THE LONG ROAD TO RECOVERY

So willing to have his life examined, 23-year-old Robert Daniel will
tell you everything about himself except his real name. He doesn't
want the police in his home town to know where he lives.

Daniel lives in one of several houses owned by Jericho Project, a
residential drug and alcohol recovery program in San Mateo County.

His lawyer had struck a bargain with a judge. If Daniel volunteered
for drug rehabilitation, he wouldn't go to a state penitentiary for
missing an appointment with his parole officer.

Daniel may have gone to prison if the arresting officers had shown up
for his preliminary hearing. They might have pressed their case
against him, if the 13-gram-packet of methamphetamine they found in
his backpack had not gone missing from police custody.

But that's all water under the bridge for Daniel. Soft spoken,
reserved, the young Filipino American admits he had drugs in his backpack.

While Daniel sat in jail for two months waiting for his preliminary
hearing, he had had enough. For the first time in his life, he thought
about quitting methamphetamine.

"I had to do something to make my mother happy," he
said.

Long Road to Rehab

Though he had spent half of his life in and out of the California
Youth Authority or in jail because of methamphetamine, it's the first
time he's been in a drug rehabilitation program. He just never thought
he needed one.

Daniel is typical of many people addicted to drugs or alcohol.
Counselors, social workers, judges and law enforcement officers have
said unless compelled by substantial consequences or legally mandated,
people on drugs realize later rather than sooner they are addicted.

"Most of the clients have legal problems. It's mandated," said Adult
Services Director Joe Laping, for the Asian American Recovery Services
(AARS) in Daly City. "To many of them, being arrested is a wake-up
call. None of them have come in on their own or if they come, they
don't stay. Denial is so strong when people are still using."

Methamphetamine is a strong Central Nervous System stimulant. Ten
years ago, a smokable form known as shabu, batu, batac, ice or crystal
meth was popular mainly in the Hawaiian and the Filipino American
community. Now, it's everywhere in California, according to narcotics
officers.

Shabu easily crosses the blood brain barrier, delivering an intense
euphoria. But with continued use, the drug destroys the neural
structures in the brain that help maintain the body's sense of well
being. The user must smoke more and more methamphetamine to get high.

"The science we have today, we know 10 times more than 10 or 20 years
ago what drugs can do to the body," said David Mineta, director of
Asian American Recovery Services. "I tell the families they are
dealing with a person on drugs [rather] than the person they know."

Mineta said family members try to deal with an addict on their own,
using normal everyday solutions. But they need specialized assistance.
The AARS is an outpatient program that conducts routine drug testing.
Their clients are predominantly Filipino or Filipino Americans, but
they have clients of other ethnicities as well.

Filipino Drug Rings

The families try to move their children out of the drug environment by
sending them to the Philippine islands to live with relatives. But the
Southeast Asian country is grappling with its own drug problems. While
the Central Valley and Mexico have their super labs for
methamphetamine, the Philippine Islands has its mega labs that produce
up to 100 kilos at a time.

Though police are plentiful, there is no standardization and minimal
in-service training. Some officers have to buy their own guns. A
recently established Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency is making
strides in disrupting drug rings, but the agency is in its infancy and
it's difficult to prosecute drug traffickers because of corruption,
said a U.S. government official in Manila who declined to give his
name.

"Everyday, there are stories in the press here about political and law
enforcement corruption. The perception is that the justice system is
broken and in need of repair," said the official who is assisting the
Philippine government in its drug enforcement effort.

Unlike the United States, methamphetamine is used by people of all
ages in the Philippines, from poverty-stricken street children as
young as 10 to retirees in their 50s and 60s. The drug enables people
to work extra jobs so they can support large, extended families.

"Because it crosses all social and economic lines, it's a real
tragedy. The people work long hours to support large families. There's
no abortion, little contraception, little sex education, no divorce.
The families are large. They're using shabu to work long hours. You
hear about horrific accidents such as a bus wreck and the autopsy
report for the driver comes back positive for methamphetamine. It's
not a recreational drug, particularly for the poor. Unfortunately,
it's a way of life for many people," the official said.

A Young Beginning

Daniel said he has a history with police in his hometown. When he was
12, a police officer caught him smoking marijuana in his middle school
bathroom. His elderly father died a few months later.

When he was 13, he was introduced to methamphetamine by family members
who moved to the Bay Area. They're well known drug manufacturers in
the Philippine Islands. He became a runner for his relatives, going
from drug store to drug store to purchase pseudoephedrine. He watched
everything and listened carefully. Eventually, he became an
apprentice, then a meth cook. Between the ages of 13 and 17 he was
producing batches of methamphetamine, up to one-half pounds.

According to the Drug Enforcement Agency Web site, Americans spend
approximately $65 billion a year in illicit drugs. Illegal drugs cost
the U.S. economy $98.5 billion a year in lost earnings, $12 billion a
year in health care costs and $32.1 billion a year in other costs
including social welfare and goods and services lost to crime.

Methamphetamine makes people feel energized and alert. They become
fixated with accomplishing tasks. One user said he'd find old
carburetors and spend hours cleaning them for drug money. Others could
strip miles of insulation from copper wiring. One rehabilitation
counselor described the intensity of a person high on methamphetamine
as someone who could scrub all the walls in one night with a toothbrush.

A Growing Habit

Daniel constantly tweaked his methamphetamine recipes and looked for
effective ways to extract ingredients from ordinary household products
or ranching supplies. He justified his drug manufacturing and sales by
experimenting on himself. He said he would only sell high-quality
products that were safe for him to use.

But his lifestyle was fraught with danger. In one trial, he had passed
out and woke up to find his lab on fire in the garage. Once, both
hands and forearms were burned from the hazardous chemicals he used in
one of his experiments. In 1998, he took a hit from a batch and broke
out in a rash. His throat felt like it had exploded. Afterwards, he
thought of using eye protection.

In the worst episodes, he experienced hallucinations and paranoia. He
hallucinated a conversation with a voice emanating from stereo
speakers hidden in every room. On two occasions, his surrender to
police could have gone terribly wrong.

When he was 17 years old, he held off a police raid with a Colt .45
until his mother's hysterical pleas convinced him to give up. In
January, 2004, high on methamphetamine, he led police on a high-speed
chase away from his hotel room where he had set up a meth lab. He
remembers two police officers had used billy clubs and Tasers to
subdue him, though Daniel said he had surrendered and was shouting,
"I'm done! I'm done!" The officers never went back to the hotel room.

Recovery

"Being in prison is like being in a time zone," Daniel said. "I wasn't
being productive, successful in society. This is the most normal life
I've had since 1994. Everyone I knew was either manufacturing or using."

Jericho Project helped him find a job, so he can pay for his own
treatment. The program is 100 percent funded by the residents.

When Daniel leaves the year-long program, he'll have new job skills in
painting and construction, training in financial planning, coping
skills and etiquette and a big savings account.

"I answer politely, say excuse me and thank you. We watch each other's
back," Daniel said. "I'm becoming normal. I get up early, actually
work for my necessities. I come home, work out, go to meetings. By the
end of the evening, I'm tired. I have no thoughts, no flashes. It's a
basic accomplishment but a lot for myself."