Paul knew his son was doing something he shouldn’t
– drinking, smoking weed, maybe popping pills. So when the West Milford, N.J., father saw the odometer on James’ new 2009 Toyota racking up almost 100 miles a day, he had to say something:
”
You better quit going to Paterson (N.J.) every day to buy drugs,
”
he quipped, trying to keep it light.
Paul knew his son was doing something he shouldn’t – drinking, smoking weed, maybe popping pills.
So when the West Milford, N.J., father saw the odometer on James’ new 2009 Toyota racking up almost 100 miles a day, he had to say something: “You better quit going to Paterson (N.J.) every day to buy drugs,” he quipped, trying to keep it light.
James, then 17, laughed, but he recalls thinking, “‘He can’t know, can he?’ All I kept thinking was, ‘I hope I don’t get caught today because I really want to get high.'”
It was late spring 2009, and James was already weeks into heroin addiction. Yet it would be months before he would admit that fact to himself and his family.
A junior in a northern New Jersey private school, James continued to blend in: He still wore his favorite Ed Hardy shirts and kept his hair trimmed and earring in place. He remained solid in class, pulling B’s without much effort.
But that, say experts, is typical today: Many heroin users are suburban kids who have enough disposable income and support to avoid detection – in some cases, even for months.
“It’s not in dark alleys anymore,” said Douglas S. Collier, special agent in charge of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration’s state office. “Heroin
crosses all socioeconomic and demographic lines.”
Hidden heroin use among the young has been especially vexing in West Milford, a community of 28,000 in the extreme northwest corner of Passaic County.
“No area is the center of the universe for drugs,” said Lt. Tom Dombroski of the Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office, who is in charge of the narcotics unit. “Heroin use is happening in all areas of the county.”
James could get heroin in his community, but instead became his own dealer to feed a 10-bag-a-day habit. He was driving down Route 23 to Paterson – “Heroin Highway” to local junkies – twice or three times a day to score, for both himself and his friends.
At the beginning, a bag, typically containing one-tenth of a gram, would keep James high three to four hours. But after he became physically addicted, he needed one bag just so he wouldn’t feel sick and two or three more to get high.
Yet even his parents, who knew something was up, never guessed it was heroin.
They aren’t alone: a special dormitory at Rutgers University is set up for students in recovery from drugs and alcohol. It’s filled with kids just like James.
“Most of the kids we see in this dorm are suburban kids from high-functioning families,” said Lisa Laitman, director of Alcohol and Other Drugs Assistance Program. “The parents say these kids were in Cub Scouts, soccer – your typical suburban kids.”
‘Chasing the dragon’
West Milford police view heroin as a simmering problem. It isn’t epidemic yet, or being sold in school hallways. But it’s lethal: There have been three drug-related deaths in town so far this year – two from heroin – compared to one in 2009 and one in 2008.
Police went to West Milford High five times in the past year on substance-abuse calls, with at least one about heroin; that happened just once in the past two years, and neither call involved heroin.
Additionally, drug counselors and police in neighboring towns say users there report getting heroin from West Milford. But they’re at a loss to explain why.
Ringwood Police Chief Bernard Lombardo viewed it as just a matter of “luck” that one town has a larger problem than another. “We’ve had some arrests for possession – no dealers, but everyone we’ve arrested said they’re getting it from people in West Milford,” he said.
Smack, Black Tar, Big H – whatever the name – is harrowing stuff. The odds are stacked against recovery for those who fall into its grasp, said Eugene “Skip” McLaughlin, director of New Life Recovery Center in West Milford, N.J.
Also alarming is the path abusers often take to heroin use: Kids stealing parents’ painkillers and other prescription drugs – and taking them to “pharming parties.”
“Stuff from grandma’s cancer treatment, mom’s bad back, dad’s arthritis, whatever was prescribed for a family member, the kids are taking them to parties, throwing them in a bowl and then pulling out whatever they want to take,” said West Milford Detective Frank Elia. “It’s bad.”
“Then,” narcotics officer Michael Malfetti, also a detective, added, “they get hooked on these pills and when they can’t afford $60 to $80 a pill anymore, they go to heroin.”
John, 22, a local man clean for the third time amid a three-year addiction, started by snorting. That “didn’t seem so bad,” he recalled. But he was soon shooting it into his veins.
“You’re always chasing that first high – ‘chasing the dragon’ it’s called – and it’s never the same,” John said, shaking his head. “The very first time I did it, I felt like ‘This is what I was put on this earth to do.’ Heroin was what I was looking for my whole life.”
It’s not all warm and fuzzy, of course: After first effects, users get drowsy and “nod out.” Vomiting, itching and sometimes fatal slowing of the heart and breathing can follow. Throat muscles relax so much a user may choke after vomiting.
The face of heroin
Former Police Chief Paul Costello said that “more crimes are being committed today because of drugs,” but officers don’t always learn what drug is spurring a crime.
Hoping to curb thefts, Malfetti and the Township Council crafted a law mandating local jewelry stores to keep records, including photos, of items brought in for sale. Malfetti’s stack of such photos is several inches high. There are similar ordinances in towns across the state.
But despite all that effort, police often run up against another symptom of hidden heroin use in the suburbs: Loved ones who refuse to prosecute.
Most addicts arrested in West Milford have been in their late teens and 20s, but heroin is reaching the high school. Five students tested positive for the drug in 2009-10, compared with one in 2008-09, said William Burks, the public high school’s substance abuse counselor. Testing is required only after a student shows telltale symptoms – slurred speech, stumbling or sleeping in class.
Ray Danziger, student assistant coordinator at Lakeland Regional High School, serving Ringwood and Wanaque, knew of “two or three students involved with heroin this past year, and those that I’ve talked to said they’re getting it from people in West Milford.”
Nearby Mahwah, in Bergen County, has had a slight rise in heroin arrests. But fatal overdoses there a couple of years ago seemed to dissuade new users, said Police Chief James Batelli.
“Everyone was talking about it, and maybe people stayed away from it because of that,” he said. “But the face of heroin addiction has changed. I know businessmen, high school kids, all using and you would never know.”
Getting clean
McLaughlin knows all too well what the drug does to the mind and body. A former heroin addict, he started New Life 19 years ago and still serves as the director and a counselor. He said users feel no pleasure, except from the drug.
“You become so preoccupied with getting high,” he said, “you eventually can’t keep up with school, a job, relationships, anything.”
He regularly used Ecstasy in his junior year, but was in control enough to partake only on Friday nights to avoid detection from his school’s random drug-testing.
Not so with heroin. He tried it for the first time late in the school year at a local carnival and by fall his life became “completely unmanageable and out of control.”
The drug’s pull was so powerful, he would snort between classes “to hold me over until I got out of school.”
James doesn’t recall much of his five months on heroin except “The only times I spoke to my parents were to scream at them to get out of my way and let me live my life.”
James eventually got so out of control, his father wanted to call the police.
“He was never home, and once he was, he wouldn’t stay for any length of time,” Paul said. “He had a lack of respect for us, slammed a door and broke it, and once he physically attacked me when I tried to stop him from going out.”
Besides trying to interpret teenage volatility for what it might mean, parents also face unfamiliarity with the drug itself: Street heroin doesn’t look like its pure form – a fine, white crystalline powder. Rather, it’s sold as a brown powder or chunk in small glassine packets, labeled with a dealer’s stamp. John recalls his mother finding bags in his room and telling her they were salt and pepper packets from a diner. She didn’t question him.
James met Matthew at New Life – nicknamed “No Life” by the 60 or so outpatients. Sent by the courts, schools, probation programs, and self-referred, about half are teens or young adults; a dozen are heroin addicts.
James, clean since Oct. 26, is working to stay that way. He graduated from New Life, talks to addicts in rehab, goes to Alcoholics or Narcotics Anonymous almost daily and attends college.
But Matthew has relapsed since being interviewed. James and McLaughlin hope their friend will rally.
“Sometimes it takes three, five, 20 times,” McLaughlin said. “You don’t know which one works or if it’s a combination. But you have to try. Addiction ends in one of three ways: jail, institution or death. You have to keep trying.”
James vaguely remembers the day he himself asked for help. It was the Sunday before Halloween in 2009. He was driving home with a friend “high as a kite” and kept falling asleep at the wheel.
“My friend had to keep waking me up,” he recalled. “I got home – and went to my mother and told her I had a problem.”
Cheap – but Costly
Heroin in New Jersey is among the purest in the nation, and available at the lowest prices, drug agents say.
“We are a direct importation state,” said Douglas S. Collier, special agent in charge of the New Jersey office of the federal Drug Enforcement Administration. “It is commingled with fruit, vegetables, picture frames. It’s carried in puppy dogs, people, or chemically processed into clothing.”
Street heroin is now about 60 percent pure, compared with 8 percent to 10 percent purity 30 years ago, Collier said. The greater purity can kill users almost instantly, experts say.
“Guys are dying before they even get the needle out of their arm,” police detective Michael Malfetti said as he queued up a computerized photo of a pajama-clad man sprawled on a bed, syringe stuck in the crook of his arm.
Heroin, an opiate derived from the opium poppy, is a pain depressant. It prompts changes that make addiction recovery a Herculean task. In the brain, it creates its own pathways and suppresses the production of the neurotransmitter dopamine, which stimulates positive feelings. So an addict feels no pleasure unless it’s from the drug. The change is physical and can be seen on brain scans.
A user will have constricted pupils and dry mouth, slowed and slurred speech, droopy eyelids, a slow gait and may nod off, vomit and be very itchy. Addicts may suffer collapsed veins, abscesses, heart infections, arthritis and other rheumatologic problems. Heroin use also increases the risk of acquiring HIV/AIDS and hepatitis; addicts also lose weight from failing to eat enough.
The opium poppy is grown in Mexico, Colombia, and southeast and southwest Asia. Today, most imports are from southwest Asia, Collier said. Human smugglers bring in 600 to 900 grams each, worth about $100 to $200 wholesale. On the streets, that load will generate almost $1 million.
