CRACK'S SHATTERED LIVES; TWO EX-ADDICTS SHARE STORIES OF THEIR
DESCENT INTO HELL AND THEIR CLIMB OUT AGAIN

Even when it was above 30 C outside, Bonnie always wore a
hoodie.

That's the kind of thing you do when you're living the life of a
crackhead and owe people money. You have to lie low when you've ripped
people off.

Bonnie, 31, did a lot of that during the three years she was a
crackhead. That's how she survived.

"I robbed people," she says when asked how she supported her habit.
"I'd sell them junk and when they called back I'd tell them I gave
them the wrong bag.

"For a while I had street cred... I could get people to spot me so I
could get my crack and then not go back to pay."

It was an expensive habit to support. It started off at about $200 a
day, ballooned to $500 daily and, when she reached her peak, it was
$1,000 a day.

She had to be constantly looking over her shoulder.

"Even if it was in the (30s), I'd be wearing a hoodie so people
wouldn't recognize me," she says.

It didn't always work.

One time, she owed some people $3,500 and, when she didn't pay, they
grabbed her, put her in a car trunk and drove away. They pulled her
out and gave her a beating. It was, she says, a pretty bad beating
that included having cigarettes burned into her skin.

Born in Toronto, Bonnie has spent most of her life in Brantford. She
asked that her real name not be used because she has children, as well
as parents, here and she wants to protect their privacy as well as her
own.

"I was a pretty normal teenager. I went out with my friends and we
drank," Bonnie says. She used cocaine for the first time when she was
22 or 23.

"My boyfriend introduced me to it, but I wanted to try it. I wanted to
know what he was spending all our money on."

She injected it with a needle.

A few years later, just after she ended a bad relationship, some
friends introduced her to crack. The high from crack wasn't as good as
what she got from cocaine, she says.

When she was high on crack, Bonnie would become depressed and cry. But
that didn't stop her from wanting more.

She continued to use it and, over a three-year period, she quit her
job, lost her kids, her home, her car, and was busted by police and
spent some time in jail.

Now, she's getting help from St. Leonard's Community Services, the
addiction services branch. And Bonnie is lucky to have the support of
her parents.

Clean, bright-eyed and quick-witted, Bonnie smiles when complimented
on her healthy looks.

"You should have seen me nine months ago. My face was sunken in, my
hair was all ratty and I weighed 100 pounds," she says. "I was dirty
and felt empty, physically and emotionally. "That's what crack does.
It leaves you feeling empty."

Bonnie has not used drugs since before Christmas. After eight months
of being clean, she vows never to go back to the life of a crackhead.

"You need an illustration of my life on crack," she says in response
to a question. "Get a picture of a body that's all broken up. Every
time you use crack it takes away a bit of your body and soul and at
the end you're in pieces.

"I'm putting the puzzle back together to feel whole
again."

The road back to respectability began in a hotel room last December.
"It was Christmas morning last year," Bonnie says. "I was in a hotel
room. I was alone. I woke up and said I don't want to do this anymore
and I haven't used since."

She's hoping that one day she'll be able to see the children she lost
because of her addiction and Bonnie wants to return to school to
become a social worker.

She has a lot to share, a lot of experiences both good and
bad.

"I'd wander around the city of Brantford looking for crack," she
recalls. "I never knew where I'd spend the night."

She also recalls selling crack to support her habit. Then, the house
she was renting was raided by police.

"It's just like the movies," she says. "They barge through the door,
they've got their vests on, they had weapons and they put us on the
floor."

Bonnie was charged with trafficking and spent some time in jail. But
that didn't stop her from wanting crack.

Neither did the reality of a gunfight when one dealer tried to rip off
another. Her dealer pulled her down behind a couch and told her to
stay down while shots were fired.

But she is thankful that she never got to the point where she sold
herself to get money for crack.

The women on the street who are getting busted by police on
prostitution-related charges are those who don't have any other way to
support their addiction, she says.

"They're desperate. No one will spot them anymore because they haven't
paid. They have to have the money and they don't have anything left to
sell."

She knows of a woman who has performed a sex act for as little as
$2.50 to get money to buy crack.

Bonnie stayed away from her family the whole time of her crack
addiction.

Although Bonnie's health suffered, she never had the burned lips other
crack users develop.

And compared to the rest of the users, she was a "clean"
user.

She would never let anyone else use her spoon - that would be gross,
she says. Crack houses are filthy places. There is dirt, garbage and
needles everywhere.

She has seen users pick up needles off the floor and use
them.

Now, on the road to recovery, Bonnie says she had to make major
changes in her life.

"I always say to get out of that life you have to change the people,
the places and the things," Bonnie says. "I'm lucky. I've got my
parents who are supporting me. I have people who care.

"Those people I did crack with ... they didn't care. They only cared
if I could get them crack."

She stays away from the crack houses and other places that might tempt
her.

But she doesn't spend a whole lot of time thinking about why she
started using crack.

"I have no idea what led me down this path," she says. "It was my
choice to do this. I decided to do crack and I decided to live that
life.

"Now I'm deciding not to do it. I won't go back. I can't go back. If I
do, I'll die."

Expositor reporter Vincent Ball spent a week with the Brantford Police
street crimes unit to produce a special series - Undercover, an inside
look at Brantford's drug trade. The three-part series concludes today.
Stories by Vincent Ball