Series: Requiem For Heroin's Victims - Part 2 Of 6

FATHER DOESN'T KNOW BEST

Justin Eklund Dies After Doing Heroin With Father; Mother, Grandmother Now
Take Up War On Drugs

Oglesby resident Jodi Urbino saw something terribly wrong at her
ex-boyfriend's house.

Emergency lights from an Oglesby ambulance and police car swept over the
brown brick house at 129 N. Woodland Ave. in Oglesby.

Knowing her 15-year-old-son, Justin Eklund, had stayed there the night
before, Jodi hurriedly parked her car, fumbled her keys from the ignition
and rushed toward the commotion, ignoring the neighbors who sipped coffee
on their front porches staring at what was interrupting their peaceful morning.

Near the busy emergency personnel was her ex-boyfriend and Justin's father,
William Eklund, sitting on the front porch with his head in his hands.

Jodi approached William. She noticed he didn't look right - probably, she
guessed, because he had used heroin all night.

"What happened?" Jodi asked him.

He looked up. "Your f---ing son is dead in the back bedroom."

"I didn't know it was true until Sgt. (James) Knoblauch refused to let me
in the house and asked me to sit in the ambulance," Jodi recalled. "I was
in shock."

Justin William Eklund, 15, of 624 N. Columbia Ave., Oglesby was pronounced
dead at 10:50 a.m. on May 22, 2004, inside William's home by La Salle
County deputy coroner Gerald Scott. A La Salle County coroner's jury ruled
July 15, 2004, that his death was accidental due to a drug overdose. His
toxicology report from the autopsy revealed traces of morphine - which is
consistent with heroin - methadone and a by-product of cannabis.

Justin is the youngest of 12 people in the Illinois Valley who died from a
heroin-related drug overdose since January 2003.

A thin teen with sandy blond hair and bright hazel eyes, Justin needed a
guitar in his hands, loved Ramen noodles because it was easy to make, spent
much of his life with friends and beat cancer weeks before his death.

At the wake, Justin's cousin Paige Pearson, gave Jodi a two-inch-thick
scrapbook of pictures, poems and stories, 41 pages total, created by his
friends, remembering the calm, mild-mannered teen who made them laugh with
his goofy faces, dreamed of starting a band and shared their boredom at
band camps and school.

Katie Zeman, now living in St. Louis, wrote about her fondest memory of
Justin when they talked on the phone one night after she moved away.

She wrote: "He said, 'Katie, go sit in your driveway.' I though he was
crazy but I went anyways and then questioned his request. Instead of
answering he said, 'OK, now lay down and look up.' When I did so, I was
gazing into the starriest night of the summer as well as the most beautiful
sky I had ever seen. Justin then said, 'There, that's better. Now we are
looking at the same thing and now I feel closer to you.' With that my heart
melted completely."

Chris Clarner, Justin's best friend of eight years, wrote about a trip he
took with him to Memphis for cancer treatment, adding, "I never would have
thought that in a year, I would be helping to carry his casket to the
graveyard. Justin wasn't only my best friend, he was my brother. I don't
want Justin to be remembered by the way he died, I want him to be
remembered by the way I knew him, the way that everybody loved him. Just
some crazy punk teenager that wanted to play guitar, sing songs, and have
fun with his friends."

Justin's last girlfriend, Carlee DeMoss, referred to his nickname when she
ended her entry simply with: "Rest in peace SSB. I'll always remember and
love you."

Justin's Battle

One day in late May 2003, Justin discovered a lump on the left side of his
neck about 2 inches below his ear.

Jodi scheduled a trip to see their family physician, Dr. David Schlagheck,
in Spring Valley. A CT scan revealed not just one, but several smaller
lumps. Within a week, he was sent to St. Jude Midwest Affiliate in
Children's Hospital at St. Francis Medical Center in PEoria, where he was
diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma.

Commonly known as Hodgkin's disease, the cancer starts in the lymphatic
system on small, bean-shaped organs called lymph nodes. They are located
under the arms, in the neck and chest. Cancer cells multiply and destroy
healthy cells. Almost 10 percent to 15 percent of cases are diagnosed in
children under 16.

Justin's life changed instantly. From June to October in 2003, he spent
most of his time undergoing aggressive chemotherapy at the St. Jude
hospitals in Peoria and Memphis, as well as the Ronald McDonald House in
Memphis.

The treatment robbed Justin of his hair, his complexion worsened and small
blood blisters sprouted on his face and in his mouth.

Jodi and her mother, Judy Pearson of Oglesby, tried to comfort Justin while
in Memphis by taking him to Graceland to visit Elvis Presley's mansion.
They also went to Memphis' festive Beale Street, hoping a building-sized
arcade, restaurants and live music would lift his spirits.

But cancer treatment deeply wounded Justin's self-esteem.

Doctors in Memphis also noticed that Justin had lost his pep. They
diagnosed him as having self-esteem problems and manic depression. Justin
was prescribed Prozac, but he wouldn't take it, Jodi said. He didn't like
the way the drug made him feel and he worried his friends might find out.

Justin finished chemotherapy at the end of October 2003. He received daily
radiation treatment for the next three weeks of November.

Afterwards, Justin's doctors told him and his mother that he had a very
promising chance for complete remission.

By December, his hair grew back. The blisters were gone too, but so was Justin.

A Father's Love

Justin chose to use illegal drugs. But the reason he kept using, family
members say, was an unlikely mentor who accepted it and used with him - his
father.

In February 2004, Justin began getting into trouble at La Salle-Peru
Township High School for falling asleep in class. This concerned his
teachers, who kept sending him to the school nurses. On one such occasion,
the nurses searched his pockets and found two methadone pills.

Justin was suspended for three days for carrying contraband. He was caught
again days later and given a longer suspension.

Jodi worried her son might have a substance abuse problem and sought help.
Her first stop was Rosecrance Treatment Centers in Rockford, but they were
full. So was Choices Behavioral Health Services at Community Hospital of
Ottawa. After searching for weeks, she found a vacancy at a substance abuse
treatment center at Chestnut Health Systems Inc. in Bloomington.

To his dismay, Justin was admitted to a 45-day inpatient substance abuse
program on Feb. 23, 2004. He was released April 8 for misbehavior.

Justin got along well with others during group sessions and was open to the
process, according to copies of documented interviews conducted by Chestnut
counselor Joe White. Justin also admitted marijuana was his drug of choice.

Jodi permitted the NewsTribune to review Chestnut interview notes provided
to her.

Chestnut's rules are very strict - if broken too many times, a client is
released from the program.

Justin sometimes broke the rules. At times he refused to participate in
therapy sessions or mandatory activities. After earning a one-day pass, he
came back to Chestnut admitting to Joe that he had smoked marijuana with
his father.

During one interview, Joe jotted a note that read: "Father smoked marijuana
wasn't bad because he could turn down his father," alluding that Justin's
father, William, had in fact been offering his son illegal drugs.

Joe also noted that, "Justin refuses to acknowledge that his father is
dangerous to his recovery."

By April 8, Justin was released from Chestnut for using illegal drugs
during his leaves and missing too many therapy sessions.

A couple weeks later, he received good news from St. Jude doctors who said
he had beaten cancer.

"I told him he should feel lucky to have beaten cancer," his grandmother
Judy said.

Justin shrugged. He and medical technology may have beaten cancer, but the
emotional damage seemed permanent.

"He was very moody, happy, depressed, he was up and down," Jodi said.

Rather than take his medication, Jodi believes Justin chose to
self-medicate with marijuana, methadone and heroin. It was also convenient
for him, Jodi added, considering he could safely obtain these drugs from
his father and use them under his supervision.

Justin began to distance himself from his old friends, too, choosing to
hang out with people who shared his new interests.

Jodi and Judy watched as Justin receded into himself and his new lifestyle.

"You just knew something was up because why would these kids want to spend
a Saturday night at his father's house with him at home," Jodi said. "What
father would sit with his girlfriend and allow his son and his friend to
sit around and do drugs?"

His father, William, also knew Jodi and Judy had tried to help get Justin
off drugs.

Yet, William still allowed Justin and his friends to use illegal drugs in
his house.

"We just lost him," Judy said. "No matter what we tried he wanted to be
with his father. You can lose them so fast when the drugs take over."

Payback Time

Shortly after Justin's funeral on May 26, 2004, Judy happened to drive past
William as he pedaled his bicycle on a downtown sidewalk in Oglesby.

She quickly sped forward a couple blocks, parked, got out of her car and
waited.

When William was close enough she let him have it.

"I told him, 'Don't think your ass is out of trouble because your turn is
next,'" she recalled.

William laughed, thinking statements told to Oglesby police Sgt. Knoblauch
and Chief Tom Martin was solid.

According to Oglesby police reports, Knoblauch was called to William's
residence to respond to a call about a male child who was unresponsive.

When Knoblauch arrived, he found William outside "throwing a grill around."
He asked where the child was and William told him the child was inside
thehouse in the bedroom dead.

Knoblauch entered the bedroom and saw William's girlfriend, Vicki Fleeman
of Oglesby, on the bed next to Justin, who was lying on his back. He also
observed brownish vomit on the right side of Justin's face and on the bed,
and dried blood that had run from his nose to his eyes. Standing next to
the bed was Justin's friend, who was a juvenile at the time.

William told Knoblauch that Justin returned to his house at 7 p.m. after
taking a two-hour walk in town with a friend the night before he died.
After Justin went to bed at around 10 p.m., his juvenile friend returned to
the house at about 11 p.m. to stay the night. William added he was "goofing
around on how loud Justin was snoring."

When Martin questioned William, he told a slightly different story with
additional information.

According to Oglesby police, William told Martin that Justin and his
juvenile friend arrived at his house after taking a walk in town. Justin
produced a white-powdered substance that he had purchased from someone
nicknamed "Taco," but William wasn't sure who that was. William then said
Justin made four very skinny, 1-inch lines with the white powder, rolled up
a dollar-bill and used it to snort a line, followed by Justin's friend,
Vicki and himself.

In Vicki's statement to Knoblauch, she confirmed what William told Martin.
Vicki also told Knoblauch that Justin woke up briefly at 1 a.m. when she
entered the bedroom to find the cat, but he immediately fell back to sleep.

Vicki was first to find Justin with blood and vomit on his face. She
checked for a pulse, but didn't find one, so she began screaming. William
then left for his parents' house to call 911.

After hearing the story, Jodi and Judy were furious.

"We wouldn't let this go to the wayside," Jodi said. "We wouldn't let
Justin's death just be another kid who overdosed on drugs."

The Fight

Enough was enough. Illegal drugs would not become a part of their
community. So Jodi and Judy, who Justin affectionately called "Grandma
Tootie," chose to go to war with illegal drug dealers in Oglesby. Their
first campaign was against Justin's father.

They began with weekly, sometimes daily, telephone calls to La Salle County
State's Attorney Joe Hettel's office. After more than a month, their
persistence paid off.

"I made it clear to Hettel that I wasn't just trying to blame someone for
my son's death," Jodi said. "He (William) was at fault and he was going to
pay. And I told Hettel I would keep calling his office until he listened."

Hettel did listen, but said he was unsure what William could be charged with.

"Our problem was our case couldn't center around them doing drugs because
it was William Eklund who was a heroin addict with a methadone prescription
and he said his son was stealing from him," Hettel said.

That wasn't good enough for Jodi.

"I told him you put me in front of a jury and no sane person would ever let
this man walk away," Jodi said.

She may have had a point.

On Sept. 9, 1988, William was summoned to court for failure to pay Jodi
child support. The court ordered him to pay $50 per week for child support,
and $10 per week until a total of $500 in unpaid child support was paid. As
of June 8, 2004, La Salle County child support services showed he still
owes her $6,300 in unpaid child support.

Then on Oct. 6, 1988, he pleaded guilty to two counts of public
indecency/sex, and one count of public indecency/deviate and criminal
trespass to land. Those charges are defined, according to court records, as
he "knowingly exposed his sex organ in a lewd manner with the intent to
arouse his sexual desires." He was sentenced to 120 days in jail and two
years of probation.

On May 14, 1992, he pleaded guilty to possession of a controlled substance
with intent to deliver more than one gram but not more than 15 grams. Court
records state that the substance contained cocaine. He was sentenced to 15
weekends in jail and 30 months probation.

Seven years later he made another court appearance on March 23, 1999, when
he was ordered to pay a total of $601 for back rent and court costs for
failure to pay rent.

Collection Professionals Inc in La Salle sued him on June 1, 1999, for
failure to apy a variety of medial bills. The court decided in favor of the
company ordering William to pay $3,281.75.

William also pleaded guilty to seven traffic violations from 1987 to
2004. Two for speeding in 1987 and 1990, one for no vehicle registration
in 1995, two for operating an uninsured motor vehicle in 2000 and 2003 - he
was sentenced to one-year supervision for each charge - disobeying a
traffic control device in 2003, and no seat belt in 2004.

"He had no responsibilities, no cares," Jodi said. "He was living off the
government because he had gout of all things. I tried to keep Justin away
from him, but you can't chain them up to the bedpost."

After doing more research - motivated by his belief that something had to
be done in this case - Hettel found a statute rarely, if ever, tried in a
criminal courtroom called endangering a child causing death.

"Initially, our case wasn't a strong one because we had to look at theories
we hadn't looked at before," he said. "after we did some research we had no
problem with the charge. William Eklund knew his son Justin was stealing
drugs from him and he didn't take any reasonable steps to prevent it."

Hettel's next problem became what to offer for a sentence.

"What do you offer somebody when you have a child who is dead from a drug
overdose and a father whose lifestyle played a part in that?" Hettel said.
"I would have liked to give him 10 years but it's unrealistic that we would
have gotten that."

On Oct. 25, 2004, William was charged with endangering a child causing
death. On March 18, he pleaded guilty to the charge and was sentenced to
the Illinois Department of Corrections for two years with 11 days time
served. His fine was waived.

William currently is serving that sentence in East Moline Correctional
Center in Moline. He declined to be interviewed by the NewsTribune.

A Continuing Battle

The battle against illegal drugs and illegal drug dealers continues for
Justin's grandmother Judy.

Armed with the death of her grandson and fueled by a fury-driven hatred for
illegal drugs and what they've done to her and her family, "Grandma Tootie"
has championed the war on illegal drugs in her small hometown of Oglesby.

The 65-year-old spends occasional late nights walking the streets and
alleys, writing down license plate numbers on vehicles parked near
suspected drug houses.

"I'm not afraid anymore," she said, flipping over an Illinois Department of
Corrections mug shot of William Eklund, making sure to slam it upside down
on her kitchen table.

Joe White, Justin's counselor at Chestnut, brought five of his current and
past clients to Justin's funeral at Shields Funeral Chapel in Oglesby.

The ride up from Bloomington was loud and jovial as they all caught up with
each other. The ride back was pure silence.

"The message got across to the," White said. "Addiction leads to jail,
institution or death. They knew jail and institution, so after seeing their
friend in a casket it was one more way for them to see the end result of
addiction."

Justin's death affected White as well. Now, when presenting information on
addition to his clients, he makes sure his lessons stick.

"Seeing Justin at the funeral has made me a little more serious and I make
sure these guys hear me," he said. "I make sure they remember it."

But when it comes to Justin, Jodi prefers to remember the once
high-spirited young teen that had a knack for fixing electronic techno-goodies.

Recently, she was driving home from her job at JP
Chevrolet-Nissan-Mercedes-Benz in Peru and noticed a teenage boy walking on
the side of the road.

"He was a tall, lanky, skinny kid walking with a happy-go-lucky walk,
be-bopping his way down the road," she said smiling. "That was Justin."