the ordeal.

Instead, he has been trapped on a nonstop legal merry-go-round, trying to
save his $100,000 home and, in a sense, the pieces of his life.

And, although he pleaded guilty to selling pot, Perkins insists:

"I am not a drug dealer."

Raiders in the night

The police account is documented and clear-cut.

Speedway police officers Scott Scales and Joe Kramer, working with a drug
task force, received information from an informant that Perkins sold
marijuana.

In what are known as controlled buys, the officers arranged for the
informant to make three separate purchases from Perkins, each 2 ounces for
$400.

They noted that Perkins' condo was within 1,000 feet of a public school, an
aggravating factor under narcotics law.

Armed with the knowledge that this man had sold 6 ounces of pot for $1,200,
the officers obtained warrants and went to the condominium.

When there was no response at the front door, they rammed through it.
Perkins resisted arrest and grabbed the barrel of Scales' pistol.

The officers feared for their lives. Perkins was "physically subdued."

A search of the residence turned up two pipes with marijuana residue, a
pistol, $1,000 cash, and, in the garage, a small set of scales and a paper
bag containing two baggies of marijuana.

Perkins was charged with dealing, possession, failure to pay the controlled
substance excise tax, and resisting arrest.

He hired attorney Steve Allen. The case went to Marion County Drug Court.
Given Perkins' lack of a criminal background, a deal was offered.

Perkins pleaded guilty to dealing, a class C felony. His sentence: a
suspended four-year term, a $200 drug fee, a $520 payment to police, and
three years' probation.

As is customary, a probation report was prepared for the judge before
sentencing.

"It appears he (Perkins) may have been engaged in dealing marijuana to
supplement his income," the report said.

But Perkins told the probation officer, "I normally have no involvement
with drugs. I do not sell drugs for profit or gain. I am not a drug dealer."

Before sentencing, the judge asked Perkins if the report was accurate.

"Oh, pretty close," he answered.

"What needs to be altered or changed, sir?" the judge asked.

"Everything about me is true," Perkins replied, hoping to put the case
behind him.

A simple favor?

What would seem to be simple and irrefutable wasn't.

He told authorities he'd had the pipes for years and hadn't used them in
years. Perkins said the handgun and cash were legitimate.

While Perkins didn't -- and couldn't -- deny selling the marijuana, he
insisted from the beginning that all he really did was a favor for a friend
from his past.

The friend was Richard R. "Rick" Mize, a man Perkins had known since the
early 1970s, when they were classmates and swim team members at Decatur
Central High School.

Perkins acknowledges he and some of his friends smoked pot during and after
their high school days. j

He also says he stopped using as he got older, partly because his health
had deteriorated to the point where, in the late 1980s, he retired on
disability from Allison Gas Turbine Division of General Motors Corp.

Diagnosed with a chronic disorder that causes epileptic seizures and
short-term memory problems, Perkins says his poor health made him change
his lifestyle altogether.

He attended classes at IUPUI, bought the condo, and later would begin
making stained-glass items to fill the time.

What he didn't do was sever himself completely from some of the people from
his past.

Mize, for instance, also had worked at Allison and, during the 1980s, had
lived with Perkins for a month or so.

Another person from the past was a woman named Debbie. Younger than
Perkins, she used to live on the street where Perkins grew up. And she had
been in trouble from time to time.

In 1994, Perkins says, everything started when Debbie called him out of the
blue with a simple question:

"You know anybody that's got any pot?"

No, he didn't. She wondered if their friend Rick did. Perkins said he
didn't know.

About a week later, Mize came by Perkins' condo. He had "some pot for
Debbie. Debbie says she's going to stop over and get this," Perkins
remembers Mize saying.

Mize asked Perkins to hold the bag with a half-pound of marijuana.

Perkins did.

"I didn't think much of it," he explains, to the extent he can explain a
decision that would threaten to ruin his life.

"She was a loser. I felt sorry for her."

Within a few days, Debbie showed up. Perkins says she told him she didn't
have enough money to buy all of the marijuana, but handed over $400 for 2
ounces.

She came back twice, paid twice, and Perkins soon would discover an
unpleasant fact.

Debbie was a police informant.

That March night, after hearing the "light tap" at the front door, Perkins
says the door suddenly crashed open and four men rushed in.

"I was completely terrified," he says.

Rather than resisting arrest, Perkins says, he had a seizure and came out
of it knowing only that several men were beating him up in his own home.

They broke his neck in four places. He had to undergo treatment and therapy.

Although it was clear early on that Debbie had been working with the
police, Perkins was in for another surprise.

He would learn that Mize also was an informant.

That raised the possibility that his so-called friend had set him up,
probably to get himself, or a relative or friend, off the hook in some
criminal case.

Debbie won't talk and Mize can't.

About 11 months after Perkins' arrest, Mize died of complications from AIDS.

Forfeiture process

What Mize did or didn't do would become important for several reasons.

Obviously, Perkins thought two former friends created a situation to make
it look like he was a dealer, probably because they had to identify a
certain number of dealers as part of some arrangement with the police.

He was also learning that his problems with the law were far from over.

While he had paid the criminal penalty, he had yet to face civil penalties.

There was the state excise tax on the marijuana, at $40 a gram, plus
penalties. The eventual total: close to $20,000.

The state cleaned out Perkins' bank account, taking about $4,000.

The state also took the title of his car.

Perkins found himself the target of the state's narcotics forfeiture law, a
law intended to provide a "disincentive" for drug dealers.

Under this law, the state had a right -- and would exercise that right --
to take Perkins' home from him.

The condo is worth about $100,000. Perkins estimates he has about $80,000
equity.

The Marion County prosecutor's office filed a lawsuit to have Perkins
forfeit the property -- and his personal possessions -- in lieu of his
inability to pay a "reasonable" $17,500 civil penalty.

With new attorneys, Perkins took the case to the Indiana Court of Appeals,
but the appeal was turned down.

Last March, the prosecutor's office sought court approval to have Perkins
evicted. The judge approved the eviction.

But he held up the order because Perkins' latest attorney, Andrew
Maternowski, has asked the court to decide whether taking a home worth
$100,000 is improperly disproportionate under a recent U.S. Supreme Court
ruling.

A hearing is scheduled for next February.

Ex-officer on his side

Perkins has support from an unexpected source -- Terry Morford, the brother
of his best friend, Vince Morford.

The Morfords have known Perkins for years. Terry Morford is a former
Plainfield police officer who worked with the same task force officers who
arrested Perkins.

Now the head of security for Brownsburg Public Schools, Morford is strongly
against illegal drugs but is convinced Perkins wasn't a dealer.

Morford says that while he believes the police did what they thought was
the right thing, he thinks Mize was a chronic liar who manipulated the
officers.

Morford says Perkins' past friendships with drug users, his apparent lack
of a regular income and his ownership of a condo could make police believe
he was a dealer.

And, by handling the marijuana, Perkins did nothing to make them believe
anything other than they had another dealer at hand.

But Morford says he knows Perkins as a nonviolent person who goes out of
his way to avoid trouble.

He believes Perkins, instead of resisting arrest, had a seizure or some
kind of chemical reaction.

"The system isn't perfect. An informant can say, 'I can buy dope from
Perkins.' You don't question his motivation. There's always the possibility
of someone setting up an innocent person."

Checked-by: Mike Gogulski