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Joel Franks, a recovering meth addict and Prop. 36 program graduate, has been clean for 21Ú2 years. He will be participating in Saturday's Walk for Recovery in Nevada City.
"It was like somebody slapping me. I had a problem and I had to fix it. I wanted it this time. I had to change my life because I was chasing my tail."
- Joel Franks
By Dave Moller
Senior staff writer
Joel Franks was so deep into the methamphetamine scene he once manufactured ounces of it in a large cookhouse.
"We had three kitchens going," Franks, 47, of Grass Valley said. "It was a major, major deal."
It took a large federal drug bust, 23 years of addiction and seven trips to prison before Franks even thought about kicking his meth habit. Even when he was offered a spot in Nevada County's Prop. 36 drug rehabilitation program, he figured it was just a good way to stay out of prison for awhile and nothing more.
- Joel Franks
By Dave Moller
Senior staff writer
Joel Franks was so deep into the methamphetamine scene he once manufactured ounces of it in a large cookhouse.
"We had three kitchens going," Franks, 47, of Grass Valley said. "It was a major, major deal."
It took a large federal drug bust, 23 years of addiction and seven trips to prison before Franks even thought about kicking his meth habit. Even when he was offered a spot in Nevada County's Prop. 36 drug rehabilitation program, he figured it was just a good way to stay out of prison for awhile and nothing more.
But Franks embraced his Prop. 36 experience and has been clean for 21Ú2 years now. That's why he'll be marching Saturday morning in the Recovery Alumni Association's Walk for Recovery through Nevada City with other former addicts, to see and feel the power of not using drugs and alcohol.
"There is an epidemic up here, a problem," Franks said this week. "I'll do whatever I can to help people stay clean, I like to be part of the solution now-a-days."
Franks was part of the problem for a quarter century, dating back to his teen days in Southern California. He met the wrong people "and got tangled up in drugs. I went to high school to get high."
He grew up "on the wrong side of tracks," with his mother trying to make ends meet while moving from one rough neighborhood to the next.
"By the time I was 21, I was an alcoholic," Franks said. Several years later he got arrested for driving under the influence. His blood alcohol was .24, now three times past the .08 legal limit, "and I considered my self normal," and not drunk at all.
Alcohol gave way to methamphetamine through the years as Franks supported himself as a mechanic. Drugs ran his everyday life and in 1992, the federal Drug Enforcement Administration arrested him for meth sales.
He got out of prison several years later and came to Nevada County to be near his parents and escape his past drug scenes. He quickly found a new one here.
"When I came up here, I met all the wrong people," Franks said. "Drugs are everywhere."
"There is an epidemic up here, a problem," Franks said this week. "I'll do whatever I can to help people stay clean, I like to be part of the solution now-a-days."
Franks was part of the problem for a quarter century, dating back to his teen days in Southern California. He met the wrong people "and got tangled up in drugs. I went to high school to get high."
He grew up "on the wrong side of tracks," with his mother trying to make ends meet while moving from one rough neighborhood to the next.
"By the time I was 21, I was an alcoholic," Franks said. Several years later he got arrested for driving under the influence. His blood alcohol was .24, now three times past the .08 legal limit, "and I considered my self normal," and not drunk at all.
Alcohol gave way to methamphetamine through the years as Franks supported himself as a mechanic. Drugs ran his everyday life and in 1992, the federal Drug Enforcement Administration arrested him for meth sales.
He got out of prison several years later and came to Nevada County to be near his parents and escape his past drug scenes. He quickly found a new one here.
"When I came up here, I met all the wrong people," Franks said. "Drugs are everywhere."
The drugs kept his personal prison revolving door going, seven times in and out over 11 years. Franks said he did not do drugs in prison "for the reason of how it gets in there," usually smuggled in another person's body cavity. "But every day, I thought 'I'm that much closer to using.'"
He did, until his parole officer suggested he try Prop. 36 drug rehabilitation over more prison time. He met others at the program with similar stories "and we helped each other to stay clean."
Within one month, "it was like somebody slapping me. I had a problem and I had to fix it," Franks said. "I wanted it this time. I had to change my life because I was chasing my tail."
The Prop. 36 program "is a second chance, a nudge from the judge," Franks said. "They fill your plate and occupy your time with meetings" and other commitments.
Now, "it's amazing," Franks said. "I see a lot of people I used to use with and we have a total different life than we used to. It's awesome to be clean."
It's been years since he's had a meaningful relationship, but Franks now knows why.
"I have to love myself before anyone else can love me. I just hope the right woman comes along."
The people who have come along for him besides his recovery friends are his family, mother Taja Mirantz and stepfather J.R. Mirantz, sister Julia Strach and her son, Nathaniel Pfeffer, 5.
He did, until his parole officer suggested he try Prop. 36 drug rehabilitation over more prison time. He met others at the program with similar stories "and we helped each other to stay clean."
Within one month, "it was like somebody slapping me. I had a problem and I had to fix it," Franks said. "I wanted it this time. I had to change my life because I was chasing my tail."
The Prop. 36 program "is a second chance, a nudge from the judge," Franks said. "They fill your plate and occupy your time with meetings" and other commitments.
Now, "it's amazing," Franks said. "I see a lot of people I used to use with and we have a total different life than we used to. It's awesome to be clean."
It's been years since he's had a meaningful relationship, but Franks now knows why.
"I have to love myself before anyone else can love me. I just hope the right woman comes along."
The people who have come along for him besides his recovery friends are his family, mother Taja Mirantz and stepfather J.R. Mirantz, sister Julia Strach and her son, Nathaniel Pfeffer, 5.
"He looks up to me and if he didn't, who knows where I'd be," Franks said of his nephew. "He keeps me clean because I never want him to see me high."
ooo
To contact senior staff writer Dave Moller, e-mail davem@theunion.com or call 477-4237.
Series breakdown
Today: (Page A1) Joel Franks was so deep into the methamphetamine scene he once manufactured ounces of it in a large cookhouse. He said it took a large federal drug bust, 23 years of addiction and seven trips to prison before he even thought about kicking his meth habit. (Story by Dave Moller)
Friday: A year ago, Bobbie Thurman, 30, lost her kids to methamphetamine addiction. With the help of the local recovery community, she's been clean for 10 months and has regained custody of her girls. (Story by Robyn Moormeister)
Saturday: Harold Shannon was a meth addict in a state prison when he got on his knees and prayed. Twenty-four hours later, Shannon was on a bus back to Nevada County - the first person to be paroled into the state's new Proposition 36 drug rehabilitation program. (Story by Trina Kleist)
ooo
To contact senior staff writer Dave Moller, e-mail davem@theunion.com or call 477-4237.
Series breakdown
Today: (Page A1) Joel Franks was so deep into the methamphetamine scene he once manufactured ounces of it in a large cookhouse. He said it took a large federal drug bust, 23 years of addiction and seven trips to prison before he even thought about kicking his meth habit. (Story by Dave Moller)
Friday: A year ago, Bobbie Thurman, 30, lost her kids to methamphetamine addiction. With the help of the local recovery community, she's been clean for 10 months and has regained custody of her girls. (Story by Robyn Moormeister)
Saturday: Harold Shannon was a meth addict in a state prison when he got on his knees and prayed. Twenty-four hours later, Shannon was on a bus back to Nevada County - the first person to be paroled into the state's new Proposition 36 drug rehabilitation program. (Story by Trina Kleist)
