Editorial: Drugs and a heinous crime
Flowers were left outside the Haven Drugs pharmacy on Southhaven Avenue in Medford as grief-stricken members of the Medford community came to pay their respects to the four people who were shot to death inside the pharmacy on Father's Day. (June 23, 2011) Credit: Handout
The armed robbery and quadruple murder that rocked a Medford pharmacy on Father's Day was a shock to nearly everyone on Long Island. Area pharmacists, though, weren't all that surprised.
The motive appears to be prescription-drug theft, an increasingly common crime. Police say the young gunman, whose image was captured on in-store video, filled a backpack with narcotic painkillers, but not money.
Pharmacies are vulnerable to such crime. They store portable, salable treasures, as valuable as the merchandise in the vaults of exclusive jewelry stores. Just one of the most potent Oxycodone tablets, 160 milligrams, can sell on the street for as much as $150. But drugstore security often seems less than what's found in 7-Elevens.
Over the coming days there will be conversations about drugs, addiction and guns. There will be pleas for action, demands that something be done and questions of whether such a horror, which happened one block from an elementary school, only occurs in places where crime is common.
Right now, though, there is the heartbreak of families and friends, the mourning in schools and neighborhoods, and an awareness of how fragile our lives and joys are.
Jennifer Mejia, 17, was a student whose week should have included her senior prom and high school graduation. She worked at the store as a pharmacist's assistant. What parent would have imagined such a job would lead to her death?
Jaime Taccetta, 33 and a mother of two, was there to pick up a prescription for a thyroid condition. She just bought the dress for her wedding next month.
Raymond Ferguson, 45, the pharmacist on duty, had moved from Queens five years ago, and had a beloved wife to return home to.
Bryon Sheffield, 71, went to the store to pick up a prescription for his wife, who just had open-heart surgery. He was remembered by neighbors as a man who loved to sit on his front porch for hours, waving and greeting each of them as they passed by.
They were just normal people, living normal days.
Life and love are precious, and tragedy unpredictable. Everyone must pull together when it arrives, then work anew to prevent it. hN
