Source: Dallas Morning News 
Website: http://www.dallasnews.com
Contact:  
Pubdate: Sun, 5 Oct 1997
Comment: This is the third story on this subject in the Sunday edition.

The new faces of heroin 

By Linda Stewart Ball / The Dallas Morning News 

For more than a decade, Plano recorded no heroin deaths. Then drug dealers,
in search of a new market for a purer and highly addictive heroin, began
moving into the suburbs. There, they found naive young adults with money.

Since 1996, at least 10 people with a Plano connection have died
heroinrelated deaths. All were young white males except for a 36yearold
black man and an 18yearold white woman. Their stories contradict the
stereotype of heroin as a problem of the innercity poor.

Thousands of people are moving to Plano each year, enticed by its low crime
rate, excellent schools and new housing developments. The attraction of the
affluent suburban community of 200,000  an awardwinning "AllAmerica
City"  gave some parents a false sense of security. Never would they have
expected to find heroin here.

ROB HILL  Oct. 17, 1978, to Aug. 20, 1997

Rob was a handsome young man with large biceps, the result of daily
weightlifting at the gym.

But the 18yearold wasn't strong enough to resist the temptation of heroin.

Rob, a recent Plano East Senior High School graduate, was going to attend
Collin County Community College with plans to transfer to Texas Tech to
study business next year.

But on Aug. 19 he went out to celebrate with some friends who were going
away to college. He returned home from the party and chatted briefly with
his father around 1:30 a.m.

Two hours later, Lowell Hill awoke and went by his son's room to turn off
his TV and light. He saw Rob slumped on the side of his bed. His face was
buried in his pillow.

"I had assumed he had just fallen asleep," Mr. Hill said.

Rob had an asthma attack while using heroin. The medical examiner called
his death acute narcotism.

Mr. Hill scoffs when he hears experts talk about the symptoms and signs of
drug abuse. Rob never lost any weight. He was on the school football team
and played soccer as well.

Rob was popular and happy. And he always kept his curfew.

Sure, his dad said, Rob drove his Jeep to outdoor field parties with his
pals on the weekends. Maybe he drank a few beers there, but his parents
said they never thought about drugs.

Rob only got into trouble once. In ninth grade he was caught smoking
marijuana and placed on juvenile probation.

"In hindsight," his father said, "we would have done a lot of things
differently. We were naive.

"Today you've got to say, 'Marijuana today, heroin tomorrow' ... If your
teenager tells you he's going to a party, ask if there will be drugs there."

WES SCOTT  July 6, 1978, to July 24, 1997

Wes was a private and bright young man.

Without any special preparation, he scored 1350 on the SAT exam while at
Plano Senior High School.

He went on to major in philosophy at the University of Texas at Austin but
was home for the summer.

One of Wes' friends worked at the Fairfield Inn in Plano. On July 24, the
friend saw the perfect place to hold a party  a guest room that
housekeeping hadn't cleaned yet, said his parents, who learned about it
afterward.

When Wes stopped breathing, the party was over. Three of his friends dumped
his body at Columbia Medical Center in Plano and sped away.

Opiates were in his system, said the Collin County medical examiner, who is
still awaiting the results of toxicology tests. But after discussions with
police and Wes' friends, his parents said they know what killed their
asthmatic son.

"It was chiva," his mom, Donna Scott, said of heroin that is cut with
antihistamines and inhaled or smoked. "This kid you would never have
suspected; at least, as parents, you never suspected."

Wes' dad, Larry Scott said that, without being intrusive, parents should
keep closer tabs on their children and "tell your kids every day you love
them. ... Let them know how much they mean to you."

MILAN MALINA  June 3, 1977, to June 8, 1997 

Milan had been clean for about two months. He went to church, carried his
prayer books and wore a little medal of the Virgin Mary around his neck. He
was doing fine until a few days after his 20th birthday; then he slipped
up. It cost him his life.

"I found out by experience, unless they want to change their behavior, you
can send them to hell and back, but they're not going to change," said
George Malina, whose grief spurred him to create The American Way of Life
Foundation, a nonprofit advocacy group for young people with drugrelated
problems. Mr. Malina said his youngest son probably began using drugs when
he was 16. He recalled how Milan confessed that he was smoking marijuana
but said it was OK because afriend's parents in Highland Park smoked pot.

Milan dropped out during his junior at Plano Senior High School and earned
his GED. He and his family moved from Plano to North Dallas.

Mr. Malina said Milan planned to study psychology at Brookhaven College. On
the Saturday night before school started, two friends dropped by to take
him to another friend's house to watch a hockey game. The girl who was with
them said: "Don't worry, I'll keep them out of trouble," Mr. Malina recalled.

Later he learned that the trio bought champagne, wine and pot and snorted
chiva. Milan, his speech slurred, complained that he couldn't walk, but his
friends told him to sleep it off. He nodded off on the couch and vomited in
a druginduced sleep.

Milan was asthmatic. When he stopped breathing, his friends called around
to see what they should do. Four or five hours later, they took his stiff
body to Columbia Medical Center in Plano.

"They're not bad kids," Mr. Malina said. "They know the difference between
right and wrong.

"They're welltraveled and welleducated, but for some reason, possibly
because they were scared, they didn't get him any help."

Mr. Malina said he wants young people to become bettereducated about drug
abuse so they can point out the perils to their friends, get into treatment
or at least keep from sleeping when they're overdosing on heroin.

MARY CATHERINE SHARP  April 26, 1979, to April 6, 1997

Friends at Plano Senior High knew her as Mary, but she was Cathy at home.
An avid reader and a compassionate young woman, Cathy Sharp was going to
travel to Europe again this summer, her mother, Linda Sharp said.

"She had plans. She was going places, she wanted to do things," said Ms.
Sharp, a kindergarten teacher. But on April 6, two weeks before her 18th
birthday, Cathy died of a heroin overdose in Austin after completing an
outpatient drug treatment program.

About 150 young people attended her funeral. Some of them told Ms. Sharp
that they had known Cathy had a drug problem but did not want to tell her
mom because they feared Cathy might get mad at them.

"Well, now your friend is dead," Ms. Sharp recalled responding.

At a recent forum about heroin in Plano, Ms. Sharp shared her story: "I
never suspected anything, least of all heroin," she said. Cathy carried a
strong B average and was accepted at the University of North Texas. She was
also an addict and had become a master of deceit.

"I know Cathy would not want any of her friends to die," Ms. Sharp said.
"I'd like to see young people coming forth and talking, opening up about
who is using, who is selling. ... There needs to be an end to this
destruction of life."

VICTOR ANDRES GARCIA  Jan. 4, 1982, to April 4, 1996

Victor, a seventhgrader at Bowman Middle School in Plano, was the
secondyoungest of Isabel Espinoza's 11 children.

She said he was a good boy until he fell in with the wrong crowd and
started experimenting with drugs. Last spring, he ran away. A few days
later, on April 7, he was found face down in a Grand Prairie church parking
lot, next to a "no dumping" sign.

In spite of a promise to stay off drugs, Victor, a sweet kid who enjoyed
playing soccer and helping his neighbors, overdosed on cocaine and chiva.
He had purchased drugs from another youth at a Plano apartment where he
crashed the night of April 4.

Rather than get help, police said, the young people waited 36 hours before
discarding Victor's body 30 miles away. The 20yearold who rented the
apartment was arrested on investigation of manslaughter but has not been
indicted.

JEFF BEDELL  Sept. 25, 1975, to March 18, 1997 

Jeff, 21, enjoyed music, surfing the Internet and putting stereo systems
together. His boss at the sign company where he worked said he was great.
His parents and girlfriend loved him. It seems that the only person who
didn't think Jeff Bedell was wonderful was Jeff Bedell.

His parents said they didn't know that until Jeff told them during a
therapy session.

"He felt inferior," said his stepfather, Bruce Preston of Plano. "His
selfesteem was like zero."

For years, Jeff, a 1994 graduate of The Colony High School, had been
smoking marijuana. He turned to crack in late 1995 after his dad, a Garland
jewelry store owner, was killed during a robbery attempt.

Soon after that, while in a drug treatment center in Plano, he met a young
woman who also had substance abuse problems.

After 27 days in the Collin County jail for burglaries he committed to
support his habit, Jeff went to a treatment program in Little Rock, Ark.,
to get clean. He returned home to work in Plano in early January and spent
three or four nights a week in counseling.

On March 18, Jeff was supposed to go to a therapy session after work.
Instead, he used heroin and drove around with friends.

"He thought he was being safe and was just going to use this one more
time," said his mother, Vivian Preston.

He didn't know that he had developed walking pneumonia, which made the
heroin even more lethal.

When emergency personnel arrived at Jeff's friend's house in Plano shortly
before midnight, they saw his pals trying to revive Jeff on the driveway.

Last year, when his mom first learned he was shooting up, Jeff told her not
to worry: "Mom, I'd never do it alone."

That was no consolation.

"In the back of my mind I always had this fear that something was going to
happen," she said.

LARRY BRAMLETT  Feb. 3, 1960, to Jan. 26, 1997

Larry left the cold, drugridden streets of Chicago 10 years ago, bound for
a better life in the warm Texas sun.

He found work as a maintenance man in a Plano apartment complex and the
next year, when he felt stable, he sent for Nicole, his longtime
sweetheart, and her two sons. Together, they would be a family.

Both had had substance abuse problems but vowed to stay clean.

"He was a good father, a good friend and a goodhearted person," Ms.
Bramlett said. "He just made some wrong choices."

Larry enjoyed fishing, bowling and listening to music, and he could put
away some food. He got along with everybody. But several months before he
died, Ms. Bramlett said, her husband started to change. His appetite waned.

She suspected he was getting high, but she didn't know what he was using.
When she confronted him, he denied it. He still went to work each day at a
quick oilchange garage but began staying out late at night.

"He wouldn't let me help him, and that affected me more than anything," Ms.
Bramlett said. "I could tell something was wrong. It really hurt me. You
don't want to bury someone that you love."

In January, Ms. Bramlett flew to Chicago to take care of her mother for a
few days after hip surgery. When Ms. Bramlett made her daily telephone call
home on Sunday, Jan. 26, her 19yearold son answered. She asked him to
wake Larry and put him on the phone. Her son returned, frantic. He couldn't
wake up Larry, who had fallen asleep on the living room couch. He was cold
and had no pulse.

"I really didn't think he was doing heroin," Ms. Bramlett said. He didn't
use needles, so she assumed he sniffed it. But she didn't find drugs in the
house or car.

"Looking at a person, you wouldn't know if they've done drugs or not," she
said. "That's why I stress to my kids over and over  do not let anyone
lead you. You have to think for yourself. Just because somebody else does
it does not mean that they're cool. It could mean they're just stupid."

Larry was buried days before his 37th birthday and two weeks before
Valentine's Day, his third wedding anniversary.

"I've had to pray every night to help me get through this," Ms. Bramlett
said. "I feel guilty, angry. I feel lonely. ... This affects the whole
family."

ADAM WADE GOFORTH  May 8, 1977, to Dec. 31, 1996 

The new year was coming, and Adam, a young Marine, was home for the holidays.

Plano police said Adam, who had gone out to party with friends, last spoke
to his mom after he returned, around 1:30 a.m. on Dec. 31.

Around 3:40 p.m. that day, police were summoned to his Plano home to
"assist the Fire Department with a deceased person," according to the
police report.

Pfc. Adam Goforth died seated behind a desk in his room.

He was a 1995 graduate of Plano East Senior High School. He was only 19.

Police said tests revealed heroin, codeine and morphine in Adam's blood.

His parents declined to comment.

JASON BLAIR  May 23, 1979, to July 6, 1996

Jason's friends visit him often in Plano.

They've left small toys, white crosses, letters, medallions and even a
license plate on his grave.

His mom, Joslyn Kitchens, said she doesn't know what it all means. She just
misses her youngest son.

He was a tall, lanky boy with bluegreen eyes and blond hair. His polite
and courteous manner charmed everyone. He was a Boy Scout and an altar boy.

Surely Jason didn't have a serious drug problem. His urine tested positive
for opiates, but a drug counselor believed him when he said the reaction
must have been caused by the poppy seeds he had eaten, Ms. Kitchens said.

Jason wasn't the best student in school. He had attention deficit disorder,
but he tried hard. He had a parttime job, kept his room clean, mowed the
lawn meticulously and believed in God.

Nonetheless, three months before he died, he was arrested for attempted
shoplifting at WalMart and placed on probation.

When a therapist told Ms. Kitchens that she was "too protective" and needed
to give Jason a little more space, to let him learn from his mistakes, she
agreed to try.

Ms. Kitchens assumed that the professionals knew more than she did.

"Jason never caused me any trouble," she said. "Basically he was a good kid."

She trusted him, so she left him alone when she left town for the Fourth of
July weekend.

Jason decided to throw a party. Some friends brought marijuana and heroin.
Jason shot the heroin into his stomach.

Later, when he was throwing up, his pals turned on the Jacuzzi to clean him
off. They left him there, and he drowned. He had overdosed and couldn't get
out of the tub.

Ms. Kitchens left Plano for Frisco a few months before Jason died to be
closer to her job. She also wanted to get her son away from an area that
she thought was becoming rough.

"This could be any mom's kid in Plano, but they don't see it that way," she
said. "I've talked to people, and they say, 'My kid's wellbehaved.' Well
so was mine! 'My kids care about themselves.' Well so do mine! 'I love my
kids.' Well, so do I. All the things that parents tend to think would keep
this from happening to them don't hold water anymore."

JEFF POTTER  Feb. 26, 1975, to Jan. 26, 1996

Jeff's parents discussed the dangers of drugs with him, but he told them
not to worry. He'd never use drugs.

"I found out he was on heroin when he was dead," said his mother, Judy
Potter of Plano. "That was 20 months ago. At that time, heroin was hushhush."

The 21yearold overdosed at a Carrollton apartment and was taken to
Presbyterian Hospital in Plano.

While Jeff was on life support at the hospital, his best friend's mother
stood by his bed and confessed that she had turned him on to pot years
before, Ms. Potter said.

Forgiving the woman took her a long time. And then she did so only because
her religion required her to.

"I would rather have died than have my son die," she said. "I still walk
around today like I'm missing a vital organ."

Jeff, a student at Collin County Community College, was living with his
folks and preparing to transfer to Texas Tech University to study lighting.
He was an avid fisherman, liked to ski and enjoyed taking the family boat
out to Lake Lewisville on the weekend.

Jeff was good in sports. As a kid, he had played Little League baseball and
golf. He wasn't losing weight or acting strange, so his parents had no idea
their only son, a quiet young man, was using drugs.

"You've got to keep in constant communication with them," Jeff's dad, Jim
Potter said. "You've got to talk to them all the time and try to know who
they're running around with. He just happened to run with some bad kids in
town."

Jeff was getting ready to go to bed on the night of Jan. 22 when the phone
rang. His parents later learned that it was a friend asking Jeff to get him
some chiva.

Jeff's parents said he bought the heroin from a dealer in Carrollton. After
using it, he passed out on the young man's couch, vomited and never awakened.

The next morning, the drug dealer called 911 and left the apartment, Jeff's
parents said. Jeff's father is still angry at the police for not arresting
the man he believes sold Jeff the drugs.

"My son went into Carrollton, across the street from Plano, and he never
got out of that apartment alive," Ms. Potter said.

Mr. Potter said Jeff could not have been using drugs very long. His major
organs were not damaged. Jeff's heart, liver and kidneys were transplanted
and helped save four lives.

"He wasn't an addict," Mr. Potter said.