Savage Society And Broken Codes Of Conduct

Written by Grant G


Stories written from the inside, shadows and light, directions and decisions, blinking road signs and soon one finds a road most traveled, a one-way road to where destiny grips your grasping hands...


Valerie starts her day with a chocolate bar and a hit off the crack pipe, nourishment for a member of an outcast community, heroin thrice daily to keep her drug sickness from kicking in, crack and meth for street courage, darkness descends on a cold city and out they come, it seems like only yesterday when Valerie was the newest hot young babe offering her soul for a fistful of dollars, I`ll just do it once and quit, get a little money to pay the dealer then I`ll clean up, that was 10 years ago and she still owes the man, always paying for dope already consumed means always returning to the stroll, what will tonight bring, the fat married man cheating on his bitter wife, the construction worker drunk and horny or the beastly savage who hasn`t showered in a month...

Dad taught me to see one`s surrounding from a very young age, he knew every shortcut through Vancouver and he knew where to find, Dad sold ice cream and drove taxi as a young Vancouver man, days of bootlegged liquor and after-hour parties, heroin and booze were the stimulants then, not to mention the ladies of the night, our city was always this way, a port town, a terminus for some and a beginning for others and the more things change the more they stay the same, handsome, strong and clever were my Dad`s attributes but he always told me, told me from a very young age to look in people`s eyes and identify their reflection, as reflections never lie..

My town is here, Burnaby, Vancouver, Surrey, Nanaimo, everywhere as they are all the same, jungles of asphalt and dope with boundaries marked by tag, colours and bloodlines, these places have rules, hierarchy and codes not meant to be broken, like any jungle there are lions tigers and bears, along with hyenas, snakes, spiders and vultures all preying on the lambs..

Thomas makes good money but cocaine never sleeps, $4k paycheques on a Friday turn to counting dollars by Monday, Tom works hard and his co-workers are none the wiser to his hidden vice, a weekend burner, blazing pipes and white rocks lost, on hands and knees scouring the floor for the inevitable dropped crumbs, even last month`s scare of paramedics busting down his door after he called them before slipping into cardiac arrest hasn`t deterred his private indulgences, caring paramedics warned Tom that the next cardiac arrest may be his last, as cocaine is the number 1 reason for seemingly healthy young hearts to expire, rapid beating and sweat pouring then pop, it`s not easy watching friends being consumed by a demon who doesn`t discriminate, black, white, rich, poor, educated or fresh off a turnip truck...

 We must have been maybe 11 years of age when a small group of us boys peddled on our banana seat peddle bikes from Burnaby north to Stanley park, 14 miles each way, brave, fearless and daring, seawall, trails and sharing a few stolen cigarettes, we would stop and eat a late lunch at The Old Spaghetti Factory on the way back home, right smack in the middle of Gastown, $3 dollars for all you could eat, our bikes we`d chain to a tree and within eyesight...They were all there even in the 70`s, drunks passed out in alcoves, heroin addicted street walking ladies, thieves and the hyenas, the game, a cat and mouse game of cops and robbers only back then the Vancouver police was said to be the best police force money could buy, everything had a flow to it, drug bars, sex clubs, fences and dealers and like moths to a flame we boys couldn`t resist, we were fast and knew the code of conduct, yes even in a chaotic drug fuelled cesspool there are rules and an unwritten code..

As a young teenaged man I serviced older televisions and delivered new ones for a living, from Vancouver to Surrey, from Langley to Hope, we drove to and from and every town has a seedy side, the downtown eastside was always ground zero, the big tent, a big circus complete with sideshow freaks but Surrey wasn`t far behind, the Turf hotel and the Newton inn, back then known as the rootin, tootin newton, drug dealers were not hard to find, in fact they were the ones serving the beers..

Drugs are funny, liquor too, well, maybe funny is the wrong word, funny like a rock slammed into the back of a woman`s head, there are those among us who can try, indulge and get lost in a world of feel-good stimulants for a night then return to reality, however there are others who dine with Alice in Wonderland once and never return, life turns to feeding the beast and building your own coffin..

Never a boy scout and drawn to the flashing lights pool rooms and pubs still tug at me today, a few beers and a puff on a doobie seemed benign to me, I`ve known casual users for decades who work, support families and go to church, these people aren`t special or gifted just genetically different from the addict, or the alcoholic...

Working construction for 2 decades and using transit, skytrain and fast feet there isn`t a town in the GVRD immune from this tragic game, players preying on the weak, addicts surviving to die another day and children turning into distant memories, Gateway stroll, King George strip, New Westminster west, these places never vanish only move, even back in Robert Picton`s time in the jungle a place called "Kiddie stroll" existed, and everyone knew, can you imagine a modern Canadian city having a place known to johns as kiddie stroll, the name tells you all you need to know...

I don`t know how many Picton killed, maybe 50 girls, 50 ladies, 50 daughters, 50 sisters and apparently Willy Picton never broke society`s code,...

Valerie now pumped full of juice and meth enters the darkness of the street, she needs $200 a day to maintain her existence, red dress wrapped tight around a too skinny frame, black spiked shoes with a broken left heel, torn pantyhose, cheap perfume and purple mascara, both applied heavy, one to mask the smell of stale sex the other to hide dead empty eyes, at a distance she looks tempting, up close track marks and age lines tell a different tale..

While working construction in south Surrey for 2 years, Edmonds skytrain to Surrey Central station, then a bus further south, work all day turn around and return home, waiting and watching, a microcosm of a world turned asunder played out everyday right before your eyes, yet most people there are oblivious to the show, just youthful kids hanging around, unkempt men coming and going, too skinny ladies engaging the boys for brief meeting, those are the runners, mules peddling drugs, the hyenas are here too, looking for prey, the drunk man, the naïve tourist, don`t venture too far of the beaten Surrey Central track, don`t be alone there at night and show no wealth, rolling drunks is acceptable, selling $5 dollar crack rocks for $20 dollars is acceptable, the game is afoot...Police drive by and the scattered groups disperse, only to return a minute later, undercover cops are as obvious as a neon sign, smashed car windows and stolen loot, public intoxication and probation violations, police do enough to keep courtrooms, judges and legal aid busy but never enough to solve the conundrum or close Wonderland...

Thomas made $60 k in his last year of work yet he barely covered his rent each month, no savings no large purchases only living a lie, one too many free-base bashes and another visit by the paramedics, there were no more paramedic warnings for Tom because fate drew his number, a fatal drug-fuelled heart attack, his obit left the drug use part out and mentioned only the failed heart,  I wonder how many others die with recorded lies..Only the famous are rung through the ringer..John Belushi and his speed ball, Jim Morrison, Elvis, Cory Montieth, Michael Jackson paid a doctor to comatose him...Charlie Sheen who brags of his speedball use, he just hasn`t physically died yet, only spiritually..

I speak of the "code" ...  I speak of rules in a drug fuelled rat`s maze, Willy Picton executed dozens before even the faintest of lightbulbs lit up, the Surrey gang war that raged a few years back, the Abbotsford war zone too, not until the innocent fell victim in the Surrey six slayings did the authorities put on a stageplay, not until bystanders fall prey is any action taken, not until Billy the drug addicted teenager attacked a hockey mom in a moment of rage, death in the form of hard cold granite, weapons wielded by the sick...

I`ve read stories this week of Surrey police talking about coming down hard on the drug trade, stories of Newton residents demanding lighting, more police, more security, more jail for the offenders and I muse, ponder and sarcastically laugh, yes maybe Surrey can be first modern society to win the futile war on drugs, no more heroin from Afghanistan and India, no more crystal meth from China, no more precursor chemicals from Mexico, no more tonnage of cocaine from Bolivia, our neighbors to the south have spent $trillions of dollars and jailed 3 million plus people and still drug bazaars and crack cocaine gongs shows dominate every major US city, and yet Surrey claims that they will get tough and hinder the heathens, again I laugh, only this laughter comes in the form of tears, a man yesterday stole 3 cars, stabbed people and raged through multiple towns before finally being apprehended, a murder charge laid today against 32-year-old Sarbjit Bains of Surrey who killed 3 Valeries, maybe more, another sex worker serial killer on the loose, this individual never broke the code, we weren`t even aware that there was another killer on the loose, dead rats, players gamers mules and bangers in the maze are open game and don`t trigger town meetings or tough talk, merely sweepings bound for the underside of rugs..

These hallucinogenic demons arrive by plane, by train, by cargo ship, gamers working at airports, at seaports and border crossings, even in jail drugs flow freely, kingpins living in mansions and running fortune 500 hundred corporations, doctors prescribing addictive elixirs by the boatload, mind altering drugs for children, hillbilly heroin, oxycodone, morphine, hydromorph, the biggest drug dealers today are listed on stock market exchanges so to expect a normalcy of conduct from rats deadending in a hallucinogenic maze is...

Delusional, demented, in a state of denial, Billy regrets his attack, he never meant to kill only to stun, a weak skinny drug addicted victim who wanted no struggle, there are thousands rotting in jails for one punch murders and there are millions of wives, girlfriends and ladies who have been beat senseless yet refuse to identify their mate, logic and reason never trumps fear and shame..

Light up Newton, add more security, shut down one more crack shack, shuffle the stuff strutters into dark dank corners, kick the homeless out of Abbotsford, identify and shame the johns and solve nothing, not in my neighborhood in yours, not over here over there, close your eyes and pretend the problem is solved..

I don`t have any answers, what we`re doing isn`t working, the war on drugs, more jails, more mental health facilities, more police, if we legalize all drugs it couldn`t get any worse, at least we would know who the users are..

Billy as a young boy dreamed of being a hockey player, too slow and frame too small, just your average Canadian kid who dared to taste, now he waits for incarceration and peace, Thomas wanted a pretty wife, kids and to own a home, he flew to high and surrendered his life, a faceless nameless statistic who lived and died but never broke the code...

A 13 year old Valerie dreamed of owning a pony and marrying a fireman, by 16 she was a regular on the stroll, she couldn`t steal and drugs aren`t free, her father forgot her, mother pretended she had no daughter, another shattered family, heroin breached Valerie`s world and stole everything, including her future..

Valerie met her fate last year, the beast appeared, she recognized the risk, the evil that lurked within her was a more powerful force than fear, her one-way road trip was never going to end any other way, bruised battered and sexually tortured before the hands of death silenced her breath, yet the beast never broke the code so no one noticed, or cared...

I care.....Just tired of after-the-fact reactive posturing by Governments and the phony get tough double shuffle two-step stall while headlines fade..

__________

P.S.....This was a very difficult story for me to write, the people are fictional? and yet all too real, it`s very scary looking into people`s Soul, you can feel the pain.....My most sincere condolences to all victims of crime, we all come from family, the good and the lost......Grant G


The Straight Goods

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