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Posts Tagged ‘opiates’

Car theft, Oxy linked in a big way

Monday, April 30th, 2012

By Susan Gamble, Brantford Expositor

 

It looks so easy in all the movies, TV shows and video games.

Gone in 60 Seconds, Grand Theft Auto and Need for Speed have indoctrinated kids, especially young men, with the impression that stealing, speeding and crashing cars is very cool.

And as a city that was dubbed the Stolen Car Capital of Canada in 2010, Brantford has a nasty reputation as the playground for these car thieves.

While improvements are being made notably with a joint policing effort called Team Shutdown, two area teens have died as a result of car chases in the past five years and there have been numerous injuries, not to mention millions of dollars in damages to cars and costs in insurance.

Some say it’s non-natives who are stealing cars from outside the county and dumping them on Six Nations for natives to take the blame.

Others believe that, at the heart of this, is a gang of outside influences who are directing native kids to steal cars. The kids are young and have a grid of back roads on the reserve where cars can be hidden and chopped, and where police can be evaded.

But a series of interviews by The Expositor indicates the recent problems didn’t start with Mafia connections or Asian gangs.

The problem has been a little pain pill called Oxycontin.

***

“I got in a bad car accident where I was ejected out of the vehicle and broke all my ribs. I broke my arm and my shoulder. I started taking Tylenol 3 and Percoset prescribed by the doctor but pretty soon it wasn’t working.”

That’s how one young man, “Robert” became a ‘chinger’ on Six Nations.

Chinging is the local slang for the act of stealing cars, derived from the word ‘cha-ching!’, meaning easy money.

Robert’s dependence on narcotics for his pain lead him to the well-known, but highly addictive “hillbilly heroin” — Oxycontin.

“It’s an expensive habit and stealing vehicles is easy money. People getting Oxy can turn around and sell it for $50, $60 or $100 on the reserve and that’s a good chunk of change.”

Eventually, Robert was spending $1,000 each day on his Oxy habit and there are no jobs that can support that kind of expenditure.

He quickly got involved in chinging, learning the ropes from older friends and, eventually, setting up his own system of buyers.

“There were times when I didn’t sleep for three or four days. I would be out stealing every day, all day. I’d take at least five vehicles in a night. Sometimes more.”

He was shot at and chased by police more times than he can count. When he looks back at his escapades now, it’s terrifying.

“It’s easy money but in the long run, you get caught, addicted to Oxy and not caring about your family. You end up sitting in jail and are told when you can go to bed and when to get up.”

Robert is on probation now, trying hard to stay clean and away from Six Nations.

“I’m trying to take care of me right now.”

Robert’s lawyer, Sarah Dover, has become somewhat of an expert on chingers.

Dover says she represents a “significant number” of Six Nations residents who have been arrested after dangerous car chases or repeatedly stealing cars.

“I’ve had maybe one or two clients who are not addicted to Oxycontin and all the others are.”

Dover knows a lot about Oxy.

She’s researched it and has daily anecdotal evidence of what it does to a user. Oftentimes, Dover is the first one to talk to a chinger about his Oxy habit and where it’s heading.

“There’s been greater access to Oxy on the reserve than alcohol and you become addicted in a very short time — within a week of your first use. The symptoms of withdrawal are excruciating. It’s like having barbed wire pulled through your veins.”

And here’s the problem: the No. 1 course of treatment for Oxy addiction is methadone. There’s no methadone program available on Six Nations and no detox there. To get their daily methadone dose Dover’s clients have to get to Brantford. But most are on probation for driving crimes and aren’t allowed to drive. Unless a supportive family member or friend volunteers to drive them to Brantford every single day, a lot of chingers are faced with a choice of stealing a car or dropping methadone and going back to Oxy.

And there’s another problem: if you’re already on a methadone program when you go to jail, they make sure that you continue treatment. But if you’re not on the program, you can’t get on it in jail. Instead you face about a week of acute withdrawal and then a chemically induced depression for 12 to 18 months.

“In jail, (prisoners) have no education around their addiction, no access to counselling and when they come out of jail they’re no further ahead in accessing services for addictions. It’s a huge set-up for them to fail.”

The results are heavily tinged with irony: chingers sometimes steal cars to get to their methadone appointments or even take a car at the courthouse to get home after being released from jail; one of Dover’s addicted clients had her newborn taken from her at the hospital by Children’s Aid but walked out of the facility with an Oxy prescription in her hand; native boys are facing dozens of driving charges before they even get their licences.

And they all talk about the big bucks they generate from the chinging business. But Dover says it’s a sham.

“I ask them ‘Where’s the money?’ Where are the guys with the massive houses and gorgeous cars? They don’t exist because the money’s going into opiates.

“If people are really serious about ending car chases, do something about Oxy.”

That was Dover’s statement a few months ago when Oxy use was rampant on Six Nations.

Now, with the introduction of OxyNEO, a “tamper-proof” drug that can’t be crushed, ground or liquified for snorting or injecting she says the situation is in a muted chaos.

Prices for Oxy have gone up and new suppliers are being sought outside of Ontario; addictions are switching drugs, some have overdosed; the drug world is hard at work trying to tamper with the new tamper-proof drug; and yes, some hard cases are turning to methadone as they try to drop their old habit.

MPP Dave Levac is pushing to get a new residential rehab-detox centre in the city and others are suggesting the methadone clinic at St. Andrew’s Church be moved to wherever that new location is.

Wherever it is, it won’t be on the reserve — so the problem for addicts will remain.

“We need to help those getting treatment to succeed,” said Levac.

“We want to stop people from reoffending and remove the obstacles, so that may (lead to) a transportation service or taxi chits – something so we can tackle this in a whole community way.”

Levac is one of those who believes Six Nations has been unfairly targeted because of the car theft industry.

“The idea it’s all natives doing this is a long-standing mythology. If we actually broke down the number of first nations people involved we’d see it’s not just them. It’s just a favourite dumping ground.”

Six Nations Chief Coun. Bill Montour agrees, saying it’s “outside influences” controlling many of the young people on the reserve.

“We’re getting more blacks, Asians and motorcycle gangs operating here and we’ve had four incidents involving Jamaican enforcers.”

The chief said he’s been a victim himself: his own car was stolen by thieves who used it to go to Mississauga in order to steal there.

“My son is a cop and they’re all over this.”

But lawyer Dover says it’s not gangs controlling the kids – it’s drugs.

Dover’s typical client has a Grade 8 education, is 20-something years old and has severe addiction issues.

“They come from pain. When they’re released the only thing they’re good at is stealing cars.”

Dover speaks often and passionately in court about the Oxy-car theft problem.

She’s hugely frustrated by what she considers a broken system.

“Jail is not effective in deterring my clients. I’ve had clients shot by police before being jailed and when they’re released, because the underlying dynamic hasn’t been addressed, they return to the behaviour despite a desire to have a normal life.”

Some have suggested to Dover that if her clients truly wanted to get better they’d be willing to go far afield to find help.

“The folks from Six Nations are deeply connected to their community, land and way of life. To say if you want to be sober, go to another community, you might as well say ‘be shot into space’.”

Native Horizons is the drug rehab program on Six Nations. Dover says that every year the agency puts in a proposal for a more comprehensive addictions service and every year they are denied.

It takes one to three months to get into the current rehab program and you have to qualify by being out of jail and sober for 30 days.

“If some of my clients could stay out of jail and sober for 30 days they wouldn’t need rehab,” says Dover.

There are two Alcoholics Anonymous meetings on the reserve, she adds, and people can go to counselling meetings at Native Horizons, but there are no regular Narcotic Anonymous meetings there.

“My clients are white-knuckling through withdrawal and they get out of jail and relapse.

Which, of course, leads to the theft of more cars, or worse, the rising suicide problem on this and other reserves.

What’s needed, says Dover, is a crisis approach to the Oxy problem that targets the underlying issues: too much Oxy availability; not enough rehab and methadone help; more counselling for family problems, including the residual angst of the residential schools issue.

“Robert” is glad to be done with his $1000-a-day Oxy habit.

“Looking back, I’m scared about what I was doing. I’ve been shot at and stuff. I was constantly looking over my shoulder for police and owners. Now a weight’s been lifted.”

susan.gamble@sunmedia.ca

Why Punish Pain?

Thursday, March 8th, 2012

by

A hit of compassion could keep drugs from becoming a crime problem.

The early 19th-century literary figure Thomas de Quincey was an opium user. “The subtle powers lodged in this mighty drug,” he enthused,“tranquilize all irritations of the nervous system … stimulate the capacities of enjoyment … sustain through twenty-four hours the else drooping animal energies … O just, subtle and all-conquering opium …Thou only givest these gifts to man; and thou hast the keys of Paradise.” A patient of mine in Vancouver’s infamous Downtown Eastside said it more plainly: “The reason I do drugs is so that I don’t feel the f***ing feelings I feel when I don’t do drugs.”

All drug addicts, even (or perhaps especially) the abject and marginalized street user, seek in their habit the same paradise de Quincey rhapsodized: a sense of comfort, vitality, and freedom from pain. It’s a doomed search that puts in peril their health, societal position, dignity, and freedom. “I’m not afraid of death,” another patient told me. “I’m more afraid of life.” What kind of despair could lead someone to value short-term pain relief over life itself? And what might be the source of such despair?

Not Choice or Genes

In North America, two assumptions inform social attitudes toward addiction. First is the notion that addiction is a result of individual choice, of personal failure, a view that underlies the legal approach toward substance dependence. If the behavior is a matter of choice, then it makes sense to punish or deter it by means of legal sanctions, including incarceration for mere possession. The second perspective is the medical model that sees addiction as an inherited disease of the brain. This view at least has the virtue of not blaming the afflicted person—after all, people cannot help what genes they inherit—and it also offers the possibility of compassionate treatment.

What kind of despair could lead someone to value short-term pain relief over life itself? And what might be the source of such despair?

What the choice and heredity hypo­theses share in common is that they take society off the hook. Neither compels us to consider how a person’s experience and social position contribute to a predisposition for addiction. If oppressed or marginalized populations suffer a disproportionate share of addiction’s burden—as they do, here and elsewhere—it must be due to their faulty decision-making or to their flawed genes. The heredity and choice-based models also spare us, conveniently, from looking at how our social environment supports, or does not support, the parents of young children, and at how social attitudes and policies burden, stress, and exclude certain segments of the population and thereby increase their propensity for addiction.

Another, starker view emerges when we listen to the life histories of substance abusers and look at the ample research data.

Addictions always originate in unhappiness, even if hidden. They are emotional anesthetics; they numb pain. The first question—always—is not “Why the addiction?” but “Why the pain?” The answer was summed up with crude eloquence, scrawled on the wall of my patient Anna’s room: “Any place I went to, I wasn’t wanted. And that bites large.”

“A Warm, Soft Hug”

For 12 years I was staff physician at the Portland Hotel, a nonprofit, harm-reduction facility in the Downtown Eastside, an area with an addict population of 3,000 to 5,000. Most of the Portland’s clients are addicted to cocaine, crystal meth, alcohol, opiates like heroin, or tranquilizers—or to any combination of these things.

“The first time I did heroin,” one of my patients, a 27-year-old sex-trade worker, once told me, “it felt like a warm, soft hug.” In a phrase, she summed up the deep psychological and chemical cravings that make some people vulnerable to substance dependence.

Contrary to popular myth, no drug is inherently addictive. Only a small percentage of people who try alcohol or cocaine or even crystal meth go on to addictive use. What makes those people vulnerable? According to current brain research and developmental psychology, chemical and emotional vulnerability are the products not of genetic programming but of life experience. Most of the human brain’s growth occurs after birth, and so physical and emotional interactions determine much of our neurological development—which brain areas will develop and how well, which patterns will be encoded, and so on. As such, each brain’s circuitry and chemistry reflect individual life experiences as much as inherited tendencies.

 

Drugs affect the brain by binding to receptors on nerve cells. Opiates work on our built-in receptors for endorphins—the body’s own, natural opiate-like substances that participate in many functions, including regulation of pain and mood. Similarly, tranquilizers of the benzodiazepine class, such as Valium, exert their effect at the brain’s natural benzodiazepine receptors. Other brain chemicals, including dopamine and serotonin, affect such diverse functions as mood, incentive- and reward-seeking behavior, and self-regulation. These, too, bind to specific, specialized receptors on neurons.

But the number of receptors and level of brain chemicals are not set at birth. Infant rats who get less grooming from their mothers end up with fewer natural “benzo” receptors in the part of the brain that controls anxiety. Brains of infant monkeys separated from their mothers for only a few days are measurably deficient in dopamine.

It is the same with human beings. Endorphins are released in the infant’s brain when there are warm, non-stressed, calm interactions with the parenting figures. Endorphins, in turn, promote the growth of receptors and nerve cells, and the discharge of other important brain chemicals. The fewer endorphin-enhancing experiences in infancy and early childhood, the greater the need for external sources. Hence, a greater vulnerability to addictions.

Chronicles of Pain

What sets skid row addicts apart is the extreme degree of stress they had to endure early in life. Almost all women now inhabiting “Canada’s addiction capital”—as the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver has been called—suffered sexual assaults in childhood, as did many of the males. Childhood memories of serial abandonment or severe physical and psychological abuse are common. My patients’ histories are chronicles of pain upon pain.

Feeling alone, the sense that there has never been anyone with whom to share their deepest emotions, is universal among drug addicts.

Carl, a 36-year-old Native man, was banished from one foster home after another, had dishwashing liquid poured down his throat for using foul language at age 5, and was tied to a chair in a dark room to control his hyperactivity. When angry at himself he gouges his foot with a knife as punishment.

But what of families where there was not abuse, but love; where parents did their best to provide their children with a secure, nurturing home? After all, addictions also arise in such families. The unseen factor here is the stress the parents themselves lived under, even if they did not recognize it. That stress could come from relationship problems or from outside circumstances such as economic pressure or political disruption.

The most frequent source of hidden stress is the parents’ own childhood histories that saddle them with emotional baggage they are not conscious of. What we are not aware of in ourselves, we pass on to our children. Stressed, anxious, or depressed parents have great difficulty initiating enough of those emotionally rewarding, endorphin-liberating interactions with their children. Later in life such children may experience a hit of heroin as the “warm, soft hug” my patient described: What they didn’t get enough of before, they can now give themselves through a needle.

Unconditional Love

The U.S.-based Adverse Childhood Experiences studies have demonstrated beyond doubt that childhood stresses, including factors such as abuse, addiction in the family, a rancorous divorce, and so on, provide the template for addictions later in life. It doesn’t follow, of course, that all addicts were abused or that all abused children become addicts, but the correlations are inescapable.

If we look closely, we’ll see that addictive patterns characterize the behaviors of many members of society, including high-functioning and respectable citizens. As a workaholic doctor, I’ve had my own non-substance addictions to feverish professional activity and also to shopping. In my case, I can trace that back to emotional losses I suffered as a ­Jewish infant in Nazi-occupied Hungary during the last years of World War II. My children, in turn, were subjected to the stresses of a family headed by a workaholic father who was physically present but emotionally absent.

Norm Stamper
Drug Warrior No More

Seattle’s ex-police chief now fights to end the war on drugs.

Feeling alone, the sense that there has never been anyone with whom to share their deepest emotions, is universal among drug addicts. That is what Anna had lamented on her wall. No matter how much love a parent has, the child does not experience being wanted unless he or she is made absolutely safe to express exactly how unhappy, or angry, or hate-filled he or she may at times feel. The sense of unconditional love, of being fully accepted even when most ornery, is what no addict ever experienced in childhood­—not because the parents did not have it to give, but simply because they were too stressed, or overworked, or beset by their own demons, or simply did not know how to transmit it to the child.

Addicts rarely make the connection between troubled childhood experiences and self-harming habits. They blame themselves—and that is the greatest wound of all, being cut off from their natural self-compassion. “I was hit a lot,” 40-year-old Wayne told me, “but I asked for it. Then I made some stupid decisions.” And would he hit a child, no matter how much that child “asked for it,” or blame that child for “stupid decisions”? “I don’t want to talk about that crap,”said this tough man, who has worked on oil rigs and construction sites and served 15 years in jail for robbery. He looked away and wiped a tear from his eyes.


Gabor Maté adapted this article for Beyond Prisons, the Summer 2011 issue of YES! Magazine, from his book, In The Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters With Addiction. Gabor is a Vancouver physician

 

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