I Knew What My Enablers Were Doing. It’s Murkier With Matthew Perry.

Deep into my love affair with cocaine, I sat in the living room of a neighbor’s house with several other people, waiting for the mirror with the coveted white lines on it to come my way. It’s why we were all there — to buy coke and get high during the transaction. The woman sitting nearest to me yelped in pain as she snorted the lines through a white plastic straw. She explained that she’d burned a hole through her septum from doing coke. Then she shrugged and said something about having to get it repaired at some point.

There was a moment, as the mirror came to me and I bent over it, seeing my reflection beside the lines I so desperately wanted, when I saw clearly the cost of this addiction. But that brief moment was swallowed by the desire that propelled me, her and everyone else in that room. I watched as our host — our dealer — escorted her to the door, handed her the small zip-lock bag containing the love of her life, and took a wad of cash in exchange. I’m quite sure he never had a moment of hesitation or guilt.

The recent charges made in connection with the death of Matthew Perry sent these memories hurling back at me. It’s no surprise to encounter the callousness, the greed of dealers who know with expert precision how to prey on addicts. But in Mr. Perry’s case, we’ve seen a murkier area — a messy middle ground where people apparently start out thinking they’re helping but end up enabling and eventually hurting. Two doctors and Mr. Perry’s personal assistant have been charged, in addition to two other people. Maybe I’m being generous, but I’m assuming that the doctors, at least at one time, respected the pledge to “do no harm.” Yet it was one of the doctors who sent the text that read, “I wonder how much this moron will pay.” Matthew Perry ended up paying $55,000 for roughly 20 vials of ketamine. I have no idea what the market price for ketamine is, but $55,000 seems a bit steep.

Matthew Perry was not a moron. He was a man in a dark tunnel, a tunnel that echoes with desperate desires he had tried, but in the end failed, to control. I have seen some in that tunnel who understand, with chilling cruelty, how to prey on addicts and have no pangs of conscience about doing so. They know that rational thought and instincts of self-preservation get drowned out by the raging desire to feel a drug coursing through one’s body.

When I worked in a restaurant, I could tell intuitively when customers had coke on them. I was almost always right. I went out to the parking lot and sat in cars with total strangers just to do a line. As stupid as that was, I’m not a moron either. I was led by an addiction that blindfolds you and shoves you in the direction of only one thing — the drug you crave.

Did some of the people charged in connection with Mr. Perry’s death start out rationalizing? Saying things like, “We’re helping to lessen his pain” or “If we don’t give this to him, he’ll get it somewhere else?” However they started out, they seem to have ended up in the same cold terrain as the dealers. When Matthew Perry died, a text went out between two of the five people charged saying to delete all previous texts.

Many different kinds of people prey on addicts. The most dangerous are those who are clearheaded, those who have memorized the map of this disease, who have somewhere along the line decided that monetary profit is more important than the life of a human being. Those who begin as enablers can too easily join that club.

People who tell themselves they are helping often come to express remorse. Maybe the five people who have been charged in connection with Matthew Perry’s death will, too. Having known too much of that dark world, I for one won’t believe them.

Patti Davis is the author of “Dear Mom and Dad: A Letter About Family, Memory and the America We Once Knew.”

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