DECATUR - Crack cocaine, a drug that has reached epidemic proportions in many large cities since its introduction in the mid-1980s, has found its way into almost every corner of the nation.

While crack has hit urban black communities hardest - destroying families, increasing crime and causing young people to join gangs and drop out of school - the highly addictive drug has also affected thousands of people living in rural settings.

Laura Doughten, 28, raised in southeast Missouri, recently served more than two years in prison for burglary and auto theft as a result of her crack habit.

Before her release from the Decatur Correctional Center on New Year's Eve, Doughten agreed to tell how a gifted young lady with a bright future almost threw her life away for a handful of tiny white rocks.

The former high school cheerleader, two-sport athlete and homecoming queen told her story so that others will not fall into the same poisonous trap.

"Crack is the worst thing that can happen to you," Doughten said. "It will strip you of anything and everything that you love."

Doughten, who graduated from the Women Enjoying Lifelong Sobriety, or WELLS, substance abuse program in prison, was a methamphetamine addict before she began smoking crack. She credits the program with turning her life around.

Robyn Merrick, lead counselor for WELLS at the Decatur prison, said the program teaches inmates how drugs damage their brains and bodies, while helping them to focus on a fresh start.

Nearly half of the 520 inmates at the prison are either in the program or on the waiting list. Merrick said all clients are required to submit complete reports on their histories, including drugs used.

"Crack use is their primary drug of choice," Merrick said.

Son's forgiveness?

Doughten had to give up her three young sons to be raised by other people after she became a crack addict in November 2003.

Looking back at the two years of chaos and desperation - when all her talents and ambitions were reduced to a relentless desire to obtain just one more crack rock - there is one day that stands out.

On Oct. 15, 2004, Doughten was in a hospital, waiting to give birth to her second son.

Nine months earlier, she had relinquished custody of her first son, a 3-year-old, after entering a drug rehab program. She quit the program one week later, but her son was not returned to her.

She went to work at a diner, spending most of her earnings on crack. Then she discovered she was pregnant again.

"I knew every time I used it I shouldn't be doing it," she said. "But I didn't act on it. I continued to be self-centered. I was an addict. Nobody else mattered: not my son that I had abandoned, not my son that I was pregnant with. I was helpless and hopeless about life and continued to use until my son was born."

While she was in labor in the obstetrics ward, she was given a routine blood test.

A hospital administrator was sent to tell Doughten the results. The administrator, a former high school friend, had not heard that Doughten was a crack addict.

"She came in, and she was crying," Doughten said. "She said, 'You tested positive for cocaine. If your son tests positive, he will be taken from you.'

"I was embarrassed. I was ashamed. I was concerned about my son, if he was going to die. I will never forget that day. It is something I have to live with.

"My son was addicted to cocaine the day he came into this world. That was my fault. I don't beat myself up about it. All that guilt would eat me up. Have I forgiven myself? Absolutely. Will my son forgive me? We'll see."

Immediate addiction

Born in Shreveport, La., Doughten grew up in the tiny town of Holcomb, Mo. When she was 10, she found out her stepfather was not her real father. Her mother later divorced the stepfather and married Doughten's biological father.

"I felt abandoned by him," Doughten said. "I didn't feel he even had the right to talk to me."

She began staying away from home. At 16, she began drinking beer and smoking marijuana, mostly on weekends. For a while, she kept up with her classes, performed as a cheerleader and played on the school's softball and volleyball teams. But her senior year, she dropped off all teams, smoking marijuana every day.

Her best friend later introduced her to methamphetamine, which she began snorting about once a month. She became an addict, progressing from daily snorting to injecting into her arm. After her mother saw the needle marks, she stopped using meth.

A couple of years later, Doughten and another woman were invited to the apartment of two men in their 30s, who invited them to smoke crack.

"So I go into the kitchen, load it up, take a hit," Doughten said. "It ain't even 30 seconds later, I go to the bathroom and puke. The buzz lasted maybe seven minutes, if that. Then you had to do it again. From the first time I did it, I was addicted to crack."

Doughten later introduced a male friend to crack. He also became addicted, spending most of his $50,000 life savings on their habits within a few months. The couple then turned to crimes to obtain crack money.

Oct. 25, 2005, Doughten and her boyfriend were arrested after stealing a car from a Wal-Mart parking lot in Illinois, just east of St. Louis. Doughten received two six-year sentences, to be served concurrently.

Sky is the limit

After a decade of continual drugging and drinking, she was forced to face life without mind-altering substances. Doughten, whose ambition as a young girl was to become a company CEO, saw an opportunity to turn her life around. She signed up for the WELLS substance abuse program.

"I know WELLS is the turning point of my life," she said. "It's allowed me to become who I want to be."

Merrick said Doughten distinguished herself in the WELLS program, completing her assignments and helping new clients.

"She was enthusiastic about overcoming her addiction," Merrick said.

Doughten, who is living at a halfway house in Marion, is excited about her new life.

"I am free," she said in a phone interview. "I am so excited. I'm happy. I appreciate everything. The sky is the limit. In the prison, I could only see part of the sky."

She is working 12-hour days delivering phone books, saving up money to move into her own apartment. She said she is so determined to stay sober that she felt sick just looking at liquor in a store.

"I have no desire to drink or drug," Doughten said.

Huey Freeman can be reached at hfreeman@herald-review.com or 421-6985.