LOCAL METH ADDICT TELLS HIS STORY

Editor's note: The Edson Leader in conjunction with the Edson and
District Drug Action Coalition is publishing a six-part series on a
local meth addict. The first article is timed with National
Addictions Awareness Week. These articles are based on the actual
interview of an Edson resident involved in the use and dealing of
methamphetamines. The purpose of the articles is to educate and
create a public awareness of the extent of methamphetamine use in our
community.

I met him at an undisclosed location and it suited me fine. He said
that he didn't want to be seen with me and, frankly, I didn't want to
be seen with him, either.

A cop escorted him to where I sat waiting and I must confess -- his
shackles shocked me far less than his overall appearance. He looked
like a banker. An accountant. Tall, spare, neat and well-groomed, he
looked nothing like the addict that he claimed to be. This was meth
dealer who was headed to prison and now wanted to tell his story.

"I want people to be aware," he said. "They need to know."

It was his sincerity that hooked me. For this man -- this
self-proclaimed drug addict, dealer and criminal -- wanted people to
understand the cunning world of methamphetamine. And he wanted me --
an unknown writer -- to scribe what he had to say.

And now here he sat, an arm's length from me. It was with no small
amount of cynicism that I assessed the look he shot the officer who
stayed close enough not to warrant any real privacy.

"So," I said, and stuck out my hand. "Pleased to meet you."

What a line. And he didn't miss it for he made an indecipherable snort.

I winced, a bit shame-faced. "You still up for this?" I asked, and
suddenly hoped that maybe he wasn't. After all -- he was a convicted
felon. Someone who could no longer be trusted without a chaperone. A
uniformed chaperone.

"Yeah, I want to do it." He raked me with eyes that missed nothing. "Do you?"

"Sure," I said, and it was my very best effort at cavalier. "Where do
you want to start?"

At once he released what sounded like a world-weary breath.

"I don't know. Anywhere. Everywhere. I just ... I just want people to know."

His earnestness made me sit a bit straighter.

"Alright." I blew out a breath of my own. "How about we begin with
the first time you used meth?"

"Nah," he brushed the suggestion away with a hand. "That's not the beginning."

I raised my eyebrows.

"The beginning would be the first time I smoked pot."

"Okay." I readied my pen and my paper. "When was that?"

He answered with no hesitation. "Grade 6," he said, and my jaw hit the floor.