DEADLY HABITS

Parents and police, teachers and politicians are asking questions and
mobilizing to fight heroin, a drug blamed for ending more than a dozen
young lives in the DallasFort Worth area during the last year.

They would do well to seek out a 72yearold Dallas man, a heroin addict
since World War II. Or an 18yearold Grapevine woman whose friend was
one of the recent overdose victims.

Those two people and many users like them have seen heroin from the
inside and have their own stories. Their insight could help, one heroin
user said, as communities rally against the drug.

"To fight it, you have to understand it from a user's point of view,"
said Kelly, which is not her real name. "It is wonderful until you have
a bad experience. And until then, it is heaven. It is so good.

"That's why people do it. . . . It's heaven, and it's hell."

A handful of current and recovering addicts and Kelly, who describes
herself as a recreational user, agreed to tell their stories to The
Dallas Morning News under the condition that their real names would not
be published. All are identified using pseudonyms.

Mark, 32, and Johnny, 72, are longtime addicts. They say that most
recent heroin deaths don't speak to their experiences.

They point to one of the latest victims, Aaron McGee, 21, of Grapevine,
who died of an overdose Nov. 7. Police found 3 grams of heroin in his
pocket. That, Mark said, is a recipe for death.

"I never even heard of anyone buying 3 grams at once," he said. "If
you've got it, you are going to use it. It's the algebra of need. You do
it, and then you want a little more."

Mark said he met Johnny three or four years ago while scoring heroin.
Both enjoyed getting high, and Mark said he loved Johnny's endless
tales.

The recent spate of deaths have happened in Dallas' suburbs, Mark said,
because "they have too much money."

"They get more than they need," he said. "Real junkies get what they
need, and that's it."

Police say they haven't determined why the recent deaths have been
concentrated in Plano and northeast Tarrant County, where a young
Bedford man died Tuesday after 2 1/2 weeks in a heroininduced coma.

Some say it could be a bad batch of heroin making the rounds. Many say
heroin has gotten stronger as drug cartels have intensified competition.
The bigger dealers also seek more affluent markets, some experts say.

Mark talks about his nineyear heroin addiction like a daily chore he
can't avoid. At the time of his interview with a reporter, he hasn't
scored in two days and doesn't feel well.

"It gets to the point where all I'm doing is shooting up to get normal.
I don't like that," he said. "Now it's just getting sort of boring."

Boring, maybe, but he'll soon buy a "cap" a $10 capsule of heroin
mixed with Benadryl or some sleeping agent. Within 15 minutes, Mark
said, he can find heroin from any of eight sources. And then he won't
feel so sick.

Johnny, 72, said he wakes up feeling ill almost every day. Sometimes, he
said, "I wish I wouldn't wake up at all."

He then pulled a syringe from his sock.

"But this, being full, is what makes me feel good anytime," he rasped.

Johnny dispels the notion that all heroin addicts are young. Experts say
most are older than 25, but teens as young as 13 are beginning to use
the powerful narcotic.

Johnny is, in some ways, what young heroin users could expect to become
if they keep up their habit. He spent 11 years in prison for selling
drugs. Today, he's on parole for another offense. Despite regularly
abusing his body with the drug, he has outlived two of his eight
children. These days, the Dallas native takes the bus to score, or
"cop," heroin, often at a house off Lemmon Avenue, he said.

"I don't cop every day," said the small, softspoken man, who is riddled
with arthritis. "But I make it my business to."

Sarah, 18, of Plano doesn't know Johnny, but she says she doesn't want
to turn out like him.

"I still want heroin. . . . I will always want it some days," she said.
"But I've got a good support system, and I'm trying, every day, to
recover."

Late last year, Sarah said, her parents took her against her will to an
outofstate treatment facility. Texas law prohibits parents from
committing their children if they are 17 or older unless they can prove
to a judge that the children will harm themselves or others.

During the interview, conducted in her parents' home, Sarah was away
from the center on a special visiting pass. Her parents had to lock up
all of their prescription medicines to prepare for her stay, she said.

The news this month of more heroin deaths reminds Sarah of her friends'
funerals. At the time, those funerals did little to curb her habit.

"I went to one funeral and got high afterward. I felt bad. But I was
just numb," she said. "I don't think people who don't use understand how
addictive heroin is."

The latest two heroin victims include James Noble, 22, of Bedford who
died Tuesday after lying comatose from a heroin overdose for nearly
three weeks. Plano teen Erin Baker, 16, died Nov. 9 after a night of
heroin use at a friend's apartment.

Sarah said she cried when she learned of Erin's death. It didn't matter
that they had never met.

"I just started bawling when I heard," Sarah said. "I think of myself,
and I thank God that I'm still alive."

Sarah said it saddens her that some people think heroin is a new problem
or just a Plano problem, "that people are paying attention to this
because someone in uppermiddleclass suburbia died."

Police and treatment specialists say heroin has been around for decades,
and not just in the suburbs. (Dallas officials don't count heroin deaths
separately from other drug overdoses; Fort Worth figures won't be
available until the end of the year.)

"Heroin has always been available in the inner city, but I definitely
think the drug is more popular in the suburbs, Special Agent Paul
Villaescusa of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency's Dallas office said.
"The drug has definitely surfaced more visibly in suburbs than it has in
the inner cities."

Police say some of the deaths have occurred because friends have delayed
calling for help or lied about the problem when paramedics showed up.

In investigating Aaron's death earlier this month, police said they
didn't learn right away that he had been using heroin.

When George Wesley Scott stopped breathing in July after using "chiva,"
a mix of heroin and antihistamine, friends with him at a Plano party
drove his body to an emergency room and sped away.

Friends dumped another Plano youth in a parking lot after he overdosed.

Sarah said she almost did the same thing one heroincrazed night.

"When a friend of mine stopped breathing in the car, we were going to
dump him in the field because we didn't want to get caught," she said.
That friend, at least, didn't die.

"You're just so sick when you're on heroin," she said. "I was dealing
drugs; I was using drugs; I was having sex; I was doing everything."

Kelly said she had stopped her recreational heroin use cold since Aaron,
a close friend, died. He's one of four northeast Tarrant County young
people thought to have died from using the drug in the last 12 months.

"I told my friend today I will never touch heroin again. The only reason
I will pick it up is to die," said Kelly, her voice quivering. "Heroin
is heaven; it really is heaven. You are just in this exquisite paradise.
But I've seen the bad side now."

Aaron's father, letting his eyes wander about his son's Grapevine
apartment, said he wished he'd seen the bad side coming.

"I knew that he had done it before," Mr. McGee said, rummaging through
his dead son's belongings. "First, he told me he wasn't fooling with it.
But kids will not tell their parents."

The walls of the onebedroom apartment Aaron shared with his girlfriend
was adorned with posters of music stars Elvis Presley, the Ramones,
the Rolling Stones and movies such as Reservoir Dogs and Taxi Driver.
A halfsmoked joint sat on the corner of an ashtray.

"I don't understand all of this," Mr. McGee said. "I mean, when I was a
kid, I liked to have a good time, too. But this drug thing is such a
serious thing to use for a good time."

Sarah said that when she gets out of treatment in a few weeks, she hopes
to prevent more deaths.

"I'm going to try to talk to kids my age as much as I can. If I can save
one kid, it's worth it," she said. "I just get angry when I hear about
the deaths. This stuff is so hard to stop."