Friday, Feb. 10, 2017 | Indiana Daily Student | idsnews.com
IU loses to rival Purdue, see page 6 69-64 BLACK HISTORY MONTH
OPIOID EPIDEMIC
Archive shows fight for rights
IDS Visit idsnews.com for “End of the fall,” part one of our opioid series.
By Jesse Naranjo jlnaranj@indiana.edu | @jesselnaranjo
Similar to how some in the United States saw former President Barack Obama’s election as a symbol of progress for black Americans, the election of Thomas Atkins in 1960 as the first black student body president in the Big Ten Conference was a landmark event. Also similar to Obama’s election, Atkins’ presidency was not the end of civil rights debate on campus, as protests in the late 1960s demonstrated how black students still felt disenfranchised by IU’s administration. In the wake of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination in 1968, protests on campus escalated and culminated in a sit-in the at the racetrack a day before the Little 500 bike race was to begin. Protesters, led by graduate student Clarence “Rollo” Turner, camped out at the stadium and demanded campus greek organizations amend their charters to include black students. At the time, IU President Elvis Stahr asked the greek organizations to comply. All but one organization — the exception was Phi Delta Theta — did so. The national office would not submit to requests for integration. The decision not to allow the organization to race was one made by the administration, according to a statement from Stahr. The event is documented in Mary Ann Wynkoop’s book “Dissent in the Heartland: The Sixties at Indiana University.” “The point has been made here that black students can come together as a group of black people, stay together as a group of black people, can make a point as black people,” Turner said after Stahr agreed to meet his demands, according to the book. “It is time to go home.” While this happened on campus, Atkins was serving as a Boston City Council member. Atkins would later be credited with helping to prevent riots in the wake of King’s assassination.
NOBLE GUYON | IDS
Nurse Jackie Crane carries a box filled with contaminated sharp containers from the back of the SUV that Crane and Brittany Combs use for the needle exchange program. Sharp containers are plastic boxes used to dispose of contaminated needles and are given out as part of the program. The containers are collected each week from participants and brought back to the Scott County Health Department in Scottsburg, Indiana, to be disposed of.
Close to home Nurse Jackie Crane sees addiction every day in her work at the Scott County Health Department. She never thought she’d see it happen to her own son. By Liz Meuser emeuser@umail.iu.edu | @Liz_Meuser
SEYMOUR, IND. — Jackie Crane was at home with her grandson that Sunday night last January when she got the call. “Jackie, Taylor is in the bathroom. He’s not breathing.” “What do you mean he’s not breathing?” It was Sue, her son’s grandmother. “He’s not moving.” Jackie, a public health nurse at the Scott County Health Department, thought back to the first time her youngest son, Taylor Newkirk, had been found using heroin. It had been after a car accident, and he had gotten clean, or so she thought. This time it was different. “I’ll be right over.” Her kids had asked her to keep a naloxone kit, an opioid overdose antidote, in case of an emergency after they’d found out their cousin and some of their friends had been using heroin. She never thought the first time she’d have to use it would be on her own child. She ran to her dresser and rummaged around in her underwear drawer until she found the kit. In the car, Jackie called a coworker. “How do I do this again?” “Where does it go?”
“What am I supposed to do?” When she arrived, she found Taylor on the floor and surrounded by shattered glass and blood with cuts on his arm and thigh. Maybe he passed out, she thought. Had he been trying to hurt himself? She had never seen someone overdose before. His face was white and soaked with sweat. His lips and fingernails were blue. A slobbery froth bubbled at his mouth. He was barely breathing. She pulled down his pants and jabbed the needle straight into his upper thigh. She waited, listening to his low guttural grunts. She waited for some movement, some sign. It’s supposed to work right away, she thought. Why isn’t it working? She’d only brought the one dose. It wasn’t enough. She didn’t know how long he had left. She fumbled for her phone and called 9-1-1. * * * During the last few years, Jackie, 54, has watched heroin become visible in the daily fabric of Seymour, Indiana — hearing about people overdosing, the faces trembling with pain. When Taylor, 26, overdosed in January, it became personal. At work in Scott County, she had seen
drug use — severe poverty, drug abuse through generations of families, the outbreak of HIV. She never thought it could happen in her hometown. Not Seymour. Seymour was home. It was the Crossroads of America, the birthplace of John Cougar Mellencamp, small-town living. People had jobs and nice houses, compared to the severe poverty in Scott County. She assumed heroin was a something that only happened in big cities. How did people even get it? Simple — it was easy, and it was cheap. She knows better now than to think it couldn’t happen in Seymour. On Aug. 23, eight months after Taylor’s overdose, more than ten people in Jackson County, where Seymour is, and nearby Jennings county overdosed in a span of a few hours. They’d used a bad batch of heroin laced with the highly addictive painkiller fentanyl. There was one death. That happened on a Tuesday. On Wednesday, Jackie was already making plans for a way to help. She organized a naloxone education and distribution event with nonprofit Overdose Lifeline on Aug. 29 in Harmony Park. About one hundred people showed up. They were mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, teachers, nurses, lawyers and SEE CLOSE, PAGE 5
SEE REPRESENTATION, PAGE 5
WRESTLING
Senior wrestler overcomes adversity, finds home By Ryan Schuld rschuld@indiana.edu | @rschuld
In five years at Princeton, 149-pound graduate senior Chris Perez picked up 41 wins and made an NCAA Championship appearance his junior season. With all this success came adversity. Three major knee injuries during those years caused the current Hoosier to miss more than two seasons of wrestling in total. All of these injuries taught Perez, 23 years old, how to find ways to win, despite not always being fully healthy. “You have to be used to not being 100 percent,” Perez said. “You have to find ways to win. When you are out there, and your knee shifts, and you are buckling up, it’s really easy to quit on yourself and
make excuses.” Perez said his maturity has grown through these injuries and helped him learn to pick his shots carefully, understand he is not 100 percent and find a way to make it work because he won’t get any matches back. That gained maturity is something he brought with him at IU while pursuing an MBA from the Kelley School of Business. IU Coach Duane Goldman knows Perez’s Princeton coach well, which made Perez’s desire to get an MBA and continue wrestling fit perfectly. Goldman said Joe Dubuque, the Princeton coach, was a twotime national champion for him at IU, which helped Goldman find Perez and Perez find IU to continue his academic and athletic
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career. When Perez got to Bloomington, he was amazed at the difference in the size of the schools. “The biggest difference is IU is nine times the size of it,” Perez said. “I graduated with 1,400 or 1,500 kids, and there are 45,000 kids here. That’s the biggest difference in just walking around. By the time it was my senior year I knew everybody, and now I am like just a snowflake.” Perez might be a snowflake among the rest of the students at IU, but in the wrestling room, he brings the maturity and perspective needed to become a leader on the Hoosier wrestling team. “I think coming from a different program, an Ivy League SEE WRESTLING, PAGE 5
COURTESY PHOTO
Chris Perez gets his hand raised after defeating Andrew Crone of Wisconsin on Dec. 9, 2016. Perez hopes to get a win again on Friday against Iowa.
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