Meth affects local family
Editor’s note: This is part one of a three-part series on the dangers of methamphetamine and how it can affect families.
Upon entering her ranch-style Windsor home on a bright Saturday afternoon, Linda Gannaway, 62, explains apologetically that she overslept and has not finished cleaning, but her home is neat and perfect. The walls are covered with the photographs of people she loves and cares about.
She sits at the kitchen counter, her back to the refrigerator decorated with the pictures of grandchildren, nieces and nephews watching over her shoulder. Her eyes squint a little as she smiles, big and toothy, and sips on a cup of coffee. Tanned skin dotted with freckles completely contrasts, yet complements, her white cotton shorts and oversized shirt.
Linda’s comfortable and cheery demeanor slowly fades as she describes how crystal meth crept into her happy family and slowly ripped it apart. Little by little she carefully puts the pieces back together, copes and takes control.
Linda’s eldest daughter loved to sing when she was young and wanted to become the lead singer of a band. Instead Pam Williamson became a full-time bank teller, had two sons and a man who loved her.
Pam, rebellious and a “real risk-taker,” was “always a little beast,” Linda says, with a nervous laugh in an attempt to soften the tense mood.
As Pam grew older, she and Linda did not keep in touch. She never suspected her daughter’s involvement with meth. Things changed and people began to talk. The entire town of Windsor could have known, but Linda still had no idea that her daughter was making and using meth.
The facts
Meth, currently the No. 1 plague of rural areas of America, is quickly becoming one of the most abused drugs in the nation.
According to the Illinois attorney general Web site, state and local police seized nearly 1,200 meth labs in Illinois in 2005. Coles County had 41 of those. Coles County is ranked sixth of 103 counties in Illinois for the most lab seizures as of 2005, according to the Illinois attorney general’s Web site.
This highly addictive stimulant can be smoked, snorted, ingested or injected and can create an addict after as little as one or two uses. Meth is similar to caffeine but more powerful, addictive and dangerous by creating a euphoric rush that eventually leads to deep depression, a decline in physical and mental health, and paranoia.
“Well, I would hear things from different people that would make me wonder,” Linda said.
About three years ago, when Pam did not show up for her father’s memorial service and offered “wild stories” instead, Linda watched closely and did not like what she saw.
Pam, while in her 30s, would arrive to family functions late and she spoke fast and loud, Linda said. Her personal hygiene was lacking.
“With Pam you couldn’t ever really tell,” Linda says, as a confused look washes over her face.
She did not lose weight or have problems with her teeth, like many other meth addicts.
Aside from the physical and mental effects, Linda discovered how meth affects the family.
Pam’s sons, Brian and Derrick, were home Feb. 20, 2004 – the day their parents were arrested. They watched as their father ran out the door, fought the police and resisted arrest and as their mother’s hands were cuffed.
Since no family members were available at the time, a social worker from the Department of Child and Family Services picked up the two boys. By the time anyone was able to take them, it was too late – Brian and Derrick were wards of the state.
Linda could not take the boys. As much as she wanted to, it was not an option.
“DCFS was a godsend,” Linda said. “We couldn’t handle this alone.”
One of the saddest parts of Linda Kingery’s job as a child protective services worker for DCFS is taking children away from their parents, school, home and friends.
Her top priority, “first, do no harm,” includes reuniting families, because she wants to make a permanent home for the children.
When finding these homes, relatives are at the top of the list, but sometimes this is not always possible.
“It is always sad,” Kingery says, reflecting on her 20 years of experience. “Children are being re-victimized.”
Children adapt and adjust to their living conditions. What most consider bad, they see as home. They learn to live where they are raised. Even though the protective services worker “saves” them, the kids do not see it that way, Kingery said. Although their homes are unsafe, all they see are strangers taking them away from everything they know.
Linda slowly takes the few steps to the coffee pot and carefully pours another dark cup.
She came home from work to find a message on her answering machine from DCFS. She called and was informed that Pam had been arrested and of the circumstances.
Until then, Linda had not known for certain the depth of her daughter’s problems.
Someone “ratted them out” about three years ago, Linda said, informing the police of an old barn near Pam and husband Willie’s trailer, where they were making meth.
Linda, wanting Pam to take responsibility for her actions, stood back, but she never expected the outcome.
Pam was convicted of a Class X felony for manufacturing and possessing more than 600 grams of liquid meth. She received the minimum sentence of 15 years, but will serve seven and a half years after receiving day-for-day credit, meaning that every day she serves counts as two.
Pam was arrested nearly three years ago and entered the Lincoln Correctional Center, a high-minimum security facility, on June 24, 2004.
“It’s been a real struggle,” Linda said. “I went the day they sentenced her – to know that they were taking my daughter away – and possibly for 15 years.”
Pam wanted her mother to be with her in the courtroom. Linda didn’t want to be there, but she went – alone.
“Shocked but not, I guess. It was quite a blow. I guess I was expecting it.”
Linda tried to be brave, but her attempt failed.
Pam, who needed her mother for support, became – for a brief moment – the rock and consoled Linda. Thirty minutes passed before Linda regained her composure.
“She’s in there with people that have committed murder,” Linda says, allowing wariness to creep through her otherwise cool and collected demeanor.
Willie, whose sisters helped hire a lawyer, received a lesser sentence of 10 years, which was then halved to five years. When good behavior and work release are factored in, he will serve about three and a half to four years. He will be released soon.
The boys
Linda was upset and worried, but she was more concerned with what would happen to Pam’s two boys. Once Pam has been behind bars for so long, the state takes away all parental rights, Linda said.
Although the numbers are not definite and factors vary from case to case, sometimes parents will retain parental rights if they show improvement within 15 of the last 22 months of their sentence, Kingery said.
Brian and Derrick, scared, upset, homesick and devastated, have been moved three times.
Brian, now 15, reacted to his parents’ convictions with anger and rebellion, not following rules nor doing his homework. Derrick, 11, who deeply misses his mother, just wants to fit in and tells his brother to stop making waves.
From foster home to foster home, Brian is slowly adjusting and things are getting better.
The boys stay with their grandmother every other weekend, and she lets them know how special they are to her and how proud she is of them. She wants them to feel loved.
“All in all, they’re good kids,” Linda said.
She takes the boys to see their mother and father once a month, which is a difficult task, as Pam is in Lincoln, north of Springfield, and Willie is in Vandalia, nearly a four-hour separation.
It does not bother the boys as much now to see their mother, and to some extent they understand why she is in there.
In four years, when Pam is released from the Lincoln Correctional Center, Brian will be 20 and Derrick will be 16.
‘Almost a relief’
“All the family gatherings and holidays,” Linda quietly said. “That’s time that can never be replaced. All these years are gone.”
“It’s not a good thing, but good’s come of it,” Linda said. “At times it was almost a relief.”
She no longer has to worry that a passing fire engine or ambulance is making its way to Pam’s home.
For the first time in a long time the two can visit and carry on conversations. Now Pam, 44, thanks her mother for every visit, her love and constant support.
Pam calls Linda on a regular basis – Collect, of course – from the correctional facility. Even though it is expensive, Linda does not seem to mind.
Linda does not blame herself. It is not her fault that her daughter is in prison for using and manufacturing meth, she reasons.
“I could’ve done better, but she always knew that I was here for her,” Linda says, just above a whisper. “It definitely wasn’t the future that I had planned for her.”
