TEMPTATION TO KEEP USING HEROIN TOUGH TO FIGHT

Bill Burnson stood in the stairwell of a Chicago public housing
project building near U.S. Cellular Field, waiting in a line that
snaked for three floors, to buy heroin.

It was 2 a.m., and Burnson was focused on his need for a fix when
several guys demanded he hand over his money. Burnson, a former
athlete at Wheeler High School, stared at them in shock. Then he
heard a shrill whistle and, seemingly out of nowhere, two men with
baseball bats appeared and flew down the stairwell.

"They beat those guys up bad, real bad," he said of the security
detail. "They said, 'Aww, you know, don't worry about that, we'll
throw you a couple extra bags. Don't be scared to come up here. It'll
never happen again.' "

The cardinal rule of drug dealing: Never mess with the customers.

Burnson, now 23, quickly learned the drug-buying protocol three years
ago when he became an addict. A college kid who smoked marijuana
occasionally, Burnson tried heroin once and was hooked.

His addiction eventually caused him to drop out of St. Joseph's
College in Rensselaer just shy of his bachelor's degree.

Back home in Valparaiso, he made daily dangerous trips to the city to
feed his habit.

"When you're sick and you need it, you really don't care about the
speed limit, about causing an accident," he said. "You're getting up
there as quick as you can to cure yourself."

Once in the projects on the South Side, Burnson would run up the
stairs where the dealers were waiting in the hallways around the
clock. They all had guns and assigned roles, Burnson said -- one for
security, one for collecting the money and a third for serving the
Ziploc bags full of heroin.

If the dealers were "on hold" -- meaning they halted distribution
temporarily to fill more bags -- the line in the stairwell could be
up to eight floors long.

At $10 a bag, Burnson would buy between $20 and $400 of heroin at a
time. As soon as he got in his car, he'd shoot up.

"The concern, as far as cops, aren't as great there," he said.
"Around here, you gotta watch yourself."

But Burnson's habit caught up with him. The good-looking kid who once
lettered in soccer and baseball at Wheeler High School now is serving
a year in jail -- his fourth such sentence.

This time, he's in for a probation violation. He stayed clean for a
year until one day, when he planned to play basketball with his
friends, he opened his sock drawer.

"I grabbed a roll of socks, undid 'em and three bags fell out. I'd
stashed them there who knows how long ago," he said.

"I wasn't strong enough to just flush 'em down the toilet."

The mistakes he's made, including the impact his habit has had on his
parents and siblings, keep him awake at night.

"Your mind's your worst enemy in here," he said.

"I coulda graduated from college, had a good job. I was on my way to
having a good life."