RECIPE FOR DANGER

When methamphetamine cooks get busted, there's still a risky job left to do
- -- cleaning up toxic chemicals

Dave Morris, an expert in hazardous waste removal, is more afraid of the
criminals he cleans up after than the toxic chemicals they leave behind.

Morris, 65, has a license to clean.

He is one of a handful of private contractors certified by the state
Department of Health to remove and neutralize the chemical residues left by
"cooks," the producers of methamphetamine and other illegal drugs.

While toxic materials represent a hazard to Morris, the greatest risks have
little to do with fumes or acid spills.

"What's really dangerous is when the bad guys come back to the drug lab
looking for their stuff," he said.

Questioned about his presence, Morris plays dumb -- scrunching up his
shoulders and mumbling: "I don't know anything. The boss just sent me here
to clean up."

He could retire, but Morris is happiest when he's uncovering booby traps
and hiding places cobbled together by people he can only categorize as
either crazy or just plain brain dead.

"My wife worries about me -- she thinks it's pretty stupid for an old man,
but I love what I'm doing," said Morris, who in a white shirt and khakis
looks more like he just stepped out of a clubhouse than a crank house.

Dave Morris uses a jointed inspection mirror to check around corners and
under ojbects when he cleans a meth lab. Booby traps are sometimes set by
the cooks.

On-the-job dangers include booby traps rigged with explosives, hypodermic
needles or returning cooks who want to know why he's rummaging around in
their former drug lab.

That's when Morris claims to be the indifferent handyman.

"We can neutralize the chemicals. That's the easy part," said Morris, who
works without police protection.

By the time he begins work, it's not uncommon for suspects to be out on
bail and snooping around as they attempt to salvage what the police missed.

While firefighters or state Department of Ecology crews remove chemicals
from a meth lab, the site isn't considered inhabitable until the county
health department certifies that it's been decontaminated.

Chemical residues in the sink, on bathroom tiles or the floor must be
identified and removed. Any absorbent materials, such as carpeting, sofa
cushions or bedding, must be taken to a hazardous waste dump.

Morris charges anywhere from $5,000 to $10,000 for his services, depending
on the extent of damage and the type of site, whether an apartment, motel
room or mobile home.

Morris begins by writing a detailed plan that must be approved by health
officials.

Based in King County, he and his three associates form one of only three
businesses in the state specializing in drug lab cleanup. The other two are
in Spokane and Vancouver.

Morris, who has been involved in environmental cleanup since 1964, got his
start in 1989 when a friend asked him to help clean a former drug lab. Over
the years, he's refined his methods, tools and approach.

An experienced chemist, Morris once oversaw cleanup of contaminated
Superfund sites. But in his current job, his most valuable skill is his
ability to "think paranoid," he said.

The addict's world is peopled by real and imaginary foes out to steal a
precious and lucrative commodity. And so he often booby traps his warren
with explosives, guns or cyanide, a poisonous gas that kills swiftly.
Finding those hidden snares requires thinking like a jumpy, high-strung
drug addict.

"I've learned how to open doors from around the corner with a piece of
string. These guys will put explosives in the refrigerator, " said Morris,
who once found himself peering down the barrel of a shotgun wedged between
two planks. "The police overlooked it. Fortunately, it wasn't loaded."

"The Washington State Patrol routinely does bomb training and they're nice
enough to allow us to attend," Morris said.

While the state requires 80 hours of hazardous materials instruction and an
annual refresher, learning to think irrationally isn't something a class
can teach you, Morris said.

Find a milk bottle in the refrigerator?

It might hold milk or it might contain lighter fluid, acetone or lye. Every
substance must be tested; assumptions can be deadly.

"They'll put some pretty volatile chemicals into the refrigerator," he
explained.

Morris doesn't work more than six hours a day; the concentration required
is too draining.

While Morris uses a variety of substances to neutralize chemical traces,
his most important tools are a long-stemmed mirror, angled to see around
corners, and 15-inch forceps, used to pluck used needles from behind sofas
or between floorboards.

When police search a drug production site, they dump the contents of a room
onto the floor. It's how they sift for evidence such as drug paraphernalia.

But they don't always find every weapon or every needle. Forceps in hand,
Morris can safely reach into crevices. With the mirror he can peer around
corners for any dangers -- such as a free-ranging python that once
slithered into view.

"That made a few more gray hairs pop out," he said. "Fortunately he'd just
eaten a big rat, so he was pretty docile."

In Eastern Oregon, it's not uncommon to use rattlesnakes to keep people
away, Morris said. "In the South I heard of someone turning an alligator
loose inside the house."

For protection from needle sticks or fangs, he wears gloves.

Morris usually dispenses with a full protective suit, but there is the
occasional exception, and it's not always due to toxic chemicals.

In rural areas, barns and garages can be rife with owl and mice droppings
that sometimes contain the deadly hantavirus. In such locales, he suits up.

Although some former drug labs harbor hidden perils, other hazards are
openly displayed.

"One place I went into, they had drawn a dartboard on the wall and were
using the used needles as darts," he said.

While his job brings challenges, it also brings disquiet -- such as seeing
the squalor in which children have lived while their parents brewed drugs.

"Sometimes I just have to get out of there and quit for the day," he said.

Equally reprehensible to him are the people whom Morris calls master cooks,
who extract a fee or percentage from those who want to set up a drug lab.
Master cooks provide equipment, instructions and recipes for making drugs.

Generally they have some background in chemistry, while the students have
little or none.

Without understanding the inherent dangers, an amateur cook will substitute
ingredients or put a chemical in an unstable container, which can result in
an explosion or flash fire.

"This can be a sad business at times," Morris said.

Through the years, Morris has developed unique techniques for making
property inhabitable once again.

He's thought of writing a cleanup guide.

"I'm carrying 90 percent of this information in my head. There's no
guidebook in this field. Every site is a challenge."

You can contact Janice Podsada by telephone at 425-339-3427 or you can send
e-mail to her at podsada@heraldnet.com .