The Heroin Scene in Fort Myers

by Oliver Markus Malloy

  I answered the phone right in front of the police officer and told Haley one last time to give my drives back, and told her that if she continued to deny it, I would just hang up and file a report with the officer who was standing right in front of me. She denied it again, so I hung up on her.

  The next time the phone rang, I picked up again, and a voice said: "Please come get me! Ron hit me again. This time I broke up with him for good."

  Wait. What?

  "Huh? Who is this? And who is Ron?" I asked.

  "It's me, Jennifer," the voice said. "Can you come and get me?"

  Remember Jennifer the gold digger who looked better than Jenna Jameson? I used to see her for a while, while I was living in that big house in Pennsylvania. She and I had talked about moving in together a few times, and she had asked me to come rescue her a couple of times, when she and her alcoholic boyfriend Ron had yet another violent fight.

  But after I met Alice and stopped seeing Jennifer, we didn't talk for a few weeks, and then I saw on Jennifer's Facebook page that she and Ron moved to Dallas. I didn't hear from her in well over a year, and suddenly, out of nowhere, she called me to come and get her in Texas. While I was in the middle of filing a police report, because Haley had stolen my hard drives. You can't make this shit up. Well, you could, but why would you want to?

  I told Jennifer that I was sorry I couldn't help her right now, and that I was dealing with my own crisis at the moment. Then I sat down with the officer and filled out the paperwork for the report. He asked me how much the drives were worth.

  "Well, they're used," I said, "so they're probably not worth more than $50 each. But to me they are irreplacable because all my photos are on those drives. I can't replace those. And all my work is saved on them."

  "Sorry, but if the value of the stolen property is less than $300, we don't do anything," the deputy explained.

  "What? So you're not gonna do anything?" I asked in disbelief.

  "Nope. I'm going to take your report, but as soon as I walk out of your door, I'm going to close your case," he said.

  Unfuckingbelievable. I was about to lie and pretend that Haley had stolen some cash, too, so that the total value would be over $300. But then the phone rang again. It was Haley.

  "Look, I swear I didn't take your drives. But to save our relationship, I'll do whatever I can to help you find them, ok?" she said.

  Remember that little joke, about the alcoholic and the drug addict? The addict will steal from you and then help you look for it.

  "Whatever," I said. "As long as I get my drives back, I really don't care who took them."

  "I swear I didn't take them. I think maybe Rodney stole them. I know a lot of people, so I'll ask around for you, ok? Please don't file a report, I promise you'll get your drives back tonight," she said.

  "Ok, if I get my drives back tonight, I'll drop the charges," I promised.

  "She agreed to give me my stuff back," I told the officer. "I'm going to meet up with her on Palm Beach."

  "Oh no you're not," the officer said sternly. "You're going to get yourself killed."

  "Well, if you guys aren't gonna do anything, I really don't have a choice. I need my drives back," I said.

  "That's really foolish," the officer said.

  I gave him her full name and the address where I was going to meet her. I told him that if I turned up dead, it was her fault.

  On my way to the shitty little trap house off of Palm Beach, Haley called me. She was hysterically crying again: "OH MY GOD! HE HAS A GUN! HE'S GOING TO KILL US!!"

  "What? Who? Who has a gun?" I asked. I thought maybe she was talking about Rodney. Or some other dope boy at that house. Maybe he got pissed when he heard that because of Haley I had alerted the police and now he was afraid he was going to get arrested, too.

  "Do you want me to call the cops?" I asked.

  "No, they're already outside," she cried. I could barely understand her, because she was sobbing so hard again. But from the little that I did understand, I think she said something about some kind of a stand off between some guy with a gun and the cops. She was hiding in the closet, waiting for me to come get her.

  "There better not be some guy with a gun waiting for me when I get there," I said. "Or I won't even stop. I'll drive right by and call the cops and they'll put you in jail."

  When I finally got to the house, I realized just how stupid I really was. What the hell was I thinking, driving into the hood, to a house where some angry guy with a gun was waiting for me because I had called the cops? Did I have some kind of death wish? Apparently yes.

  I stopped about 40 feet away from the house, while leaving the engine running. I figured that distance would give me enough reaction time to speed away if I saw anyone other than Haley come out of the house and approach my car. Man I wished I had a gun right now.

  I saw two or three shady characters prowl around the house, but none of them was paying any attention to me. Then someone else emerged from the house and approached my car. It was Rodney. My heart was pounding. He had something in his hand. A gun?

  I could tell by his body language that he was not aggressive. He was scared. When he reached the car, I rolled down my window. He was clearly more afraid of me than I was of him.

  "Haley said you called the cops," he said.

  "Yeah, I did. She stole from me."

  "Please don't have us arrested," he begged.

  "I gave her my word that I won't, as long as she gives my drives back," I said confidently. I felt like Dirty Harry there for a minute. I got the hood running scared!

  He handed me one of my hard drives and told me she was going to come out and bring me the other drive. When she finally came out, she was still crying. She opened the passenger side door, but wouldn't get in yet. "Do you promise not to have me arrested?" she asked me.

  "Yes, I promise. And you know I always keep my word."

  She got in the car and told me she had sold my hard drive to Lorne, the 70-year-old who only had one arm. On our way to his house, she explained that there had been some sort of drug dispute between one of the dope boys staying at the trap house where she was staying, and some other dope boy. The other guy showed up with a gun and threatened to shoot everyone. Then the dope boy who stayed at the trap house called his buddies for back up, and those were the guys I had seen prowling around the house. They were standing guard in case the other guy came back.

  Once we arrived at Lorne's house, Haley asked me for $30 so she could buy my drive back from him.

  "Are you fucking kidding me? Get my fucking drive back! Tell him I will have him arrested for dealing in stolen property if he won't give my stuff back," I yelled.

  She got out of the car, walked up to the door, talked to Lorne for three or four minutes, and then returned with my drive.

  "I am so sorry," she cried. "I can't believe I stole from you."

  "I can't believe it either," I said with a sad tone in my voice.

  "It's those fucking drugs. When I take Xanax and drink, I black out. I do all sorts of crazy shit, and then I don't remember anything afterwards," she said.

  I didn't really know what to say, so I just gave her a hug. Veronica was about to be released from jail and go into the Salvation Army rehab program. I wasn't going to hang out with Haley anymore anyway, because I had promised Veronica I'd be faithful to her, and I had kept my word so far. So I figured this would be the last time I'd see Haley. I was wrong.

  A few weeks later, Haley called me and told me that she had a really bad infection in her cheek. She had been picking her face while smoking crack, and one of the scabs got really infected. As it turned out later, it was MRSA. She needed me to take her to the emergency room. Of course I did.

  SALVATION ARMY REHAB

  "Addiction should never be treated as a crime. It has to be treated as a health problem. We do not send alcoholics to jail in this country. Over 500,000 people are in our jails who are nonviolent drug users."

  Ralph Nader
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br />   When Veronica was finally released from jail in September 2012, she had gained about 50 pounds. She was still pretty, but she had chubby chipmunk cheeks now. She didn't look like a tall, blonde Lothlórien Elf from Lord of The Rings anymore. They brought her to the Salvation Army on Edison Avenue. It's not only a homeless shelter but also a rehab center.

  Inmates/patients are not allowed to have cell phones in rehab, but Veronica asked me to bring her one anyway. I had a bad feeling, but she told me she wanted it so she could text me from her room at night. She said it would help her pass the time until she could finally come home to me.

  Veronica also wanted to color her hair, from blonde back to her original dark brown, because in jail her roots had grown out so much, her hair was a mess. They're not allowed to have hair dye in rehab, but after being there just two days, Veronica told me she had met a guy who would get her some from Walmart. Right there I knew something was going on. Why else would this guy risk going back to prison for violating the rehab rules, to bring her illegal contraband?

  His name was Dee. He had been in prison for selling drugs. He was a short black kid who tried to look like Lil Wayne. He had long dreads and lots of tattoos. He only had about one more month to go, before completing the 6 month program.

  During the first 2 months, patients are not allowed to leave the rehab center. In the next 4 months, they are allowed to leave and look for work. Once they have reached certain milestones, they get day passes on Sundays and are allowed to spend a few hours at home with family.

  The fact that Dee was willing to risk going back to prison by smuggling contraband into the rehab center, so close to completing the program, made me suspicious. Right after I gave Veronica the cell phone, I hacked it, to see what she would do with it. My instincts were right again.

  As soon as she turned the phone on, she started texting Dee, not me. She told him she would send him naked pictures of herself and asked him for a picture of his dick. And she asked him to bring her chicken wings from KFC.

  Then she started texting me and told me how much she supposedly loved me. I didn't really know how to respond to that. Should I tell her already that I could see everything she was doing on her cell phone? Or should I wait and gather some more intel first? If I waited, she would send that piece of shit thug naked pictures of herself and then she'd probably fuck him in some dark corner. I couldn't handle that. Then she called him. I could hear everything she was saying. She called him babe, and the way they were talking to each other left no doubt that there was something going on between them.

  When she texted me again a few minutes later, and asked me why I was acting weird, I told her I had hacked the phone and saw that she was about to send naked pictures to some lowlife thug. I told her I was done with her and that I wanted nothing to do with her anymore.

  She was shocked that I knew what she was doing. Then she put one of her 3 roommates on the phone, and had that girl lie to me, pretending that this other girl had borrowed Veronica's phone and that she was the one who had been texting and calling Dee, not Veronica.

  I told the other girl that I knew she was lying. The fact that Veronica was not only cheating on me, but that her so-called friends knew all about it and they were all conspiring against me by helping her deceive me, pissed me off even more.

  When Veronica got back on the phone I told her she was a lowlife piece of shit and a worthless whore. I told her never to call me again. She was really upset and asked me to please come to viso the next day, so we could talk. I didn't really see what there was to talk about, but the next day, on Sunday, I went to visit her at 2 pm anyway.

  In jail I had only been able to see her on a video screen during visos, but at the Salvation Army, patients and their visitors were allowed to meet in the same room, in a small chapel. Chairs were arranged in about 15 different little groups of 2 or 3 chairs each, that faced each other.

  I quietly sat across from Veronica with my arms crossed and an angry look on my face. She was so upset, she was trembling. At first she tried to make light of it: "I didn't do anything! I didn't cheat on you! I was just texting him!"

  "No, you weren't just texting him. You were flirting with him, and you were about to send him naked pictures, if I hadn't stopped you and told you I knew what you were doing," I calmly replied in a hostile tone.

  "I really don't care about Dee. I don't even like guys. You're the only guy I want to be with," she said with tears in her eyes.

  "Then why the fuck would you send him naked pictures?"

  "I was just gonna send him those pictures so he would bring me chicken wings," she said. As if that was a legitimate excuse. As if the fact that she was whoring herself out for chicken wings made it all ok somehow. How fucking damaged in the head was this girl?!?

  "We both know what comes next. First you send him naked pictures for chicken wings, then you suck his dick for cigarettes or fuck him for drugs," I said angrily. I was so disgusted with her.

  "I'm so so sorry," she said, still trembling with anxiety.

  "You're not sorry for cheating on me. You're just sorry you got caught," I replied. I had seen on her phone that she had not only cheated on me with Dee, but also logged into her old Gmail account, and downloaded all her drug contacts into the new Android phone I had given her. She was texting all those guys too, telling them she couldn't wait to hook up with them. She was drug networking, while she was in rehab. Obviously that's exactly the reason why addicts aren't supposed to have phones when they're in rehab. I felt like an idiot for letting her talk me into giving her a phone.

  "I love you! Please give me another chance. I want to prove to you that I can be a good girlfriend. I'm never going to cheat on you or hurt you again, I swear!" she said. Her face was pale and sweaty. She was so anxious, she looked like she was going to throw up. She wasn't faking that. She really was genuinely upset.

  She had fucked so many different guys and girls while she was living on the streets, walking along 41 as a crackwhore and bouncing from one cheap motel to the next, did one more guy really make any difference at this point? Not really.

  Yeah, I was really really hurt and upset. But I wasn't naive. I knew she was a crackwhore, and I knew that that life was all she knew for the past few years, ever since she was a teenager. I knew it wouldn't be easy for her to change. I had anticipated that she would cheat on me. I was by no means ok with it, but was I really willing to throw her away just because she was damaged?

  "Ok, I'll give you one more chance," I said. "But if I find out you're still talking to Dee, or texting him, or even just looking at him in the hallway, I'm done. And don't even think about texting any of those other dope boys again."

  She told me again that she loved me and how sorry she was, and that this was never going to happen again. She promised she was going to have nothing whatsoever to do with Dee or any other guy from now on.

  She calmed down a little bit, but she was still very anxious. Then she told me that when she's really nervous, she gets diarrhea. So that's why she had been sweating and looked so pale. She was trying not to shit her pants. We hugged and kissed, and then she ran to the bathroom.

  As soon as I left, I hacked her phone again. I was going to check for myself if she was really being good now. I wasn't just going to take her word for it.

  Not even half an hour after the end of our viso, Veronica asked Nancy, one of her roommates, to call one of Dee's roommates and relay a message to him. The guy Nancy was talking to wasn't sure who the message was for at first, so Nancy said: "It's for Dee. You know, Veronica's dude. Tell him Veronica wants to meet him in the cafeteria."

  Veronica's dude? So everyone in rehab knew they were dating. What the FUCK?!?

  I didn't know what was more baffling, her audacity, or her stupidity. Veronica thought by having her roommate talk to Dee's roommate, somehow I wouldn't catch on to the fact that she was still talking to Dee, still flirting with him, still hanging out with him, still dating him, and probably still fucking h
im. I guess she thought I could only read her texts, but not hear actual conversations.

  I texted her that I knew she was still dating Dee and that they were about to meet in the cafeteria, and I told her once again what a lying lowlife piece of shit she was, and that it was over. I really wanted nothing to do with her anymore.

  I had complete control over her phone, so I was able to turn on the microphone even while her phone was not in use. While I was texting her, I could hear everything that was going on in her room. Her roommate Nancy had the phone in her hands and was texting some other inmate. They were dating and having sex. They were texting about where they were going to meet up next to fuck without getting caught by the rehab staff.