“A lot of parents are not aware at all”
“A lot of parents are not aware at all”
The crisis of substance use among Los Alamos teens
Story by Stephanie Nakhleh
Photos by Minesh Bacrania
For much of its short existence, Los Alamos County has enjoyed a reputation as the pinnacle of health and happiness. It has been dubbed the “healthiest community in the United States” by U.S. News & World Report, the “best place to live in New Mexico” by Niche, and the “happiest small town in America” (at least the White Rock part) by Travel + Leisure. It is a home to top-ranked schools. It’s easy to see why Los Alamos is often portrayed as an ideal place to raise a family.
But the June 18th arrest of four teens, including three juveniles, on drug-trafficking charges, and the discovery of hypodermic needles littering local baseball fields tell a different story, one in which many Los Alamos residents, including our youngest residents, are struggling — and sometimes sinking.
Another Los Alamos
The death of Los Alamos high school student Miles Weaver in 2023, following on the heels of a spate of overdoses, shattered any illusions that Los Alamos was free from the problems that famously plague the rest of the state.
“I would be worried if I had a child in Los Alamos, quite frankly. I’d be scared for them,” says one young man, whom we’ll refer to as “L.T.” for this series.* L.T. is currently in treatment for substance use disorder. His mother, who will go by “Em” for this series (mother and son both spoke on the condition of anonymity), recounts the harrowing experience of learning her youngest child was using drugs. “We got a psychiatrist. We got a psychologist…Is this depression, or what? I’m trying to find the answers,” she says.
Em could be many mothers; L.T. could be many teens. According to the National Survey on Drug Use and Health, nationally, an estimated 8.95% of teens aged 12-17 experienced substance use disorder in 2022; in New Mexico, that number was nearly double at 16%. The statewide shortage of healthcare providers makes it even harder for people like Em and L.T. to find the information and care they need.
For decades, Tom Steward has been one of those sources of information and care, providing counseling and psychotherapy to patients of all ages in Los Alamos. He specializes in trauma, grief, anxiety, depression, and psychotic disorders. He also knows the pain of loss all too well: his son, Ryan, died of a heroin overdose in 2012. Ryan “had been using off and on even when he was growing up here, and I thought it was just weed,” says Steward. Steward later found out his son had been dabbling in stronger substances, but what precipitated the tragedy was opioids prescribed to Ryan during a hospitalization after a bad fall at his home in Lobo Village in Albuquerque. “When he ran out of [prescription opioids], he looked for heroin on the street,” Steward says. “And probably seven months later, he died.”
Often, disaster seems to strike out of nowhere. Miles Weaver’s obituary describes him as “a joyous kid, funny and friendly.” Several people who knew the student and his family described the horror the family went through — and the ripples of shock and grief that spread through the school community — after his death.
These tragedies, along with myriad other troubling incidents that we’ll detail later in the series, have raised concerns about the well-being of Los Alamos youth. These concerns are more than anecdotal. In the 2021 Youth Risk and Resiliency Survey (YRRS), high school students in Los Alamos County reported consuming alcohol and binge drinking at higher rates than the national and state averages. The same survey indicated that the use of illicit substances tends to be lower in the county than state averages, but from multiple sources we’re learning of high rates of teen substance use, including marijuana, cocaine, alcohol, and meth. In a few weeks the 2023 YRRS survey will be released, and we’ll report on those updated statistics.
“…all of those things they think don’t happen in Los Alamos. They do.”
A young woman, whom we’ll identify as “A.S.” throughout this series, spoke with us about the party scene in Los Alamos, which she says she used to be involved with until recently. She moved here from another state at the age of 19 and sees “two different versions” of Los Alamos. “A lot of parents are not aware at all of the second version of Los Alamos. But their kids are,” she says. “That second version…unfortunately, does have drugs. It does have underage drinking…It has all of those things they think don’t happen in Los Alamos. They do.”
The Los Alamos environment
The prevalence of substance use in a community known for its affluence and intellectual achievement has left many grappling for explanations.
“Why did these kids use in this town?” Em asks, rhetorically. “It’s a complicated answer for each kid.” Through interviews and research, Boomtown finds answers ranging from the seemingly mundane to the unthinkable: pressure, boredom, isolation, adverse childhood events, and sexual exploitation. We’ll start with an overview and continue to delve into these factors throughout the series.
Pressure cooker
Some, including L.T., point to the intense pressure to excel academically and professionally. “There’s a lot of pressure to succeed” in the schools, he says. “A lot of pressure to just do well.” Em agrees: “It’s extra-hard for Los Alamos kids who have all these notions put on them of perfection and smartness and normalcy that aren’t real.”
A.S. sees this play out amongst the high-school kids she knows. “A lot of these kids are getting extremely overworked and have ridiculously high expectations,” she says. “And it's like, ‘Oh, it's Los Alamos, we're one of the best schools. All these kids are doing great.’” But, A.S. says, some of those kids are taking Adderall, cocaine, meth, or crack: “Then they get anxious, so they do downers because they want to relieve the anxiety. So it's uppers, downers, uppers, downers.”
Steward says issues around high expectations and pressure come up all the time in his practice, but it’s not just the kids who feel under the gun. “There’s a lot of pressure on families,” he says. The kids sometimes react by striving to please parents, other times with defiance. “Like, ‘Up yours, I don’t want to live by your rules, I don’t have to get a Ph.D. like you,’” says Steward, paraphrasing what he hears from some young people.
Boomtown reached out to the schools for comment on the issue of academic pressure. Los Alamos Public Schools Superintendent Jennifer Guy stated in an interview that the schools are working towards changing their practices in light of feedback they’ve received from families. “I agree that for some students, there can be high academic pressure,” Guy says. “I think it’s important that we have open conversations with parents and that we’re working together as a team with parents about keeping that academic pressure realistic, and not creating academic pressure on students that’s not appropriate or manageable.”
Bored and isolated … and in big trouble
The pressures Los Alamos families face can lead to greater isolation and social atomization, Steward says. Like people in many other American communities, Los Alamosians can suffer from disconnection and denial. “I don’t care what social group you’re in, or what building you go to on Sunday or any other day; you can still be very, very lonely,” he says. “The reason we don’t feel connected is because we’re not honestly sharing.”
This pervasive sense of isolation can drive individuals towards substance use as a coping mechanism. “We think that is a really big underlying reason why there’s just so much substance use disorder in the U.S. right now,” says Dr. Leslie Hayes, a board-certified family-health and addiction specialist raised in Los Alamos who now works in Rio Arriba County. “Social isolation. Covid obviously made it so much worse. People don’t have friends. They don’t socialize the way they used to. So much of what we do is online.”
A.S. says that she sees many bored teens in town turning to each other for stimulation and comfort — and getting pulled into a dangerous party culture. “Some of them are reacting to the fact that their parent is not paying attention to them at all,” says A.S., reflecting on the teens she knows. “Neglect leads to being bored, and looking for attention in other places. … You find any other outlet for help, and a lot of times that outlet is, yeah, other teenagers and those that do not have your best interest in mind.”
L.T. circled back to the theme of boredom repeatedly. He acknowledged what the adults say about school pressure, but he also sees Los Alamos as a county without any fun, safe activities for young people to relieve that pressure. “There’s nothing. There’s nothing. There’s no sober activities, nothing for kids to do except the SALA movie theater. Literally.”
The young people we interviewed enumerated a variety of spots throughout the county where drug dealing commonly occurs, including places where teens gather, like the skate park. “I mean, yeah, totally the skate park,” confirms Los Alamos Police Det. Sgt. Ryan Wolking. “It’s rampant. Sonic, the ice rink … What frustrates us is we know who’s doing drugs. And we can watch them pull in in their car. They’ll sit there for 10 minutes and kids get in and out of the car. And we know what they’re doing. But we don’t have evidence of what they’re doing.” Wolking adds that because, according to state law, getting in and out of a car is not illegal, police have few options in these situations beyond watching.
This is by no means a problem limited to Los Alamos. Over the last decade, the global rise of social media and online payment apps have changed the way that drug dealers engage with their clientele, particularly teens and young adults. “Snapchat is where the kids have gone,” says LAPD Sergeant Chris Ross, who leads the LAPD Community Liaison Unit. Ross oversees the school resource officers and works with youth on a daily basis. “You typically don’t even see the hand-to-hand exchange of money anymore. Venmo, PayPal, that’s how deals are done," he says. "It’s a Snapchat account that’s created just maybe for the next day or two saying, ‘Hey, I’m going to be here. This is what I’ve got. Venmo me and I’ll bring it.’ It's much harder for us to investigate those things.”
“Significant childhood trauma”: The hidden factor
While many point to the limited social scene and the high-pressure environment in Los Alamos as significant contributors to substance use, health professionals say a more fundamental driver of risky behavior needs to be examined: traumatic childhood experiences.
“The biggest things are adverse childhood events, ACEs for short,” Hayes explains. “And then, having [the drug] be available. If there’s no fentanyl around, you’re just never going to use it.”
ACEs can include experiences such as physical or emotional abuse, neglect, household dysfunction, or exposure to violence or substance use in the home. These experiences can have long-lasting impacts on a developing brain, increasing a young person’s likelihood of turning to substances as a coping mechanism.
Hayes stresses the importance of understanding the role childhood hardship can play in substance use disorders. Addiction often happens to people with “significant childhood trauma,” she says, which changes cognitive patterns that affect decision-making abilities. Punishment often just adds to the trauma. “When we adopt a punitive approach to things, it’s not effective.” She advocates for a compassionate, treatment-focused approach rather than punitive measures.
“They’ll basically pimp women out young”
While issues like social isolation, boredom, childhood adversity, and academic pressure were consistently brought up in interviews throughout Boomtown’s extensive reporting for this series, a more disturbing pattern emerged from interviews with diverse members of the community: the sexual exploitation of minors in connection with substance use.
Em sees the financial demands of sustaining a drug habit pushing young people into dangerous situations: “Kids only have access, usually, to so much money. [When the money runs out], there becomes some trading either amongst adolescents themselves or adults for sexual favors.”
This troubling dynamic is echoed by others in the community. “There are these men, these older men. … they’ll basically pimp women out young,” says L.T. The predatory behavior of adults exploiting younger teens is something A.S. has witnessed as well, noting that “you’ve seen a lot of guys here get in trouble that are in their 20s, that are talking to 16-year-old girls. …They’re sending, like, nudes and asking for nudes.” Asked if the men are just talking to minors, A.S. clarifies: “They’re sleeping with them.”
Legal developments support the picture painted by the young people. For example, in June 2024, a Jemez Springs man, 25, was charged with multiple counts of criminal sexual penetration of a minor and contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Court documents revealed that the man was allegedly involved in a sexual relationship with a 16-year-old Los Alamos girl, providing her with crack cocaine and alcohol. In interviews, police confirmed this is not a one-off case but a pattern. While Wolking could only provide limited information because investigations are ongoing, he confirmed, “sometimes it’s 25- and 30-year-old [men], and they [the girls] are 15, 16.”
The cost of silence
The culture of denial surrounding substance use in Los Alamos has consequences. If early signs of substance use are overlooked or minimized, kids may not get the help they need until the disease of substance use disorder is well underway — or it’s too late.
Desiree Bustos, a certified harm-reduction specialist and peer-support provider who works at El Centro Family Health in Rio Arriba County, put it like this: “In my opinion, Los Alamos has always carried that title of like, ‘We’re great, we have the Lab, nothing is wrong with us. If we speak about this, people are going to know we don’t have our stuff together.’” As a result, she says, “Los Alamos is so avoidant. They’re a decade behind on substance use.” Dr. Hayes is equally straightforward, saying, “The community of Los Alamos often does not acknowledge substance use disorder within the community. But it’s definitely there.”
From a parent’s perspective, Em says that the tendency to want to put heads in the sand can be strong: “All these things add to parents’ shame for the most part where they want to hide it. And that shame is fed by our community who also wants to hide it.”
A.S. points out that busy parents can often miss opportunities to connect with their kids. “I know there’s a lot going on,” she says, referring specifically to people who work at Los Alamos National Laboratory (LANL). “But spending a little bit more time, paying a little bit more attention, could do a lot.” Bustos agrees that connection matters, saying, “I would encourage parents to open that conversation even if your child does not partake. Talk about it.”
Roadmap of the series
Em’s, L.T.’s, and A.S.’s stories are, sadly, not as uncommon as one would think. This series, which we’re calling “The Cost of Silence,” will examine multiple angles of the substance use crisis in Los Alamos County. Future articles in Boomtown will delve further into perspectives from law enforcement and schools on teen substance use, the exploitation of teens in drug-trade networks, and the heated debate over harm reduction strategies. We will analyze state-level data on local teen-use patterns, and we’ll explore the role that adverse childhood experiences play in substance use. Additionally, the series will highlight how family dynamics can contribute to the problem, the glaring lack of resources in town for both prevention and treatment, and human stories of tragedy and triumph. We will also spotlight ongoing efforts to support teens. Throughout our investigation, we will continue to engage with a spectrum of community members to gain further insights.
For many parents, the crisis hits home in the most personal and immediate ways. Right now, Em is laser-focused on keeping her son alive. “I’m being open with you because I think it’s that important,” she tells me. “The timing is right for me because my son is actually in rehab. If he hadn’t been in rehab, we wouldn’t have this conversation because my priority is getting him to stay alive. That’s everything I do.”
If you have your own story to share, email me at stephanie@boomtownlosalamos.org. We will respect requests for anonymity.
*The initials used in this story are not their real initials. All interviewees for this story were 18 or older.