DRUG DEALERS MORE VIRULENT THAN MOONSHINERS

As of last week, the murder of Harlan County Sheriff candidate Paul
Browning had not been solved. Three men have been arraigned in the murder
of Pulaski County Sheriff Sam Catron. At first glance, it would appear that
the two deaths have little in common. But when you think about it, there is
one link that stands out over all: the changing character of crime in
Appalachia and, indeed, of the region itself.

Browning was hated or loved, depending on your view of him. Apparently, he
was also feared. Nothing else can explain the manner of his execution and
cremation in his own truck. Someone really didn't want Browning to be
Harlan County sheriff.

As for Catron, he appeared to be loved by most of his county. But he
reportedly ran a pretty clean shop and was allegedly murdered by some
people who wanted to put their man in office. A drug dealer is involved.

Catron had no idea that anyone wanted to kill him. Browning had no idea
whom he was fooling with. But whoever was behind the two murders, they were
made possible -- even likely-- by the stark difference between the
bootleggers of 20 years ago and the drug makers and dealers who took their
place in the food chain while nobody was watching.

A generation ago, you could tell who was making whiskey if you ran a
country store like my uncle did on the Kentucky-West Virginia border.
Bootleggers bought the 100-pound sacks of cracked corn or mash. But what
really gave it away was the 25 or 50 pounds of sugar they also selected.

I still remember Bob Johnson, the friendly man. He saw every high school
senior as a potential customer. When he saw you on the street, he would
grin his biggest grin and say, "Hi, son!" He was also very confidential and
didn't sell to kids.

And there was Lillie Evans, who kept a few half-pints behind the counter
with her blackjack. She kept order. She didn't sell to kids, either.

But the new, high-tech redneck drug dealer does, and he is a different
breed. He is, most often, uneducated and not involved in the community in
any way. He has access to the Internet and to cell phones. He has a lot
more customers than the bootleggers did because what he sells traps the
customer into addiction.

He has OxyContin for sale, and the profits are 1,000 percent. Some of his
customers will die -- after all, Oxy is like heroin. But the man with dirty
hands likes it because it hooks them in the guts. They almost never get
loose. (One of my Oxy clients is in his early 20s. He sought rehab when he
saw his Sunday school teacher having sex at the dealer's to get Oxy.)

But, according to a federal magistrate whom I have known for 20 years,
nothing hooks their souls like meth. He says he has only seen a couple of
addicts make it off the drug for 30 days.

These cold old boys make it in tubs out behind the trailer. The only
hard-to-get ingredient is red phosphorous.

They are the new dealers, and theirs is a million-dollar industry. It is
this money that is making them new friends and attracting the politicians.
Browning thought he was dealing with a kind of bootlegger. Catron had no
idea he was standing in the way of someone's fortune. Two different kinds
of men, but one big problem, which is buying its way into a lot of places
you just wouldn't think it could. Once it's there, if you don't play ball
or if you're in the way, they kill you.

The bootleggers didn't do that. The game has changed.