So, you want to be a crack dealer. The way I hear it, there are several entry-level positions open in that thriving business. It’s a supply and demand trade and the demand is as high as ever.

You could be a host to out-of-state crack traffickers who will pay your rent and supply you with a little rock on the side. All you really need to qualify is a home and an agonizing addiction to the drug. Fringe benefits include frequent contact with strung-out customers, a spiraling descent into sickness and a never-ending threat of arrest.

You could be a runner and peddle the drug for the big boys. This is your chance to expose yourself to enraged, violent customers and the sharp eyes of police. Every day is a hustle for the next deal. Every day is fraught with danger.

You could move the drug into Lewiston from southern parts of the state. But those jobs are mostly filled by organized men and women from Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, the Carolinas. They work with family members to ensure loyalty. They bring crack to Maine where customers are willing to pay far more than it sells for south of here.

A crazy world, the world of crack. Always shifting but mostly the same. Every time police do a drug sweep it’s like pulling tissues from a box. Take one out, another moves into place.

The men and women who come up from the lower states do their homework. They scout out the addicts, especially those with established apartments, trailers or houses. These savvy dealers prefer women – particularly those with children – who are more vulnerable and less likely to try to take over. They treat the addict to parties and supply all of the rock. But when the music ends and the free crack is all gone, the addict has no money to pay for it.

Fine. An arrangement can be made. The out-of-state dealers move into the addict’s home and they stay right there. They fork over crack for the addict to sell and they stay behind the scenes, collecting profit.

The crack-addicted host may never know the names of dealers living with her. But she gets a piece of the rock for her own consumption while living a day-to-day life of precarious maneuvering.

“It keeps the addict high, it keeps the addict funded and it keeps the addict in constant contact with the customer,” says Maine Drug Enforcement Agency supervisor Gerry Baril. “They are servicing their addictions and they are increasing their addictions. They are the ones who are probably most at risk.”

Of the crack users I’ve known, not one has used the drug casually. Every moment is contaminated by obsession with the smoke at hand, or worry about where the next one will come from.

The runners, on the other hand, often don’t touch the stuff. They are local men, women and teens who bring rock from dealer to customer whenever called upon. They’re in it for the money. They live hand to mouth.

“Sometimes, they’re homeless or living with friends. They have no full-time means of support,” according to Baril. “They are the ones who are exposed to the angry customer. They are the ones who are exposed to law enforcement. They are the ones who are going to pay the price when things go bad.”

Money and addiction, evil twins. Desperation is profitable and those hooked on crack are desperate.

Meanwhile, the brains behind the operation are getting huge amounts of money wired to them. Crack comes up, from Jamaica, Columbia and the Dominican Republic. Money goes down, to Holyoke, the Bronx, Newark.

Dealers come and go and addicts are dying by the gram.

The recent drug arrests have been impressive. Drug agents these days target serious traffickers while local police pick off the street level users one-by-one.

But after the arrests are announced and the press does its thing, drug agents are not kicking back and congratulating one another for eliminating the problem. The addicts stay addicted and the money machine keeps cranking. The faces change but the system keeps working, with little modification.

“It’s a very parasitic drug that takes over your mentality,” Baril says. “It takes away your reason. You just want more and more.”

Job security for many willing to take the risk. Sheer necessity for those who can’t bring themselves to put down the crack pipe.

Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter.

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