FRANK J. MELTON - 1949-2009: THE DRUG WAR WORD MADE FLESH

Frank Melton didn't just become a soldier in the drug war. Frank
Melton was his own drug war.

He personified all the excesses and hypocrisies that the phrase "drug
war" suggests.

I suspected he was someone to watch when I first read about him seven
years ago.

That's when Melton made the sudden transition from television
executive/commentator to the head of Mississippi's war on drugs.

I never met the man or even saw him in person, but while editing this
newsletter, I found it difficult not to read the news stories about
him (all which remain archived by the Media Awareness Project).

After working in broadcast media for decades, Melton was suddenly and
surprisingly named to lead the Mississippi Bureau of Narcotics in
2002. Before the appointment, Melton had made a name for himself
presenting tough-talking TV commentaries in which he ranted against
criminals and those who were too soft on them.

He had absolutely no experience in law enforcement, criminal justice,
public health or drug policy.

But, as so often is the case with the drug war, rhetoric is all that
really matters, even when rhetoric is at odds with reality.

Within a month of his appointment, Melton turned words into action.
Not content being an administrator behind a desk, Melton went out on
calls with enforcement units.

He didn't just order constitutionally prohibited roadblocks in the
state's capitol; Melton knocked on motorists' windows to personally
inspect licenses. Without legitimate law enforcement credentials,
the state's attorney general noted at the time, the Narcotics Bureau
head had no legal right to even request IDs.

But Melton would not be deterred. He stayed on the streets,
increasingly disturbed by the legal obstacles blocking a real drug war.

He expressed dismay that obtaining a warrant for a drug search cost
valuable time, and he pressed legislators to expedite the process.

It didn't take Melton long to realize the resources he had available
were not enough. He needed more, and wanted to take it in forfeited
assets. He thought the state should take a bigger cut, even if that
left municipal police with less.

But Melton's visions were derailed by politics. When a new governor
was elected, a new state drug czar was appointed. By that time,
Melton had gained enough notoriety to win his own political job.

He was elected Mayor of Jackson, Mississippi in 2005, with the drug
war still on his mind. He started carrying guns everywhere thanks to
a law enforcement waiver he obtained (though the federal
Transportation Security Administration reportedly insisted that he
cease bringing weapons on planes).

In his most notorious act as mayor, he gathered employees and
volunteers armed with sledgehammers to destroy an alleged drug
house. No warning, no warrant, just a bunch of thugs led by the
mayor, tearing down a private residence in the middle of the night.

This appeared to be Melton's Col. Kurtz moment, the point be became
fully integrated into the drug war. It went beyond cause or crusade.
He was his own weapon of choice, and he didn't believe that weapon
should have limitations.

In the drug war, results don't matter. Messages matter. Any proposed
reform will always be met with the reply, "That sends the wrong message."

Though he hadn't been a TV professional for years, Melton was still
sending a message. He just delivered that message with a sledgehammer
instead of broadcast television as his primary medium. While it's
difficult to translate such a primal message into words, I think it
was intended to say: There's a new drug war in town, and it's named
Frank Melton.

Other authorities took notice, and Melton soon faced his own legal
troubles. Only about a year into his term, Melton was indicted on
charges stemming from the house beating incident. But he never
resigned office and never acknowledged wrongdoing.

By 2007, Reason Magazine ran a story naming Melton as "Worst Mayor in
America." Aside from the public relations nightmare he created for
the city, his administration took a balanced budget and ran it into a
multi-million dollar deficit.

Melton had created a firm power base by exploiting the drug war. But
as in the larger drug war, personal prohibition victories can be
completely illusory.

In recent months, he campaigned for another term as mayor. He
finished third among nine candidates in the primary election. Melton
died May 7, two days after primary voters rejected him.

Though he was acquitted locally, at the time of his death, Melton was
preparing to face federal civil rights charges related to the
sledgehammer raid.

I don't know what killed Melton; press reports have been
contradictory so far. But I suspect willing oneself to be an
instrument of war places a fair amount of stress on a human being.

Some news reports suggest that Melton had a history of heart
problems, but until very late in his life, he had refused to give up
tobacco and alcohol. (Other reports indicate he was actually drunk
on the night of the infamous raid).

Maybe if he could have broken his own obsession with other people's
drug use, Melton might have been able to address some personal issues
related to his own drugs of choice.