mereggie, the story of reggie macdonald (1966-2005)

mereggie, aka me, reggie macdonald

In December 2005, Reggie disappeared, and despite a Canada-wide search could not be found; his remains were ultimately found seven months later . Reggie led a troubled life dealing with drug addiction and its effects on his personal and professional life. This website shares his story, documented through writings found after his disappearance, and recollections from his family. We believe that the overall message of the site is anti-drug, and hope that it has an overall positive effect.

Reg's Memorial

Reg had hoped to become a writer, so with this site, he does. He documents the day-to-day life of a drug abuser, an inmate, and a recovering addict. Some of the readings insightful, moving and grueling, (try reading "Methadone", "Iceland", "Kidnapped! (by the Hells Angels)", while others are pretty humorous, if you have a twisted sense of humour (i.e Spudcatraz, etc). There is a lot on the site. Check it out and let us know your thoughts; the response so far has been overwhelmingly positive.

NOTE: Reg's views are occasionally very harsh, most likely affected by his addiction. Please view his writings in that context, as they are not necessarily the views of his family.

my story

Good things have been said about me, and bad things have been said about me. I’d like to say that only the good things are true. But that would make me a liar. And the bad list is long enough for now as it is. But if I could live my life over again, there’s not a whole lot that I’d do differently.

I have few regrets. I’ve been through some rough times. But I’m alive, I’m (reasonably) healthy, and I’m happy. I’ve been married, and divorced; I’ve had children; I’ve been to court, I’ve been to jail; I’ve been a drug addict; I’ve been in hospital for an overdose, I’ve been to rehab (and not just once); I’ve been a drug dealer; I’ve been kidnapped and almost killed. What a long strange trip its’ been (and I’m only 35). And, to tell the truth, I don’t have any regrets. I’ve learned a lot from my experiences. Ill try to live life to its fullest and enjoy it to the max.

- reg macdonald, 2001 (5 years before the disappearance)

Heroin withdrawal in Iceland

On one of my trips, (Nov 11, 1996), after I’d picked up my bag/ounce, I decided I’d give myself a vacation. So I bought a ticket for myself to Iceland. I always wanted to go to Iceland, for some reason. Well, I always did like to travel. So I had an ounce of heroin and I was leaving for Iceland in 6 weeks. The days went by and the bag got smaller. Soon my trip was only a week away. But the bag was getting very light. I rationed it out into about 30 different bags. I buried about 10 of them in 10 different spots about 10 miles from my house. And I buried 10 more in ten other spots about 20 miles away. And 10 more about 30 miles away. I thought that if it wasn’t handy then I wouldn’t use as much. It doesn’t work that way.

Soon I was making 10 mile drives. Then 20 mile drives. The next thing, I was on my way to the airport in Halifax with the last 2 bags. I did one before I got on the plane and I left the other one in my Jeep for when I got back. By the time we landed in Iceland my nose was running and I was starting to sweat. I was going into withdrawal. I had brought 5 or 6 Dilaudid tables with me, foolishly thinking that was enough to get me through. Not a chance. I swallowed all of them as soon as I got to the hotel. Half an hour later, I got sick and puked them up. I was going into withdrawal cold turkey in Iceland.

I was so fucking lonely. Over and over, I got sick. I was so cold I stayed in bed for the whole three days I was there. Every time I got up I would run to the bathroom and get sick. There must have been 2 inches of vomit on the floor of the bathroom. I only left the room once in the whole 3 days I was there. I went to the Pizza Hut in the lobby of the hotel. Then I went back to my room and puked it up. I wasted the entire trip. I didn’t see any of Iceland except the airport and hotel. Finally it was time to leave. On the bus back to the airport I was delirious. I thought I was in Newfoundland and I was going to take a ferry home. I wish that had been true …

The flight home was possibly the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life. I had a window seat near the back of the plane, which was full of passengers. Just after we took off the stewardess came by and offered me a little bag of peanuts. I was starving. My stomach was empty from 3 days of vomiting. I ate one peanut and suddenly I felt sick. There was no time to go to the washroom. I sat there and puked all over myself, over the seat in front of me, and over the window. I was covered in vomit. It was so humiliating. Everybody moved away and I just sat there covered in my puke. I had no extra clothes with me, nothing to change into. I didn’t even go to the washroom to try and clean myself up. And the stewardess came along and offered me a napkin, one of those little tiny napkins they give you with your drink. I just wanted to die then and there. I sat there covered in my own vomit all the way back to Halifax, a five hour flight.

I didn’t think it could get worse but it did, oh, it did. In Halifax we had to go through customs. And sure enough they took me aside. Then the dog comes out. The fucking dog. (I found out years later that the Charlottetown police had asked them to search me on my return). The customs guys said that the dog detected drugs so they were going to search me.

And they did search me. First my bags. Then they strip searched me. That wasn’t enough. I couldn’t leave until I sat on a bucket and had a shit. I was completely humiliated, degraded, and outraged. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Nobody smuggles drugs from Iceland! So I had to strip naked and shit in a bucket with all the customs guys standing there watching me. The only reason that I was able to get through it was because I knew I had a little bag of heroin waiting for me in the Jeep. So I smiled and I shit. They put their gloves on and poked their hands around in my shit and, finding nothing but a bad smell, they had to let me go. I ran out to the parking lot, grabbed the dope and chased the dragon. And then I sat there with a great big smile on my face. Finally, it was over.

Tagged underheroin withdrawal iceland

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Ouija Board provides information to find Reg's remains!!!

Reg's car had just been located, and someone got the idea that we should ask the Ouija board some questions. Although I don't have much faith in this approach, and generally would have no interest in these boards, I participated in / observed the second session. The answers to the questions were quite eerie, and suprisingly accurate! I do not recommend that anyone try this, since you don't know what you are getting in contact with, however.

Ouija Board Q&A, May 29


Will we find Reggie? Is Reggie under a tree? Is his body in one piece? Is Reggie at peace? Will Reggie try and contact his family? Through what? What kind of bird will he contact his mother through? How will he contact his children? What kind of bird?	Yes Yes No Yes Yes A bird A sparrow A bird Dove

Comments on these answers.

Reg's body was found in pieces, scattered by coyotes. His skull was found in a clearing, under a tree. The bird references are eerie, as these came true - what happened is almost too unusual to believe.

Ouija Board Q&A, May 31

Will we find Reggie?
When?
Where?
Who will find him?
Are the searchers looking in the right place?
Is he on the left or right side of Bull Creek?
Where is Reggie from where his car? N, S, E or West?
How far in the woods from the road is he?
How many yards in from the road?

Yes
Saturday 2:15 pm
Woods
Art & Mike
No!
Left
North-east
No answer
100 yards

Comments on these answers.

These answers are also suprisingly accurate. Based on the Art's work with local coyote experts, a hunch on how Reggie would have tried to walk out of the woods, and the strange sparrow story, we identified an area on the map where we believed we would find Reggie. Reg's skull was found in that area, at almost the same time indicated by the board. A very unusual accident at the Harbor, where Art was working, prevented Art and Mike from conducting the search as planned. Fortunately, the RCMP found the remains. The distance from the road was about a 100 yards!

I don't normally believe in this stuff, but there were just too many things here that are spot on.

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Reg's cousin is murdered in Montreal

One night (in March 1993) I got a call from my brother telling me that [my cousin] Mike in Montreal was dead. Somebody slit his throat outside a bar in downtown Montreal. I think this is when things started to go bad for me too.

I was able to get another drug connection and the money was good for a few more years but I had gotten a look at the ugly side of the business and things were never the same as when I was getting it from Mike. We were family. With Mike, if I was late with the money it wasn’t a problem. With anybody else, it doesn’t work that way. After Mike died I did a lot of thinking. I stopped planning for the future and began to live more for the moment. What a mistake that would turn out to be.

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my story - Cousin Mike Murdered

Methadone - a typical day ...

When I get up in the morning, I don’t grab a coffee. I go to the fridge for my 100 ml bottle of methadone. After that my day is just like yours. But I wasn’t always like this.

Life was a lot harder, a lot rougher. Every morning I would be sick as a dog. I’d crush up a couple of 8mg Dilaudid tablets and boil them in a spoon, then I’d fill a syringe. Tie my arm off and plunge the cure into my arm. And then I was good for … 3 or 4 hours. Wash, rinse, repeat. I couldn’t work.

Dilaudid is illegal unless your doctor gives you a prescription. With a few phone calls you can get them for about $20 each. I used at least 10 a day. 10 to keep the sickness at bay, 10 to 20 more. I can’t count how many days I’ve lost to the sickness, how many times I’ve been to the treatment center. And a waste of time that was. They’d give you 2 or 3 mild sedatives a day for 3 days and then try to put you in god’s hands. It didn’t work – after the week, or 2, or 3, was over, I could suffer no longer. Straight to the dealer. It doesn’t help to tell me “everythings gonna be all right. You’ll feel better tomorrow”. Anybody who says / tells you that doesn’t know what this drug is about (why I take it).

But I had always heard about the mainland, where they gave you this drug, methadone, that took away the suffering and made you feel normal, not high, just normal, like I used to be … yeah, like it used to be, I miss those days.

I did the drugs for 5 or 6 years, but and I sat by and watched, as friends and acquaintances died one after another, month by month, because they couldn’t get the help they needed. I’m sure the doctor (at Detox) noticed too, but it didn’t matter [since] we are / they were expendable. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t handle the sickness. The detox couldn’t help. They didn’t have a clue. They would have nothing to do with methadone (methadone is addictive). You have to take it every day or you get sick just like with the drugs, but it’s prescribed to you, you can have ready access to it. You never have to be sick again, you don’t get high on it, but you can live an ordinary life, like anyone else.

Tagged underMethadone withdrawal

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Teenage Drug Dealer, headed for the big-time

In the summer, my cousins would come down from Montreal and stay for a few weeks. They were older than me and I didn’t spend a lot of time with them. But one of them, Mike, was selling drugs and he would bring pot and hash down with him. He told me that if I would sell five joints for him, he’d give me one. For every five I sold, I’d get one. So I started selling pot. I was 12 years old.

Mike also said that if I picked mushrooms with him, he’d buy them from me. That first year that I started picking, I got three ounces. I sold them to Mike for $100.00 each. That’s $300.00. My first drug deal. I was on my way. The next year, I picked about a half pound (eight ounces). The mushrooms would grow in the fall, from September to November. I’d pick them after school and sometimes I’d get up before school and go picking. I soon had enough money to buy a motorcycle – a Yamaha 200 street and dirt.

With this I could travel around and find all the best fields for picking. Most years, I would get about 2 pounds. Instead of selling them for cash, I would mail them to Montreal and Mike would send back hash on trade. I would sell the hash by the gram. It was always good hash and I could get $20/gram.

By the time that I was 16, I was making a lot of money. Enough money that I could afford cocaine. Soon, I was having that sent down from Montreal too. I was a sixteen year old cocaine dealer. This was in the early eighties in small town Prince Edward Island. Cocaine dealers were few and far between at that time. But I was headed for the big leagues...

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my story - Drugs

mereggie, aka me, reggie macdonald

my story

Heroin withdrawal in Iceland

Ouija Board provides information to find Reg's remains!!!

Reg's cousin is murdered in Montreal

Methadone - a typical day ...

Teenage Drug Dealer, headed for the big-time

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