YNs—SAMHSA

2025

In between the crevices of the street, little paper planes fluttered in the breeze. A quiet descended upon the city and eyes looked around corners. Colonel Namina Norrey walked these streets like the warrior she had become. It had been a decade since she had asked a body of the Delaware congress to pass legislation legalizing all drugs. That day had not come yet. She walked alone. She wore her starched white shirt, tie, and those glittering four stars. The coolness of the spring afternoon enveloped her person.

Some people waved. Others scoffed. It meant nothing to her to have someone reject her presence. She kept moving. A musical quality seemed to emanate from her relatively tall frame. At five-foot-nine inches, she towered over other women. In the streets of Southbridge, she had been identified as the top cop, ready to clean up the streets. People thought she was crazy. She still was the youngest police superintendent in Delaware history at thirty-three-years of age. She would be thirty-four in the fall. As she ambled through the different neighborhoods, she feared not. No weapon on her body or back up or anything, she just strolled in and found the office she had been searching for all of this time. Her cruiser had been parked a few yards away from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) front door.

As she entered, a low hum, a buzz permeated the room. People behind computer screens did their best to talk to people ravaged by addiction and depression and mania.

“Colonel Norrey, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” Director Bennett Royer shook hands with her. He was twenty-nine and had a strong jaw. His inky black skin contrasted against her lighter brown flesh. He stood at about six feet three inches, slightly dwarfing Namina.

“I’m glad to be of some service to an agency that I don’t think should exist,” she smiled.

“Ooh, burn. I know how you feel about government entities….”

“Yes, and I’m part of the problem.”

“Wait, why?”

“I endeavor to be one of the few functions of government that is legitimate,”

Namina sighed.

“I don’t take your words as insults….”

“Insults?”

“Yes, you see I have two degrees in behavioral sciences and I’m working on a masters to doctorate program in psychology.”

“Well, as you know, I also have a degree in psychology. No doctorate, though.”

“Of course.”

“So you wanted me here for the police and SAMHSA joint effort….”

“Yes. We’ve been planning this for a few months now. We wanted to get the police force involved, knowing that you have to deal with people who have addictions and mental health cases.” Namina shook her head and her brow furrowed.

“Okay. As long as this organization stands, we should be able to partner with you. But you’re going to have to understand we’re going to have to spearhead this. What you do is admirable like the USPS, but it should be privatized.”

“Colonel, we’ve not gotten to that place yet. We may never….”

“Never?”

“We may have to see what the future will hold.”

Namina sat up straight. “If we can convince powers greater than myself to relinquish the regulations over substances, then we should have a way for you to be a NGO,” she mentioned. She looked around the office. A little noise cancelling machine whirred. Books on shelves line the walls and the smell of eucalyptus stirred her olfactory sense. Pictures of Royer’s wife and two toddlers beamed from their spot on his desk.

“All of that is down the line. I’m talking about right now. I’m talking about the many too many times we’ve had someone OD over fent or crack or whatever. The people are depressed, so they get high, chase that high and become pressed all over again.”

Namina put fingers together in a little steeple. “And you want my cops to be able to have a Narcan pen on them at all times when that’s not their role? Do you expect these same officers to be on the vanguard for being psychiatrists on the beat?”

Royer shook his head. “No, no, no. Not totally. We don’t think cops should be roving social workers. Leave that up to us. What I’m saying is that there should be a direct line connecting the Citizen on Patrol and the citizenry. If someone’s having a medical emergency and only the police are available, there should be some form of training involved. We should be able to agree that officers are sometimes first responders to mental health crises. They should be prepared to do anything….”

“Excuse the interruption but we’ve had hours of training with the anti-overdose materials. My officers are equipped with the latest life-saving substances. So what you’re saying is what is already in place. What is the deal with the rest of the administration’s plans?”

Royer cracked a small smile. It was like he had just finished a puzzle. “That’s a very good question, Superintendent . What we’re trying to get to is the meaning of why there is so much rampant addiction and mental health crises. Legalize them.”

“It’s simple…people don’t value thought, work, or joy. If they did, they wouldn’t seek out ways to undermine and undercut the talents and gifts that remain inside of them. Most people look down on drug dealers. I don’t. Not if their only sin was to make a profit and had no other actual crimes attached to their name like rape and robbery, I’d say go for it. But we’re not there yet. People blame the manufacturer for their own addictions as if some magic force descended upon them and made them take the drug. It’s all simple transactions.”

Royer looked out his window for a moment then set his gaze on Namina.

“That may be the case, but we don’t despise the dealer. We’re just here to help the sick folk. They’re the ones we are focusing on, not the pushers. We want those who have been pushed. That’s the key to our every movement.”

“What’s not on your agenda?”

“Agenda?”

“MM-hmm.”

“We have the role of your police so that’s definitely on there but I can’t think of what’s off of it. We’re definitely not about to give out any substances. That’s for sure.”

“I’m here to tell you that if you want to keep up with my cops, you’re going to have to show that this coordination can be possible. We’ve had Death by PowerPoint meetings talking about the influx of fent and other similar drugs. Most folks are spooked by the whole notion and want us to be the ones to blame. I’m stopping that today. Legalize them.”

“But we’re starting….”

“Starting what?”

“We’re starting this ‘coordination’ as you’ve put it to ensure that the rest of the city and the state know just where the police force is on this topic.”

“We’re where we’ve always been, on the side of the law. Justice. All of those are just mere phrases to most people. To the force, their steelclad pronouncements of truth.”

Royerson swiveled in his chair slightly. “Once we get all of this together, it’ll be beautiful. They’ll be vendors and anti-drug stuff for the kids….”

“This rosy picture you paint isn’t the red you want. It’s bloodshed. It’s going to be a messy, bloody show if you continue to promote the backend of this drug situation.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I know you’re committed to the treatment of drug addiction. You wish to see people off the streets and industrious. That’s admirable. What I see is the fact you just put the Band-Aid on the problem and not look at it with clarity, though.”

“I’ve got men and women who are doing everything in their power to challenge all of that. They’re discovering ways to properly address the scourge of our age.”

“Yes, like when Prohibition had been put in place and remains the highest period for police deaths in American history. We’re in Prohibition 2.0 and have been for over fifty years. We must look at the root of the problem, not just the fruits.”

“Fruits? That would be us, you’re saying?”

Namina nodded her head slowly and closed her eyes.

“The root is government intervention into the economy. No one stands up and asks why there is a War on an inanimate object such as Drugs; no one ever states the reason why drug dealers get put away for life and why some people want to have them on death row. These are the things we must contend with if we’re going to survive.”

“So, we can plan this thing but it’s going to be a community event.”

“What ‘community’ Mr. Royer?” Namina asked. “All I know are neighborhoods which dot this city. This state. Very few ‘communities’ exist here or anywhere else in America.”

Royerson looked at his family portrait. “I’m just trying to make it better.”

“I know. For your wife and kids. That’s good. You’ve got a backbone. That’s great. What we need to be fighting for, though, is the reform and repeal of all drug laws. Now, I’m sitting here as the top cop but that doesn’t mean I’m a legislator. I’m just a young female super who has ideas that die terrible deaths.”

“We can address that. We can engender a sense of the possible rather than quibble over whether a bodega counts as a community. I know you’ve got ideas but you answer to the governor. He’s the one who can use the state's powers to amend the laws the citizens must recognize.”

Namina popped her collar. “I’d love to hear more about this proposal.”

“Haven’t we been discussing it for the past half hour?”

“Yes, but we’ve yet to get to the part where we champion the manufacture, production, distribution, sale, and consumption of all known substances.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t you see the sign on the door?” Royer asked in an honest tone.

“What are we going to do about stopping abuse before it starts? That’s my question to you.”

“We’re beginning to be like a Mobius strip, here in a minute. I’m pointing out the parameters of this event. We’ll have meetings and get to know the com–– neighbors.”

Namina’s eyes widened. “Okay and what happens after that, come on!”

Royer straigthened and cleared his voice.

“Alright, we hold conferences to address the addictive natures of everything and why we’ve been able to have the police join up with us to show that there is a unified front against drug abuse.”

“You’re still not hitting it. Come out with it! Say it!”

“I can’t say it.”

“Yes! Yes you can!” Namina raised her voice.

“If––”

“If––”

“If I say it, it will be known. It will be heard. Everything I’ve ever worked on or worked for will be in vain.”

“Say it, Director Bennett Royer.”

“Legalize them!” The words flew out of his mouth and had been drowned out for the people outside of his door due to the noise-cancelling machine. Royer breathed deeper and patted his forehead with a handkerchief.

“Now was that so hard? Everything you ever dreamed of is wrapped in those two words you just uttered. The very destiny of this nation relies on whether you want to be for or against the ‘problem.’ But there really isn’t an issue. Every substance you address as a government body should be handled by private means. There would be virtually no overdoses or horrific tales of substance abuse if the government not only supplied the drugs but also had an organization with aims to treat addiction. Do you see?”

Royer sat, stunned at his own admission of the words that he thought he’d never address. He rocked a bit with one hand near his mouth and reverted his gaze to the framed picture on his desk. He raised up from his chair and walked around to where Namina sat. She stood and shook his hand.