She adds, "We're all sitting around the whole country waiting to see how they try a case and how they go after it, because a lot of the prosecutors...this is new to everyone. It's new to the prosecutors, it's new to the laboratory personnel that are testing these drugs. Even as we speak, they're re-looking at the Texas laws, because they're having issues knowing how to try these types of cases."
They're a chatty bunch, these amateur researchers. Although they of course don't use their real names online, most of them feel compelled to employ the term "research chemicals" or similarly benign labels like "plant fertilizer," and some will describe the drugs' potency in terms of how their "plants" have reacted. Some commenters will say they look forward to "conducting research." They're like high-schoolers who've created a decidedly unclever code for weed, one that apparently gives them no end of pleasure.
John Polinski's friends say he was just the IT guy for Motion Research.
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In some online forums, the users seem to consider themselves members of an exclusive club, and they love chatting about the chemical components of the crap they consume, about how stupid the media is for always misreporting something that some kid OD'd on as 2,5-Dimethoxy-4-bromophenethylamine when it was actually N-(2-methoxybenzyl)-4-iodo-2,5-dimethoxyphenethylamine. Their superior grasp of chemistry allows many of them to know for certain that it's never the substance alone that kills people, it's that some greenhorn hasn't done his homework, which in turn fuels a media frenzy and hollow political outrage. The story you are reading will no doubt be parsed to shreds on these forums faster than you can say "4-hydroxy-N,N-dimethytriptamine."
However, they're often right, and the Carlton prosecution is a good example: It appears that none of the regular commenters on the forums reviewed by the Houston Press would snort a bag of mystery powder or knowingly mix 25-I into chocolate and chomp it like a Snickers. There are a lot of consumers, but not so many reported deaths.
Even more confusing, some of the substances Carlton is charged with selling were legal in many states at the time — as long as they were not used for human consumption or sold with the knowledge that buyers were using them to get high.
The wiggle room granted by this disclaimer, and the fact that a lot of substances hadn't yet been added to the list of controlled substances, appear to have led Carlton and his business partner, Harry "Scootdog" Mickelis, to launch Motion Research as a legitimate company. They filed articles of incorporation with the Texas Secretary of State in late 2010, moved into an office building and set up shop. Adding to this patina of legitimacy, Motion Research's drugs were sold with material safety data sheets explicitly stating that the products were "not for human use," and customers were required to fill out a registration form explaining their purchases' intended use. The site's terms-and-conditions page stated, "By purchasing any material from Motion Research Co you acknowledge that you work for or own a research company, are a legitimate researcher with a proper laboratory facility and are skilled in the art of handling hazardous materials."
Prior to launching Motion Research, Carlton worked at a company that repaired X-ray machines and was on probation. He had received deferred adjudication after pleading guilty to a charge of attempted deadly conduct. Court records show that he pulled a knife on a 21-year-old man in 2009 but did not actually stab him. Although the details aren't included in the court records, the would-be victim in the case told the Press that the incident occurred at a McDonald's; Carlton, appearing out of sorts, was a customer who reportedly got into an argument with the manager; when the man intervened, Carlton brandished a knife. Ultimately, Carlton was released from probation two years early, and, per the terms of his deferred adjudication, the charge was dismissed.
Carlton's business partner, 39-year-old Mickelis — who preferred to be called by his middle name, George — was a man with no obvious source of income. He had four minor drug-possession charges on his record, two of which were dismissed and two of which resulted respectively in probation and a 40-day stint in Harris County Jail. In a 2007 charge for his second DWI, his employment was listed as part-time jobs at a courier service and an IT-consulting firm.
Although Mickelis co-founded the company that prosecutors say sold deadly drugs to teenagers, his name doesn't appear in court records for this case. That's because, it seems, he cooperated with federal agents.
While his business partner and IT guy waited to post bond in jail, Mickelis put pictures on Facebook of himself and his buddies enjoying themselves at a casino. Sources say he nearly cleaned out the company's bank account before calling his lawyer and cooperating with federal agents, who should have been able to make a slam-dunk case without such assistance in the first place.
Mickelis seems to illustrate a very important lesson in the war against analog drugs: If you drop a dime on your fellow drug dealers — after you've made a handsome profit — you are no longer considered a threat to national security.