There was a neighbor boy who was into smoking white powder. At that time it was called free-basing. I am not sure why it was ever called free-base, there is nothing free about it.
Mary Taylor

Mary SFYB Outreach

Actually it is the most expensive drug on the market and has bankrupted almost everyone who’s ever laid their hands on it. Maybe that’s why we change the name to the appropriate one “crack”—-everything in your life cracks and crumbles in two. Anyway, when he asked me to try a hit I was not even hesitant. The feeling was immediate. Right away I knew I was in trouble and knew I was in a lot of trouble but I didn’t care, the feeling outweighed all logic and common sense. By the next day my hands were rocking my own white powder to smoke this freebase. I learned how to become a scientist, a chemist and a full-blown idiot. 

Once again, I didn’t even think about the consequences of that decision. I didn’t care that it would forever alter the course of my life.

I want to say my life was over that very day, but that would be a lie. I had been a dead girl walking for a long time and drowning my feelings in some form of addiction. But smoking white powder did something to me no other drug did. Yes, it took me away from me and turned me against me. It took me away from everyone and then turned me against everyone but the hunt was more intense.

It was more powerful and the monkey was stronger.

I am always hunting for the people who do what I’m addicted to and it didn’t matter who you were. It didn’t matter where you were from or what you looked like that freebase rock was my master. I wonder who is going to win this war? I was not equipped for this fight; I was not prepared for these consequences. The biggest change for me was where I ended up. The neighborhoods I ended up in that were so much more dangerous. The things my hands were holding and touching changed. The places I allowed myself to live changed. Even the pillow my head was sleeping on changed. Well my whole entire life changed after that first hit…THAT VERY FIRST HIT…  

After six years of being addicted to snorting white powder my hands finally put down the dirty rolled up bill that I used to snort white powder…


I left that apartment complex in my truck filled with my belonging…with one goal in mind more hits of freebase….


I ended up in really dangerous street that were filled with gangs and drugs, prostitutes and violence.

Back then, 99% of the street people were not into the glass pipe. They were into the needle.  There is a hierarchy among the druggies that live in the streets but I don’t care. I was gonna hang out with you junkies anyway. Because it doesn’t matter who you are where you are from or what you look like. If you are on the hunt I will find you. It’s as if my truck had a drug antenna on it and knew exactly where to go to score. 


As soon as I drove into the hood I heard a whistle and slowed down to look.

And then a stranger ran to my truck. It surprised me at first, but then he asked me “What are you looking for?” I told him “I was hunting for white powder.” “How much?” Was the next question. When I told him how much I wanted he ran behind one of the buildings and came back with my order. I paid the guy and drove away. This person who ran to my car is called a runner and that is their street job. This job keeps the actual drug dealer from getting arrested. The runner gets paid in what is called a kickback or a sconte. For every sale this runner makes he gets paid for the sale in drugs. He is also a drug addict.

I would score my white powder and drive to a Park a few blocks away. I would rock my own freebase to smoke and then wait to disappear. I noticed that there were people living in their vehicles at that park and that’s where I started living too.

I am now living in my truck. I sold my belongings for a couple hits and shortly after my truck was impounded.

So what I lost my truck, my home! But without a truck I stood out like a sore thumb. There aren’t too many white girls with blond hair running these deadly streets. Now, I am an easy target and I really don’t even care. I only care about that next hit, that next fix. But I’m learning more on the streets about streets. Morning noon and night-the really scary and crazy hunt is on. Every night I would hear gunshots and I should be scared but I am not. I feel l am invisible on drugs. I was only living for the next high and those highs no longer kept me settled.

Now I pick up my white powder and go into an alley and sit on the ground and get high. Now I am sitting on the nasty ground, in a nasty alley, with a nasty glass pipe in my mouth. And of course the police saw me- found me and took me…




As sad as this short true story is I have many to share with all  of you. This is my eleventh arrest out of the 30 incarcerations that I have under my belt……and many more stories in between…