2. The Independent 1 Canada Square, Canary Wharf, London E14 5DL
England
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TOUGH LOVE FINDS A WAY TO BEAT HEROIN

Young addicts, skilled manipulators of parental love, need a change in
strategy if they are to achieve a lasting cure.

Tessa Corner's story strikes at the heart of Middle England's escalating
paranoia about drugs - in particular, heroin. Middle-class, educated and
well loved, Tessa started taking heroin in her twenties. When her parents
found out, they insisted she go into rehabilitation, which she did. Within
weeks, though, Tessa was using again. This time she didn't tell her
parents. Instead she moved back home and maintained a charade. Her parents
did what all parents do best: they took care of her, fed and clothed her,
and didn't ask too many questions. If Tessa said she was popping out to
meet friends down the pub, they believed her. If she wore long sleeves even
on hot days - they overlooked it.

Until they discovered drug paraphernalia in her room, and then her father,
Dennis, gave Tessa an ultimatum. "I said, 'I can't let you use in my house
- - you'll have to leave.' I was stuck, really - I had to stick to that
decision." When Tessa did come home, Dennis and his wife were strict: They
would give her food but not money. They would buy her clothes, but always
cut the labels out to stop her selling them or taking them back.

There followed the grimmest time of all for Tessa: left to her own devices
she went to live in a squat, used drugs more heavily than ever, and became
pregnant. But, as Dennis says: "She had to hit her own rock bottom to change."

Tessa, now an administrator for two rehab clinics in Bournemouth, agrees.
"I was relieved when they threw me out. At least it got everything out in
the open."

Two weeks ago Claire Campbell, 21, was the latest tragic young case to die
from a heroin overdose. Like Tessa, she came from a small town and a loving
family. Much was made of Claire's middle-class background, from the
well-heeled market town of Haywards Heath in Sussex. As the Daily Mail put
it, "She had all the advantages of a respectable upbringing and a loving
family."

The same paper also took pains to point out: "Her parents bailed her out
with cash which must have gone straight into the pockets of drug dealers."
Which raises a vexed question: just how suspicious should parents be about
their children? It is normal for parents to give adolescents some money and
freedom relatively unquestioningly and allow them to enjoy a teenage
culture that they know little about - even if that culture includes
drug-taking.

Which is why Claire's parents, like Tessa's at one point, had no idea what
their daughter was involved in. Claire's father told one paper: "Only two
or three weeks ago my wife Turid took her shopping and said how happy she
was that she had left all that behind her." Perhaps they should have been
more inquisitive about their daughter's behaviour. But then, how on earth
are parents supposed to monitor a 21-year-old's activities?

Last month alone has seen a spate of dramatic figures that draws attention
to this conflict. A recent Home Office report predicted an "epidemic" of
heroin use, unless sharp measures were introduced, in the shires and rural
towns of Britain. Towns such as Bridlington, Hull, Solihull and
Huddersfield are seeing new outbreaks. Users are younger than ever before,
and many are from well-off, stable backgrounds. Another survey, by the
Institute of Psychiatry and the National Addiction Centre at the Maudsley
Hospital, echoed these findings. They also found that the annual cost of
drug addicts to the taxpayer is at least UKP2.3bn.

It wasn't long before the first scare stories surfaced, of middle-class
parents hiring private detectives at UKP700 a day to find out if their
children were taking drugs. Children as young as 12 were said to be being
trailed home from school by detectives, paid for by anxious mothers and
fathers. It may have been a one-off news scare, but it does highlight a
grey area where parents seem unsure about where to step in and draw the
line of responsibility - and trust - between themselves and their children.
The pivot for these conflicts is, inevitably, money.

For the user, manipulation is vital in obtaining money from parents. One
key issue seems to be who controls whom in the relationship. Ben, now in
his thirties, started taking drugs at his public school and had progressed
to heroin by his early twenties. "When my mother found me a psychotherapist
who told me to take less each day, I told her, 'You got me the treatment.
You'll have to buy it for me.' It was a pretty despicable thing to do. Then
I'd say, 'It's your fault that I haven't stopped taking it.'" He is well
aware of the power play his addiction created. "Ultimately she was a
hostage. I owned her. There was an implied threat of force in our
relationship."

In the end, one party has to break that dynamic, as Pam North, who works
for a Midlands support group, found out three years ago when she used what
she now refers to as "tough love" with her 25-year-old son, Craig.
Initially, she didn't suspect he was taking heroin. "He was getting
lethargic and aggressive. For us, though, drugs didn't enter the picture."
When they found out, Pam and her husband continued to support Craig, giving
him money and clothes. "Then there was this point where I realised where
the money was going. But it's part of the mother's problem - I couldn't
accept that the responsibility for the problem was his and not mine. Then I
started questioning him what the money was for and making him bring
receipts. He got very angry, because I was changing."

The crunch came when Craig stole money from his brother, and Pam threatened
to call the police if it happened again. It did; she reported her son, and
he went to court. "It was the hardest thing I ever had to do", she says.
"Here was a boy with no previous criminal record - someone I thought could
be so kind and loving - and I was getting him into trouble." The worst
aspect of so-called "tough love" is losing your one potential point of
contact with your child. As Pam says, "I can remember ranting and raving at
Craig, 'Get out, get out.' But when he did, I was so worried, I would go
out looking for him."

In these situations the mother, often seems more torn than the father,
between protecting her child and issuing an ultimatum. Rosie Higgins, the
project co-ordinator for Parents For Prevention, says: "Men get to a point
of issuing ultimatums much quicker than women. Mothers will bend over
backwards to bail them out with food, money or rent arrears - whatever they
think will keep their children from hitting rock bottom." There's also the
fear that if they do step back and the outcome is fatal then they'll carry
a double burden of guilt - failing their child initially, then rejecting
them again. Pam says, "Mothers are used to making things right when their
children do wrong. But children have to work it out for themselves. You
can't do it for them."

Many parents also experience a real difficulty in taking that leap from
suspicion through to confrontation. Kevin Flemen, an adviser for Release,
the drugs help line, says: "I suspect there are a lot of parents who
suspect what's going on and hide money, but don't discuss where they think
it's going." Flemen advises talking about where money is going as a means
of opening up more communication, as well as finding out more about drugs
so as to be able to discuss them from an informed standpoint. Tessa's
father is a little more equivocal about laying down basic ground rules then
sticking to them. "Don't give them money. Give them food and clothes but
cut the labels out This is a business of life and death. If they've got to
go to prison, let them. At least they're supervised and at least you know
where they are. Be vigilant but don't be judgemental."

Eventually Dennis and Pam had to issue an ultimatum, almost as if their
children, on some level, were pushing them to break a final but necessary
bond. It certainly isn't an option that all parents should adopt - and it's
the right one only if there's a happy outcome. In Tessa and Craig's case
there was, and Tessa is grateful that her parents stood firm. Had it been
otherwise, it's hard to know how both parents would have felt. Tessa,
though, is sure that her parents made the right decision. "It's easier to
do the caring thing. It could be seen as heartless to throw me out but it
was a fairer option. 'Tough love' is saying, 'We love you.' But it's also
saying, 'You've got the final choice.'"

Checked-by: Pat Dolan