Eagle and Serpent

By Alberto Long

Wed March 21

Gone are the days of bottomless coffee and NoDoz caplets to accomplish the dreaded all-nighter. College students have a new eye-opening trick in their bag-- one that won't be found on the shelves of a convenience store. 

In the words of one student, “It makes school a blast. I can take an extended release [capsule] in the morning and be extremely focused all day, or take a fast acting [tablet] and have an intensely productive study session.”

“It's a college student's dream come true,” said another user. “You take a tab the size of an Advil and all your distractions disappear; plus, you get an intense burst of energy to accomplish your tasks. It's the only way I can balance school and my social life.”

A study pill? It sounds too easy... and maybe it is.

The use of unprescribed stimulant medication-- affectionately referred to as “study candy” by some students-- is causing major concern on college campuses nationwide, including the University of Texas. Health and legal experts believe that students who use the drug without a prescription do so without knowing the legal and bodily risks they are taking.

“[Stimulant medications] like Adderall and Ritalin are prescribed to individuals who have been identified with attention deficits,” explained Dr. Guillermo E. Gonzalez, a licensed psychologist who holds a doctorate in health and psychology from Texas A&M University.

“Stimulants allow the individual to maintain focused behavior for a longer period of time... For that reason, the person produces much more work; the work that is produced is much more accurate; the efficiency with which the person is working is greater; the comprehension and retention of the material that is being studied is much more complete.”

Complications can arise from unprescribed use of stimulants, explained Gonzalez, such as the potential for abuse and a host of adverse effects caused by too large a dose or a preexisting medical condition.

“Anyone who uses prescription drugs without consulting a doctor is playing with fire... [Stimulant] doses are highly individualized, and students have no way of knowing how a dose will affect them,” said Gonzalez.

“If taken as prescribed, [stimulant medication] is not an addictive substance. Can [stimulant medication] be abused? Absolutely. [Stimulants] are drugs, and they can be abused by individuals without attention deficits. Their brains are being stimulated when they don't need the added stimulation. Adderall [for instance] is an amphetamine salt.”

According to a 2011 National College Health Assessment Survey conducted by the University of Texas's Health Promotion Resource Center, “study drugs” classified as prescription stimulant medication were found to be the most frequently misused/abused drugs on campus. Among the variety of stimulant medication on the market, Adderall is arguably the most widely used among students.

As a Schedule II drug, Adderall has been flagged by the Drug Enforcement Agency as having the same abuse potential shared by medicinal opiates and cocaine. Not surprisingly, students face a considerable legal risk when they buy or use the drug.

Robert Dahlstrom, who is chief of police at the University of Texas, warns that the punishment for stimulant use is severe, especially if done on campus.

“It is illegal to buy, sell or use Adderall. It is a felony, and mere possession could mean life in prison,” writes Dahlstrom via email. “[The penalties] depend on the amount of the drug in possession, or if it was sold. The minimum is a state jail felony for less than one pill, but most pills put [the jail time] at five to 99 years with a fine up to $10,000.”

Dahlstrom admits that UTPD does not make regular arrests for Adderall use. However, UTPD is aware that the problem is becoming more widespread.

“We are not making daily arrests on this drug. However we are very aware of its presence on campus and among college students everywhere... UTPD will file charges on any student that is in possession, sells or obtains [stimulants] through prescription by false means. All are felonies that can affect your chances of getting jobs in the future as well as having to do time in prison.”

Jessica Hughes Wagner, a health communication and health promotion specialist working with UT's Health Promotion Resource Center, says that health organizations around the nation are becoming increasingly aware of the “study drug” issue.

“We decided to focus on this issue within my office because we know that prescription drug abuse is a growing concern nationwide, as well as on college campuses,” writes Wagner via email.

The health promotion center is currently conducting research for a public health education and outreach campaign surrounding misuse of ‘study drugs’ on campus.

“We are in the process of administering a [survey] to a random sample of UT students, in order to learn more about misuse/abuse of prescription stimulants, perceptions of the use of ‘study drugs’, and other factors that will help us better craft an educational campaign on campus.”

“Our targeted survey will measure perceptions surrounding misuse/abuse of prescription medication, confirm actual usage of ‘study drugs’ and other prescription medications, purchasing behaviors, and experienced side effects,” writes Wagner.

By Alberto Long

Wed May 2

“We are victims of circumstances beyond our control. The drug war is not our fault. But life goes on because it has to... The people are the last line of defense. We will not let the cartels take Nuevo Laredo.”

The lively avenue approaching the Miranda Inn is pregnant with midday traffic. Street vendors pace between cars at a red light, peddling newspapers and flowers. Pedestrians pass each other on crowded sidewalks. Parents watch their children play on a jungle-gym in a nearby park.

Her white jeep zooms passed a large statue of Benito Juarez, Mexico's first president. “If the [Mexican national team] wins a soccer match, the area surrounding that statue gets packed with people. They have to close the streets! I think even the narcos celebrate,” she says.

This is how the citizens of Nuevo Laredo, Tamaulipas wage war against the fear and uncertainty that have permeated daily life along the US-Mexico border. It is a private struggle for freedom and Nuevo Laredo. For six years, citizens have undermined the power of organized crime with love for their city, love for their lives.

“It's psychological warfare against organized crime,” Gloria Salinas explains, as she approaches the Miranda Inn, a family business she has managed for fifteen years. Mexican soldiers pace on the roof, wielding automatic weapons. A wall of fortified sandbags blocks the entrance. Two helmeted soldiers, rifles drawn, peer over the makeshift wall, nodding in approval as Salinas maneuvers around them, parking her white jeep in the motel courtyard.

Salinas admits that she hasn't gotten entirely used to the soldiers she has housed for more than a year-- an agreement between her father, the motel's owner, and the Mexican government-- but maintains that her armed patrons are invaluable for business and the community. Having the Miranda converted from motel to barrack has saved her family's business. Moreover, looking beyond her aversion to weapons is a small price to pay for the added sense of security.

There are no active police officers in Nuevo Laredo-- corruption and violence became too much to deal with, hence the military presence. Salinas hesitates when asked to describe the situation in Nuevo Laredo; she rejects martial law and military occupation. Salinas prefers intervention.

“They're here to help the people, not control them. They intervene so that we can keep living. I feel like we're in it together,” she says.

Inside the Miranda's sparsely decorated lobby, a teenager named Jerry sits behind the front desk, face buried behind a computer screen. He greets Salinas, calling her Tia instead of boss. He's related to her, but humorously refuses to elaborate on his identity-- citing the extent of drug cartel influence.

Jerry becomes more open after some pre-interview chatter regarding Mexico's upcoming presidential election. His opinions about a drug war that has “robbed him of a proper adolescence” are brought to the forefront.

“It's hard for me to remember anything [prior to the violence] in Nuevo Laredo. I was still pretty young. All I can tell you-- what most people will tell you-- is that Nuevo Laredo was a very, very, tranquil place [prior to 2005]. The nightlife was legendary; people flocked to the clubs here, especially Americans. Young people on both sides of the border don't have that anymore. We're coerced into staying home, or we have to cross into the US. It sucks,” he explains.

Jerry's highly politicized views and youthful radicalism are in stark contrast with those of his manager, who agrees to undertake the daunting task of asking an officer for permission to photograph her own establishment.

“I don't underestimate the narcos. Three months ago, a firefight broke out on that avenue right there. My coworker and I almost got hit by stray bullets. You can still see the bullet marks,” says Jerry, pointing at the wall. “I think that the people have grown accustomed to living in fear. It's all well and good to say we're not giving up, but how and when will things really change?”

Salinas enters the lobby in time to catch the final moments of Jerry's spirited rants against the state of Nuevo Laredo, and the world at large. She is accompanied by her father, who immediately pokes fun at Jerry's seriousness.

“It's amazing to me,” he proclaims in a loud voice, “That someone who can barely change his underwear, thinks he can change the world!” He hesitates when asked to reveal information regarding the nature of his agreement with the Mexican government. 

“The government called me, asking for thirty rooms,” he says calmly, “We agreed on a price, giving them full service. To date, it's been quite good.” Salinas would later explain that the entire agreement was negotiated over the phone. No contracts, no records.

“The city lives with much fear,” he explains with marked seriousness, pausing to watch the first wave of armed soldiers return to his motel. “Life goes on, but there's a lot of fear. Despite the military presence... I'm not sure why [Nuevo Laredo] changed. All I know is that it was calm for most of my life. I've gauged it over the years. I can't tell you when exactly it got out of control, or why.”

Salinas emerges from her small office at the side of the lobby. She suggests that any photography be completed before the rest of the soldiers arrive. They exit the lobby to watch a young journalist photograph the Miranda and the Mexican army defy a common enemy. 

“Rather than being paralyzed by fear, the people have adapted to the situation. Weddings are in the afternoon; parties are held earlier in the day; nobody is on the streets passed a certain hour-- these are just a few examples. I think we're sending a clear message to the narcos. We won't surrender our lives,” says Salinas as she crosses the Lincoln-Juarez Bridge into the United States, toward her home in Laredo, Texas.