America's Most Dangerous Drug

Indeed, few municipalities, especially in rural areas, have the resources to deal with the drug's ravages: lab explosions that maim and kill cooks and their families; the toxic mess (for each pound of meth, five pounds of toxic waste are left behind); the strain on social services; the increase in violent crime. "All the social and environmental issues surrounding this drug affect society more than any of the other drugs," says Bill Hansell, president-elect of the National Association of Counties. In its survey of local law enforcement, 70 percent said robberies or burglaries have increased because of meth, as have domestic violence, assaults and identity theft; 40 percent of child-welfare officials reported an increase in out-of-home placements last year due to meth.

State and local officials generally give high marks to the Drug Enforcement Administration, which has increased its meth budget from $127.5 million in fiscal 2001 to $151.4 million in fiscal 2004 (though these figures exclude major expenses like training costs and overtime pay for local task forces) and sends Mobile Enforcement Teams to areas of the country with limited resources or experience in dealing with meth. The Justice Department is turning up the heat; in a July 18 speech to district attorneys, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales said that "in terms of damage to children and to our society, meth is now the most dangerous drug in America." And the drug czar's office has started to wake up to the problem: last year, for the first time, it took a serious look at meth and outlined what needs to be done to fight it. Its Web site for parents, www.theantidrug. com, now prominently features information like how to "Talk to Your Teen About Meth."

But a growing number of officials around the country want to see more concrete action from the White House. The drug czar's office hasn't made any legislative proposals, or weighed in on any of those coming from Capitol Hill; officials there say they want to get a better sense of what works before throwing their weight around. Members of Congress whose districts have been ravaged by the drug are forcing the issue: the ranks of the House's bipartisan "meth caucus" have swelled from just four founding members in 2000 to 118 today, and the group has been fighting the administration's efforts to cut federal spending on local law enforcement. (The House has voted to restore much of the funding; the issue awaits action in the Senate.) "To the extent that we have to choose between fighting meth and marijuana, we need to be fighting meth," says Sen. Jim Talent, Republican of Missouri, who along with Sen. Dianne Feinstein, Democrat of California, has introduced the first big federal bill to address the problem, which would put strict restrictions on the sale of pseudoephedrine-based products.

On the Hill last week, the deputy drug czar walked into a buzz saw, as members vented their frustration over his office's level of attention to the problem. "This isn't the way you tackle narcotics," said GOP Rep. Mark Souder of Indiana. "How many years do we have to see the same pattern at an increasing rate in the United States until there's something where we have concrete recommendations, not another cotton-pickin' meeting?... This committee is trying desperately to say, 'Lead!' " Despite the congressional clamor, the White House has been loath to just throw money at the problem. "Meth is a serious priority for us, as evidenced by programs like drug-endangered children, access to recovery, drug courts and community coalitions, among others," says Tom Riley, spokesman for ONDCP. "I'm afraid there's also an element of people 'crying meth' because it's a hot new drug."

The policy debate doesn't mean much to Terry Silvers, who is one of the victims in this war. Silvers, 34, worked for 19 years at Shaw carpet mill in Dalton, Ga., dreaming of the day he could open his own body shop. He had a wife, three kids and a 401(k), and he'd never missed more than a few days of work his entire life. The only illegal drug he'd tried was pot, which he used twice. One day when he was drinking with his buddies they talked him into doing some meth to wake him up for the drive home. "I snorted a line and within five seconds it was like I'd had 12 hours of sleep and wasn't drunk anymore." Soon, Silvers was snorting once or twice a week. Then someone taught him how to smoke it. When the thrill wore off, he started injecting: "firing" or "slamming," addicts call it. "Golly, it's the best feeling you ever had. It's like your mind is running 100 miles an hour, but your feet aren't moving." His weight dropped so drastically--from 180 pounds to 140--that his wife, Lisa, thought he had cancer. He grew increasingly hyperactive and began having seizures and hallucinations. When his wife figured out what the real problem was, she called the carpet mill and tried to get him into its drug- treatment program. He decided to quit his job rather than get help. Fed up, his wife confronted him one Sunday in May and told him she was leaving. "He hit me and knocked a hole in my eardrum," his wife says. His daughter Heather called 911 as her father was dragging Lisa down the steps of a neighbor's house. When NEWSWEEK met with Terry Silvers earlier this summer, he was in Whitfield County Jail, wearing leg shackles and handcuffs. "I'm not as hardened as all this looks," said a gaunt and embarrassed Silvers, who is charged with manufacturing the drug. "I think meth is one of the plagues the Bible talks about," his wife says.

In urban gay communities from New York to Los Angeles, the meth plague has been linked to an even deadlier one: AIDS. Meth makes many users feel hypersexual and uninhibited, and in the gay community that has meant a sharp increase in unsafe sex. The link between meth and HIV is undeniable: in L.A., nearly one in three homosexual men who tested positive for HIV last year reported using crystal, and that percentage has tripled since 2001, according to a new study of 19,000 men by the Los Angeles Gay & Lesbian Center. As in the early days of AIDS, the gay community is fighting to get men to change their behavior: in L.A., activists hand out buttons that declare DUMP TINA (one of meth's many nicknames). But the entreaties fall on ears deafened by meth's siren call. At this spring's annual Black Party in Manhattan, one of the big bacchanals on the gay party circuit, volunteers from Gay Men's Health Crisis handed out condoms to a crowd shaken by recent reports that a meth user had contracted what might be a new, supervirulent strain of HIV. Not 10 feet away, two revelers high on crystal were having unprotected anal sex.