A Drug She Didn't Ask For

​​​​Allison and Kelsey Johnston were first cousins. Born four months apart, they grew up within walking distance and were raised as sisters, with sleepovers, dance classes, and matching clothes on picture day. 

Kelsey was the “square one,” giving love and encouragement, Allison said. She was a cheerleader at Theodore High School and the one who made good grades. 

“Kelsey should have become a lawyer because she could argue with anyone,” Allison said.

Instead, Kelsey died on October 11, 2018, at the Rodeway Inn in Tillman’s Corner. She was killed by fentanyl, a lethal drug she didn’t use or ask for.

There were 56 drug overdose deaths in Mobile and Baldwin counties in 2018, the year Kelsey died. Just three years later, that number more than tripled to 198. Drug overdose is now the leading cause of death in adults ages 18-45, and 70 percent of those deaths are caused by fentanyl. 

Fifty times more potent than heroin and 100 times stronger than morphine, fentanyl was created to relieve pain during and after surgery or for cancer patients at the end of life. The illicit form is one of the deadliest drugs available and the most addictive. Two milligrams of fentanyl, the amount of a few specs of salt, is considered lethal. 

Made in China, bricks of illicit fentanyl were shipped by mail to the U.S. until the American government cracked down in 2019. China responded by sending fentanyl ingredients to Mexico for mass production and easier smuggling across the border. The synthetic opioid is now the biggest drug threat in Alabama, according to the 2023 Drug Threat Assessment from Gulf Coast High Intensity Drug Trafficking Areas program (HIDTA).

“We kept heroin out of south Alabama for decades, but Mexican cartels covered the country in heroin. It finally arrived here and was soon followed by something even more dangerous,” said Sean P. Costello, US Attorney for the Southern District of Alabama. “Around 2018, we started seeing fentanyl added to heroin and counterfeit pills. Forty percent of counterfeit pills are now laced with fentanyl.”

Drugs changed over the last five years, becoming stronger and easier for local dealers to get, Costello said. 

“These drugs aren’t mixed in labs by chemists, and buyers don’t know what they are getting,” he said. “They don’t want fentanyl, but suppliers are adding it and getting them hooked anyway. There has been a local increase in fentanyl the last two years, and it’s getting worse. A lot of people are dying.”

Before heroin and fentanyl, Alabama had been one of the leading states for prescribing pain pills. In 2012, it was number one in the nation for per-capita opioid prescriptions, with 143.8 prescriptions per 100 residents, and stayed at the top for several years. In Mobile County, doctors prescribed 208,820,574 opioid pills - 56 pills per person in the county per year - from 2006 to 2014.

Two of the South’s largest opioid prescribers, Dr. Patrick Couch and Dr. Xiulu Ruan, were doctors in Mobile who owned Physicians Pain Specialists of Alabama and C&R Pharmacy. They made millions of dollars from off-label prescriptions of fentanyl-based pain medicine approved for cancer patients. The clinic was shut down, and the doctors were arrested in 2015 as part of the DEA’s Operation PILLuted in four states. Other local doctors slammed on the breaks for prescriptions.

As the crackdown on prescriptions cut off patients who had become addicted to pain pills freely given out by doctors, Mexican cartels and local drug dealers moved in, bringing plenty of cheap heroin and cheaper fentanyl to fill the void. 

Kelsey experimented with Zanax bars during high school to calm her anxiety, and she took pain pills after her pregnancy, Allison said. Her drug use grew during a difficult marriage and divorce.

Putting off treatment, Kelsey found new friends and began using methamphetamine. Addiction came quickly, leaving Kelsey homeless while family members raised her young son and daughter. 

Long text messages between Allison and Kelsey showed loved ones trying to understand drug use and wanting to help.

On October 1, 2018, Allison asked Kelsey why it was so hard to stop using drugs.  “Does the meth make you feel so good that nothing else matters?” she wrote. “Or does it just make you forget everything else?” 

Kelsey replied, “It’s not the meth I am addicted to, Allison. It’s the numbness and having no more pain. It’s shameful and embarrassing what I’ve become.”

Those were some of the last words Allison received from Kelsey. 

Kelsey was one of four overdose deaths that became the focus of a two-year, multi-agency investigation connecting drug distribution and overdose deaths in Mobile.

The fentanyl that killed Kelsey was provided by William Owens, who was part of a loose, multi-state network of drug dealers, suppliers, and couriers. Several of them lived on Crossley Hills Drive in Grand Bay, and investigators referred to it as the Crossley Hills Drug Trafficking Organization. In 2020, a grand jury charged 42 people in connection with the drug smuggling and distribution conspiracy. Charges against three of them were later dropped. 

The Mobile County Sheriff’s Office has been dealing with the Crossley Hills gang for more than 20 years, Deputy Keith Wilson said.

“Back then it was mostly crack cocaine, but a few years ago they switched to large amounts of heroin and heroin laced with fentanyl,”  Wilson said.

“You could sit close by the neighborhood and watch cars coming and going that obviously didn't belong there,” Wilson said. “It was primarily white folks coming into a predominantly black area. People from Grand Bay or across the bay were driving to Crossley Hills.”

One trial witness testified that “car after car kept coming by, like a busy night at the Greater Gulf State Fair.”

The federal indictment alleged that starting in 2016, the Crossley Hills gang distributed a substantial amount of the heroin in Mobile County, leading to numerous overdoses, resulting in hospitalizations and deaths. 

Some members of the Crossley Hills gang were related. If one dealer wasn’t available, buyers were told to “go on to the house,” and someone else would take care of them. 

One of the houses belonged to Anetta Gaynell Owens, sister, aunt or grandmother of several dealers. According to her guilty plea, transactions were made in the laundry room and money was kept in a safe. 

Drugs were sometimes “broken down,” bagged, and served to buyers on her porch. They were stored in coolers and backpacks or in a truck or bushes behind the house. Larger amounts of pre-packaged drugs were stored in capped-off PVC pipes. Sometimes drugs were left for customers in the shrubs or the mailbox. 

Guilty pleas showed that a search warrant conducted at Owens’ home on January 30, 2018, found a house full of guns: a semi-automatic GLNIC rifle with a banana clip, loaded with 37 rounds of ammunition, in the hall closet, a stolen Remington 1911 .45-caliber semi-automatic handgun on top of the entertainment center in the living room and one magazine loaded with three rounds of .45-caliber ammunition in the drawer of the hutch in the kitchen. They also found a semi-automatic rifle, a handgun, and a shotgun in the bedrooms. 

The Crossley Hills gang had drivers and runners pick up drugs from suppliers across the Gulf Coast, according to guilty pleas. One was a Mexican national in Mississippi, and two others were nicknamed “Dogman” and “Fitz.” “Chad the Pilot,” was a rapper in Baldwin County who received his fentanyl by mail from California.

Guilty pleas told of drug deliveries made to parking lots of gas stations, drug stores, and banks around Mobile, or to an inmate at Loxley Work Release. Human testers verified the quality of drugs. Most drivers and testers were paid in heroin.

Customers paid $80 for an 8-ball of meth (3.5 grams), or $20 for a point of heroin (one-tenth of a gram). Some paid with stolen property or food stamps at 50 cents on the dollar. One used his car title when he didn’t have the cash.

Plea agreements also showed dealers in the Crossley Hills organization transitioned from crack to pills, meth, heroin, and fentanyl. One dealer convinced opioid pill users to switch to heroin because it was cheaper and easier for him to get heroin than the pills. 

The dealers called fentanyl “Gray Death” and added it to heroin, knowing it caused overdoses. Sometimes they warned customers that it was strong or they were receiving “the good stuff.” A few grains of cheap fentanyl added to heroin provided a bigger high and a faster addiction, but it could also be fast death.

“When users hear about an overdose, they think that is good dope, and try to get it,” Deputy Wilson said. “I've heard it from too many guys on the street.”

Drugs also passed from hand to hand as buyers became dealers to support their habits, Wilson said. 

“That makes it hard to know what you are getting,” he said. “These dealers aren’t chemists, mixing drugs in a lab. There are no regulations to follow and no consistency in the mix. They add fentanyl into other drugs, and buyers don’t know it’s there.”

One customer bought half a point of heroin that was cut with fentanyl, then sold it to a customer referred to as “JS,” according to one plea agreement. Within seconds, JS died in the bathroom of a gas station in Mobile.

It was arrests, not overdose deaths that stopped the Crossley Hills dealers.

The investigation and arrests were coordinated by multiple local, state, and national law enforcement agencies, coming together under the government’s Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force. 

Multiple teams hit 15 or 20 spots at once, Wilson said. 

“We had a tight plan, so there wasn’t time for them to call each other and get away,” Wilson said. “We picked up one dealer coming off a boat in Louisiana. Another was picked up while making a deal.”

Thirty-eight of the 39 Crossley Hills co-conspirators pleaded guilty. Only William Owens refused a plea agreement on his federal charges of conspiracy and distribution of fentanyl, methamphetamine, and heroin. Part of that conspiracy was causing the overdose death of Kelsey Johnston. 

Kelsey’s family sat in U.S. District Judge Terry Moorer’s courtroom through the five-day trial in March 2022, hoping for justice and answers.

During the opening statements, prosecutors Luis Peral and George May said this was a simple case of a habitual, shameless drug dealer who bragged about the overdoses he caused. He killed 27-year-old Kelsey Johnston, the prosecutors said, and he was caught red-handed dealing drugs. 

The prosecution provided details of Johnston’s Death. She was a new girl at the Rodeway Inn, near the intersection of I-10 and U.S. 90 in the Tillman’s Corner area. 

Owens often stayed and sold drugs at the Rodeway. He attempted to have sex with all girls arriving at the motel, often plying them with drugs. Owens kept two bags of drugs– one for selling and the other for sex.

Defense attorney Patrick Prendergast acknowledged in his opening statement that Owens wasn’t a good person. 

“William Owens is a thief, a sex addict, and a drug addict,” Prendergast said. “You aren’t going to like him. But he’s a drug addict, not a dealer. He’s a victim. He’s a poor drug addict having sex in these motels.”

One by one, witnesses identified Owens sitting in the courtroom, then recounted stories of sex, drugs, addiction, and overdoses.
Some of the first witnesses entered the courtroom in handcuffs and wearing striped jumpsuits. They were the other dealers of Crossley Hills, explaining how they bought and sold drugs with Owens. The amounts were usually small for daily usage, but they were constantly selling and always on call. Martin “MC” Melton described their transition to fentanyl, admitting that at least 70 percent of the heroin he sold was laced with the deadly synthetic drug. 

“We went from selling weed to cocaine to pills to heroin to fentanyl,” Melton testified. “What we sold changed as the next drug became a hot commodity. More people wanted it.”

Dealers cut heroin with cheaper fentanyl, expanding the heroin to make more money, explained DEA Special Agent James Overstreet.

“They are cutting something much more powerful into heroin to make it go farther.” 

He added that dealers sell from budget motels because the foot traffic is good, they pay for rooms with cash, and don’t need identification. 

Prosecutor George May explained that Owens preyed on the vulnerable. Many of his customers were young women selling their bodies for drug money at motels in Tillman’s Corner or along the I-65 Beltine. 

“As soon as these girls had money, they used it to buy dope,” May said in an interview after the trial. “It was a terrible cycle.”

A few of those women spoke out as witnesses during the trial. Addicted to heroin, they used it several times a day, doing anything to keep dope sickness away. They described dopesick as feeling “100 times worse than the flu, with vomiting and diarrhea, chills and sweats.” One woman said, “It was so bad my toenails and fingernails hurt.”

Women testified that Owens found pleasure in watching them suffer from withdrawals, putting them through hell, including sex acts, before supplying the “medicine” of heroin they desperately needed. He locked one woman going through withdrawals in his bathroom as she kicked the walls and screamed. Finally opening the door, he held the baggie of heroin over himself like mistletoe, happy in his power over her.

A former user testified that he started buying from the Crossley Hills dealers in 2016 and got a Crossley Hills Boys tattoo. He bought drugs at a discount, then sold them to people he knew. 

In 2018, he noticed the heroin was stronger and laced with fentanyl. He overdosed on September 26, 2018, while driving and ran headfirst into another car. Hearing about the overdose, Owens called him a “f-ing dumb-ss.” 

He also testified that he bought drugs at the motels and saw Owens push fentanyl on new girls.  

Kelsey Johnston used meth, not heroin or fentanyl. On October 11, 2018, Owens told Tubb, one of his girlfriends and accomplices, to get fentanyl. 

Witnesses described Tubb as the “do girl,” doing whatever Owens asked, including injecting drugs into users who were squeamish about injecting themselves. Tubb was also an addict and testified that she did these things for Owens in exchange for food, a constant supply of drugs, and a place to stay. 

Tubb got the fentanyl at the demand of Owens. He drew it up on a spoon and added water. 

Owens “said ‘hit her,’ and Tubbs injected the fentanyl into Kelsey,” May told the jury during his opening statement. “Kelsey overdosed, but Owens never bothered to call 911 or seek medical attention for her. Kelsey was left to die alone and wasn’t found until 11 a.m. the next morning, when the maids arrived to clean the room.”

Prosecutors showed pictures of Kelsey’s lifeless body on the bed. One photo showed the tattoo on her side that read, “Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional,” above a flower.

Against the advice of his lawyer, Owens took the stand to defend himself. Owens said he was a crack addict, not a drug dealer. He said he had nothing to do with Kelsey Johnston’s death, blaming it on Tubbs.

“I am sorry for all of the people who lost their lives because of my family,” he said. “They are all coming out of the closet and saying whatever they need to say to get reduced jail time. 

“I didn’t say I’m a good boy. I am a manipulator. I will sell you a dream with an elevator. But I don’t sell drugs. If I did, I would be accountable.” 

After Judge Moorer announced that the jury found Owens guilty on multiple counts, including possession of fentanyl with the intent to distribute, causing the overdose death of Kelsey Johnston, Kelsey’s family members hugged and cried.

Tubb was later sentenced to 15 years in prison for drug crimes, including actions that caused the overdose death of Kelsey Johnston. Owens is scheduled for sentencing on June 30 and faces a minimum sentence of 20 years up to life in prison. 

Allison Johnston said the trial and conviction helped close some doors. She said she also hopes the verdict sends a warning to other dealers selling fentanyl.

“During the investigation, we had limited information about Kelsey's death, so it was difficult to hear about it during the trial,” she said. “In the beginning, I blamed Kelsey for her overdose because she was doing stupid things. Now I know she put herself in stupid situations, but was also taken advantage of by bad people. She didn't just go to a motel room and do this to herself. 

“Taking the fentanyl wasn’t her choice,” Allison said. “Someone else did this to her. That’s hard to swallow, but it helped me forgive her.”

Testimony about withdrawal symptoms helped the family understand the illness of addiction and the pain Kelsey felt when she didn’t take the drugs.

“Kelsey wanted to get better and come back to her family and kids, but she kept putting it off for another hit,” Allison said. “I think she felt like she was still in control and had more time. But fentanyl made it too late.”

Allison and Kelsey Johnston

This was a part of “It’s the Devil,” a yearlong series about the drug epidemic in South Alabama that ran in Lagniappe in 2022.