The influence of the superlabs is overlooked because although they account for the bulk of the drug’s production, they represent only 4 percent of the labs. The vast majority of meth labs nationally—8,000 of the 8,300 seized in 2001—are home-user labs.
Home labs can become an obsessive outlet for users on the multiday runs without sleep known as “tweaking.” The designs are primitive and vary widely. They consist of a jumble of over-the-counter pseudoephedrine, household lye and scraped-away matchbook covers. The reaction vessel usually is a jelly jar. The output might provide a cook $250 to $500 worth of meth to sell, with two weeks’ worth left over for personal use.
Although tweaker labs are costly to clean up when they explode or spill, their role in supplying meth to U.S. users is minor. The main culprit is the superlab.
California superlabs achieve a level of sophistication, uniformity and efficiency seldom seen in tweaker labs.
The superlab’s signature is a globe-shaped piece of glassware that drug agents call a “22.” Designed for scientific research, the 22-liter reaction vessel could hold the contents of 11 two-liter soda bottles. The 22 sits in an aluminum cradle lined with heating coils. The cradle and globe together sell for $3,000 to $4,000.
Inside the glass ball, a blood-red brew of pseudoephedrine, red phosphorus and hydriodic acid reacts to form meth. The temperature dial is turned up to set the mixture bubbling, then down to cook. Orange hoses stretch like octopus arms from the neck of each 22 to a box filled with cat litter, which absorbs reaction gases.
Jerry Massetti, a chemist with the California Bureau of Forensic Services, recalled the first rumors of such monster labs in San Diego in the early 1990s.
“You’d wonder whether it was an exaggeration,” Massetti said. “Then you’d hear similar stories of labs in Riverside, Orange County, Los Angeles.”
Then the monster headed north, he said, “like a shadow passing over the landscape.”
In the Central Valley, the highly standardized superlabs arrived en masse one week in July 1992, according to Massetti’s notes and a journal article he wrote at the time. The labs, he wrote, “corroborated rumors about multiple tons of ephedrine being processed in this way.”
The biggest Massetti ever saw came eight months later, in a Tulare County fruit-packing shed. The lab was so enormous that operators used a forklift to crush all the cans of Freon emptied during manufacturing. Twelve glass 22s were strung together, creating a capacity of 144 pounds of pure meth per batch. Cut to street purity, that could keep 21,000 serious addicts high for a week.
The labs are so standardized that the first time police found high-thread-count Martha Stewart sheets—used to filter solid meth from surrounding liquids—in one lab, identical sheets were discovered the next day in a lab 100 miles away. The smallest detail, down to the way in which hoses are duct-taped together, is replicated from one superlab to the next.
Police say the cookie-cutter approach reflects the guiding hand of Mexico-based drug cartels, which run the labs in California and distribute the finished product across the country.
Labor comes from migrant workers. California drug agents call these lab operators “mopes”—police lingo for low-level henchmen.
The mopes don’t use meth but hire themselves out in standing crews of four or five, available for a weekend’s hard work cooking the drug. From the Central Valley, a typical crew of mopes could travel across Pacheco Pass through the Coast Range on a Friday night to the Bay Area. They’d pick up a stash of chemicals from a San Jose storage locker, then return to a small valley town such as Merced, where their employer would secure a secluded barn or farmhouse by bribing a ranch foreman.
After laying in a supply of groceries, the mopes would work for two days without sleep to monitor the delicate reaction. A misstep could cost $50,000. Some are told their families in Mexico will be killed if they speak to the police. At times, drug agents have come upon mopes in a lab padlocked from the outside.
At the end, a supervisor arrives to haul away the finished meth for delivery.