Recently, I’ve been seeing and hearing people complain about some local drug busts.
The Complaint:
Why do police arrest the buyers, people with legitimate addiction problems, but not the big dealers?
This is a question I’ve asked for years. Even back when I was a police officer, I never fully understood why law enforcement avoided going after the big dealers.
The worst part? When a city puts out its arrest numbers, the general public only sees “47 drug busts this month.”
But what does that really mean?
That’s 47 arrests of addicts. Teachers. City workers. Lawyers. Blue-collar people who have a real problem.
Sure, some deserve to be arrested, but many of these people simply made a mistake or are trapped in addiction, and no one is helping them. Meanwhile, the real peddlers, the ones making the money and fueling the cycle, remain on the streets.
Inflated arrest numbers might look good on paper, but they don’t solve the real problem.
My Perspective: From Both Sides
I speak from experience.
As a former officer, I saw the numbers and the lack of quality arrests.
As an addict, I understand the dangers and consequences of addiction firsthand.
Many people don’t know this about me, but I’m okay talking about it now. I never thought I was a problem. My bills were always paid, my family taken care of and I always woke up and went to work. People like this don’t have problems right?
I was introduced to cocaine in the early ‘90s. It started as something I used off and on. Just for special occasions. Over time, I realized I was the problem. It wasn’t the drug.
I liked it. I wanted it.
Then I became a police officer. Problem solved, right?
Wrong.
I did my best to stay away, but there were times I slipped up. Years later, when I started making more money than I ever expected, I quickly realized that I could afford more of it. And I indulged more often.
I thought I was living it up.
The Wake-Up Call
Then I came across an article about an NHL player.
Being a Boston sports fan, I was always familiar with Jimmy Hayes. I knew he had passed away, but I didn’t know how or why.
Then I read the letter his brother, Kevin Hayes, wrote to him after his death.
🔗 Kevin Hayes’ Letter to Jimmy
This woke me the fuck up.
It scared the shit out of me.
I didn’t want my family, my friends, or anyone writing a letter to me after I was gone.
It doesn’t take much fentanyl to kill you instantly. And how can you be sure it’s not laced in your product?
You can’t.
And by the time you realize it, it’s too late.
The Battle to Get Clean
That day, I tried to stop.
• Clean and sober for one month.
• Three months.
• Six days.
• Failing.
I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to continue.
It was too easy to get.
It was too easy to use.
Then I remembered: I’d get arrested.
And the dealers would continue to thrive.
I didn’t want to be an inflated arrest number. More importantly, I didn’t want to be dead.
Choosing a Different Path
This is when fear and embarrassment kicked in.
• What would my family think of me?
• What would my friends and community think of me?
I thought about seeking help. I looked into NA meetings.
What I found instead was an online support group, a place where we could talk, meet, and help each other. We exchanged numbers and used this tool to reach out when the urge hit.
That was Step One.
Then came the hard part:
Cutting out the people who made using too easy.
Going through my phone and deleting every contact associated with the drug.
Digging deep inside myself, taking charge of who I am, and choosing discipline over destruction.
I’ve gone to bed trembling some nights because I wanted to get my hands on a gram or two. But I stayed strong.
I reread Kevin Hayes’ letter to his brother, again and again.
10 Months Clean. No Going Back.
I am clean.
I have zero desire to ever use again.
And as of December 24, 2024, I have cut out alcohol completely as well.
This was my choice.
And it has led me to a healthier, happier life.
The Hard Truth
It’s not always possible.
It’s definitely not easy.
But it is 100% doable.
Especially if you surround yourself with supportive friends and family.
And sometimes, it doesn’t hurt to scare the absolute shit out of yourself.
I never became part of the inflated arrest numbers.
I beat my addiction.
And I will spend the rest of my life saying NO.
Final Thoughts
• The system is broken. Big dealers stay free while blue-collar workers become statistics.
• Help is limited. It’s not often offered, and law enforcement isn’t always on your side.
• Recovery is possible. But going it alone is often a losing battle.
If you’re struggling, I’m here.
I’ll listen.
I’ll help.
I’ll walk with you.
Because I’ve been there.
