Drugs: The Cocaine Kids

“What are you going to do now?” asked a young woman, wearing a bright red dress, shoes and fascinator.

“I will just keep on taking care of the cocaine kids,” replied the elderly woman to whom she was speaking. Our old age pension was never enough to live on.”

“Cocaine kids?” wondered Terry, who had overheard part of their conversation. There was a rumor floating around that the older woman had recently lost her husband after years of drug abuse. 

Terry suspected this younger woman was her granddaughter. Being relatively new to the area and not knowing the family, Terry decided not to interfere. 

But, she knew that the faces of the children visiting the home had been changing almost daily. Several children lived there all of the time. There had also been continual activity with brand new cars coming and going from that place, day and night, with different men and women making deliveries. Many of them were loud, obscene and obnoxious, possibly inebriated or smoking whatever, not just cigarettes and cigars.

To a non-smoker like Terry, the lingering odor was like a smorgasbord of different drugs, extremely nauseating and frightening, especially in the middle of the night. 

The children that arrived with the drivers of the new cars usually stayed for a few days. Then, they seemed to be farmed out elsewhere. Many of them were quite young. Some of the older ones appeared spaced out and stood on the street smoking. At times, they waited at the bus stop attempting to sell cigarettes to bus passengers, or anyone walking by.  

“Only ten dollars a day,” a young boy hollered to several teenage girls waiting for the bus. He walked over and handed each of them a cigarette. “Here’s some freebies. We’ll take good care of you.”   

“Where do these children come from and where do they go? Are they foster children-in-transition? Is Child Protective Services aware of what is going on?” 

Terry had no answers.

“An elderly woman with several children, driving around in a brand new car, would probably never be suspected of trafficking; nor would an old man who was delivering flyers with a child’s red wagon.”