The high price of easy money: A drug dealer’s regret and a father’s heartbreak

In Uzbekistan, the trade of psychotropic substances is taking an increasingly dangerous turn. While law enforcement agencies frequently apprehend "couriers" and "pawns," the powerful figures behind the large distribution chains often remain in the shadows. Through the stories of 27-year-old inmate Bekzod Kerimov and a father whose son fell victim to this epidemic, the reality of the trade behind the "zakladka" (hidden drop-offs) system is revealed.

The illusion of easy wealth

Bekzod Kerimov is currently serving a sentence for the distribution of powerful psychotropic substances. At 27, he reflects on a life that went off course early. After his father passed away in a correctional facility in 2009, Bekzod began associating with bad company and abandoned his education. By the age of 10, he had already begun marking his body with tattoos, a sign of his early entry into street life.

"I had everything – a car, a house. I entered this path out of abundance, not need," Kerimov explains. He operated a private Telegram channel with over 3,000 subscribers to sell psychotropics. According to him, dozens of such channels remain active today. Official data shows that the volume of seized synthetic drugs has increased 80-fold over the last five years, yet this represents only the visible portion of the problem.

Piles of cash and the safety of distance

Kerimov describes how drugs are smuggled into the country, often hidden in shipments of cat food or disguised in foil to evade customs scanners. He notes that while the drugs used to come from Kyrgyzstan, the primary supplier is now China. The masterminds behind these operations often reside safely in Russia or Switzerland, shielded by cyber-anonymity.

"The big channels only lose their 'pawns' here," Kerimov says. "They catch a courier and give him at least 10 years, but within an hour, a new ad for a courier is posted on the channel." At the height of his activity, Kerimov handled $2,000 a day, spending it on cafes and trips to the mountains. Now, sitting in a cell, he views it as "haram" money. "I would rather earn one million UZS a month honestly now. I think about the parents’ curses. Perhaps someone took my pills and committed a robbery or violence."

A father’s nightmare

While sellers count their profits, families are being torn apart. One father shared the harrowing experience of watching his 15-year-old son wither away. Initially, he ignored signs of passivity and social withdrawal, trusting his son’s excuses about school and friends.

The realization came when he discovered a pill in the boy's room. "Seeing your child's life end in a swamp before your eyes is a horror I wouldn't wish on my enemy," the father says. He eventually followed his son, only to find the boy digging in the dirt near a building entrance to find a hidden drug stash. According to the son, distributors use various disguises, including women who hide drugs in baby strollers to move through the city undetected.

The weight of late regret

For Bekzod Kerimov, the bravado of the street disappeared the moment he entered the four walls of his cell. "Even the strongest men cry here," he admits. "You sit for six months in a camera, alone with yourself, and you finally value your parents."

His greatest fear now is the health of his elderly mother, who suffers from high blood pressure. "If something happens to her while I am here, I will never forgive myself. I am enduring this for her. I’ve been here for two years. By now, I could have been married; I could have had children."

As global statistics indicate that approximately 600,000 people die annually due to drugs and psychotropic substances, the human cost in Uzbekistan continues to mount. Behind the headlines of "successful stings" are thousands of stories like these – of lost youth, shattered dreams, and the heavy price of a few moments of "easy money."