Mark Lindquist’s King of Methlehem

The detective novel finally has a new plot and a rich new crime background. After years of murder mysteries, cocaine trades, and oval office intrigue, the thriller has sick new lore to use as a backdrop. Mark Lindquist makes full use of the methamphetamine epidemic in the northwest and he succeeds in making his characters and the plot realistic. The formula draws on all the classics- hard drinking cop, mouthy, ego-inflated perp, desperate tweakers who have lost their way, and enough courtroom politics and legalese to move the plot along. The pages turn all by themselves: while I’m the kind of reader that plods through a dozen books at a time, this one I read cover to cover in one day. And though the plot and the sick sad life of the characters takes central stage, Lindquist doesn’t weaken his aim during the details: he never forgets small clues in the setting, descriptions of what’s on a character’s book shelf, or dialogue that shows what someone is thinking.

The King of Methlehem prides himself on being the best methamphetamine cook in Pierce County, Washington, and evading arrest. He’s a classic sleaze ball who likes his domain: he knows meth is more addictive and hence more profitable than other drugs. He also likes the risk that goes with making it; the explosions and the danger make him feel really important. While he’s a dirty bastard, playing head games with 12-year old girls to get them into his stuff, and into his pants as well, the full cast of tweakers reveals that most start out as normal people looking for a good time, for more energy at work, or looking to stay thin.

While hardly a psychological study, there are enough details to richly illustrate the interior hell of the speed freak. What struck me most was how universal some specific minutiae of madness are: the addicts all have half- dead cars in their lots that they take apart and put back together constantly. I used to see car parts and pieces of stereo with the cords cut off laying in yards, and wondered what the hell. Then a meth addict moved into my house and began taking apart the VCR and the light fixtures and tinkering around. Now when I see engine parts and electrical devices removed and piled up I know meth is not far. I still don’t know why this is universal- my roommate was looking for recording devices, and Lindquist says the speeding mind needs a mechanical mess to focus into. Either way, it’s creepy.

Wyatt is a good cop who loves his job and moved to meth enforcement to escape the stress of homicide. He was naïve then, but not now. He found the pain and madness meth caused to be a world different from any other kind of drug. He loves his job though, and notices all kinds of puzzle pieces that other cops miss, making him good at the new position. He knows that the megalomania and fearlessness meth causes are unique challenges- his perps don’t care if they die and they’re inside some other world altogether that he has to bridge. He’s not sentimental about it but he does recognize how this drug can twist a normal soul into a deranged, barely human skeleton. He also knows that years of law enforcement crying wolf is partially to blame- no one believes the “this is your brain on drugs” story when it’s been told so often and is so obviously a lie. Sadly, with crystal methamphetamine, it’s true.

Death is the Icing on the Cake: Jerry Langton’s Iced-Crystal Meth, the Biography of North America’s Deadliest New Plague

Ever hear a speed  addict tell you meth makes you smarter? It seems to be a popular delusion, even among those who had (or once had) a reasonable level of intelligence. Just before they start moaning about hidden cameras and microphones, they tell you how their IQ jumped 30 points. It’s easy to laugh at the obvious incongruity, yet anyone who has loved someone whose life was slam-dunked by methamphetamine knows it’s not funny. They know it’s incredibly difficult to get help, and that recovery is pretty much a delusion, no matter how hard the user tries.

Finally, someone explains the mysterious, monstrous world of crystal methamphetamine. Toronto writer Jerry Langton began his strange journey while writing a book about the Canadian Hell’s Angels. Meth was once the territory of bikers and wartime suicide bombers, but now its bizarre and tragic legacies are epidemic across North America, ambushing all sorts of communities the way no other drug has. Everything they told you in grade five health class about madness, instant addiction, and robbing (or raping) your mother for marijuana has come true- about meth. Iced: Crystal Meth, the Biography of North America’s Deadliest New Plague never gets hysterical though the facts are truly nightmarish. Meth is an epidemic of virulent proportions, spreading rapidly throughout the world, devastating families, police forces, hospitals, and even the environment. It’s a war that shows no signs of slowing down. Did you know that trees near meth labs die? Did you know that houses that were formerly meth labs cause cancer in the new, squeaky-clean tenants? Did you know that hospitals are closing down because the majority of patients in their burn units are meth cooks and their family members, usually people who won’t be able to pay for their treatment after their profits blow up with their faces?

The human mind and body are pretty  resilient and stand up to all kinds of abuse and experiment. Langton unscrews your head and shows what’s happening upstairs when you mix meth with your brain. It just might be that fried egg you saw on TV- “this is your brain on drugs.” Well, everyone knows that the odd New Year’s on blow or an occasional hippie-fest isn’t going to kill you overnight and that you’ve got plenty of brain cells to spare. You might end up an addict- there’s no doubt that millions of lives have been ruined by cocaine. But it’s usually not after one hit. Everyone’s different, of course, and that’s a chance you take when you do anything. You might get hit by a bus on the way to work, too. But what if the chances were pretty much certain that after a few times, you, too will be tapping the walls for hidden microphones, convinced your family is not really real, and willingly risk an exploding death to make more crank? What if this drug really does change your personality, not just enhance it or bring out the worst? There’s too much talk about ‘strong minds’ and not enough talk about science. Langton shows the science of meth and it’s terrifying.

“Although scientists anticipated the fact that meth would have a significant effect on brain tissue, few were prepared for what they saw the first time a user’s brain was image mapped,” Langton writes. UCLA’s Paul Thompson told him, “It was shocking, it was like a forest fire of brain damage.” Cocaine prolongs the time that dopamine lingers in the brain- meth forces your brain to “crank” it out. Hence, the high is (apparently) unlike anything you’ve ever felt. There is nothing in nature that will spew so much dopamine. With these massive surges, you DO have heightened senses, sharpened intelligence, supersonic auditory and other sensory abilities. Your brain treats you to feeling like superman a few times. And after that, you have nothing. After that, you may never feel anything again, even on the drug. This is why the depression and suicide rates are so high and recovery rates are so low. There’s no turning back, and there’s nothing left of your mind. Much of the brain damage from methamphetamine is permanent.

Though web sites proliferate on meth and risk management, or harm reduction, the scientific truth is not on this drug’s side. There’s managing the risk of starving to death, which may be the appeal for the diet-obsessed faction who never took drugs recreationally but got hooked on meth. Want to lose your teeth? Though the sites say that “meth mouth” is a myth, Langton observes that “five out of five dentists” know it’s true. Anyone who has watched ‘meth mom makeovers’ on crappy talk television can rest assured those hideous hags are the rule, not the exception. Meth would make Marilyn Monroe look like something out of Michael Jackson’s Thriller.

Langton does his research and lets you decide. There’s not much to refute in the troubling picture he presents. The saddest thing I’m left with is overall hopelessness: a drug that is so addicting, rehab is a joke. There’s not much left of life after meth. Suicide is often the only way out, even for addicts who have shown enormous strength in abstaining. Everyone I know who was addicted to methamphetamine first entered their love affair claiming that meth made them happier and smarter. Not much further into the cycle, even the non-religious ones  declared the drug to be the Devil itself, a demon, Lucifer, or hell. This book will help you understand why your loved ones can’t necessarily just decide to get better. When I accused one beloved friend of loving meth more than he loved me, he just sobbed, “Not because I wanted to.” I’m not one to subscribe to the sweeping sentimentality of the Just Say No generation, but Just Say Know has led me to a blanket condemnation of this sick, twisted mind game straight from hell. Meth is not derived from plants and supported in anthropology by happy animals or by shamanic rituals- it comes from poisons underneath your sink. Battery acid, drain cleaner, gasoline, lantern fuel, hydrochloric acid- enjoy.

Will you get addicted if you try it? More than likely, though maybe not. If you’ve already tried it and it “didn’t work” or “did nothing for you”, count yourself lucky.  On  scales used to measure addictiveness, meth gets a 98 out of 100. “Nothing else, (not even crack) breaks the 80 mark,” Langton writes. Langton knows that drug statistics aren’t always reliable, so he doesn’t use one terrible stat for shock value. He paints with a broader brush, and questions how the stats were measured. But no matter what source he looks to, one thing is clear- even the worst statistics are understatements.

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