DRUG ADDICTION CUTS LIFE SHORT

Even numbed by grief, Kristen Pascale was surprised by the size of the
crowd at her stepbrother's funeral visitation. Each time another group
entered, tears started to well.

"I had no clue that it would be this big of a number," she said.

At 23, T.J. Blackburn did not have a list of accomplishments that would
explain why his death on April 16 of a suspected heroin overdose should
pain so many people.

But in the downtown Wilmington scene, T.J., with his passion for art and
music, was a well-known fixture. With a fashion sense more East Village
than small Southern city, he had an easy kindness that made friends from
the mayor to barflies.

And from writing at Encore magazine to working the coffee shops to
volunteering at the film festival to booking bands to just hanging out,
T.J. had his finger in almost every piece of the downtown pie at one time
or another during the past six years.

"You could go up to anyone in the street and he would know who T.J. was,"
said German Martinez, who has organized a concert of some of T.J.'s
favorite local bands to be held at 8 p.m. Monday at Charley Brownz, 21 S.
Front St.

The two became friends after a typical T.J. moment. Mr. Martinez asked the
name of the CD playing in the coffee shop. A few days later, T.J. gave him
a copy of the album.

In a dark time, T.J.'s popularity gives his family hope of finding a glint
of meaning in an unnecessary loss. T.J. didn't die in war or saving
someone, he died taking drugs, said Tim Blackburn, T.J.'s father (T.J. is
for Timothy Junior). But if his death can help someone else, good can come
of it, he said - a sentiment other family members echo.

Perhaps God knew that taking T.J., with all his friends, would do more good
than taking another user, said Christina Blackburn, his younger sister.
Maybe T.J. can help someone do what he couldn't.

Local police and health officials say there are plenty of people to help.
They have seen a steady rise in heroin use in the area. In 1991, 10 people
were being treated for heroin addiction at the Coastal Horizons Center, a
nonprofit that provides recovery treatment, said Wanda Todd-Moore, a
substance abuse counselor at the center.

Today, there are 130 people at the center - a 13-fold jump that understates
the increase in demand for treatment as another, bigger clinic has opened
in the area, she said. The greatest increase has occurred within the past
five years, she said. Most are middle-class, white teens and
twenty-somethings, she said.

Walking out of recovery meetings with his son, he was shocked to see drug
peddlers across the street, Mr. Blackburn said.

"My son was just one among many sons and daughters," he said.

A roommate - now in recovery - introduced heroin to T.J., said Sharon Hill,
his mother. He tried it because he associated it with the music he loved,
she said. He told her it opened the songs' meanings.

But three years later, the drug had trumped even his love of music - he
sold his precious CDs and guitar to fuel the habit, his father said. He was
as loving and as quick with a hug as always, but his family rarely saw him
- - and when they did, he slept most of the time, Ms. Pascale said.

Last October, T.J. seemed to make the change. He enrolled in a 12-step
program, taking it very seriously. He looked stronger and less pale, his
mother said.

"I saw the same spark in his eyes that I felt in mine," said Toby Hooker,
his sponsor and a recovering addict.

By everyone's reckoning, T.J. stayed clean for five months until his last
night, when he got high with two friends. His family thinks the end began
with a few drinks that melted his resolve. They say he took heroin and Valium.

Coming to terms with why he lapsed has been a challenge. Loved and talented
- - he was a skilled poet and wanted to teach writing at a community college
- - T.J. had life before him, they said. Why couldn't the guy who was always
so clever and unique stay clean? Why couldn't the boy who asked so many
questions and never took pat answers see the broken logic behind heroin?

"I want to know what tempted him to drink again," his mother said.

His sponsor has helped give perspective on how long and powerful the
tentacles of addiction can be. Even after eight years of sobriety, Mr.
Hooker sees himself a few missteps steps from awakening the monster.

"It's like diabetes," Mr. Hooker said. "You've got to take your insulin no
matter how good life is, or how miserable."

He and Ms. Pascale, T.J.'s stepsister since she was 5, found a list of
addicts who began recovery with T.J., Ms. Pascale said. They went through
the names with Mr. Hooker noting who had relapsed and who was still sober.

Of a list of about 20, only three or four were still clean, she said.

"I just wanted him to stop saying, 'He relapsed, she relapsed, he
relapsed,' " Ms. Pascale said.

Recovery is a hard, lifelong process, Mr. Hooker said. Even talented people
like T.J. need help and reinforcement, he said.

Ms. Todd-Moore likened recovery to an iceberg. Quitting the drug is only
the 10 percent above water. Staying off is the other 90 percent.

About three weeks before he died, T.J. began attending meetings less and
hanging out downtown more, Mr. Hooker said. He may have gotten too
confident, Mr. Hooker said.

"As strong as he was, drugs still got him," Mr. Hooker said. "If someone
could handle it, I don't know why it couldn't be T.J. It's just not
handleable."