Jail Deputy Bret King wanted to get a look at the woman's face, but she was a blur, bouncing around a holding cell, kicking and clawing at the air.
Ramped-up on methamphetamine, her hair a sweat-drenched mop, the woman wrestled a demon only she could see. Through the cell's thick glass, King heard her shriek at the invisible beast, "Go away in the name of Jesus."
Curious, the deputy turned to a computer in the Multnomah County Detention Center's booking area and pulled up her mug shot.
The image was as chilling as the woman's drug-induced psychosis. At 20, youth had vanished from her skeletal face. She was the picture of self-destruction.
During that scream-filled graveyard shift in early October, King started collecting what he calls "the faces of meth." Using jailhouse photos, King is creating a slideshow that reveals in full, unflattering color how methamphetamine ravages its users over years, months and even weeks.
"I've made it my business to go through the mug shot system every day," the 39-year-old King said. "I'll admit it: I'm looking for the most extreme faces."
King plans to take his fast-growing collection on tour to Oregon schools next year, hoping to frighten youths away from the synthetic drug. Oregon treats more meth addicts per capita than any other state, and use among teens is rising.
It's a game of comparisons. He takes two mug shots of the same addicts, taken at different times, and shows them side by side. Some of the faces appear to be caving in, some are riddled with open sores, some stare up from dark bags under their eyes, looking lost and paranoid.
"Look at this gal here," King said, displaying two mug shots of the same woman, snapped five years apart. "It looks like she's aged 20 years."
Although many educators question the effectiveness of scared-straight programs, some drug-prevention experts say fear is an inseparable part of teaching youths about meth.
"It's an honest tactic," said Max Margolis, director of Oregon Partnership's YouthLink prevention programs. "The damage to the body, the rapid degeneration -- those are realities of the drug."
Death rate rises
Meth use is becoming increasingly deadly in Oregon.
In 2003, the state medical examiner recorded 78 meth-related deaths, a 20 percent jump from the year before, and 56 percent higher than in 2001. Only heroin, with 100 deaths, claimed more lives last year.
State Medical Examiner Karen Gunson said meth users often die as the result of psychotic behavior brought on by the drug, rather than from overdoses.
"We look at the entire case, the toxicology, evidence from the scene, the actions of the person before their death," Gunson said. "But in many of the cases, we suspect meth right away."
People high on meth have jumped off bridges and out apartment windows, walked in front of cars, driven their cars into storefronts, and incited brutal beatings.
After driving to death scenes, medical investigators often learn that the deceased was shouting and acting crazy. The bodies are typically emaciated and missing a row or two of teeth -- both symptoms of meth addiction.
Smoked, snorted, ingested or injected, meth is a cheap, powerful stimulant that produces a high that can last hours. It boosts brain levels of the neurotransmitter dopamine, causing pleasure and increased energy.
Addiction is quick. And so is the destruction of mind and body, said Richard Rawson, a neuropsychiatrist with UCLA's Integrated Substance Abuse Programs. Time-lapse jail photos give only a hint of what the drug is doing to the user's insides, starting with the mind, he said.
Using brain-imaging techniques, researchers have found that meth's toxic chemicals eat away at brain tissue, eventually robbing addicts of the ability to feel pleasure without the drug. With each hit, meth changes the way the brain works, impairing judgment, giving rise to psychosis and aggravating any existing mental illness, Rawson said.
Meth also boosts heart rate, blood pressure and respiration. Over time, a user's eyes and mouth dry up. Teeth fall out. The body stops craving food, and only wants meth.
Depending on the intensity of the "rush," a user's body temperature can spike up to 107 degrees, Rawson said. "A lot of emergency rooms keep ice beds now," he said. "Overheating is the primary reason for meth deaths."
Portland emergency rooms create beds on the spot, with ice packs, fans and plastic cooling blankets. "Even bringing them down to 102 is doing them a favor," said Deborah Robertson, a Legacy Good Samaritan emergency room doctor.
Waking nightmare
After five years of taking meth, Theresa Baxter says she has experienced everything but death. She says being on meth is the closest thing to being a zombie, a member of the living dead.
Indeed, Baxter's two mug shots offer what is perhaps the most dramatic juxtaposition of health and hell in King's collection.
The first picture dates to 2002, when she was arrested for identity theft and fraud. The second comes from November. In nearly 3-1/2 years, she has gone through an eye-rubbing metamorphosis. Forty pounds lighter. A loose bandage covering a cyst on her cheek. A road map of deep wrinkles. She looks nothing like her former self.
She's 42.
"It's scary," Baxter said, sitting inside the Multnomah County jail. "There are no words to describe it" -- she began to sob -- "I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror."
She is serving a five-month sentence for theft and drug possession. Baxter said she understands why someone would want to use her face in a prevention program.
She opened her mouth as she cried. All but the two front teeth are missing on top. One of the pair, the gray one, is about to fall out. If it's like the others, she said, it will crumble with a bite of food.
A former heroin user, Baxter said she began using meth to escape depression. It was cheaper and better. And like many addicts, she would take repeated hits, allowing her to stay up for days. The longest run? "I remember 14 days, straight through," she said.
She couldn't eat because the drug amplified her senses, making the smell of food unbearable, and played with her head.
"I would cook meat for my boyfriend," she said, "and I'd get it in my mind that it was a mouse in the pan. I couldn't bring myself to eat it."
When Baxter was high, she couldn't handle anything touching her, including water. So, she didn't shower.
Every binge ended with a couple days sleep. She didn't fade. She crashed. "You close your eyes once," she explained, "and you're out. People could dance on you and you wouldn't know it."
"Dope dreams"
James Hibbs, 28, also is in King's lineup.
Four months separate his mug shots. A meth user since he was 15, he has five remaining teeth.
The way Hibbs tells it, meth kept him too busy to eat. He would stay up for days, working on his bike. When he needed money for another hit, he would pick up his bolt cutters and prowl for bicycles to steal. Sometimes he sold meth.
He is reaching the end of a six-month sentence for violating probation. He's clean, but the craving isn't gone.
"I still have dope dreams," he said. "I dream of getting high. I wake up in a sweat, rushing really hard, like I just got high. They seem real. You'd be surprised how real."
Trawling for new pictures, King starts his shifts by checking daily booking logs for criminal charges typically linked to meth addiction -- identity theft, forgery, fraud, drug manufacturing, drug possession, child neglect. Glenn Lagrew, 38, one of the faces in the collection, is accused of selling packets of meth placed on a 5-week-old boy in a baby carrier. Police say Lagrew told a cop making an undercover buy in downtown Portland on Dec. 3 to lay his money on the baby before taking the drugs.
King has started asking meth addicts coming through the booking center if they would be willing to be interviewed on video for his prevention project.
Most say no, but a few shared tragic and desperate tales that King plans to weave into his presentation.
He pulled one of the videotaped interviews up on his computer screen. The man, in his late 30s, is Cobey Kempre. He and King went to Troutdale's Columbia High School together.
Kempre talks about the day he was tweaking on meth and thought bugs were burrowing into his skin. He kept scratching at them. Covered in blood, he went to his parents' house for help.
He gave them tweezers and a magnifying glass, but his parents told him they couldn't see anything.
"My dad broke down in the front yard," Kempre says in the video. "He knew what was going on."
He had never seen his dad cry before. The sight, he said, made him "snap out of it" for a few seconds. He told his father he was sorry. He then grabbed for one of the imaginary insects. "But wait," Kempre said he told his father, "there's one right here."
They were scared, he said.
"I could see they were thinking, 'God, how can this be a product of us?' "
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