SECOND THOUGHTS ON THE DRUG BUST

I've changed my mind about the Dec. 2 drug raid on Little Annie's and
Cooper Street Pier.

After forming an initial opinion based on a gut reaction, I read and
listened. Then, I couldn't shake the images that filled my mind -
peaceable citizens of Aspen, relaxed visitors, innocent men, women
and children settling down at a couple of our town's more colorful
saloons to take in some snacks and drinks, maybe share a few tales
after an invigorating day on the slopes.

With a loud crash the front door swings open violently. Somebody
yells, "FREEZE! Leave your cell phones where they are!"

People in the rear try to sneak out the back and are met by more of
the 50 or so law enforcement agents assembled for the raid, guns
drawn, meaning nothing but business. A man tries to comfort his
terrified, screaming wife and is told to get his hands back in the
air. Kids are crying, yet aren't allowed to move toward their parents.

After what seems like an eternity for the trapped patrons, the
shakedown nets a few ounces of cocaine and one van full of
undocumented workers. An evening in Aspen is ruined for more than a
few innocent diners who happened to be in the wrong place at the
wrong time. Nightmares will undoubtedly continue for some who will
never again be able to enjoy the disguised comfort and security of a
public gathering place.

A horrific bloodletting was narrowly avoided. What if just one of
those drug dealers got scared, pulled a knife and grabbed one of
those small children for a hostage? What if just one of the
inexperienced small-town officers - adrenaline surging, nerves taut -
accidentally pulled his trigger in the supercharged environment,
setting off gunfire from all directions? What if the fighting had
spilled out into the streets and out of the contained area?

It would be hard for me to imagine that all of this actually happened
right here in our little town ... except for the fact that I think I
did. When the story broke I conjured what I just described. I argued
scornfully with people who supported our police chief. I thought it
was criminal how our protectors had betrayed us.

But, I had a nagging feeling. I knew something was missing from the
story. Even though it was reported daily in our newspapers and talked
about ceaselessly around town, the horror lacked credibility.
Eyewitness accounts of the terror were distinctly missing.

I am unaware of even a solitary witness stepping forward to describe
the nightmarish events that supposedly occurred. Where were the
innocent people who felt threatened? Where were the endangered
children? Where are the attorneys seeking untold damages for the
trauma suffered?

In this age of the victim of victimization, isn't it odd that not
even one has surfaced?

With that, I came off my DVD overdose and my HDTV images short
circuited back to drab analog. The drug bust hadn't come down in the
"Dirty Harry" style that my mind fabricated. I doubt now that there
were even any wiretaps involved, and none of the prisoners appears to
have been tortured.

Nonetheless, I was able to work myself up all over again. The fact
remained that a paucity of cocaine was confiscated and not a single
kingpin was dethroned. Despite the lack of dramatics, it had been a
total waste of resources for what the sting netted.

But alas, that, too, is what matters only in Hollywood scripts. If we
were trying to save the world with that bust, we failed. No outside
effort can keep us from our habits, vices, addictions, troubles. When
it comes to drug use, nobody can help another who doesn't want to be
helped. Most of us have at least kicked a stone or two down that dark
one-way path.

If our object was to protect those most innocent and dear to us
though, I believe our efforts were not in vain.

I know that many things have changed around here since I was in high
school, but some things have not. Kids start drinking. Kids start
using drugs. Some hang out around bars in this town. They're not
supposed to, but they do. You may not have known this, but the
jerk-off, two-bit drug dealers do. They also know that kids are
curious about drugs and pose little threat to them. They know that
small quantities of drugs are easier for kids to buy than a six-pack
of beer. Our children are easy targets for these penny-ante pushers.

The escapist nature of our town lends itself to prolific illegal drug
use. That's no secret. But, even if we fancy ourselves as being
open-minded and progressive about that, even if we are willing to
experiment with alternative ways to deal with it, we cannot ignore
our duty to protect our children.

This drug raid served notice on two fronts. First of all, if you are
dealing drugs, even just small quantities for "recreational" use,
you're not safe, even here in Aspen. Secondly, and maybe more
importantly, if you are a curious or casual user thinking about
heading into town to score some dope, you might get into trouble with
the law, too. The overriding message came through so loud and clear
that it may have startled us: Selling, buying and using dope is illegal!

We've tried unsuccessfully to fight the war on drugs by relying on
our national government to seal off the perimeter of the country from
drug traffickers. Perhaps it's time for a new approach. Possibly the
power is within us to take this fight into our own hands and curb
demand from the inside out.

I can't do much about smugglers delivering freezer bags full of coke
to dirt airstrips out in the desert at night. But, I can be diligent
in educating my kids about the dangers of drug abuse.

I appreciate the help in keeping temptation out of my own backyard
while I'm in the process.

Roger Marolt apologizes to all the people, including his own mother,
who he initially thought were nuts to support the APD in this drug bust.