GANG LIFE

In the end, dealing drugs was more about danger and death than
dollars. That's when Becky (not her real name) decided to walk away.
Getting into the illicit drug scene was easy; she was born into a
five-generation family of hard-core users and dealers. Leaving the
scene behind was much harder.

It could cost her life.

"You get in and you can't get out," said the pretty 37-year-old. "I've
had constant threats on my life. I got out because I didn't want to
get killed. It stopped being a game. The reality is it was dangerous.

These people get really pissed off when you decide to leave because
they're afraid of what you'll say."

Her story, told to the Free Press last week, traces a life of fear and
fortitude.

"When we started packing guns and knives to protect ourselves, I
decided it was really getting too dangerous. I wanted out." First came
her flight from the drug scene in a small Interior town. Then she had
to escape her own drug addiction - a cycle that had trapped her into a
dependency lifestyle.

"I woke up in jail on my 19th birthday," she recalled. "Over the
years, I'd been busted quite often but I was kind of happy whenever
the judge would sentence me to jail because over time it was no big
deal. My house was paid for so I didn't have to worry where I'd live
when I got out. And in jail I always found out how to do it better
next time, so I wouldn't get caught. I knew I'd have access to lots of
drugs because it was easy to get them in jail."

When she quit drugs, cold turkey, the road back was
rocky.

"I finally smartened up but it took awhile to get clean. I fell off a
few times. I wasn't able to get off the drugs until I moved to Prince
George. While I was in it, I used more nose candy than anyone I knew.
I smoked crack all the time and with a $1,000 a day habit, I had to
sell a lot of drugs to support my habit."

She was able to survive by having a dual life.

"I worked at regular jobs, so people thought I was a regular person. I
once worked at a (retail store). Me and a friend would steal clothes
and then sell them for drugs. I'd steal the night deposits." The
scheme only lasted a short time until Becky was finally fired,
arrested and sent to jail.

"I was almost relieved to be arrested because it was getting bad -
even for my standards. I was starting to snort coke off my freezer."
Thus far, she'd managed to land jobs and continue to take and sell
drugs on the side.

"Everything that defined who I was, was tied to drugs. I led two
separate lives and most people never knew my other life. Luckily, I
never had to resort to things some girls did. I never prostituted
myself." Becky also drew the line at carrying weapons and looking over
her shoulder.

"I decided it was just too dangerous," she said. "I became paranoid
about my own safety. People were being hurt and disappearing - and no
one knows what had happened to them. People who had sat in my living
room smoking dope and now they're missing."

Drugs were costly but human life was cheap.

"One chick offered to beat me up for an eight ball (three and one half
grams cocaine.) When people I knew began going missing, I knew I could
be next."

She admits she took part in violent acts.

Asked the worst thing she ever did for drugs, Becky
flinches.

"I cut a girl's finger off for stealing my eight ball," she
said.

They' are gang bosses of organized crime who control the movement of
drugs in the city.

As part of her decision to quit drugs, Becky spent time at Lillian
House, a Christian residential recovery home for women. Getting off
drugs was just the beginning. Becky had to learn a new, legal way of
making money. She now works with other recovering drug addicts.

Prince George City Church set up Lillian House in 2007 as a means to
assist women who want to achieve and maintain a healthy, drug and
alcohol free lifestyle.

Becky's slide into the world of drugs began at a young age. She
learned from her parents who were in the big leagues of drug
distribution. Family "ties" protected her; she never had to resort to
survival sex and living on the streets.

Becky's parents divorced when she was young and she spent time with
her mother in one city, her father in another. A fight with her mother
as a teen sent her packing.

"One day when I was 16, I came home and all my stuff was in the
garage. Then I was on my own. For me it was completely natural to be
involved in the drug business because it was where I came from."

She never dabbled in the drug trade, she said.

"I was always full fledged. At 16 and 17, I was using cocaine and
drinking heavily. I was young and with the coke - I did daily rails,
five to 10 a day - I felt invincible. Between that and drinking, I was
always on something. It was cooler to do coke though because alcohol
made me out of control. I was an angry bitch. I hit people. I did
brazen things."

Over time, coke damaged her nostrils and hurt her breathing. Still,
the lure of money kept her at it for years.

"I always had lots of money. I worked. I had friends. At the start, in
1990, I developed a $250 habit a day which was a lot of money back
then.

Suspended from school at 14 for stealing money, the pattern for the
future was set. Crime sprees got her in trouble with the law and
earned her a criminal record. She did "hard time" in the Burnaby
Correctional Centre for Women where she quickly learned the code of
conduct.

"There's honour in the crime you've been convicted of. The more
lucrative the crime, the more respect you have in there. Prostitution
was nothing. I got respect because I was young and had done some
pretty bad things." Life in prison was not what she expected.

"The first time I saw anyone OD was in jail," Becky said. "She died
right in front of me and they left the body there until three
(o'clock) the next morning. I was in medium security. We had pods,
like a dorm room set up. I was always angry. I got caught smoking a
joint and they sent me to maximum security. I liked it there because I
could stick to myself and only saw the other inmates for meals. I
wrote. I did push ups. The TV room is where girls would get beaten up
so I avoided going there. I learned from the girls in there. A lot of
them were just in there because it was winter and they were poor. They
just wanted three squares a day."

I was always able to get a job and I bounced from one to the other.
The drug scene is bigger in Quesnel.

Not even the love of her three young children could keep her from
drugs.

"I put my life in such serious jeopardy that, in my mind, I'd already
lost the right to be a mom. My kids were right there and I never clued
in that they too could be in danger. It's amazing to me now how
distorted it all was. I thought I was a little princess. I was good at
anything I did. I had the job, the immaculate house. I was put
together. One day I'd have six cop cars converging on me. The next day
I'd be serving coffee to the RCMP. I had two lives. Even when I was
working, I was snorting coke in the bathroom. When I was having
visitations with my kids I even timed my crack so I could last two
hours with them. Still I thought I was okay. I still had a roof over
my head, food in the fridge and I could afford drugs. So I didn't have
a problem."

How did she finally end her personal war on drugs?

"The decision was made for me. I had brought someone into the (gang)
who screwed up. To this day I believe they want to kill me. Gang
warfare may be more obvious in Prince George, more visible. But the
drug community in small towns is the best kept secret. They're not on
the street corners doing drugs."

What would she do to wage the war on drugs?

"Cops should quit trying to get the big guys and instead take out the
little guys, one by one. If you don't have the little guys - the fall
guys - working for you, you're going to have to come out of hiding and
do it yourself. "

The lure of drugs will always be there for some.

"The money is good enough to give you all the bling for the lifestyle
you want. There is an inherent danger of using more than you are
selling. At some point you end up owing somebody. You have a debt now
and that doesn't go away. It's a dummy tax."

Now she is on the road to recovery.

" I went in (treatment) because I was done. I haven't used in 20
months. I'm clean. I don't live in a bubble but I pick my friends
wisely. Unless you're cleaning up for yourself, you're not going to
clean up.

Forgiving myself was huge. Lillian House taught me how to love myself
and I think that's the one thing I never had all my life. Fear doesn't
control my life anymore. GIven my personality, I think this was the
only way I could get out. I am only 37. I have the best part of my
life left."