Two months ago I investigated a DWI at 0910 hours on a Wednesday morning. I came up the scene, which was called out as an accident, and saw a car that had a parked car's rear wheels on its windshield. I thought the driver was dead, he was sprawled out in the front seat. Between his legs were a needle, cotton bandage with a spot of blood, and a spoon. On the passenger seat was one of the two bindles of heroin he had just purchased. His information led to the dealer who was picked up with seven bindles of H. Call it luck but the driver was not hurt. He had shot up about twenty minutes before he crashed. Drove into out city about a good thirty minutes to buy his H. Our town is pretty known for heroin, we used to have cars lined up in a certain neighborhood to buy it when the open air market was working (it is shut down). One officer is so well known by the dealers they put his likeness and name (misspelled) on bindles of heroin for sale in our city. In its heyday folks would come in from other cities to buy. Now there are houses, like crack houses. Folks that have just shot up will be on the nod, head falling over the place and real sluggish. I dealt with a female who had not shot up for 24 hours, I thought she would die in my car and in the interrogation room. She shivered, wanted to vomit, could not stay still and looked like death. That is what years of that garbage does to the body.
