Suffolk Executive Steve Levy promoting county programs to curtail drug use by students

In the absence of top-down leadership on the issue, localized efforts have gained momentum, with schools and at least one township hosting their own substance abuse town hall meetings to reach affected communities. And while narcotics detectives with Suffolk police have prioritized heroin cases and, in cooperation with the Suffolk Heroin Task Force, made some of their biggest busts in county history in recent months—17 pounds were seized in July—the school-level response from the Levy administration has been mostly police-oriented.

It includes the implementation of the “Text-A-Tip” program in March, which is advertised via posters in schools and encourages students to report drug dealers. More recently, Levy announced that Suffolk schools can soon request inspections by drug-sniffing police dogs. He also announced a heroin presentation that police officers began giving in middle schools this week.

“Increasingly, it’s clear that there needs to be some sort of coordination in Suffolk,” says Jeffrey Reynolds, executive director of the Long Island Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence (LICADD), who spoke at the HOPE Summit, a public hearing on substance abuse that focused on heroin addition, at Brookhaven Town Hall on Sept. 22. That meeting came five days after the Islip Cluster of School Superintendents held a parent symposium titled “Heroin is Here” at Hauppauge High School. Still, Reynolds says: “There is still a significant portion of the county where there hasn’t been coordination.”

When Nassau officials held a heroin summit in July, which was a more inclusive follow-up to a May 2008 school superintendent conference that warned the deadly drug was making a comeback, one advocate asked Levy to follow suit. Her request was denied.

“I’m disappointed at the lack of commitment for a Suffolk-wide forum,” says Maureen Ledden Rossi, a member of Kings Park in the kNOw, a community organization that has been on the forefront of sounding the alarm about the heroin scourge [Rossi was a freelance education reporter for the Long Island Press from 2003-2006]. She requested a countywide heroin forum in a letter sent to Levy.

On Aug. 10, Levy responded to Rossi’s inquiry by detailing the strides police have made in making heroin arrests, which he credited to officers meeting with proactive community members like her. He also thanked her for her efforts—but stopped short of agreeing to a forum.

“I think he is noncommittal to the idea of a countywide dialogue because he believes that on his end, everything is being done to combat the problem,” Rossi says.

Since then, Levy has remained noncommittal to the idea. When asked last week if he planned to hold a meeting on the issue for all of Suffolk’s school districts, Levy replied: “We may.”

Even the two officers dedicated to the new heroin presentation through the PoliceSmart program acknowledge that the 35 school districts in the five western towns participating aren’t enough, because elsewhere in Suffolk, school districts don’t want to be associated publicly with having a heroin problem.

“Heroin is in every single school district and if you think it isn’t, you’re sadly mistaken,” says Officer Nancy Ward, who hopes to eventually bring the presentation to high schools. There are 68 school districts in Suffolk, 54 with high schools. While some schools have been hosting their own heroin presentations, advocates believe ensuring a unified effort would be more beneficial.

“We need to get everybody on the same page,” says LICADD’s Reynolds. “This is going to be one of Long Island’s life-changing eras as far as Long Island’s kids,” he says, noting that it has the potential for an increase in HIV/AIDS and Hepatitis infections if an increase in needle-drug use isn’t properly combated.

Levy spokesman Dan Aug tells the Press that the executive is “open to the idea” and suggested that Rossi propose a date and time.

Meanwhile, Suffolk police will appear before the Suffolk Legislature’s Public Safety Committee on Oct. 8 to discuss ways to improve Natalie’s Law, which was intended to combat heroin and was named for the high-profile Massapequa heroin overdose victim, Natalie Ciappa. Jack Eddington (I-Medford), the committee’s chairman, says a countywide forum “could be down the road.”

Charles Bernard, a special agent with the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration’s heroin task force on Long Island, closed his presentation at the Hauppauge meeting last week by quoting Winston Churchill. “Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

James McHugh, 17, a Smithtown West High School student, was investigated following community complaints of drug activity at his Moriches Road home, where police executed a search warrant that turned up heroin during the raid at 5:45 a.m., according to 4^th Squad Narcotics Enforcement / Special Operations Team (NE/SOT) detectives, who were joined by Narcotics Section detectives.

“Heroin has really taken off in the past couple years as the drug of choice among young people,” said Detective Lt. Robert Edwards, who was not able to disclose the quantity of heroin seized but noted that the suspect was dealing to young people in the community and from the home where he lives with his parents.

James McHugh

McHugh was charged with criminal possession of a controlled substance, criminal possession of a controlled substance, criminally possessing a hypodermic instrument and two counts of criminal sale of a controlled substance.

McHugh will be arraigned at First District Court in Central Islip on Saturday.

“Many of our youth begin their unfortunate journey to heroin addiction by first sharing pharmaceuticals stolen from the medicine cabinets of their home or the home of another,” said Nassau County Executive Tom Suozzi.

At the heroin summit last month in Nassau, it was announced that the number of heroin deaths in the county has hit a record number with 20 deaths in the first six months of this year alone. The goal is to eliminate these unwanted, unused and/or expired medications from homes to protect young people, who often start on the path to heroin by abusing pills such as Vicodin, Oxycodone and Percocet. Studies by the Partnership for a Drug Free America found that “1 in 5 teenagers abused a prescription pain medication; 1 in10 report abusing prescription stimulants, and 1 in 10 abused cough medicines.”

“We are urging all residents to go through their home medicine cabinets and take advantage of this opportunity to safely dispose of their unwanted, unused, expired and/or illicit drugs at any of our drop off locations,” said Nassau police Commissioner Lawrence Mulvey. The locations include any of the eight precincts and one location in the Town of North Hempstead, which held a similar program in June with successful results. More than 400 pounds of medication and 125 vials of narcotics were collected.  

“With prescription drug abuse among teens being touted as a gateway to the use of heroin and other illegal drugs, the recognition by state and local governments that there needs to be a more consistent response to the abuse of dangerous pharmaceuticals couldn’t be more timely,” said Town of North Hempstead Supervisor Jon Kaiman. 

In addition to being a substance abuse issue, the improper disposal of unused, unwanted and expired pharmaceuticals has emerged as a complex environmental issue. Flushing expired and leftover medications down the toilet, washing them down sinks or dumping them in the trash that goes to the landfill is commonplace but studies found that those means of disposal can result in the chemicals making their way into the drinking water.  

Medications accepted at the program include pain killers, tranquilizers, anti-depressants, antibiotics, over-the-counter medications, pet medications, vitamins, supplements, inhalers and more. Drugs should be in their original containers if possible, and if not placed in zip loc bags that are labeled. All drop off will remain anonymous. Items/Drugs that will not be accepted include: needles and syringes, IV bags, infectious waste, pharmaceutical waste not generated by households, radioactive pharmaceuticals and vaccines.

The program will be held on Saturday, Sept. 12 from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. at the following locations:
First Precinct: 900 Merrick Road, Baldwin
Second Precinct: 7700 Jericho Turnpike, Woodbury
Third Precinct: 214 Hillside Avenue, Williston Park
Fourth Precinct: 1699 Broadway, Hewlett
Fifth Precinct: 1655 Dutch Broadway, Elmont
Sixth Precinct:100 Community Drive, Manhasset
Seventh Precinct: 3636 Merrick Road, Seaford
Eighth Precinct: 286 Wantagh Avenue, Levittown
Town of North Hempstead residents: Senator Michael J. Tully, Jr.  Park, 1801 Evergreen Avenue, New Hyde Park

Young hands hold heroin purchased at Nassau University Medical Center on July 3, steps from emergency room entrance

With Anthony V. Brienza, Matthew Manguso and Michelle Ragalado

Not that anyone would know it from taking a look around the packed room at the Heroin Summit in Nassau’s legislative chamber on July 28, but there are still some out there who are trying to distance themselves from the epidemic. Namely, school officials.

“They’re afraid of guilt through association,” said one high-level law enforcement official at the summit, who asked that his name not be used and declined to name specific school districts because he hopes they will come around and allow heroin-awareness lectures for parents and students.

Nassau County Executive Tom Suozzi held the meeting, which was intended to get top cops, school officials, healthcare directors and drug counselors all on the same page in the war on heroin. On July 27, he announced that the county expects record heroin-overdose deaths this year. So far this year there’s been 25—averaging four per month. The same day, Suffolk announced 110 heroin-related arrests in a recent crackdown. Despite all of this, “stonewalling is still an issue” when contacting school administrators, the official said.

“We need to make a phone call when people are not cooperating,” Suozzi said when the three-hour conversation turned to school districts refusing the lectures. And if they still refuse, the county should take the “next step,” he said, without elaborating.

Although it was repeated that this issue affects every community in the county, Massapequa remained at the top of the list for heroin arrests, with 28 out of 243 so far this year. There to explain the district’s prior attempts at avoiding association with the heroin epidemic was Susan Woodbury, assistant superintendent for Massapequa Public Schools.

“It took us all by surprise,” Woodbury said, referring to the death of 18-year-old Massapequa resident and recent Plainedge High School graduate Natalie Ciappa, who fatally overdosed on heroin at a Seaford house party in June 2008.

At the time, the school district was found to be lying to the Press about a student being arrested for heroin possession at Massapequa High School ["Heroin Claims Another," July 10, 2008]. Ciappa’s story—a talented student from a “typical” home lost to the deadly drug—and the school district’s attempts at quashing coverage of heroin in its high school resulted in Nassau passing a law requiring police to notify schools when its students are arrested for heroin, on or off campus. (Suffolk dropped a similar proposal and opted instead for a “drug mapping index” website that maps heroin arrests, which Nassau adopted as well.)

Now that the district has been shamed into addressing the issue at community meetings, they’re realizing what a difficult problem it is to address.

“What we’re finding with many of our youths that are in trouble is that they don’t have any goals,” Woodbury told the audience, describing how the kids are often in a state of abject apathy beyond the usual teen angst.

Such tales are common nowadays—mostly young white men and women from middle-class neighborhoods are hooked. An undercover Narcotics/Vice Squad detective in Nassau who interviews junkies when arrested, no matter the charge, recalled a teen he came across recently.

“Out of 12 to 14 people he considered his close friends, he was the last person to use heroin,” the detective, whose name remained undisclosed due to the nature of his job, said at the summit.

Then a girl broke the kid’s heart. “Here, try this, this will make you not care about anything,” the addict said his friends told him, according to the detective.

As is often the case, the first hit was free. It’s an easy trade-off for a dealer, since the user will be addicted for life.

With this new wave of young people addicted to heroin on Long Island reinforcing the need for cops to work together on heroin task forces from the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) down to village police, the summit urged similar coordination for prevention and treatment.

“Treatment delayed is treatment denied and those that we deny treatment we’re doing an injustice,” said Jeff Reynolds, executive director of the Long Island Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence, referring to the “call back in 48 hours” response that junkies typically get when they first contact a detox clinic—a result of a lack of enough beds to meet demand.

“We set these people up for failure,” he added, not just because the urge to quit using heroin may pass while the addict is made to wait, but because insurance companies oftentimes don’t cover the 28-day program, which is really just the beginning of an expensive, lifelong treatment process. Leaning on the New York State Legislature to pass a law that would require insurance companies to pay for all of detox, not just seven days, for example, was brought up.

Whether getting all of these experts in one room will amount to any tangible solution remains to be seen.

“We’ll just have to see where we go from here, but it looks promising,” says DEA Agent Joseph Evans, who is in charge of the agency’s LI office. “The proof is in the pudding.”

Sabrina* has just gotten out of detox at Nassau University Medical Center (NUMC). For six years, she has been doing heroin, so the uproar about the drug hitting Long Island’s little streets is old news to her. It’s not the first time she has been in detox, either. Unless she dies first, it will not be her last.

She is sitting cross-legged on the cement behind a red trailer that is about 100 feet from the entrance to the NUMC emergency room, joined by her new friends Liam* and Becca*. Sabrina sits perilously close to a wine-red vomit stain that is punctuated by tan-filtered cigarette butts. In fact, the cigarette butts behind the red trailer are as numerous as the stars in a clear mountain sky. They are everywhere.

Sabrina’s arms bear the scars of a hardcore junkie. Pits and craters betray the infections and abscesses that have threatened her health more than once in her 26-year-old life. Dark eyeliner is drawn thick around her eyes. She is Italian, she says, with a proud face that belies some rough nights and bad decisions. A nervous hand flicks a cigarette. Sabrina does not know where she is going to sleep that night. She has no money. Everything she owns sits next to her in a black duffel bag.

But she doesn’t care, because Sabrina is already high on heroin she bought, cooked and injected into her veins mere feet away from the entrance to one of the busiest emergency rooms on Long Island.

As the heroin crisis on Long Island grows, and more people need treatment to battle the crushing addiction, the vultures are circling. One year after the overdose death of Massapequa teen Natalie Ciappa took over the headlines and a light was cast on the mounting woes of heroin abuse, it has become so insidious that addicts can buy and shoot the drugs in broad daylight at one of the most visible places on the entire Island.
“I have to do it,” says Sabrina as her voice cracks. “It’s what we all say.”

It has long been known that heroin addicts, especially ones who are less than an hour out of detox, are especially easy prey. People waiting for methadone, a drug used to treat heroin addiction, are targets too. And NUMC has a thriving methadone program, which sees up to 650 people per day. Some people leaving detox never even get past the front doors at NUMC before they have a deal set up.

To a drug dealer, the drug dependency programs at places like NUMC are like the line at McDonald’s, and everyone is hungry. Jeff Reynolds, executive director for the Long Island Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependency, says those first hours and days of an addict’s recovery are crucial.

“[An addict’s] chances to remain clean are significantly increased the longer they remain abstinent,” says Reynolds. “If you are a drug [dealer], it certainly makes sense to go where people are more vulnerable to use.”

Outside of the emergency room, ambulances, paramedics, hospital security, staff and police officers move about in the carefully synchronized dance of the NUMC emergency lot, unaware of the drug sales and abuse going on just?behind the red trailer in the parking lot. Within earshot of Nassau County cops, hospital security and staff, Sabrina sits with other junkies like herself, not afraid of being caught but only afraid of not being high.

But really, that was never a concern for her while she was in the NUMC detox program. She knew there would be something waiting right outside the door.

Twenty Beds

Despite the documented increase in heroin’s hold on the youth in Nassau and Suffolk counties, there is little help for people who do not have medical insurance. They have to find a “safety net” location, a hospital with an in-house detox program, so people fighting alcoholism, addicted to barbiturates, opiates and anything else can get a head start on trying to kick their personal habit. In this case, little or no help means exactly 20 beds for people of all ages in both Nassau and Suffolk counties fighting any sort of chemical dependence.

Twenty beds for the whole Island. And the problem has become more widespread. In the heroin series featured in the Press last year, kids in Nassau County were in the spotlight. Almost everyone who was leaving the NUMC detox and interviewed for this story was from Suffolk County.

“It’s a big problem,” says Detective Lt. Peter Donohue with Nassau’s Narcotics and Vice Squad. “We are arresting people from Nassau who say they have tried to get help [at NUMC], but there are no beds because all the Suffolk kids are there. The kids from Nassau have to go all the way to the Bronx. And that is not a good place for an addict to be.”

In other words, a kid with a heroin addiction in the city most likely equals trouble. Law enforcement agencies around the Island have confirmed that the drugs are from Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx. Long Islanders make the drive to these areas and bring it back over the border.

Getting into the NUMC detox is not an easy feat. Dr. Asma Ejaz oversees the chemical dependency programs at NUMC, which includes the five-day detox program and a 28-day rehab program. She says that there are a lot of people coming for help these days. Most are young people with heroin addictions.

“These days, about 60 to 70 percent are there for heroin,” says Dr. Ejaz. “Roughly 30 to 40 percent are there for alcohol treatment.”

It is a first-come, first-served arrangement. If an addict needs a bed, he or she goes to the emergency room and says so. If there are no beds—which is more often than not the case—then a name is put on the waiting list.

Red Trailer Club

The red trailer, about 100 feet from the numc emergency room entrance, is the place to hang out and get high for users.

The red trailer is used for decontamination of patients in case of bio-terrorism, chemical spills or any other issue that might necessitate such treatment. Ironic, as there is only contamination going on today next to the trailer.

A few hours before he met and got high with Sabrina, Liam was leaning against a brick wall behind the red trailer. He is wearing a black hoodie and his jeans are baggy. A decorative stone adorns his neck. He is thin, wan and his skin is yellow, despite the driving sun. Liam has been there for more than 24 hours, having come to NUMC on a Thursday morning hoping to get a bed on Friday. But the program was full, he says, so now he is waiting. It is clear that Liam is dope sick, although he says the worst is over.

“The last two days were worse [than today],” says Liam, who has to check himself into the program as part of a court-mandate after he was recently arrested in Nassau for purse snatching. (“There wasn’t even any fucking money in the bag,” he says of the purse in question.)

Liam is from Smithtown. One year ago the town was not on the map as far as heroin use was concerned. It is currently earning a reputation among users as a place to go. Liam has been using heroin for about two years, and injecting the drug for about six months. Just like everyone else, he started out sniffing it as the potency of today’s heroin makes it an easy choice. But in short order, snorting it wasn’t enough and he graduated to the needle.

He does not work, but gets a disability check from the state, although he did not disclose why. He lives at home, and even though his father is disgusted and just about finished with his antics, Liam can still get his father to give up some money from time to time so he can ward away his Jones when he is out of dope. Without completing a short stint in the detox program, Liam will probably have a warrant issued for his arrest. Early in the day, he seems concerned about that possibility. But his dad is running out of patience.

“He said I better stay here and do it,” says Liam. And it’s all up to him, too.

“This is a voluntary program,” says Dr. Ejaz. “The court can recommend treatment.”

People who are on parole or probation will show up as a matter of their release too, says Dr. Ejaz. If he or she does not complete the program and leaves before they are medically ready, their probation or parole officer will be notified.

If you know anything about addiction or addicts, it is easy to spot them in the NUMC waiting room. Most of the men sport close-cropped hair. Both sexes are inked up pretty good on their arms, legs and necks. They take turns using the public phone at the front desk, most giving directions to people who are coming to pick them up. Hours later, most of them will still be sitting by the entrance to the hospital, or behind the red trailer, waiting.

Some have nowhere to go anyway.

They are all white, in their early 20s. The stereotype seems to be taking hold and not letting go. And most see themselves as such:

“I am a fucking 21-year-old junkie,” says Liam. “That’s what I am.”

About an hour later, Liam has been joined by two girls behind the trailer. Sabrina and Becca, a slender girl with dirty blonde hair. She wears long sleeves, despite the warm weather. They are seated on the cement next to the red trailer. Within earshot, cops talk to each other amidst the many ambulances that have brought the infirm to NUMC. If there are cars parked in the stalls in front of the trailer, you can’t see anyone sitting behind it. Plus, hospital staff members go there to smoke cigarettes.

The security detail is zombie-like. Guards wander around aimlessly, taking personal calls on cell phones and disappearing for long periods of time. The only time they snap into any sort of action is when an authorized vehicle parks in the lot. Parking in the emergency zone is a big no-no here. Worse than selling, buying and doing heroin, it seems.

Becca holds bags of heroin purchased and used at NUMC

In the summer sun, you can get some shade behind the red trailer, too. Becca has her hands on a knock-off designer bag. She is the girl next door. She has beautiful blue eyes. Her wrists are adorned with bracelets. Becca is articulate, smart and looks pretty good for an 18-year-old woman who slept at a Long Island Railroad station last night.

“I didn’t care, because I was high as hell,” says Becca. As she speaks, her eyes roll slowly in her head. She readily produces a syringe that was just used. Becca is from a well-to-do Suffolk town, too. She did heroin during her senior year of high school, but got clean before going to an upstate SUNY college, where she stayed off the junk until late in the year when an old friend came up to visit and brought heroin with him. She has been shooting ever since, and had not been home for days.

Becca shows the syringe she used

“My parents don’t know where I am at all,” says Becca as she lights a Marlboro, but not before she passes them out to her new friends.

She reaches into her shirt, in her bra, and produces four bundles, or 40 bags, of heroin. They were purchased on the hospital  campus, right near the red trailer. She did not know Sabrina or Liam before today. But junkies find each other, says Sabrina.

As the day wears on, a few things become clear. First, Liam is not waiting for a bed anymore. Instead, the grounds of NUMC have become his hangout for the day. Second, Becca seems to be the bridge to the smack. She ushers a few other junkies around, shows them what to do. Some of them disappear into the rest rooms of the ER for extended periods of time. At one point, she slowly traipses past four Nassau cops who are speaking to each other in the parking lot. She adjusts her bra as she gets to the front door. They have no idea she is carrying enough heroin on her to net them a great bust, ruin her weekend—and then some—and maybe rip the lid off the problem of junkies buying dope right next to the hospital.

It can be easy to miss. Any time spent on a busy holiday at the main entrance of NUMC will illustrate that fact. Ambulances fly in and out. So will a helicopter, for that matter. Emotionally disturbed individuals may be ranting to themselves. Distraught families run through the doors. On this particular day, the ER is very busy.

Officials at NUMC were tight-lipped about the problem. But it is clear they may be overwhelmed by the heroin scourge that is strangling the region.

“It is the mission of the Nassau Health Care Corporation to take care of a very difficult population of Nassau, Suffolk and Queens residents, suffering from many afflictions, including substance abuse problems,” says Arthur A. Gianelli, president and CEO of the Nassau Health Care Corporation, which runs NUMC. “Illegal activities are the responsibility of the Nassau County Police Department and any time that we observe any criminal activity occurring on our campus or on our units, we notify the Nassau County Police Department.

“This epidemic of drug dependency is a society-wide issue that is overwhelming resources, pointing to the need to expand services and resources to treat this difficult population,” says Gianelli.

Nassau County Executive Tom Suozzi, who has a heroin summit planned for July 28, was shocked at the revelations of heroin sales and use on the grounds of the hospital.

“This is very disturbing news, and I am going to call [NCPD] Commissioner [Lawrence] Mulvey and Art Gianelli to address this,” says Suozzi. “Obviously, there is a terrible incentive for dealers. We have to make sure they know they are going to jail.”

But the problem is not new, and the cops are doing everything they can with the resources available, according to NCPD spokesperson Detective Sgt. Anthony Repalone.

The ravages of IV heroin use are apparent from the scars on the arms from infections and the telltale trackmarks of a junkie

“It is a shame. These people are vulnerable, and dealers are aware of it,” says Repalone. “The Nassau County Police Department has definitely been taking steps to deal with it.”

According to police sources, there have been many complaints about drug activity near or at the county-run methadone clinic. Donohue says this is an age-old problem. In January and February, NCPD Commissioner Mulvey announced a serious crackdown on heroin sales in the county. One of the hot spots was the area immediately adjacent to NUMC. Through buy-and-bust operations, six arrests were made right next to the hospital.

Generally, dealers will cruise the hospital grounds and entrance, looking for customers. Then, they will arrange a sale at a nearby strip mall or fast food parking lot.

Don’t let a low number of six arrests mislead, either. In total, 95 arrests were made during that initiative. And Donohue says that there have been 232 arrests already this year,  compared to 211 in all of 2008, which puts the NCPD on pace to see more than twice the amount of heroin-related lockups this year.

Cops focused on the area around the detox clinic not just because junkies who were recently released are easy targets for dealers. Addicts who are being treated with methadone are known to sell their liquid doses by holding the drug in their mouths and then performing a “spit back,” wherein they will give the dose to someone by spitting down their throat.

Today though, those police efforts are too late for Sabrina, Becca and Liam. Hours after he last went to check if a bed was open, Liam is stumbling across the parking lot. His head is drooped, pants are falling down. He is wearing black slippers, which are almost off of his feet as the heroin pushes him forward clumsily. Back behind the red trailer, which has had new visitors over the day, Sabrina is crying. Liam slides over and puts his arm around her.

“I just want to stop,” she says. “I just want to stop it.”

She did, for the few days she was in detox. But that is gone now. Erased by drugs she shot into her blood an hour after walking back into the world. Heroin is a lifelong addiction fed by decision, pain, vicious dealers and insatiable cravings. Detox is a baby step in that long walk, and many of these addicts are taking that step when they are still teenagers. There is a lot of walking to do after that.

These kids couldn’t even get out of the parking lot before they were high.

* These names have been changed to protect the identities of these subjects.

It was a dark period for John S*. In a few short months his best friend was critically injured after being run down by a car. His beloved grandmother died, and his girlfriend broke his heart. Although he seldom drank and never smoked pot, John had been taking pills for a while, and his depression after these events made him up the ante. He graduated from Vicodin to Percocet to OxyContin pretty quick. But the price of the synthetic heroin was prohibitive. Someone turned him on to real heroin instead, which cost much less and gave a better high. John was hooked—and fast. His parents began to wonder. They overheard a conversation a friend had in his house about dope. Then his mother found a few syringes. Having dealt with addiction with some of her family when she was young, it was too much to deal with. John’s father gave him an ultimatum: the drugs or your family.

That night, John went out and did heroin, but he could not forget the ordeal and he wanted to stop. Since January 2008, John has been clean with the help of Soboxone. Now just 20 years old, John knows he has a battle ahead of him. One of the ways he is tackling his addiction is helping educate parents about the warning signs of heroin addiction through his website www.parentalunderground.com. The site, although still in its infancy, provides a road map that parents can follow. It is a map drawn by someone who, at such a young age, was able to stop before he went too far and ended up in jail, on the streets or dead.

“Most parents are just oblivious,” says John. “They think of spoons and needles. They have these images. But there is a lot more they need to know.”

Heard It Here First

In the June 26, 2008 cover of the Long Island Press, “Long Highland,” the Press began a series of nationally-recognized stories that exposed the heroin scourge that has since worsened. Within two weeks of the first story, teenager Natalie Ciappa  became the tragic poster child of the new age of heroin after she died from an overdose.

To read all five parts of our groundbreaking and award-winning Heroin coverage, go to www.longislandpress.com/heroin

Inspired by a 100-student melee at Wyandanch High School last October that resulted in 13 arrests, Suffolk County Legis. Wayne Horsley (D-Babylon) proposed legislation to create the Text-A-Tip program, which was signed into law last December. Instead of calling the Crime Stoppers 1-800-220-TIPS hotline, the standard contact to call in leads on unsolved crimes, tipsters can send a text message to cops at CRIMES, or 274637, with “SCPD” in the body of the text. But instead of the $2,000 reward that is usually offered for unsolved murders, tips via text will earn the tipster up to $500 upon the suspect’s conviction.

“Texting a tip to law enforcement is a rapid and silent method of communication that may make tipsters more comfortable when reporting crimes, violence, or drug trafficking,” Horsley said in a statement after introducing the bill. “It is a low cost, inclusive crime-fighting tool that connects with the millennial generation,” he added. Since its inception in mid-April, more than 55 tips have been texted in, but no arrests have been made with the information, according to a police spokeswoman.

The program was modeled after a similar one recently put into effect by the New York Police Department. Suffolk’s program is geared toward combating the heroin epidemic among Long Island’s youth. Similar programs have also been enacted in Boston, Cincinnati, Charleston, Seattle, Fresno, San Diego, Tampa and Kansas City, Mo., where texts have lead to hit-and-run arrests, illegal gun confiscations and solved homicide investigations, Horsley said.
Nassau police say they are also exploring a texting program, and an informational anti-drug poster campaign in schools and communities is underway as well. The posters also publicize existing programs that can be handy for parents, like the anonymous drug analysis program.

“If adults find drugs in their kids’ rooms and are uncertain what it is, they can deliver it to a local precinct and we will conduct an analysis of it and let them know what kind of drug it is,” says Detective Lt. Kevin Smith, lead spokesman for Nassau Police. “We have embarked on this program because of the recent surge in heroin.”

If Suffolk’s texting program is any guide, Nassau should not have difficulty generating tips because it worked as soon as Suffolk started publicizing it on posters at schools countywide. “It’s kind of being kept quiet because nobody really wants to be known to be the one to rat people out, especially if it’s a friend,” says Ashley Slepian, 17, a senior at Half Hollow Hills  West High School, where she says several of her classmates have texted tips to police. And despite it being an affluent district, the reward is still a motivator. “I think it will get a rise out of the kids, especially if it’s offering cash,” she adds.

Some student tipsters’ motives may be suspect, one criminal defense attorney says. “You’re dealing with a segment of the population that may not have a level of maturity to deal with the circumstances that involve anonymous tips and rewards,” says Marc Gann, a partner at the Mineola-based Collins, McDonald & Gann. He also took issue with the possibility of students’ texting tips on classmates that they simply don’t like and the inability of a defendant to face their anonymous accuser in court.

Police counter that arrests aren’t made on a tip alone, but that the tips are used to gather additional, independent information in order to get probable cause for an arrest.

There are about 200 overdoses annually in Suffolk, which comes out to about four per week, as of 2007, the last year that such figures were available, according to Detective Sgt. Timothy Gozaloff of the Narcotics Section with Suffolk police. About 30 percent of those involve heroin mixed with other drugs and about 10 percent involve heroin alone, but overdoses overall are on the rise, he added. The ages of the overdose victims were not available.

“These are regular kids doing it, not some guy in an alleyway,” said Gozaloff, referring to heroin’s resurgence, at a drug awareness lecture in Manorville on April 20. “It could be anyone.”

And now that a cell phone is a weapon, anyone can join the fight against this scourge.

Long Island drug enforcement efforts took a dramatic shift this week with the debut of a “drug mapping index” on both the Nassau County Police Department’s website and Suffolk County government’s homepage.

The websites are the result of laws passed last December, inspired by the Long Island Press’ heroin coverage, that required mapping out heroin-related arrests on LI. Commonly known as Natalie’s Law, the legislation was named after high school student Natalie Ciappa, who died of a heroin overdose last summer, in the hope of preventing deaths of other young people who are turning to the deadly drug in greater numbers. The goal is to inform concerned citizens of where the heroin hotspots are and to make sure parents are aware if there is a problem near their child’s school, because some administrators refused to acknowledge that heroin is a problem in their district.

“We’ll see what develops in the future and how effective this website is,” says Nassau Legis. David Mejias (D-Farmingdale), who wrote Natalie’s Law. “We’ve got to give it a little time to run and see how it’s going and then make a decision from there,” he adds, regarding whether or not to include additional types of drug arrests.

Ciappa was an 18-year-old Plainedge High School student, singer and cheerleader from Massapequa who graduated with honors and a scholarship to SUNY Old Westbury, but overdosed at a Seaford party last June. Lawmakers refused to let her death be in vain and now use her story to warn parents that the deadly opiate has made a comeback. The websites debuted in time for what would have been Natalie’s 19th birthday on March 16.

The websites, which are to be updated monthly, pinpoint on a map of LI the neighborhoods where heroin arrests have occurred. Suffolk County has about 10 listed on its map for the month of March, while Nassau has nearly 100, representing arrests from Jan. 14 through Feb. 15. The websites include much of the arrest information, including the date, location, charge and suspect’s age. But the presentation varies on each site. Nassau lists information on a separate page from the map. Suffolk’s map is interactive, although difficult to navigate (Users must zoom in, click “map identify” and then click on the needle icons).

“To have a skeleton of a website is not what I envisioned,” says Suffolk Legis. Wayne Horsely (D-Lindenhurst). “I expected some meat.”

Dan Aug, spokesman for Suffolk County Executive Steve Levy, says that the website’s users need to have patience. “It’s a work in progress,” Aug says.

Regardless, the law is just the beginning. “The law is a great victory but the other side of it is that the school districts still aren’t as involved as they should be,” says Victor Ciappa, Natalie’s father, who has since become an anti-heroin advocate along with his wife, Doreen. “There’s still a cross-section of people who don’t believe that this stuff is here.”

Natalie Ciappa in more innocent times, at age 1.

In a standard show this week at the Nassau and Suffolk Legislatures, a teenaged choir serenaded lawmakers, high school dancers flaunted their moves, and whiz kids paraded their academic awards. Any of them could have been Natalie Ciappa, the late 18-year-old Massapequa girl who was equally gifted, but instead became the new poster child for the Long Island heroin epidemic when she fatally overdosed in June. The talented singer, beautiful cheerleader and above-average honors student received awards similar to the citations that legislators handed out like Santa—a far cry from your typical junkie. Yet in death, the Plainedge High School graduate, who was awarded a scholarship to SUNY Old Westbury, starred in the role of her life as two bills that aim to root out the spreading heroin scourge were named in her honor.

Spurred by a special series of reports by the Long Island Press, the Natalie Ciappa Law passed nearly unanimously in both legislatures after much debate. Nassau County Executive Tom Suozzi is expected to sign the bill into law, although a spokesman for Suffolk County Executive Steve Levy would not commit, saying he has yet to review the legislation. Under the law, IT (information technology) staff with police departments in Nassau and Suffolk counties would have until March 16—Natalie’s birthday—to start mapping heroin possession and sales arrests on the Internet. There are talks of the counties pooling resources to create a regional website, since both bills mandate that the information be updated monthly with the date, time, location and defendant’s age. The ultimate goal of the website is to pinpoint heroin “hot spots” and inform concerned parents to make sure their kids avoid those areas, proponents say.

Without the planned website, here’s what we know: Heroin-related arrests are up 30 percent in Nassau with 198 through November of this year, compared to 152 in all of 2007. Suffolk has a 28 percent increase, with 766 arrests, up from 597 for the same time periods, an increase attributable to Island-wide police efforts to investigate overdose cases. In May, Nassau police held a summit for school officials and alerted the public to the increase in heroin use among young adults, especially in the county’s southeast corridor. State mental health officials report an increase in opiate overdose-related emergency room visits on LI, while national anti-drug advocates report the mean age for first-time heroin use fell from 26 to 21 years old. And as the Press investigation into high school heroin use [“Long Highland,” June 26] revealed days after Natalie died, new users often start in their teens nowadays.

“The pain and anguish that this family is feeling could have been prevented,” says Legis. David Mejias (D-Farmingdale), who proposed the bill on Nov. 18, of Doreen and Victor Ciappa, Natalie’s parents, who are now on a mission to pass a similar law statewide. “Had [Doreen] known that there was a heroin epidemic in the Massapequas, she could have done something about it,” Mejias says, blaming school districts for what has been described as “ostrich-like behavior.” Mejias charged the schools as being more interested in protecting their image than alerting parents on the issue.

Her 18th birthday, with her mother, Doreen.

Legis. Wayne Horsley (D-Lindenhurst), who proposed Suffolk’s version of the bill the same day as Mejias, says that the plan is “putting a light, opening a window, on this issue that has caught so many by surprise.” School denials combined with the fact that younger users snort or smoke the increasingly potent, highly addictive opiate instead of shooting up, makes it more difficult for parents to notice—a pattern that has proved deadly.

If the Ciappas knew that there was a student arrested with 28 bags of heroin in Massapequa High School in October, 2007—a fact that the school district was caught lying about to the Press—they would have considered heroin a possible cause of Natalie’s troubles and sent her to rehab, says Victor.

With the information to be provided on the website, Natalie’s family hopes fewer parents will have to suffer as they have. “There is no excuse for anybody saying they didn’t know,” says Doreen, urging parents to put the information to use. “This law will mean nothing if people don’t take action, so I am pleading with parents to go on this site and check it regularly. We want to make sure that other people have every opportunity to save their children.”

Smack Down

Although the bill passed, it did not come without a fight and some compromise. The original draft did not include the website and instead required police to directly notify school districts when there is a heroin arrest within their district. But officials from the Nassau-Suffolk School Boards Association (NSSBA) were adamant that direct notification would leave school districts open to lawsuits—a position that received mixed reactions on either side of the county line.

Mejias maintained the direct notification portion of the bill was necessary and chastised the NSSBA, while taking the suggestion to also notify PTAs, civic groups and houses of worship. To not notify schools directly “takes away completely the spirit of the bill,” Mejias said following a Dec. 1 public hearing on the proposal. His final version still included the notification, but added an amendment meant to prevent schools from being sued, which led to hours of debate before the final vote on Monday, Dec. 15. If a school received information but did nothing with it because they felt that the information was too vague, but then a student died, the district could be held liable, the association argued.

Jay Breakstone, vice president of the Bellmore-based NSSBA, was not pleased with the fact that the direct notification to schools remained in the Nassau bill. “What I feared two weeks ago has come to fruition: The impression seems to have been left that the school board association is in favor of heroin use on Long Island,” he testified in what became a loud back-and-forth with Mejias. After assurances from an official with the Nassau County Attorney’s office that any lawsuit brought against a school district under the law would lose, the legislators voted unanimously in favor of the bill, with one abstention because that legislator represents a school district in his law practice.

Legis. Wayne Horsley flanked by Natalie's parents and supporters at rally for Natalie's Law on Dec 16.

“So what that a school has a liability to tell the parents that there’s a drug dealer in the school?” Mejias asked rhetorically, noting that districts notify parents when there’s a sex offender in the neighborhood or lice in the schools. The bill does not mandate that the school do anything with the information, just that they be notified.

Horsley, on the other hand, dropped the notification amendment to avoid the liability issue and redrafted the bill to establish what is officially called the Suffolk Drug Mapping Index, modeled after the Parents for Megan’s Law website. “Isolating a responsible party may end up being a short-sighted, narrowly focused approach that does little more than consign blame, and relieve other parties of enduring responsibility,” he explained in a statement following the change, suggesting that schools are not solely responsible.

Then in the week prior to the final vote in Nassau, Mejias quietly came around to the website idea, amending the bill to create the Nassau Drug Mapping Index. Both lawmakers spoke of possibly merging the two into a regional website. Still, the website wasn’t favored by everyone.

Suffolk Legis. Thomas Barraga (R-West Islip) said he has dealt with parents of heroin-addicted children before, and the story is always they same: “Never my child.” That is why he believes parents will continue to stick their heads in the sand and, in effect, only help make criminals better prepared. “Dealers and pushers will use the information to their advantage,” he said in explaining why he was the only lawmaker on Long Island to vote no, yet still praising the intent. The website “will not remove one drug dealer from the street,” he said, because “the pushers will be on the move” if they know where the hotspots for arrests are.

The concern had been echoed by police sources speaking anonymously, but there is a clause in the Nassau bill to prevent against heroin investigations being compromised. Detectives will not release arrest information until the investigation is complete, the same way that some drug possession arrests do not make it into police blotters immediately, so as to not tip off the dealer.

“This particular law, we feel, will aid in identifying areas where heroin usage is prominent and as one of the proactive approaches this department supported in this increasing epidemic,” says Detective Sgt. Anthony Repalone, a police spokesman for Nassau. He notes that other crimes such as burglaries and bank robberies have been linked to heroin and that there have been additional fatal heroin overdoses among teens that have not been made public because of medical privacy laws, although he could not provide a number.

According to Detective Lt. Peter Donohue, deputy commanding officer of the narcotics/vice squad, the department has recently established a new process to track any heroin-related incidents encountered by patrol officers. Different codes are affixed to different incidents, such as a heroin possession, sale or if an officer finds heroin on his or her patrol. When a patrol officer is involved in any heroin-related enforcement, the information must be shared with narcotics.

“There has been payoff with the new system. It enables us to get a real handle on things,” says Donohue. “The junkie wants to get out of jail. They will sell out their connection in a heartbeat to get out to get more.”
A spokesman for Suffolk Police did not return repeated calls seeking comment.

Natalie’s Law Beyond L.I.

A website is by no means a silver bullet to an issue this complex, but continuing to raise awareness is a good start, officials say. “This bill is one piece of a puzzle,” Mejias says. Horsley has mentioned amending the bill next year to include other hard drug arrests, such as cocaine, methamphetamines and prescription drug arrests.

That would prove useful as kids often are introduced to the opiate world at “pharm parties,” in which they raid their parents’ medicine cabinet for high-strength pain killers such as Vicodin, OxyContin and Percocet. It not uncommon for kids to crush up the pills to sniff them, opening the door to intranasal drug abuse, and since today’s heroin is easy to get and can been found for as cheap as $5 a bag on Long Island, that next step is easier than ever before, drug counselors say.

Yet despite the undeniable prevalence, denial still runs rampant. “This bill imposes no obligation on the school to add heroin awareness curriculum or to educate its administrators, teachers and staff on the dangers of heroin,” testified Oscar Michelen, a lawyer, professor and anti-drug lecturer. As the founder of The Law Squad, Michelen offers drug abuse and criminal justice seminars to schools, but often finds that “they don’t want the tough ones” about hard drugs. “They ask for more of a fluff piece such as how to protect yourself at prom,” he says.

But with the website, involved parents can cajole unresponsive school boards, not that school officials say they’ll need it. “Once we find out that we have hot spots, we have an education forum that we can move forward with,” says Fred Langstaff, area director of the New York State School Boards Association. But the local pressure will have to be up to other parents, as the Ciappas have their sights set elsewhere.

“What’s happened here I think is the first step in proving that there’s enough people out there that that law is wrong,” says Victor while planning the next Natalie’s Law benefit concert to help lobby for a federal law that they hope to get passed. “We’re financially responsible for them until they turn 21, but we can’t check them into rehab when they need it, if they need it, when they’re 18,” he says. He learned the reason behind Natalie’s unusual behavior two months after her 18th birthday, so she was able to refuse rehab. Only a judge could force her, provided she was arrested.

“When a kid is in their darkest hour, a parent is probably their last line of defense, or their last help, and when you take that parent’s right away, its really not helpful to the kid and they’re still 18—as far as I’m concern they’re still kids,” he says.

Generation Junk

Natalie’s family had no idea she was a abusing heroin because she sniffed it and didn’t have the track marks from using needles to shoot up, the most obvious sign of heroin abuse. Here are the more subtle signs for parents to look for:

• To cover up the physical signs of drug use, kids will try to hide themselves. Be wary of a hat being used to cover the eyes or wearing long sleeves at inappropriate times.

• Persistent blank expressions and increased lethargy.

• Change in temperament; lethargic or aggressive behavior.

• Excessive sniffling and nose-blowing.

• Avoiding conversations by giving short yes or no answers.

• Falling asleep mid-sentence, in their food, or at other inappropriate times.

Save My Kid

This is not a story about statistics, with quotes from cops or government organizations, and neither is it an opportunity for institutions and professionals discussed within to be given equal time. This is the story of four sets of parents who have taken on the full-time job of trying to save their children’s lives, attempting to pull them back from the cunning and seductive grip of heroin. There are many commonalities in their stories, but two things become evident from the start: No matter how hard the parents try, there are roadblocks at every turn; and once heroin becomes part of a child’s world, it takes hold so tightly that it strangles the life out of the entire family. The names of the heroin users and their families have been changed in all the stories except for the Ciappa section.

One lesson all the parents tell is this: If you think your child is immune, you are mistaken.

In Edward Whelan’s Lindenhurst yard, he hands me a small plastic packet of heroin. His smile, which I’ve written about before—the one that lights up the room—is tinged with doubt. It’s a nice almost-fall day and the sun has already forgotten how to scorch, but Edward, who has been shooting heroin again after stopping for several months, is sweating slightly. He’s not the derelict kind of junkie we’ve become used to; he’s a decent kid from the suburbs, and he looks it, despite his habit. His crisp, white Sean John shirt glistens in the morning sun, the way his eyes did when we first met about a month ago when he introduced me to a group of his friends—some of whom were high on heroin, others who were in recovery—for a previous story I wrote about heroin use among Long Island’s high school students.

You might remember them:

Ricky and Lorraine, both 27, who were high when we met (although high isn’t exactly an accurate term: They were actually pretty low, depressed and lethargic. OK, zombies). They were busted a day later because they couldn’t wait to make the short trip from their dealer to their home, and they stopped off in what they thought was an abandoned parking lot. It wasn’t quite abandoned—there was a cop there. And they were arrested. Ricky went into rehab.

Edward, 24, tells me they are using again. The others, he says, are still clean.

I kind of knew Edward would start shooting junk again. He had stopped cold turkey on his own and was pretty adamant about not needing any type of rehab, a theme you’ll find common among all the junkies in this story. But really it was when he told me that there is a constant tug toward the drug and that he “think[s] about it every day,” that twinkle in his eye gave his future away.

Today is the day after 48-year-old actress Mackenzie Phillips, a former teenage junkie who has been proselytizing the sober life for decades, was arrested at an airport for heroin and cocaine possession. The lure, I’m reminded, is enormous.

This morning, Edward has a plan he’s about to sneak on me. Junkies are very wily, if nothing else. He wants to move the interview away from his parents’ house, where he lives, so I can bring him someplace where he can shoot up. When I say no, he just laughs. “Oh, well,” he says amiably, “I’ll just do it when I go to work.” It turns out he couldn’t even wait for that. He did it as soon as I left.

“I have no idea how to save my kid,” says Edward’s mother, Carol, sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair in their home, beginning to weep. “I don’t know where to go at this point. I had a feeling he started drugs, and then he told us he had, but he says he’ll stop. I’ve tried to stop him, but I don’t know what to do at this point. I called one counseling center yesterday and they couldn’t help me.

“Rehab won’t help. All his friends went to rehab and they ended up going back on drugs or dying.”

Unlike the other parents in this story, Carol is trying the laid-back approach. She has faith in her son. “I’m very concerned,” she says. “I stay on top of it. But what am I going to do, put a gun to his head?” Carol’s whole life is about worry. “My biggest fear is that he will not wake up in the morning,” she says, crying again. “Every morning, it’s a relief to see him.”

Edward promises that this day—the day of our interview—will be his final day of heroin use.

Tomorrow, Edward Sr. will take his son away for an extended weekend, away from his dealer, away from his friends who encourage him to use, upstate to the country.

Carol, a retired methadone nurse, wipes her teary eyes and says, “I just don’t want him to die like all his friends did.”

Serenity Now

In their Nesconset home, brothers Steven and Bobby Clark, fresh-faced and blond, are sitting at the kitchen table. It’s Bobby’s birthday and a small cake sits before him on the table. Their mother is beaming at their side. If this were painted, it could be a Norman Rockwell Life magazine cover: the all-American family. The irony is, it is the all-American family, 2008 style: mom, dad, kids, dog and heroin.

Steven, a wiry, good-looking 18-year-old, was the kind of teen that anyone would look at and say, “What a nice, sweet kid.” And he was—at least, before this past June, when he got sickly skinny, with sunken eyes and an uncontrollable temper.

Steven was using heroin.

When his parents first noticed track marks on his arm last year, Steven said he had been scratched. He had an excuse for everything. But his father, Kenny, a recovering alcoholic, was not taking any excuses, especially after he found hypodermic needles in his driveway. Kenny immediately began trying to find help, starting with Stony Brook University Medical Center. They were unable to care for Steven. The track marks weren’t fresh, the hospital workers said, so it was not a medical emergency. “Even if he came home now and overdosed?” Kenny asked incredulously.

“At the hospital, they said that there was ‘nothing in their arsenal of resources to help,’” Kenny explains.

There are barriers along the way when a parent is seeking help for a child on heroin, Kenny complains: the high cost of rehab; insurance companies refusing coverage; centers determining whether the child is going through withdrawal and what stage they’re at. Or parents can go the legal route, family court, which the Clarks opted for. Because of Steven’s “menacing behavior” and his reluctance to get help, they took out an order of protection, which Steven violated the following day. The Clarks took the next painful step of having their young son arrested. At this point Steven was shooting three to six bags of heroin a day.

Kenny describes his interactions with his junkie teenage son: “His verbal outbursts take manic energy into a realm where anger is displayed by fits of cursing, projectile verbal crap coming at me as his face is pressed against mine. Threats like ‘I’d love to knock you out’ are viciously given in these face-to-face confrontations after short rational discussion has driven off the cliff. From zero to 90 in three seconds. The explosive anger, usually a day after his drug use, takes on ugly dimensions and leaves me emotionally exhausted and stuck in a hopeless place. I look to make sure that the windows are not open, and the neighbors have not seen and heard the drama. My pride and embarrassment have long ago evaporated into the dark void of my not-so-private distress.”

Imagine this being your day-to-day life. Now double it when you find out your second child is also addicted to heroin. Kenny’s older son, Bobby, 21, was hiding under the radar while all eyes were on Steven. And heroin was his drug of choice, too.

But Kenny didn’t know, and since Steven was the obvious problem at hand, it all but consumed him.

“I sometimes think I will lash out at [Steven],” says Kenny. “I was never violent with my kids. Perhaps I should have been. On more than one occasion I did call the police. The disease of chemical dependency has taken much of my serenity and peace.”

So because Steven broke the order of protection, Kenny thought that he’d get his son into the legal system, which would help place him into a mandated rehab program. The next day, on June 26, Steven went before a judge in criminal court in Central Islip for violating the order of protection by stealing money from Kenny’s checking account and exhibiting aggressive behavior. “The judge was good. He knew I needed help,” says Kenny.

Steven had taken his parents’ ATM card and stolen more than $1,000 from their account.

Kenny stood before the judge, and with his voice cracking, said, “I am on a mission to save my kid.”

On June 27, Kenny was going to go through withdrawal and voluntarily admit himself to Nassau University Medical Center, in East Meadow for treatment. In order to be admitted, an addict has to be in active withdrawal. So, Steven and his parents packed up and drove to Hicksville and checked in at the Econo Lodge. To pass time, Kenny and Steven went fishing while waiting for the withdrawal symptoms to kick in. At 5 p.m., when Steven was sick enough to be taken to the hospital, they packed his bag and drove toward hope—NUMC.

When they arrived at the ER, there were four other kids going through withdrawal, Kenny says, and one adult. After waiting almost four hours, Kenny says they were finally seen by a counselor.

“I need your driver’s license,” the intake counselor said to Steven.

“He doesn’t have one,” answered Kenny.

“We can’t take him without it,” said the counselor.

“He’ a goddamn junkie,” yelled Kenny, losing his patience. “He lost his license. He has a birth certificate, a social security card and two parents with him! We can’t take him home, he’s going through withdrawal.”

“But these are the rules.”

“Screw your rules,” Kenny said angrily. But it was Steven who was screwed.

The counselor made a call to Flushing Hospital Medical Center detox unit to see if they had a bed for Steven, and they did. So the family drove right over. On the way they stopped so Steven could get a slice of pizza. While he was waiting for his slice, a girl entered the pizzeria and bought a bag of heroin from the man behind the counter.

When they arrived at FHMC, they were informed that the center couldn’t accept their insurance. “How much will this cost?” Kenny asked.

“One thousand dollars a day,” they said.

“Bottom line,” says Kenny. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

Steven went through the six-day program and returned home. The Clarks were not satisfied; they had to get him more inpatient treatment. So they brought him to Seafield Center, in Westhampton, on the Fourth of July. Out of pocket: another $3,000 for a week at Seafield.

Imagine Kenny’s surprise when he was called the next day and was told that another patient had smuggled some heroin into the center, and Steven was using again.

Seafield—despite letting this happen under its watch—was going to kick Steven out, but eventually let him stay. Unfortunately, Steven was evicted soon after, for fraternizing with a female patient, passing notes back and forth, which was against the rules.

Drugs finding their way into rehab is a big problem, Kenny says. He says that after Steven scored at Seafield, Kenny was told that addicts should have the tools in place to be able to reject it. “I don’t buy that,” says Kenny angrily. “How can they reject that while they’re in the throes of addiction?”

Two weeks after leaving Seafield, Steven attended an anniversary meeting at Alcoholics Anonymous for his father’s first year of sobriety. His father’s sponsor, a reformed addict and now an addiction counselor, began mentoring Steven. It seems to have made a difference. “He’s much better,” says Kenny. “All the way, better. That man is a godsend.” Then, Kenny, the weary realist, admits, “Well, maybe [Steven’s] used once or twice.”

While all this was going on, Bobby was getting heavily into heroin. He had already had several years of trouble with alcohol addiction, then moved on to Vicodin and then heroin.

Bobby had been a mellow child. But now the cursing, drama and fighting were rearing their ugly heads in the Clark household again.

Bobby started physically wasting away. Although he maintained his employment at Applebee’s in Lake Grove, his father calls the work environment there “a pharmaceutical center,” and Bobby continued using.

But Kenny isn’t so naïve that he completely blames others. “We parents enable these kids,” warns Kenny. “We buy and pay for their car. We buy them clothes. We give them money and these lifestyles they lead. We let them have cell phones, which they end up using to buy drugs. When I was a kid, I used to think heroin addicts were the scum of the earth and would come from broken-down slums and from the boroughs. But now it’s in Smithtown, Stony Brook, Massapequa, because kids have everything they want at their disposal.

“And the schools are no help either,” complains Kenny.

“Snorting heroin is a socially accepted addiction,” he says. “Like marijuana.”

The fact that Bobby was using in the same house as the recovering, vulnerable Steven caused another level of concern.
Three weeks ago, Kenny found a looped belt in the back of Bobby’s car. When he searched the glove compartment he found a bag filled with about eight hypodermic needles, and in the car’s side pocket he found a half “buckle” (five to seven bags) of heroin—some of it already gone.

When confronted, of course, Bobby—with his broken-out face and gaunt appearance—denied drug use. “If we would have caught him with a needle in his arm, he would have denied it,” says Kenny, who opted to call the cops. That would lead to mandatory rehab, he hoped.

But in this never-ending world of false starts and false hopes, the cops were unable to do anything. “Unless we find it [heroin] on him,” they said.

Things escalated. Bobby stole his mother’s wedding and engagement rings—rings she had inherited from her mother. After an emotional confrontation, Kenny and his wife finally forced Bobby to comply—he was now their prisoner and he was going to go through withdrawal, away from his friends. But, sneaky as he was, Bobby managed to get some heroin from a neighbor friend—the son of a cop.

All hell broke loose, and Bobby ended up wrapping a dog leash around his neck in a half-hearted suicide attempt. Kenny called the cops and Bobby ran away with his 49-year-old father in hot pursuit. A mile and a half later, an exhausted Kenny caught up with his son after the boy collapsed in a stranger’s backyard. Kenny collapsed later in the cop car, where he was given oxygen. All the while their neighbors watched—neighbors, Kenny says, who are blind to the fact that their kids are heroin users as well. Their kids were doing drugs with his son. He tried to warn them, but some refused to listen.

The journey of junkies that is familiar to most parents was just beginning: the wild ride from one hospital to another, one rehab center to the next, for short stays or being rejected for any number of reasons.

Bobby was first brought to Stony Brook University Hospital’s emergency psych department. They determined that there was no active withdrawal, so they were unable to help. “They didn’t want to deal,” says Kenny. Eastern Long Island Medical Center, in Greenport, has very high criteria for admission and they too rejected Bobby, saying he was not exhibiting proper symptoms. Opiate addiction is not considered life threatening.

Kenny and his wife then took Bobby to a Riverhead hotel so the withdrawal process could begin. While calling rehab centers from his cell phone in the parking lot of the $300-a-night hotel, Kenny found empty bags of heroin on the ground. There is just no escaping this, he thought. Bobby had not yet gotten into deep withdrawal, so they moved on to Kenny’s AA sponsor’s home in Port Jefferson, where they crashed on his couch for two days. As Bobby’s withdrawal symptoms worsened, they felt he was ready to go for an intake at the Seafield Center Amityville facility. But Seafield rejected Bobby because of his earlier suicide attempt. At this point Kenny started driving to the alcohol recovery-based Matt Talbot Retreat Center, in Bohemia, but on the way there Seafield called back and said they had reconsidered and that their center in Westhampton would admit Bobby. The crazed traveling road show was about to come to an end.

After 21 days of mandated rehab at Seafield, Bobby shows signs of improvement. His skin has cleared up, his eyes are clearer. He was released this past Sunday, but on Monday night he tested positive for drugs. Bobby says it was from a painkiller he received at Seafield.

“It’s important to tell parents who might have similar problems with their kids that the hope of recovery can be found in the rooms of Al-Anon, Family Association (Day Top Family Assoc.), Families Anonymous, Alateen, Narcotics Anonymous, and AA. If it were not for [this], my sons’ addictions would not be addressed the way in which they have, and potentially, they would be dead.

“Tough love also helps,” adds Kenny, who knows better than to believe this is the end.

“I have to do everything I can to save my kid,” he says, crying. “I’ll do everything I can and more.”

The Never-Ending Story

In Sachem, Charlotte Mason has been fighting what she calls “a 20-year battle” to save her son, Brett, who has been an addict since he was 15. He is now 35, and he is still her baby. In many ways.

“I searched for any way to help. When he first started drugs it was before the Internet. I was calling 800 numbers and reading every book I could read,” she explains.

Charlotte didn’t waste any time when she realized her oldest son was on drugs. It was September 1989, the start of Brett’s ninth grade year, and she went to Principal Charles Cardillo at the former Sachem South High School.

“Listen,” she recalls saying to Cardillo, “I understand that [Brett] is doing drugs and dealing drugs in school. I need help.” Cardillo’s answer: “There is no drug problem in this school.”

She then brought Brett to his pediatrician, Marvin Leiber, M.D., of Holbrook, who had a brief, private meeting with Brett and said, “He doesn’t have a drug problem. He has an attitude problem.”

And so it went. No one would listen to her.

Brett never finished ninth grade.

Things came to a head when Brett got in a physical altercation with his stepfather, George, who was devoted to helping his stepson. Brett called the cops on his stepfather and Child Protective Service caseworkers were eventually called to the Mason house. According to Charlotte, as soon as they arrived and met Brett and spoke with Charlotte and George, they realized what the situation was—parents dealing with a drug-addicted kid. Charlotte asked them, “Where can we go for help?” They had no answer.

“Nobody could help us. We sought out every kind of help. Al-Anon meetings didn’t work; it was just people sharing their misery. I wanted action. I wanted to be proactive.” That was two decades ago, and Charlotte and Brett are still fighting the same demon.

In between? Here’s a sampling: In 1989, Charlotte tricked Brett and left him at South Oaks Hospital in Amityville for treatment, when he was 15. He was there for five months. Doctors there suggested that he be sent away for more long-term rehab, but Charlotte refused. “I couldn’t let my baby go for 18 months,” she says. She now desperately regrets that decision.

“From that point on, it just never stopped,” Charlotte says wearily, about trying to help Brett recover from his ongoing heroin habit.

Because of his addiction, for the past 10 years, Brett has been in trouble with the law. In 1999, he was arrested in Vail, Colo. for possession and placed on probation in New York. With Brett now on heroin, things began to escalate. In September 2003, he completed 28 days of rehab in Seafield in Westhampton and was living in a halfway house. He was arrested for shoplifting in Queens and sent to Rikers Island, then extradited back to Colorado for violating his probation. He served approximately two years in prison in Colorado, where he remained sober and healthy.

He got out of prison on May 25, 2006 and returned to Long Island, still on probation, which recently ended this past August. He was clean for a while, but began shooting heroin again. Even on probation.

That’s how it was…on and on and on and on, for 20 years. It’s amazing that Charlotte can joke about anything, but she is a strong woman. What she thinks about in the deep of night, no one wants to know.

“Why can’t I stop?” he asked his distraught mother. “Help me. Help me. Help me.”

How can a parent respond to a request like that?

“My son is going to die. Help me save my son,” Charlotte cried to anyone who would listen, this past July, during a road trip similar to the Clarks.’ Brett went through withdrawal in the car for four days as he was bounced between hospitals like the tennis ball at the Federer-Murray U.S. Open match.

It began with phone calls on July 18 to the Long Island Center for Recovery in Hampton Bays, Queens Hospital, Beth Israel Medical Center in Manhattan, Cornerstone Drug Treatment Center in Jamaica, Southside Hospital in Bay Shore and Mather Hospital in Port Jefferson—they all refused to take him. Either there were no available beds or they didn’t accept their insurance, Medicaid.

On July 20, Charlotte brought Brett to Eastern Long Island Hospital—you remember them, the ones with the high criteria. As with Steven Clark, Charlotte was told Brett was not detoxing enough. They brought him back the next morning and were told that his insurance wouldn’t cover it.

“You have to take him. You have to save my child,” Charlotte cried. But to no avail.

They kept calling hospital after hospital and no one was able to take him.

There was no choice but to detox him at home, with his brother, parents and recovering-addict friends at his side.
The detox was “violent,” Charlotte says. From July 21 to 23, Brett had a high fever, was sweating profusely, vomiting and unable to eat or drink.

“I never left his side,” says Charlotte. But she did leave to go to the bathroom. She says, “Unfortunately he could no longer take the suffering and snuck away from me for minutes, snuck out of the house and got high.”

After he returned high, Charlotte and Brett’s brother drove Brett from their  Sachem home to NUMC in East Meadow, where, after hours of evaluation, he was turned away because they had no beds. Someone from NUMC called Mary Immaculate Hospital in Queens, and Charlotte was advised that there were two beds available. They rushed to MIH to learn that those beds had been taken in that short period of time it took to get there. There’s no shortage of junkies.
“It was just heartless,” says Charlotte. “Was I supposed to leave him on a doorstep?”

They brought him back home and the next morning they took him to South Oaks, where he detoxed for the next five days.

Medicaid would not pay for any more time, despite desperate pleas from Brett’s doctor and therapist for long-term rehab. Medicaid suggested he try outpatient services.

Currently, Brett is an outpatient at Seafield, in Medford, and he sees a therapist and attends daily Narcotics Anonymous meetings.

Charlotte has spent the past 20 years consumed by fighting with doctors, negotiating with insurance companies, arguing with Medicaid, searching for medical help, paying legal costs, and wondering if her son would be alive by the end of any given day. There was hardly ever a minute of peace. For 20 years, and still going.

“I’m always waiting for the shoe to drop,” she says.

“My biggest fear is getting that phone call that he OD’d. I hope no one has to go through this with their child.”

“I’m Gonna Save Her”

Here’s a cautionary tale for all the invincible kids who think that if they take a snort of heroin they can stop when they want. Ever hear of Natalie Ciappa, the 18-year-old from Massapequa who died of an overdose this past June 21? She only snorted heroin; she never shot up.

Natalie was that knockout beauty who attended Plainedge Senior High. You know all about her: the cheerleader, the great singer who sounded like Mariah Carey, the honor student with a 113 average. The girl with everything to live for. The one whose father found her on her acquaintance’s couch, unconscious, her jaw so stiff with rigor mortis that her father’s attempts at CPR were futile.

Natalie Ciappa had everything to live for. She was talented, smart, and loved. She was also a heroin addict.

It’s amazing that one small little packet of powder can do so much damage. One quick sniff can change so many lives in such an irreparable, tragic way.

The life of Doreen Ciappa, Natalie’s mother, was not supposed to turn out this way: a mother burying her teenage daughter. It was not the way things turn out in the vampire romance novels Doreen writes. There is no death in that world. Just everlasting life.

What was everlasting for Doreen and her husband, Victor, was their nightmare watching their daughter waste away and their continual fight to keep her alive.

“We hit every roadblock there was,” says Doreen. “They were pretty much everywhere.” A suspicious Doreen asked a doctor of Natalie’s to run a drug test. She was told they couldn’t do it without Natalie’s permission because of privacy laws. “They can’t do it when they’re underage, and they can’t do it when they’re over the age,” complains Doreen. “It’s at their discretion.” Doreen, now on a mission, is attempting to change those laws.

She eventually went to Natalie’s pediatrician and desperately pleaded, “I have to know what’s going on.” The doctor understood the seriousness of the situation and ordered a urine test that ended up showing marijuana and opiate use. “We were concerned at that point with OxyContin,” says Doreen. “Heroin never entered my mind. In my generation [a girl like Natalie] never did heroin.”

Natalie’s behavior began to change. “She became very volatile,” says Doreen. “She shoved passed us. She missed curfews. She didn’t care about anything. She tore the house apart. Oh my God, it was completely unlike her.” Before this, Natalie was the dream daughter. “It’s the kid you feel good about that you have to worry about,” Doreen warns.

Natalie with her brothers (From L.): Nick, Natalie, Logan, and Jesse. Nick was determined to save his big sister.

Natalie was certainly the child that everyone wanted their kids to hang around with. She was in All County Choir, the National Honor Society, a cheerleading coach, and she was employed at a local pizza place. All that soon fell apart when she began dating Phil Ordaya, 21, who was busted for possession a month after Natalie died. The Ciappas have since learned that Natalie began experimenting with heroin when she attended a party with Ordaya, and his ex-girlfriend gave Natalie a drug to sniff that Natalie thought was cocaine. It was heroin.

“When we first met him,” says Doreen, “he was so quiet, shy, polite. He wasn’t really like the other boys Natalie dated.” Of course he wasn’t. He was a heroin addict.

The once-beautiful Natalie was now losing a lot of weight and developing dark circles under her eyes. She was moody, violent even, and in school, her eyes, with those beautiful long dark lashes, fluttered shut in mid-class as she nodded off.

When confronted by a teacher about her behavior, clever Natalie told the teacher that she might be depressed. So, in 2007—in the spring of 11th grade—Doreen says that Natalie’s guidance counselor, Lisa Madison, at Plainedge Senior High School, called her to inform her that Natalie had a “depression” problem. Doreen had her own suspicions, and when she told Madison and the school psychologist, Lauren Marcano, her concerns, Marcano later got back to Doreen and told her, “I just met with Natalie and told her she looks great.”

That following summer of ’07, Natalie really started to fall apart. Her weight fell dramatically, her behavior was deteriorating and her overall appearance was even sicklier.

At the beginning of Natalie’s senior year, Doreen, again, asked the school officials to check out her daughter. Natalie had already missed a few days of school because she was ill.

“I can’t get her to go for therapy, so maybe you can see her once a week. I need you to see her,” she pleaded to Marcano.

Doreen says that Marcano reported back that Natalie explained away her appearance by saying that she had a good exercise and diet regimen.

“Yeah, it’s called drugs,” Doreen angrily responded, in disbelief.

“She says she’s happy, and she looks fine,” Marcano said.

Fine? Natalie had lost 30 pounds, dropping from around 135 pounds to 105. Maybe it was the dark circles under Natalie’s sunken eyes that looked so good to the guidance counselor.

To make matters worse, Madison, Natalie’s counselor, suggested Natalie apply to Arizona State University, a notorious party school far away from her parents’ jurisdiction.

Natalie and family on senior prom day (From L.): her date, Mike Rios, Natalie, her dad, her mother, her grandmother, her uncle Peter, and her grandfather.

Things continued to deteriorate for Natalie, culminating on Memorial Day 2008, when she OD’d. Her parents found her on her bed in the morning when they woke; she was cold, blue-lipped and not moving. They touched her arm and she let out an otherworldly sound—it was Natalie trying to breathe. Victor attempted CPR, and hysterical Doreen called 911. Incredibly there was an ambulance already on the corner of their street. The emergency crew was unsure about which treatment to perform because they didn’t know what drugs the young girl was on.

“This is what I’ve been finding,” said Doreen, handing them small packets of powder. “What is this?”

“Heroin,” they answered.

Natalie, whose heart had stopped, was revived at the house and then brought to New Island Hospital in Bethpage, in what Doreen was told was “very bad condition.”

Five hours after Natalie was brought back to life, the hospital sent her home.

Sorry—did you think you read that wrong? I’ll repeat it.

Five hours after arriving at the hospital from a heroin overdose, the hospital discharged Natalie.

The hospital psychiatrist, Faiza Khan, M.D., had briefly examined Natalie.

“If she spent five minutes with her, I’m being generous,” says Doreen angrily. Bipolar disorder was the diagnosis.

“That psychiatrist had everything in her power. They had it in their hands. They could have turned this around,” says Doreen, starting to cry.

“Keep her here for psychiatric evaluation, if nothing else,” she pleaded. Natalie was a cutter and had a deep gash on her wrist. Doreen told the doctor, “This was a suicide attempt, keep her here.” The hospital refused. She had to leave.

“We were crying. We were saying, ‘Please keep her here,’” Doreen recalls. “You have to save my child. I’m begging you, please, please. We don’t know what to do anymore.”

Natalie, embarrassed, said to her mother, “You should have just let me die.” Well, that was the last thing Doreen was going to let happen. But it was a constant struggle.

Three days after the overdose, Natalie came home high. She and her mother had a talk.

“You think you love me, but you don’t,” Natalie said to her distraught mother.

“But I do,” said Doreen, crying while recounting the conversation. “I do.”

“No, you love the girl you think I am. The girl I used to be, but you can’t possibly love me now. You can’t love this girl,” Natalie said, arms outstretched to her mother.

“I love you,” Doreen told her. “I’ll always love you.”

That night, Doreen stayed up watching Natalie from 11:30 p.m. to 5:30 a.m., making sure she was breathing.
During the following days, Doreen began calling rehab center after rehab center, across Long Island and around the country: YES, in Massapequa, South Oaks, Seafield, Eastern Long Island Hospital, Caron Treatment Center in Pennsylvania ($53,000 for three months), and centers in other locations such as Florida, for information and help. By now, you know the routine, and the result. No help forthcoming. Plus, Natalie didn’t want help. She, like the other addicts interviewed for this story, believed she could do it herself.

Doreen even threatened Natalie with arrest: Go to rehab or go to jail. Nothing worked.

It was downhill after that. Natalie fought Doreen at every turn. “You’re going to have to pick me up and knock me out,” Natalie threatened.

“If I didn’t have two little kids at home, I would have knocked her out and dragged her in,” Doreen says now with a hint of regret. “But I was afraid I’d lose my [younger] kids.” “Don’t touch me,” Natalie warned her. “You’re not allowed to touch me.” As with most of the other parents trying to intervene in their child’s addiction, things finally did get physical, and there was at least one incident when Doreen had to physically fight and wrestle Natalie to obtain her pocketbook. When she finally got it and checked it, she found heroin in it. And that became a bargaining chip—“Go to rehab or go to jail” now had some weight behind it. Doreen did one other thing, which she recommends to all parents of addicts: Copy your kids’ telephone contact list.

“That was how we were able to find her the morning she died,” Doreen says.

Doreen never gave up fighting to save her daughter. But doors were shutting closed on them wherever they went.
Natalie gave in and chose to check out South Oaks. But that took weeks, with overdue returned calls and in-the-future appointments. Finally, she was evaluated and was given two more appointments. She never lived to see them.

One day, Natalie’s then-13-year-old brother, Nick, told Doreen, “Ma, I’m gonna save her.”

“I told him, ‘Don’t put that on your shoulders,’” Doreen said. “I’m an adult and I don’t know how to save her.’”

On May 25, 2008, five hours after arriving as an overdose patient, Natalie had been discharged from New Island Hospital, despite the protestations of her parents.

Overdosing again, one month later, on June 21, she was pronounced dead at New Island Hospital.

The talented teenager was also a heroin addict. So when she did not return from a party on June 21, Natalie’s mother and her father, Victor, went looking for her, fearing the worst. It had been a rough year for the Ciappas. Natalie had developed a serious drug problem in the summer of 2007, and on Memorial Day 2008, she overdosed on heroin.

Three weeks after the holiday, every parent’s worst nightmare confronted them. Their daughter, a recent high school graduate, was gone, a victim of heroin. Suddenly, a life full of promise and joy became another statistic in Nassau’s battle against the dangerous opiate that is making a troubling resurgence across the region.

On July 9, Nassau County District Attorney Kathleen Rice joined Nassau County Police Commissioner Lawrence Mulvey, Nassau County Executive Tom Suozzi, Natalie’s parents, and members of the Nassau County Police Department (NCPD) and district attorney’s vice/narcotics squads at a press conference announcing the arrests of at least one dozen people on a host of heroin distribution charges. The representatives stood feet away from two tables holding huge stacks of cash, hundreds of bags of heroin, packaging equipment and a handgun.

Among those arrested was Philip Ordaya, an ex-boyfriend of Natalie, and, according to her mother, a chief reason Natalie was addicted. Natalie is among several dozen who have died in Nassau County this year from the devastating drug.

“You know, 37 [suspected heroin] deaths [in Nassau County] is too much,” says Rice in an interview with the Press. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to say that it is a problem.”

Police sources have told the Press that others were caught in the recent sting that nabbed Ordaya. According to Rice’s spokesperson Eric Phillips, “There are more coming.”

“It definitely makes a dent, but it doesn’t eliminate the threat,” says Detective Lt. Peter Donohue, deputy commanding officer of the NCPD narcotics/vice squad, which oversees the Heroin Investigation Team (HIT).

As some predicted, the confirmation that heroin killed Natalie is beginning to rip the lid off the unseen lives of suburban heroin addicts. And her death also underscores the problem in that South Shore community of Massapequa, which police say is a hotbed of heroin activity among young people. In a recent Press cover story (“Long Highland,” June 26), officials from the Massapequa School District vehemently denied any heroin-related incidents at Massapequa High School.

But a police source has confirmed to the Press that on Oct. 5, 2007, a Massapequa High School student was indeed caught in heroin’s web. According to the source, the student, a minor, was incoherent during school hours. After her condition was brought to the attention of school administrators and police were called, she was found to be in possession of 28 bags of heroin and subsequently arrested. A spokesperson for the district, Kathy Beatty of Sayville-based Syntax Communications, did not return requests for comment.

Natalie Ciappa was the victim of a heroin-related death, say authorities.

Doreen Ciappa also said that Natalie had told her there was no shortage of drugs in the hallways at Plainedge High School. When Doreen asked the school for help, she says, she received none, and when she tried to talk to Natalie’s guidance counselor about her daughter’s weight loss, the counselor said she thought Natalie “looked great.” As was the case with Massapequa, a call to Plainedge Superintendent of Schools Christine P’Simer was not returned.

“School administrators need to wake up,” says Rice. “It is a real problem.”

Rice, who has made a name for herself as an Eliot Ness-type of prosecutor since entering office, believes that this is a start, but a lot of work is to be done. “At any given time, there are numerous investigations going on in this office,” says Rice. “We keep track of the ODs in the county, and we saw the trend.”

Rice applauded the bravery of Natalie’s parents, who only weeks ago lost their daughter. She hopes their story will help parents identify the signs of heroin abuse early on so no more young people are lost.

“I hope it brings awareness to parents,” says Rice.

Supported by her husband, Doreen took the podium at the press event and told the heartbreaking story of a fallen angel and a mother’s desperate fight to keep her daughter alive. Doreen had poked and prodded through Natalie’s belongings, questioned her and even joined MySpace and Facebook—posing as another person—to gain insight into Natalie’s troubled life.

“Before you knew it, I was even the dealer’s friend,” she says.

Ciappa recalls that Natalie began dating Ordaya in 2007—although she later learned that Natalie knew him before they were a couple. He visited the house, and was even invited to a family function. Doreen did eventually discover that Ordaya was dealing heroin.

She also chronicled a futile attempt to get help for Natalie, who refused rehab, even after the Memorial Day incident. She recalled her horror when, after that overdose, she was told by authorities that the little glassine bags she found in Natalie’s room were from heroin. Well before the Memorial Day incident, Doreen and Victor compromised, and sent Natalie to therapy, still not knowing the full gravity of her addiction. But when Natalie turned 18, they became completely powerless over her. In fact, Doreen remembers, she was so desperate that she planned on going to authorities to either gain control over Natalie or have her arrested. But it was too late.

“I would like to see the laws changed,” says Ciappa about not being able to make decisions to get young people help once they turn 18.

According to Donohue, it was a connect-the-dots game in the aftermath of Natalie’s death. The family, whom he describes as being “very helpful from day one,” turned her cell phone and computer over to the police, who discovered some familiar names and numbers in her records. One name that did pop was Ordaya’s. Police realized he was one of those being recorded on one of the wiretaps that had already been secured. Ordaya’s cell phone was subsequently tapped, too.

According to police sources, investigations that led to the arrests have been going on since late fall of 2007, but in February 2008, went into full gear after the HIT squad gathered important information. Police had noticed an increase in a long-standing drug trade at the Hempstead Bus Terminal.

“Hempstead Bus Terminal has been a known heroin-buying spot for years,” says Donohue. “There are lots of people who are functioning [heroin] addicts, and they will buy their drugs before they go to work, getting just enough to keep from getting sick during the day.”
As the investigation continued, the police found a stash house—a place where drugs are packaged for sale and kept until street dealers pick them up—in nearby Roosevelt. The police obtained a search warrant and found 804 bags of heroin ready for sale.

A search of that house also revealed that the main suppliers of the drugs were allegedly Alexander and Edward Fontanet, both of Queens. Police said that they were working with Donald Kurth of Merrick and Patrick Graf of Massapequa. Rice had successfully applied to Nassau County Court Judge Frank Gulotta for an eavesdropping warrant on two cell phones used by the Fontanets, and information gathered led to the court allowing Graf and Kurth’s phones to be tapped as well.

Doreen and Victor Ciappa at a press conference announcing a string of heroin arrests, including that of Natalie's ex-boyfriend

The resulting investigation netted evidence against Alexander Fontanet’s wife Lorraine Cianciulli, Queens-based Jose Demench, Kurth’s girlfriend Heather Wahl and Graf’s wife Melissa. Evidence also piled up against Damon Marinacci, of Syosset, and eventually Ordaya, of Seaford. With the exception of Ordaya, who was arrested July 7, the rest of the suspects were taken into custody on June 17. Additional searches at the Fontanets home revealed more than 1,000 envelopes of heroin and tools used to package and sell the drug.

A search of Graf’s Massapequa residence and vehicle also turned up heroin, with cops finding about 500 bags, and Kurth’s Massapequa home had more than 100. Ordaya was found to be in possession of bags marked with a “XX,” denoting a particular heroin often discussed among the suspects. According to Nassau County Assistant District Attorney Teresa Corrigan, chief of the district attorney’s narcotics bureau, Graf was responsible for the street sale of up to 700 bags of heroin every one or two days before he would get more supply.

Rice, like most law enforcement personnel, is shocked at the popularity of heroin on LI’s sleepy streets. But she has grown accustomed to being surprised when it comes to drug offenses.

“First, it was the prescriptions that kids were getting out of medicine cabinets,” she says. “Now it is heroin.”
Before Doreen left the press conference through a back door, she pleaded with parents to be more realistic about their children’s private lives.

“Look in their eyes,” she said. “Don’t be fooled.”

Heroin, once considered one of the most unsavory drugs, is making a comeback. Unfortunately, it is the Drug of Choice for Teenagers and Young Adults

Carol Whelan, a nurse, sits on her couch in her cramped, middle-class Cape home in Lindenhurst, occupied by a laughing parrot, two dogs and a monkey. She shakes her head sadly. “The truth is,” she says, “I’m getting tired of going to so many funerals of young people.”

The young people she is talking about are her son Edward’s friends. They were around his age, 24, when they died, and the death count is now about 10. The most recent was the worst—Thomas, Edward’s best friend.

And what are they dying from? Heroin.

Edward is an imposing young man, 6-foot-2-inches tall, 195 pounds, a good-looking Penn Jillette with long hair in a partial ponytail and one of those great giant-dimpled smiles that lights up the room. That’s not the only thing that’s lit up in Edward’s basement studio on this unusually hot June evening, where several of his friends are gathering. There’s also Ricky and Lorraine, a 27-year-old married couple from Bellmore. They are junkies and they have just gotten high.

Edward, too, has been on heroin. That is, until this past April, a month after Thomas ODed.

“I just stopped,” he says. “In honor of [Thomas].”

Sitting amongst the heavy metal posters, drum sets, electric keyboards and assorted other instruments where Edward’s heavy metal band InRed practices, are Jill, 25, and Ryan, 25—two of Edward’s friends who also were heroin users, but who have since gone to rehab and are currently sober. Jill and Ryan have been clean since January of this year, and Ryan has been out of rehab since early May. Ryan came close to using heroin a week and a half ago, but a friend stopped him, and Ryan is very thankful his friend did that.

“It’s a day-to-day struggle,” admits Ryan, who looks like the clean-cut jock-next-door.

While Ryan and Jill discuss their successes, Ricky, with an almost clichéd hangdog look, is nodding out near his wife, who has such a sad aura about her it is palpable. When showing the needle marks on her black-and-blue arms, the scars of recent cuttings are also obvious. Ricky looks helpless as she shows her bruised arms—even though he does help shoot his wife’s battered veins with heroin.

Tonight Ricky—who seems like he might once have been a sharp, interesting young man—is, shortly after shooting heroin, zombielike. Edward, Jill and Ryan seem absolutely radiant, compared to him. He is their past.

“I can end any time I want,” says Ricky, obviously not believing his own empty words. Ricky, Edward says, is unusual. “He can stop for a day and be OK. That’s very hard to do,” Edward says, almost in awe of his slumped-over, droopy-eyed, sallow friend. OK is a relative term here.

Jill and Ryan, who are not too far past that life themselves, agree. Jill, for example, was shooting up heroin several times a day. And that was just to bring her down from the crack cocaine she was smoking.

“I had a 95 average in high school,” she says, wistfully describing her past. “I had a lot of dreams, but now I just make f**king $7.50 an hour in Waldbaum’s.” Unlike the others in this group, Jill started drugs late, at age 18. Coke was her drug of choice, and she had been an addict for close to seven years, first taking ecstasy, then snorting coke and then smoking crack and finally shooting heroin to come down from the coke and crack. She started late, but she made up for it big time.

She was shooting up all day, but no longer getting high, so she needed more and more. For a while she worked three jobs and says she kept up her appearance, but that all came to an abrupt end. She lost about 30 pounds (as did Ryan when he was using) and fell to 80 pounds. She now weighs a healthy 110 pounds and looks fit. She also collapsed a vein and now can’t get blood taken from the arm.

The wake-up call? There were several. ODing was a biggie.  “I almost died,” she says. “My heart stopped.”  At this point her skin was yellow, she had black eyes and her back teeth fell out. She also couldn’t breathe. “The doctor told me I had such a large hole in my nose [from snorting drugs] that it would kill me,” she recalls.

So she stopped snorting. And she started injecting.

Jill, who never smoked pot, says she was oblivious to the degeneration of her circle of junkie friends. “They had no teeth. They were dirty like bums,” she says in retrospect.

Remember, while these users are now in their 20s, they all started using drugs as teens, some as young as preteens.
It was rampant in school, they all say. “You can count the people who aren’t on heroin,” says Edward, “as opposed to the ones who are.” And Lindenhurst, they all say, is “the heroin capital of Long Island.” That is, until Bellmore and Massapequa and Copaigue and Levittown and countless other towns come up.

“It’s wherever you go, and the kids are getting younger and younger,” says Edward, who attended Lindenhurst High School (partly at the Alternative Learning Center [ALC]). “We’d smoke weed in the classroom. In ninth grade, kids would have coke and heroin on the table in the classroom.

“A lot of kids from the high school and ALC would get sent away for a year or so, their drug problem would be so bad,” Edward says. His best friend Thomas was one of those kids.

Why heroin?

“It’s a social drug, and everyone was doing it,” says Edward, who, like many of his friends, first began experimenting with drugs at age 11.

He started heroin when he was 14. His entire crowd was doing it. (There are some, who, 10 years later, are still on heroin.) It was cheap and very easy to get. Their stories are similar—they started by sniffing it and eventually turned to shooting it.

“It makes you not care what anyone says. It makes you an asshole,” he says. “But I liked the feeling. It was amazing.”
There is no stigma, nor a badge of honor. It’s just what everybody does. No big deal.

“It was cheaper than marijuana, coke, pills and alcohol, and one $10 bag would do the trick,” says Jill. The coke high is only 20 minutes. Heroin would last longer, until the tolerance would build.

And where are the parents in all this? Jill says her parents “thought something was up. It was obvious, I wasn’t holding down a job, I wasn’t going to school.

“When my mom would go to work, I would shoot up and it would last two to three hours and then I’d have to get high again. I had to get high two or three times a day.

“I’m getting sick just talking about it,” she says.
“Toward the end, I felt like I was tripping out. I was having anxiety attacks. I was hot, cold, throwing up, very emotional. I kept trying to leave signs, leaving needles around, stuff like that.”

Jill’s mother, who had been addicted to cocaine herself, finally said, “That’s it. I know something’s up. I want to take you to a funeral home. I want you to see your funeral. I don’t want to find you dead.” Jill’s uncle ODed and her brother is a recovering addict.

Jill: “It was disgusting. You felt dirty no matter what you’d do. You lied to everyone. Drugs ruined my life.”

So she got clean. “I took a long hard look,” she says, starting to cry. But it’s not easy.

She is now in a drug and alcohol program three to four days a week.

“Sometimes when I get frustrated and think about my shitty job, I ask myself, ‘What am I clean for?’ I know it takes a year to get really clean. But I smile again now. My family is trusting me again, and my friends are trusting me again.”

At this point, Edward’s cell phone rings, and he tells Jill that it’s a friend of hers. Jill gets in an animated discussion with her friend, who informs her that Jill’s mother is frantically searching for her, angrily saying things like, “I know she’s up to no good. I know what she’s doing. I know she’s sneaking around.”

“Fuck that,” Jill says, “I told her where I was going,” and with that she calls her mother and angrily reminds her that she is being interviewed for a newspaper story.

“I have no car. No phone. I live in a cubicle with no door, no privacy,” she says. “They are treating me like I am 16.
“There are so many things I could have done with my life,” Jill says.

Edward’s situation is a little different. His parents are more trusting. They were very supportive when he came to them last January and told them that he was a junkie.

“I suspected something,” says his mother, who is a methadone nurse.

“It’s better when you have their support,” says Edward, the soft-spoken rocker.

While many young people start off sniffing Heroin, They usually move on to needles, and before they know it, they run out of good veins to use.

Part of why so many young people are junkies is the ease with which they can obtain the heroin, says Edward. “We’d go to [the dealer’s] house and there would be cars lined up—sometimes 10 cars on each block. We had to wait hours almost every day.” Ryan laughs at the memory. What they don’t address is the danger inherent in these deals. These dealers, who sometimes have their much younger siblings deliver the goods, are dead serious, and they have the firearms to prove it.

But these dangers are of no significance to a junkie, when caught up in heroin’s web. “Everyone seems to be doing it,” says Edward. “In high school it seemed like 80 percent of the kids were doing it.”

“And then there’s the environment,” Ryan adds. “Every commercial says, ‘Take this pill.’ Society is feeding you with drugs and saying, ‘This will solve this problem.’”

What’s the effect of school programs like DARE? These heroin users say, for them, the programs did more harm than good.
“They lied to us about marijuana, so we didn’t believe them about heroin,” says Edward.
And then there’s the cheap cost. “I couldn’t afford weed and alcohol,” says Edward. “Heroin was a snap: $10 a bag.”

But that $10 has a greater cost.

Married to the drug

Ricky and Lorraine have been married for three years. Ricky has been sniffing heroin for about six months, and has been shooting up for the past six weeks. “You need more when you’re sniffing it and it’s more expensive,” he explains.

Ricky’s reason for using heroin is somewhat startling. “I install carpets,” he says, “and I am in pain a lot. Tylenol will do nothing.”

That’s the problem. Heroin is no big deal.
“It takes away the pain,” Ricky says. “It takes away the physical muscle pain and the mental anguish. You’re just not aware of anything. I want to stop doing it. I am trying to get off it now. I know it’s bad. The addiction is just uncontrollable.”

Jill shakes her head, and responds, “When you’re on it you always make plans to quit. It’s not that easy.”

Lorraine, slouched over as she speaks, wears a pretty brown ribbon in her hair, making her seem girlish and innocent. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s been on opiates for four years, and was hooked on morphine. She has been doing drugs since she was 13.

“Heroin addicts don’t last very long…a year,” says Lorraine, who has been doing heroin for the past seven months. She’s been shooting up for the past six weeks.

“I can’t imagine a good life,” she says, head down, about her future.
What about life with each other now?  “[Ricky] seems a little more zombielike, secretive, when he uses [heroin],” she explains. “I don’t believe a word he says. He does six bags, two needles, sometimes before he even really wakes up.”

Besides mistrust, there is no intimacy amongst junkies. Ricky, who started drugs at 14, says, “We don’t think about sex. It’s not an option.”

“We know it’s bad,” says his wife Lorraine. “We just encourage each other. We say, ‘This is ridiculous, we have to stop.’ Then the other one says, ‘You want to get high?’ We’re never in agreement.”

“I don’t care if I do it by myself. I don’t really care. I’ll do it in a parking lot, on the side of the road,” Ricky says.
“Are you afraid of being arrested?” he’s  asked. He looks back with a blank stare.
“Maybe that would be good,” someone adds.

“Our families are really concerned,” Lorraine says dead-eyed, with no emotion.

Quittin’ Time

How do you get the strength to quit?

“You have to be tired of the life, because you’ll never get tired of the feeling,” says Edward.

Ryan, who’s been friends with Edward since kindergarten, has been on drugs since his early teens. He started off with pain killers, Vicodin, OxyContin, and then moved to heroin a year ago, “because it was cheaper,” he says. “You’d get higher and it was a cleaner high.” He entered rehab in January of this year and got out on May 2.

All five say they stole from parents and friends to support their habit. Some worked.

“Our money situation is hard,” complains Lorraine, in the same tone she would use to say she was wearing a ribbon in her hair. Of course it’s hard; there are two junkies who need to satisfy their addictions.

“I remember what that is like,” says Ryan. “I would have rather taken $80 and spent it on drugs than eat three meals. I always said, ‘I don’t have a problem.’ Just like Ricky is doing now. I remember coming here [Edward’s house], puking. I didn’t give a shit.”

Ryan returns to the recent incident,  when he almost used again. “After all the effort I put into it, it would hurt my family,” he says. “They were so proud of me. One of the best feelings was finishing the program.”

Jill looks at Ricky and tells him he’s beginning to look like a junkie. “What does a junkie look like?” he asks. “Your skin is yellowish,” she responds. “It’s the way you carry yourself. Your facial structure. It changes from weight loss. You look like one,” she reiterates.

“Have you noticed the changes in him?” Lorraine is asked.

“I guess,” Lorraine says.

Jill shakes her head. She’s been there.

Edward knows there’s no talking sense to the two. They need something to scare them, or to inspire them.

An inspiration like Thomas.

Thomas died from a heroin overdose on March 5, 2008. Edward stopped shooting heroin a month later.

“He promised me he would never die,” says Edward about the friend he had known since they were both 8. “He e-mailed me the day before he died, saying that.”

Two weeks after the gathering in Edward’s basement, Jill was in a local Applebee’s, where she noticed the clientele staring at a particular table where a couple was sitting “facedown in their food.” It was Ricky and Lorraine.
At presstime, Edward notified us that he had just learned that two more friends died of ODs. He called back soon after to also inform us that Ricky and Lorraine had been arrested for possession. They scored some heroin and on the way home, Lorraine suggested they shoot up in an abandonded parking lot in Bellmore, close to where they live. Ricky suggested they go home and do it. Lorraine won out, and they quickly were discovered by a cop on patrol. Lorraine is out on $2,500 bail but Ricky remains in jail. Ricky says that this is a good thing, and he hopes it will help him clean up.

Some of the names used in this story have been changed.

Long Highland

By Robbie Woliver, Michael Martino Jr. and Timothy Bolger

They had all the proof they needed that they were fighting a real war.

Recently, two detectives from the Nassau County narcotics/vice squad went for a quick bite at a county line area bagel store. Both are seasoned veterans, having fought the darker side of suburban life for some years. Among other duties, of late, their time had been spent dealing with an increasing heroin problem in Nassau County, one they know is very real and very frightening.

Across the store, they noticed a young man sitting at a table falling asleep, or nodding off, into his lunch. Moments later, another young man exited the men’s room with blood trickling down his arm. The detectives moved in to investigate. The young man snoozing in his bagel was arrested after the cops found heroin in his pocket. In the confusion, the bleeder got away.

This was in the middle of the day, in a typically white, middle-class American suburb. And it is becoming a familiar story.

A Typical Teenager

Jessica* seems like the nicest girl in the world. She’s soft-spoken, bright-eyed and as sweet as can be, the kind of girl you’d want your kids to hang out with.

For years, she’d find the kind of kids she wanted to hang out with on the streets of Levittown. That’s where the former Island Trees High School student would wander to buy her heroin—from fellow students. That is, until the night her stepmother found her in bed unconscious, blue-faced, with saliva dribbling down the side of her mouth, ODed.

“I almost died,” remembers Jessica.

In the hospital, she was shot with adrenaline through a needle in her heart, an instant detox. She remained in the hospital with a collapsed lung for a week, going cold turkey.

“I was convulsing and thrashing, trying to get out of my body,” she recalls. “I weighed 100 pounds and eight people had to hold me down. I look back at it now and cringe. I had no concept of how I was playing with death.”

She started using heroin at 15 and stayed on it for four years. Now, five years clean and 24 years old, she says, “I desire it all the time. I liked the rush and release. It was an exciting, thrilling and new experience that you just cannot feel unless you’re high.”

That’s what authorities are up against.

In The Trenches

Going to the offices of the Nassau County Police Department Narcotics/Vice Squad (NCNVS) makes you feel like you are up to no good. There, they don’t look like cops, and there’s a degree of mistrust in their eyes that cannot be shaken. It is the product of dealing with liars for a living.

Detective  Lt. Andrew Fal’s face does not carry the lines one might expect from a cop who has been on the job almost 40 years. As the commanding officer of the NCNVS, Fal has a lot on his plate. His day consists of dealing with some of the darkest aspects of the human condition, including human trafficking, prostitution and drug dealing. He has seen the drinking age change more than once, several police commissioners and county executives come and go, and crime stats go up and down in Nassau. Nothing should surprise him, really. But recently he has been shocked by something he never thought he would see again: heroin, once again taking root as a popular drug, on LI’s manicured streets.

When heroin began to show up in arrests around Nassau, especially with young people, Fal was stunned.

“I said, ‘No, this can’t be,’” says Fal, who remembers when heroin began to claim lives in Nassau 30 years ago. “I mean, how stupid are these kids?”

There is no denying that the drug is a big problem among kids in their late teens and early 20s, says Fal. Across Nassau and Suffolk, more and more arrests, overdoses and, most disturbingly, casual use, are related to the drug that is perhaps the most hardcore of all illicit substances.

According to Detective Lt. Peter Donohue, deputy commanding officer of the NCNVS, the numbers don’t lie. In 2003 in Nassau, he says, there were 102 heroin-related arrests. Last year, there were 151—a frightening increase of almost 50 percent. But those numbers can be misleading. Many people who are arrested for petty crimes, rather than drugs, are committing them for one reason—to get more heroin.

Although Suffolk police were unable to make heroin arrest statistics available as of presstime, The New York Times reported 95 fatal heroin-related overdoses in 2005 in Suffolk, compared to the 47 in 2004. Rehab clinic admissions for opiate abuse from a criminal justice referral source rose in both counties, by 32 percent in Nassau and twice as much—66 percent—in Suffolk between 2000 and 2007, according to the New York State Office of Alcohol and Substance Abuse Services.

“Heroin is emerging as a threat,” says Suffolk County District Attorney Tom Spota through his spokesman. “Over the past few years, a significant rise in the drug’s purity coupled with a greater supply on the streets has resulted in an increase in the frequency of heroin overdoses,” the spokesman added. As a result, in 2005, Suffolk County police responded by creating a special unit in the county police narcotics bureau, to track and investigate heroin overdose cases.

Detective Lt. William Burke, commanding officer of the Suffolk Police Narcotics Section, points out that there has been a shift in the heroin-abusing demographic since his rookie days three decades ago.

“When I first came on the police department, I always came across heroin junkies who were 40-year-olds. Now you will see younger kids using heroin,” he says, attributing the change to the new, stronger wave of smack. He gives another reason for the resurgence: Today’s heroin is cheaper.

“It’s a trend that’s been going on over the last several years,” adds Burke. “We have issues with heroin everywhere.”

“Obvious And Out In The Open”

According to the NCNVS, the hotbed of LI’s heroin community seems to be the South Shore communities of Massapequa, Bellmore, Merrick, Seaford, Wantagh, Copiague, Lindenhurst and Babylon.

But the epidemic does not stop there. Tony North Shore towns are also facing their own problems, Fal warns. Economics may play a role in why the rest of the Island may not hear of these issues on the Gold Coast.

“On the North Shore, the problem is well hidden behind money,” says Fal. “When a kid gets in trouble, [he or she] is sent off to rehab quietly.”

And many teenagers and young adults do seem to be in trouble. Students at Syosset High School say that there’s a pocket of seniors who have $400-a-day heroin habits. High school kids in Copiague say that their town is home to dealers who service teens. Massapequa High School students say heroin use is rampant—“obvious and out in the open”—in their school and town. At Ward Melville High School in East Setauket, the commons is called “The Pharmacy.” At Sachem North, there’s a part of the school openly known as “The Drugstore.” Lindenhurst High School students brag that they’re the “Heroin Capital of Long Island.” And in Bellmore, kids from Calhoun High School say heroin is so prevalent that in some families, it’s an intergenerational thing. Several sources from different towns report that some middle- and upper-class kids have junkie parents, and they steal their stash.

Most of the students and heroin users interviewed for this story warn that young heroin users aren’t the stereotypical-looking strung-out junkies we know from the movies. These are white middle-class kids who pass for normal, looking sweet and typical—like Jessica—but who often suffer and die silently.

“Parents need to know that their goody-goody child could be doing heroin,” says Jill*, 25, a seven-year crack and heroin user from Babylon, “and unless they pay very close attention, there are very few telltale signs until it is too late.”

“Weekends and parties are the places where most of these kids use heroin,” says one Syosset High School senior, who takes drugs but not heroin.

Across the board, the consensus is that the increasingly common path to heroin starts with what users call “pharm parties,” where kids take whatever opiate-based prescription drugs are in their parents’ medicine cabinet—Vicodin, Percocet, oxycodone—perhaps going so far as to crush the pills into a powder and sniff them. Teens who abuse prescription drugs are 12 times likelier to use heroin, according to a 2005 Columbia University study that also found that prescription drug abuse by teens tripled between 1992 and 2003.

Smackonomics

There is something very wrong when heroin is more affordable than gasoline. But, say police sources, that is exactly the situation. NCNVS’s Donohue says that heroin is cheaper and easier to get than ever before.

Users agree that it does not cost much money at all to get into the game. A small bag could cost as little as $7. Once the heroin habit really begins, junkies may start to buy in “bundles,” which could be as many as 11 or 12 bags, but usually an even 10. That could cost about $200 or less. The typical user buying in that quantity would get about two bundles, or 20 bags.

Fal says that the drugs are being sold primarily by neighborhood kids who start out by going to Brooklyn, Queens or the Bronx to buy heroin for themselves. As word begins to spread, they start to pick up heroin for friends. Suddenly, they are dealers.

“They find their trade expands exponentially,” says Fal. “They never see themselves as dealers when they are arrested. They just think they are picking up for their friends.”

“Brooklyn’s the cheapest,” says a Syosset High senior. This is confirmed by most of the junkies who find they have to go off the Island to buy their heroin after they graduate high school.

“It’s so easy to get heroin in school,” says Jessica. “When you graduate, you graduate to Brooklyn or the Bronx, and things start to get seriously dangerous.”

Most heroin users remain under the radar until their addiction causes them to commit petty crimes to support the habit. At first, they’re stealing from parents and friends. Then they get more desperate. When caught, if they don’t have heroin on them, they could be off the hook for the drug charge.

Being caught with a small amount of heroin, say, a small bag or two, is treated as a misdemeanor possession charge. The addict could be back doing the drug in just hours—or even less.

But getting caught with multiple bags could result in an intent-to-sell charge, which is big trouble for the suspect. They could wind up in custody at the worst time: when their withdrawal begins. Then it is a completely different nightmare altogether.

Not Just Horsing Around

Heroin is a hell of drug. Few substances have its immediate addictive qualities. Heroin is derived from the poppy plant, native to Southeastern Europe and Western Asia, but now is cultivated in many other parts of the world. Cops say the majority of the heroin that makes it to LI comes from countries such as Colombia, via Mexico. A member of the opiate family, which are the most addictive drugs, heroin goes right to the brain. It’s that first hit that a heroin addict will chase after, forever. It is a futile chase, as most addicts will tell you.

It’s been said by junkies that heroin is better than sex. While most would probably disagree, it makes scientific sense. In the early 1970s, scientists found that the human brain has receptors that seem to welcome opiates with open arms. Morphine, heroin, opium and other similar substances affect the part of the brain that releases endorphins, those sweet, natural brain chemicals that provide a “rush.”

Some have said the initial rush of heroin is like an orgasm, complete with flushed skin and heavy limbs. But as the drug begins to settle down and travel through the body, it acts like morphine, numbing and calming the nerves. The feeling is so pleasant that users want to do it again. And again—well, that is, if they don’t mind vomiting every once in a while. Welcome to the Terror Dome.

“Users develop a tolerance, so you need more and more heroin to feel the euphoria that is associated with the first heroin high,” says Dr. Joseph Rio, the chief toxicologist for the Nassau County Medical Examiner’s office.

Consequently, the brain urges the addict to do whatever is necessary to get that high. Of course, along the way the body begins to develop a dependence, too. Rio says that, not unlike substances like tobacco, the physical hook of heroin becomes a painful, nagging feeling.

But that tolerance is phony, because it is only the brain that is getting used to the opiate effect of the drug. The body continues to take a pounding, and there is no real tolerance level to achieve. Organs like the liver and kidneys will be damaged. And once a sniffer graduates to the needle, a host of other issues present themselves, including hepatitis B and C, HIV/AIDS, abscesses from repeated punctures not being cleaned, and other infections. Once someone begins doing heroin, there really is no upside.

Fal says, though, that this dependence works to the advantage of the cops.

“Addicts don’t want to get sick,” says Fal. “They get what we call diarrhea of the mouth.”

That is when the cops can start to break down the walls of silence built up by drug addicts.

“When we arrest addicts, they know they only have a certain amount of time before they start to sneeze, get chills, and eventually be lying on the floor in the fetal position in withdrawal,” says Donohue. And don’t forget the insatiable itching, parodied by non-users but feared by junkies.

And a junkie will do anything to get a fix. That desperation has led to recent arrests in both counties. Sources confirm a recent bevy of arrests in the Massapequa area, which they believe will continue to lead to more information.
Recently, a married couple was arrested for a string of robberies in Massapequa. The man and wife were robbing school-aged kids, tearing chains from the kids’ necks or grabbing whatever they could to fund their heroin addiction. Beyond south Nassau, on June 25 in north Suffolk, 21-year-old Victor Chunga of Smithtown was sentenced to 35 years to life for stabbing to death 70-year-old Martha Watson in her Nesconset home last December. Chunga stabbed Watson while trying to steal heroin from her grandson, Matthew Watson, who had stopped supplying Chunga with heroin. Matthew Watson was also stabbed repeatedly, but lived.

Fighting The Fire

The problem is so alarming that Nassau Police Commissioner Lawrence Mulvey and County Executive Tom Suozzi hosted a May 8 conference organized by the Nassau County Police Department for Nassau’s school administrators.

A multimedia presentation opened the eyes of school officials, for many had no idea that heroin was making such a comeback locally.

The police department announced that it was holding the meeting with school personnel from districts “located in the south corridor of Nassau County, where an increase in the use of heroin amongst teens has made a significant resurgence.” And yet, many insist that the drug is not a problem within their schools.

When asked about heroin use at Massapequa High School, Massapequa Public Schools administrators responded to the Press with fervor.

“The Board of Education and administration have never been informed of any use of heroin within the high school by our supervisory staff,” said Acting Superintendent of Schools Charles Sulc in a letter faxed and mailed to the Press. “Furthermore, the Nassau County Police Department has never been in contact with the Board of Education, nor any level of the high school or district’s administration, regarding heroin use by Massapequa High School students.”

Sulc did not return calls from the Press, relying only on the letter.

Robert Schilling, executive director, assessment, student data & technology services for Massapequa Public Schools, flatly denied any heroin incidents with Massapequa High School. He did, however, attend the police department’s conference. So what did he do with the information gleaned from such a dramatic presentation?

The school district had no comment on that question. Neither did officials from both the Copiague and Lindenhurst school districts, according to an e-mail from their publicist, Kathy Beatty.

“We had no specific [incidents] at Massapequa High School,” says Fal. “But, in general, there is a problem. And, it’s a conclusion you can make, that it is in the schools.

“We are not about mincing words,” Fal continues. “We made that presentation so all the school administrators knew that [heroin] could be coming. It’s an emerging problem. We have to create an awareness. You can’t just wait until you have a problem.”

On a recent walk through downtown Park Avenue in Massapequa Park, Massapequa High School students were observed spending their newfound summer freedom hanging out on benches lining the street. When asked, one 16-year-old boy admitted to heroin use. “It’s a good drug,” he said, while trying to persuade passersby to purchase cigarettes for him and his friends.

At nearby Brady Park, a small, informal 18th birthday remembrance for a boy from Massapequa who died unexpectedly this past March was taking place. His friends were open about the boy’s heroin use.

“Plain and simple, [Massapequa High School] has problems with dope,” said the dead boy’s 20-year-old friend from Levittown. The friend admitted that he himself is a former heroin user, right after the group at the table finished smoking some marijuana. “I don’t think [the school district] wants to admit they have a problem,” said the Levittown friend. He would know—he did heroin with the Massapequa teens.

Ask any junkie in high school, and they will probably laugh at the idea of the administration not knowing that heroin is being used by students in the school. Often, these kids do not hide the fact that they use.

Edward, now 24, took heroin while at Lindenhurst High School. He says, bluntly, “They knew who we were. It’s this generation’s drug of choice.”  This sentiment is echoed by many young heroin users.

Jessica, who once trolled the streets of Levittown for drugs as a high school student, agrees. She says, “Teachers are well aware of the heroin use. I had one girl in my English class announce to the whole class, in front of the teacher, ‘I was up all night doing heroin.’ I thought the teacher was going to flip out.”

But Alice Andersen, a licensed social worker who serves as the drug and alcohol counselor for Levittown Division High School, says she has never seen a student with a heroin problem at the school.

“Alcohol and pot have always been the drugs of choice,” she says. “We have not had one child [on heroin], or one report of heroin abuse in the school.”

Ask someone who has used, though, and you get a very different answer.

“I knew I could always get heroin from a student from Levittown,” says Jessica.

But it’s not just administrators who disagree that heroin is becoming more prevalent. Some students do as well.

“I don’t think it’s really that bad—it’s just certain kids,” says Andrew Carroll, 17, who graduated Massapequa High School in June. The former hockey team captain, taking a quick break from his job at a local deli, described the news coverage focusing on the school as “exaggerated.” Others see any trace of heroin use as something to be concerned about.

Abusing heroin leads to obvious addiction, but too often that habit will end in death. Dr. Rio explains that heroin affects the brain as it is communicating with the body. So, the brain might tell the heart to stop pumping blood, or the lungs to stop breathing. Too often, when someone who is high on heroin goes to sleep, they never wake up.

By all accounts, the heroin that is being used today is immeasurably more potent than in the past. The potency allows users to sniff heroin as opposed to shooting it at first. That is a mind trick that Fal believes gets the ball rolling in the wrong direction.

“Kids think it’s no big deal if they sniff it,” says Fal. “It takes the stigma away from the drug. The image of someone using a needle is not reality to them.”

But no matter how it’s taken, heroin use is a harsh reality. A hit of heroin that is sniffed or snorted can take up to 15 minutes to affect the brain. A subcutaneous injection—one that goes just under the skin—will make its way to the shooter’s system in about 10 minutes. But an intravenous shot, one straight into the vein, is almost instant.

“We’ve been in a little bit of an upswing,” says Kevin Leonard, clinic manager with the Suffolk County Department of Health’s Division of Community Mental Hygiene. He is careful not to term the increase a trend, describing opiate abuse as “cyclical in nature,” and noting that in his three decades in the rehab field, he’s seen lots of ups and downs in terms of heroin use.

Meanwhile, though, Fal, Burke and the rest of the cops across the Island remain steadfast in stamping out the flare-ups before they become an inferno. Fal remains astounded that heroin use is even an issue.

“With all the technology and information at their fingertips, how could these kids do heroin?” he wonders. “I mean, heroin is not just recreational. It is highly addictive. It causes problems. It increases crime.”

Fal pauses.

“And, it causes death,” he says. “They just don’t understand the consequences.”

—With additional reporting by Heather Burian

For help with heroin addiction, call Suffolk Helpline, 631-853-7374 or Nassau Helpline, 516-481-4000.

*Not their real names.