Latest news with #NarcoticsAnonymous
Sunday World
6 days ago
- Sunday World
Dublin man who held over €360k of drugs after shown photos of his family jailed
Gardaí accepted that Stuart Murphy (46) was under duress to store the drugs after he was shown photographs of his family to put him under further pressure. A man who agreed to hold over €360,000 worth of cannabis resin after he was shown photographs of his father, fiancé and 11-year-old daughter has been jailed for five years. Gardaí accepted that Stuart Murphy (46) was under duress to store the drugs having just received them two hours before officers searched his home. He had run up a drug debt of €8,000 after he relapsed into drug addiction during the Covid pandemic. It was accepted that he was shown photographs of his family to put him under further pressure. Murphy, of Dromcara Avenue, Tallaght, pleaded guilty at Dublin Circuit Criminal Court to having 629 slabs of cannabis resin, worth an estimated € 364,800, in a van parked outside his home on December 20, 2023. He has no previous convictions. Garda Patrick Roche told Derek Cooney BL, prosecuting, that Murphy's home was searched after a warrant was secured following receipt of confidential information. Murphy was visibly nervous and told officers that they would find cannabis in a van parked outside his home. He said his friend owned the van but made it clear that his friend had nothing to do with the drugs. Stuart Murphy (46). Photo: Murphy was arrested and admitted that he had run up a drug debt. He said he had taken the drugs two hours previously and had been told he would only be holding them for a short time. Gda Roche agreed with Mr Cooney that Murphy was fully co-operative and gardaí are satisfied that his account that he was in fear for his life and under duress to take the drugs was a valid and true account of the situation. Murphy said he had been shown images of his father going to work, his fiancé going to work and a photograph of his 11-year-old daughter while she was visiting Ireland from her home in France. Stuart Murphy (46) of Dromcara Avenue, Tallaght, Dublin. Photo: News in 90 Seconds - June 24th Gda Roche agreed with Paul Murray SC, defending, that Murphy had a previous addiction but had gone into rehabilitation and 'had been clean for over 20 years'. Counsel told Judge Sinead Ní Chúlacháin that his client offered 'an unreserved apology' to the court, his family and society in general for his involvement in the offence. He said that Murphy had developed a drug addiction in 1998 to 'all types of drugs' but had sought help and had rehabilitated in 2004. Mr Murray said his client lost his job during Covid and was also unable to meet with his daughter who lives in France with his former partner. He became very depressed at the time and stopped attending his regular Narcotics Anonymous meetings. He relapsed into drug use and built up a drug debt. Counsel said his client acknowledges that it was his own drug addiction that led to his involvement in the offence but asked the court to accept that he 'came under pressure' to store the cannabis. 'His personal demons came to find him and led him to being here. He is not a drug dealer, he is a man with personal demons,' Mr Murray submitted to the court. Mr Murray handed in a large number of references on his client's behalf which outlined his involvement with youth centres in his local area. He said he has since re-engaged with NA meetings and is free from drugs again. 'He is the picture of someone who has been a good person in society for most of his life. Covid had a devastating impact on him and led him to the position he finds himself in today,' Mr Murray submitted. Judge Ní Chúlacháin accepted that Murphy only had the drugs in his possession for a short time and that it had not been his intention to sell them for personal gain. She acknowledged that there was 'undoubtedly an element of duress'. 'I suspect that the photographs were more active motivations for storing the drugs rather than reducing your debt,' the judge said. She said 'drugs are a scourge in our society and that is recognised by the legislature. Those who profit from this would not be able to function without people like yourself who are not under the garda radar.' Judge Ní Chúlacháin set a headline sentence of 12 years. She took into account Murphy's admissions and accepted that gardaí accept his account to them was truthful. She further accepted that he was a pro-social member of society who despite his addiction had been active in his encouragement to others not to use drugs and break their own addictions. She said there were references in court to support this. Judge Ni Chúlacháin imposed a sentence of six years. She suspended the final 12 months of the sentence for 12 months on condition that Murphy engage with the Probation Service for a year upon his release from prison.
Irish Independent
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Independent
Rick O'Shea: Addiction and the apocalypse never sounded so appealing
Tim MacGabhann describes being strung out at his first Narcotics Anonymous meeting in Mexico; while Gethan Dick's debut is a modern take on Day of the Triffids, but without the plants; and Pádraig Ó Tuama's anthology is a collection of incredible poetry Today at 21:30 How would you like 'the pollen-textured light over the bookshelves in a corner apartment, a window deep with time, specifically, time deep and quiet and unbroken enough to read every book on that shelf, leave them heaped and discarded on the bank of your own absorption in time as deep as a lake'? Sounds fantastic, right? It would be if it weren't Tim MacGabhann describing how he felt at the start of his first Narcotics Anonymous meeting in Mexico City. He had just walked halfway across the city, strung out on heroin having been arrested during a protest against the government and then dumped on the street hours later by police.
The Star
04-06-2025
- Health
- The Star
Proteas wicketkeeper Sinalo Jafta and her path to redemption through sobriety
Proteas wicketkeeper Sinalo Jafta is widely heralded as one of the best cricketers in the world, but she is also a great advocate for overcoming addiction and the stigma surrounding the issue. In late 2022, Jafta was voluntarily admitted to an alcohol rehabilitation facility in the KwaZulu-Natal Midlands. Back then, the 27-year-old could have been forgiven for thinking her cricketing career may already be over. Now Jafta is coming up to three years sober, and is one of the fixtures of the South African team. Since her debut for South Africa in 2016, Jafta has made 95 appearances across all three formats, solidifying her place in the Proteas side. When asked how she turned her life around, Jafta revealed how she instead saw it as starting a new chapter in her life. 'I don't see it as success. For me, it's literally just the 24 hours that is very important to me. And I think when I went into treatment, that was the one thing that I wasn't focused on. I was more focused on what I am doing outside of the game," Jafta told in an exclusive interview. 'But then as soon as I got there, they literally said focus on 24 [hours] and how you see cricket and how you play cricket. You literally focus on that day because that's the most important.' As any Narcotics Anonymous (NA) or Alcoholic Anonymous (AA) teachings will preach, it's about living one day at a time. This is a philosophy that the 30-year-old sticks to religiously. 'If I think too far ahead, I don't know whether relapse is coming tomorrow. But if I know that I'm sorting out what I'm meant to do today, I won't relapse tomorrow. It's more like a domino effect. And I think anyone that's going through anything with addiction or with sobriety in general, it's okay." 'I think if someone told me that it was okay and [if I had] asked for help, I think that's the biggest thing. There's nothing to be ashamed of because your story is not done yet." 'And I always think of life as chapters. It was just another chapter of my life. So now I'm looking forward to the rest.'
IOL News
04-06-2025
- Health
- IOL News
Proteas wicketkeeper Sinalo Jafta and her path to redemption through sobriety
OVERCOMING OBSTACLES Proteas wicketkeeper Sinalo Jafta has had an inspiring journey from battling addiction to becoming a champion for sobriety and mental health awareness in cricket. Picture: BackpagePix Image: BackpagePix Proteas wicketkeeper Sinalo Jafta is widely heralded as one of the best cricketers in the world, but she is also a great advocate for overcoming addiction and the stigma surrounding the issue. In late 2022, Jafta was voluntarily admitted to an alcohol rehabilitation facility in the KwaZulu-Natal Midlands. Back then, the 27-year-old could have been forgiven for thinking her cricketing career may already be over. Now Jafta is coming up to three years sober, and is one of the fixtures of the South African team. Since her debut for South Africa in 2016, Jafta has made 95 appearances across all three formats, solidifying her place in the Proteas side. Video Player is loading. Play Video Play Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration -:- Loaded : 0% Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Advertisement Next Stay Close ✕ Ad loading One Day at a Time for Jafta When asked how she turned her life around, Jafta revealed how she instead saw it as starting a new chapter in her life. 'I don't see it as success. For me, it's literally just the 24 hours that is very important to me. And I think when I went into treatment, that was the one thing that I wasn't focused on. I was more focused on what I am doing outside of the game," Jafta told in an exclusive interview. 'But then as soon as I got there, they literally said focus on 24 [hours] and how you see cricket and how you play cricket. You literally focus on that day because that's the most important.' As any Narcotics Anonymous (NA) or Alcoholic Anonymous (AA) teachings will preach, it's about living one day at a time. This is a philosophy that the 30-year-old sticks to religiously. 'If I think too far ahead, I don't know whether relapse is coming tomorrow. But if I know that I'm sorting out what I'm meant to do today, I won't relapse tomorrow. It's more like a domino effect. And I think anyone that's going through anything with addiction or with sobriety in general, it's okay." 'I think if someone told me that it was okay and [if I had] asked for help, I think that's the biggest thing. There's nothing to be ashamed of because your story is not done yet." 'And I always think of life as chapters. It was just another chapter of my life. So now I'm looking forward to the rest.'
Globe and Mail
24-05-2025
- Globe and Mail
The heroic life and tragic death of Trey Helten
I saw Trey Helten for the last time in September last year. It was a typical day on Vancouver's Downtown Eastside. A steady drizzle fell. People huddled in doorways, slept on the wet sidewalk or stood slumping like broken dolls as their drugs took hold. Trey had been there himself. He spent years homeless and addicted on those streets, then more years working in a supervised drug-use site trying to help people survive the opioids crisis. Now he was getting out. He had left his job, exhausted, beat-up and hoping to make a new start. He showed up for our meeting with his ever-present black dog, Zelda. He tied her leash to a railing and we went into a diner for lunch and a talk. His story was a familiar one. Trey got into trouble when he was a kid and started smoking crack cocaine when he was 14 years old. He quit school. He moved to the Downtown Eastside, one of Canada's roughest, poorest neighbourhoods. He graduated to heroin. He ended up sleeping on the sidewalk, a ruin of a man, his handsome face pale and scarred. Then one day he walked into a Narcotics Anonymous meeting, pushing a shopping cart full of his stuff. With the help of NA and addiction medicine, he got sober. He started volunteering at the drug-use site. He was a natural, with a commanding presence and a knack for treating clients as equals. Before long he was running the place. Trey became a famous figure in the Downtown Eastside, instantly recognizable with his studded leather vest and his towering, brightly dyed Mohawk. He seemed to be everywhere. Striding down East Hastings Street with Zelda at his side. Speaking in documentaries and news stories about the devastation wrought by the overdose epidemic. Buying bacon and eggs for a struggling friend in a booth at the Ovaltine Café. He knew everyone and everyone knew him: cops, social workers, first responders, dealers, users. Like a soldier in a long war, he saw many of his comrades perish over the years. But he saved many, too, jumping in to revive them with a shot of naloxone or a dose of oxygen. He was at it days, nights and weekends. Driving people to drug detox. Visiting fallen friends in hospital. Offering someone a place to crash while they sorted things out. Where others saw ghoulish subhumans staggering along the street, he saw people. He knew their names and stories. And yet a shadow hung over Trey whenever I went to see him. He had a haunted look. It was there in his eyes. He couldn't shake the feeling, so common among those in his world, that he was somehow contemptible, worthless, a failure. For others, he had all the compassion in the world; for himself, none. In the first line of Charles Dickens' David Copperfield, David Copperfield asks 'whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life.' If you had put that question to Trey, he would have laughed or shrugged. He could never see himself that way, no matter how much good he had done and how much pain he had endured. He was coming out of a tough stretch when I saw him over lunch last fall. He had started using drugs again. He had an angry meltdown at work. He got into a fight with his teenage son. He passed out on the street one night and landed in hospital with pneumonia. Something had to change. After days of agonizing withdrawal, he managed to quit the drugs again. When we spoke, he had just taken a new job: retrieving dead bodies for the B.C. Coroners Service. A strange choice, he agreed. Not exactly a mood lifter. But he felt it was useful work. He would get a text from a dispatcher, hop in his van and go. He was good with the families. On days off he led meetings of Narcotics Anonymous. He was hoping to patch things up with his son. A few months after our lunch, his girlfriend became pregnant with his child. I didn't talk to Trey for a while. The fall passed, winter came and went. Then last month my phone lit up with a text from the West Coast. Trey had failed to report for work one day. Friends went over to his place. Trey had died at age 42. No one said how, but everyone had the same sinking thought. Throngs of people dropped into his day-long memorial service on East Hastings to say their goodbyes earlier this month. They were the usual motley crew, many bearing the marks and wounds of street life. They left flowers in front of his picture. They wept. They laughed. They sang karaoke. They bent to pet Zelda. They wondered how it was possible that Trey, the indestructible, was gone. Trey Helten may not have been the hero of his own life, but he was one to them. He was one to me.
