Methadone: cure or curse? Special investigation

IT is first thing on a cold Monday morning outside a chemist in Glasgow’s East End. Fidgety, gaunt looking figures are waiting for one thing – their methadone fix. As in pharmacies across the city, and country, the little bottles of luminous green liquid will be handed out to tide addicts over for another day and stave off destructive cravings for heroin.

This strange, sad ritual seems like blessed relief for many heroin addicts across the country. The chaos of life on the lethal Class A drug is written across the faces of those limping through the door on heavy legs; heard all too often in the tragic stories of looming prison sentences and death riddled through the family tree – overdosing parents, brothers, sisters and cousins. Among the thousands of gaunt, despairing addicts standing outside Glasgow chemists on a daily basis is the son of Jim Doherty.

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