METH ADDICT BEGINS DRUGS AS A CHILD

Part II

Editor's note: The Edson Leader in conjunction with the Edson and
District Drug Action Coalition is publishing a six-part series on a
local meth addict. This is the second article in the series. These
articles are based on the actual interview of an Edson resident
involved in the use and dealing of methamphetamines. The purpose of
the articles is to educate and create a public awareness of the extent
of methamphetamine use in our community.

Randall Royce Special to the Leader

"Did you say Grade 6?"

"Yeah."

"B-but in Grade 6 you're only - ,"

"Eleven. I know. But ... my brother was into it --
heavy."

As if that somehow made it okay.

"...he hung with a crowd a lot older than him. So ... I did, too. High
school kids." His expression was fond. "They treated me like a little
mascot. Used to take me out driving. Smoke pot."

Speechless, I tried to wrap my head around what appeal an
eleven-year-old would have to kids who were approaching adulthood.

"Hello?" He snapped his fingers in front of my face. "You take a
trip?" And he laughed at his clever little double entendre.

It took me a beat to respond. "So ... pot at eleven." I tried to make
it sound like it was something I heard every day. "When did meth start?"

He did not answer and instead blurted-"You know, I never had a
girlfriend."

This statement out of context threw me.

"How could I?" he gave a little palms-up shrug. "My older friends --
they'd have laughed at me if I'd started dating a girl my own age."

I wanted to say 'So?' but thought better of it.

"Oh, well," he sighed. "Who needs girls when you've got
pot?"

Who indeed? I was considering how isolated his so-called friends had
made him when he said -- "I had a really bad trip once."

I raised questioning eyebrows.

"My brother left me a joint and, after I smoked it? That's the last
thing I remember."

"What?"

"Yeah, and for three years after I had flashbacks. They'd wake me up
out of my sleep. I'd be so scared ...,"

He lit a smoke with fingers that had become a bit jumpy.

"So." My hands had begun shaking, too. "How'd you cope with the
flashbacks?"

"Well, one night -- when they woke me up -- I went to my mom. I was
crying, y'know? Told her something scary had woken me up."

"What did she say?"

" 'It's okay, Joe. Just a bad dream.'" He exhaled roughly. "But I knew
it was no bad dream."

"Why didn't you tell her?"

"Cause I was ashamed. Afraid. I couldn't tell anyone. But ... know
something?"

I shook my head.

"It felt safe there with my mom on the couch."

That wistfulness made me wonder -- had he shared the truth with his
mom all those years ago would we be sitting here now with a constable
beside us?

"Did you ever find out what was in that joint your brother had left
you?"

"Yeah." He shot me a sidelong grin. "Angel dust."

.to be continued next week