Sunday, February 21, 1999
Heed the lessons of a sad tale
BY PAUL DAUGHERTY
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Wilson, 1988
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A jury has his life now. The facts, the evidence, the defense. Stanley Wilson's lawyer said Wilson could not have committed the burglary for which he is accused. It required too much planning to break into a home and steal the owner's jewelry. Stanley could not have done that, his lawyer said. Stanley was too high on cocaine.
What a defense. What a tumble. What a sad and miserable fall. If he's convicted, the former Bengals fullback could spend the rest of his life in prison. California has a “three strikes” rule. Three felonies and you're out of society and locked up for good, if the judge feels that's what's warranted. Wilson already has two felony convictions to go with his seven stints in rehab centers and the countless lives he has pained, not the least of which is his own.
The jury owns him now. Deliberations began Friday afternoon.
Lots of Stanley Wilsons
Why should we care about Stanley Wilson? He's accused of stealing $130,000 worth of heirloom jewelry. Expensive rings. Priceless memories. Among the items was a gold coin, given to the victim's daughter by a grandparent.
What kind of person would steal that? Why should we care?
Because there are lots of Stanley Wilsons. Less well known, with less money than Wilson once had. But addicted just the same, and vulnerable to the same temptations and desperations. You don't have to be formerly famous and rich to throw your life away. You just have to abuse a drug.
The solution sounds simple: Don't do it. But that's only half the picture. It's the truth without the consequences. The consequences come when you ignore good sense and do it anyway. Here is Stanley Wilson, to show you what can come of that.
So have a seat, kid. Take the hat off your head and the headphones off your ears. Read a cautionary tale.
Drugs changed him
Stanley Wilson was not a bad man. In researching his story, this was what I heard, over and over. Lawyers, coaches, teammates. The wife of a local man who sponsored Wilson in Alcoholics Anonymous said this:
“He was a real gentleman. Very caring,” said Janice Brown. After her husband died, Wilson helped her around the house and with yard work. He arranged what was to be her husband's last birthday party. “A gentle soul,” she said.
The drug made him someone else. “Doing cocaine is like putting an electrode into the pleasure center of the brain,” said Ron Sachs. He's a psychiatrist who specializes in treating addicts.
It's biochemical. This is the doctors talking. Cocaine addicts permanently alter the chemistry of their brains. Eventually, the coke mimics the effect of the brain's natural chemicals, to an extent that addicts feel they can't function without it.
“They feel like not taking another hit of cocaine is like not taking another breath,” Sachs said. “Everything gets programmed to that focus. They say, "If I have to steal a car radio to take another breath, I'll do it.'”
Cocaine changed a quiet, personable man into a petty criminal and chronic inmate. That ought to scare the wits out of anyone thinking of doing that first line.
Prosecutors argued that Wilson committed a “planned, methodical burglary. It is unreasonable to believe he was in any way diminished,” deputy district attorney Suzanne Tragert said Friday.
Oh, but he was. Wilson has been diminished for years. It's what the drug does.
After a drug-related conviction more than a decade ago, Wilson was ordered to make six visits to local schools, to warn students against drug use. He made 14 visits. Wilson could never take his own advice, though. Maybe the rest of us should.
“I don't want to give up on Stanley,” Janice Brown said. “I know people who have been through treatment 12 times” before they stayed clean.
Wilson's shame and desperation is no different from our own. It's just more publicized.
Enquirer columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at 768-8454.
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