"I got news for you", Jamie Cool blurted out to me while rolling through South Los Angeles in his vintage Cadillac many years ago. "It is just as addictive selling drugs as it is doing them — maybe even more so!"
It was the first time I had ever heard anything like that. The declaration by this longtime drug dealer busted a stereotype I had of his kind as callous and greedy — motivated only by the pursuit of the dollar. Jamie Cool's sudden statement suggested that drug dealers are not all of one kind. I grew curious because, to me, it sounded as though this particular drug dealer was saying: "Hey, I need help, too."
There have been changes over the past decade in how our justice system treats and handles drug addicts. Individuals who are repeatedly arrested for drug possession or petty offenses related to drug activity are often offered rehabilitation programs or other alternatives in lieu of prison sentences. This is because drug addiction is now considered by many to be a disease. Current programs offered by the Safer City Initiative in the Skid Row district of Downtown — a collaborative effort by the Los Angeles Police Department and other city agencies — aim to offer alternatives to drug addicts at the point of arrest, circumventing court appearances and associated costs.
Such programs are designed for the drug user, not the drug dealer. Sure, some drug users sell the stuff to defray the costs of their own habits, and they might get into the programs. But drug dealers who do not fall victim to their own product are precluded from any alternatives to the standard criminal justice system.
Which brings us back to Jamie Cool and his ilk.
There's some irony in the fact that many former street-level drug dealers who eventually climbed the 'corporate' ladder and made big money in the trade are former users who were able to kick the habit. Yet they didn't walk away from selling drugs.
"I used drugs for many years and was able to quit cold turkey," says Christopher Sykes, who now works with the homeless in the Skid Row community. "Yet I continued to sell drugs long after I quit. Selling drugs is very addictive. It is a lifestyle. I could walk away from the money. But I could not walk away from the other things that went with it: Respect from my peers, the women, and the cars. I struggled with it for many years before I was finally able to walk away from it all."
A definition of addiction that is often used by treatment centers and substance abuse counselors is published in the Journal of the American Medical Association. It defines addiction as a "primary, progressive, chronic disease with genetic, psychosocial, and environmental factors influencing its development and manifestations. The disease is often progressive and fatal. It is characterized by impaired control over use of the substance, preoccupation with the substance, use of the substance despite adverse consequences, and distortions in thinking."
Drug dealers exhibit many of those elements, but it's the business — not the actual substance — that distorts their thinking.
Take the case of Byron Matthews, a former drug dealer recently released from a prison. Like Sykes, he was able to kick using drugs but continued to sell the stuff on the streets of Los Angeles. He became a cocaine entrepreneur. Though he was aware of this would inevitably bring him into a collision with law enforcement, he was unable to quit engaging in that activity.
"I could not stop myself," says Matthews, who is now homeless. "I was aware of the risks, but...it was too easy. I had money, women, and material possessions. Everything in my environment suggested that I continue doing something that I knew would lead me to disaster."
Matthews did crash and burn. After being arrested for selling cocaine, he served 16 years at the federal prison in Lompoc, California. He says that he tried to avoid the pitfall of drug dealing after his release. But after observing it all around him, he eventually succumbed to temptation and resumed his former profession. He knew he would return to prison if he got caught. He did it anyway — and, eventually, he got caught and did a nine-month stretch behind bars.
Matthews is out again, and he says he's trying to stay clear of the drug trade he observes taking place in Skid Row.
"I look at all of this — I see money exchanging hands," he says. "People do not understand. These are triggers for me. Every time I see a transaction, I want to call my old friends and ask them to stake me with a kilo so I can get on my feet. But I have to stay away from this. It will only lead me back to prison or worse. I am addicted to the 'game'...I need help.
Drug dealers are viewed as one of society's piranhas. In many cases that may be true. However, it should be acknowledged that many of them possess entrepreneurial and leadership skills that could be used to make contributions to their communities if dedicated toward healthy and legitimate purposes. I have heard many dealers searching for ways in which they can receive help. They hesitate to come forward for fear of being persecuted.
It is time that we re-examine our attitudes towards drug dealers and explore possible treatment alternatives for the affliction that so many of them believe to be just as addictive as they narcotics they have peddled.
The only other alternative is no alternative at all.
Walter Melton is a writer for the L.A. Garment & Citizen.
Photo from Wikimedia Commons.
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