DECEIT DEFINED ADDICT'S LIFE

Mark Nunn's lifeless body lay on the floor, but Stuart Taylor ignored it.

Desperate for heroin, Taylor went into a bathroom and injected the drug
between his fingers. He came out and noticed Nunn's skin looked blue.

"That guy looks dead," Taylor told his drug dealer, Ronnie Bowman, one of
three other people in the room.

Their attempts to resuscitate Nunn didn't work.

Taylor and Bowman got Nunn's body out of Bowman's apartment off Broad River
Road. They moved it to the parking lot of a nearby restaurant to keep
police from finding out what happened, the two recently admitted in federal
court.

Three years later, Taylor and Bowman are in jail. Each was charged with
conspiracy to distribute more than one kilogram (--) or 2.2 pounds (--) of
heroin.

Investigators linked Taylor and Bowman to one of the largest drug rings to
operate in the Midlands. All 40 defendants (--) except one who has been
declared incompetent and another who is a fugitive (--) pleaded guilty
earlier this year. Many were sentenced last week.

Taylor, then 22, wasn't typical of the ring's members. He gave away the
drug instead of selling it. But that didn't save him from the distribution
charge. His story is a window into the ring's world. It also shows what
heroin can do to a life.

Taylor is serving a 3-year prison sentence. He could be sent to a half-way
house as soon as 18 months from now, said his attorney Greg Harris.

Bowman also pleaded guilty to distribution of a controlled substance
resulting in a death. He awaits sentencing.

Bowman's court-appointed attorney, Dick Harpootlian, is negotiating
Bowman's sentence. He said he couldn't discuss the case.

supporting the habit

A New Jersey native, Taylor was a seven-bag-a-day heroin addict. He weighed
112 pounds, and his teeth were black, a side effect of heavy drug use.

"My neck was as big as my trachea," Taylor said.

He used heroin almost every day after moving to Columbia in September 1998.
He didn't work. His parents, Geoffrey and Marilyn Taylor, who live in
Connecticut, unwittingly supported their son's habit (--) and his practice
of giving away the drugs that he didn't use.

The Taylors sent thousands of dollars to their son, thinking they were
helping him through USC and Midlands Technical College.

"They were still thinking I was in college even after my arrest," Taylor
said. "I stole from them a lot. I had to invent all these stories."

He talked recently about how he ended up in the Lexington County jail,
where he awaits transfer to federal prison. He's hopeful he'll go to a
facility equipped to deal with serious medical conditions. In 1996, he was
diagnosed with Hepatitis C, a disease that can lead to liver failure. He
got it from a contaminated hypodermic needle.

Taylor, who turns 24 on New Year's Eve, spoke pragmatically about his life.
He gave no excuses.

"I don't think I would have been happy any other way. You've got to figure
it out for yourself."

coming to columbia

The adopted son of a college professor and a social worker, Taylor grew up
near Asbury Park, N.J., with plenty of advantages, including a home music
studio. He learned to play every instrument except drums, he said, and
started a band called God Box.

He seemed to be on the right track academically. An honors student, Taylor
studied literature and philosophy, he said. He scored 1300 on the PSAT, he
said.

"I really didn't know what I had at the time," he said.

Taylor said he quit school about the time he was a high school freshman.
His family moved to Connecticut.

Taylor didn't fit in at school, and the group with which he identified was
doing drugs, he said. At 16, he got his high school equivalency degree.

Taylor thinks his drug use stems from cigarette smoking, which he said he
started at age 8.

"At 8, I wasn't going to say 'no' to cigarettes, so there wasn't much of a
chance I'd say 'no' to anything else," Taylor said.

By sixth or seventh grade, he started smoking pot that he got from a
friend's brother, he said.

"I wasn't really buying a lot," Taylor said. "I was still getting an
allowance back then" and not the thousands of dollars he got later from his
parents.

His drug use escalated, and he sold drugs to make money to buy what he
wanted. He tried heroin when he was 15 and probably would have used it more
if he had developed a regular drug connection.

At 16, Taylor said, "I was pretty much ensconced in the drug culture."

He was caught, though, and ended up in drug rehabilitation several times
before he left home for New York at 17, eventually ending up in San
Francisco. In 1998, Taylor left San Francisco on a Greyhound bus with a
friend from Columbia.

Taylor and his friend arrived in Five Points lice-infested and "dope sick"
after going without heroin during the cross-country trip. Taylor's friend
got them to Farrow Road, where Taylor, with the help of a go-between,
bought $120 worth of heroin from a man called Skull.

Skull, whose real name is Earl Thomas, also pleaded guilty to federal
charges as a result of his involvement in the heroin ring.

Taylor met Bowman in 1999.

moving the body

On Aug. 15, 1999, Mark Nunn, 36, died at Bowman's apartment after buying
what Bowman told him was heroin. Instead, Nunn had used fentanyl, a
synthetic drug stronger than heroin, according to court records. Bowman
pleaded guilty to distribution of a controlled substance leading to a
person's death.

Bowman didn't believe Nunn was dead, Taylor said. He told Taylor that Nunn
passed out, which sometimes happens after addicts inject themselves.

But everyone panicked after Nunn wouldn't wake up.

Taylor moved Nunn's car closer to Bowman's apartment, and Bowman carried
Nunn down the stairs and put him into the car's passenger seat, Taylor
said. Bowman drove the car to a Taco Bell parking lot and left Nunn's body
in the car. Taylor got into his car, picked up Bowman and drove back to
Bowman's apartment.

A friend made an anonymous 911 call from a pay phone, leading police to the
body.

The heroin Taylor injected that morning already had worn off. He needed
another fix. The anxiety caused by Nunn's death killed his high.

"I needed to get this dude in the car and get this done with," he said.
"I'd sweated (the heroin) out of my system. I needed more."

Afterward, Taylor wanted the same stuff that Nunn used. It obviously was good.

Taylor didn't fear dying.

And he had used drugs so long that he'd developed a high tolerance. The
seven-to-10 bags of heroin he used daily, he said, "was my idea of
moderation. I wanted to get higher. To get high off of heroin costs an
immense amount of money."

Richland County Sheriff's investigator Eric Barnes questioned Taylor about
Nunn's death in July 2000 at Taylor's apartment, off Garners Ferry Road.
About three months later, Taylor was indicted, and police arrested him.

behind bars

Taylor completed 60 days of drug rehabilitation after his arrest. He's been
drug free more than a year and has gained about 50 pounds.

Taylor didn't eat much while doing drugs, mostly vitamins, cereal and
Italian ice. Food ruins a high, he said.

He now spends his time reading, writing and drawing.

Despite years of deceit, Taylor's parents speak to him several times a
week. His father sends weekly lessons on physics, literature and
philosophy. Taylor wants to study Latin, psychology and geometry.

Geoffrey Taylor said his son's arrest shocked him, but things could have
been worse.

"Even that he is still with us is amazing," Geoffrey Taylor said. "He ended
up incarcerated, but he's not gone."

Geoffrey Taylor said he hasn't forgotten his feelings of betrayal. His son
once used his Hepatitis C to get money from him, claiming he needed
immediate treatment.

"He's desperate for (heroin)," the elder Taylor said. "If it takes lying,
he's able to do it."

Taylor remains supportive of his son, but he said he's already apprehensive
about his eventual release from prison.

"What kind of person will he be when he gets released?" Geoffrey Taylor
asked. "Can drug users ever be straightened out? It's terrible he's in
there, but it's a bit of a reprieve for us."

Stuart Taylor could be as young as 25 when he's released. He wants to go to
college and maybe study fine arts, if it's not too late.

He never expected to become a federal prisoner, and he doesn't enjoy it.
But, he said, it's been a "thoroughly good experience" because he needed it
to get beyond drug addiction.

" (My parents) have high hopes for me," he said. "They've backed me 100
percent. I've burned so many bridges with them. They are the major reason
why I'm not going over the edge."