From the February 2011 magazine.

February 2011: The rise and fall of Mr. $

All the money in Fort Knox couldn’t keep him sober

"I ran away three times. My dad’s chauffer, A.J., would find me and come and pick me up."

I was 12 or 13 when my father had me put in an adolescent ward for behavior issues and for drinking and smoking pot. I ran away three times. My dad’s chauffer, A.J., would find me, or I would call and A.J. would come and pick me up. I came from a good family. After my first DUI, my father had plenty of money to fix the problem. He investigated the best possible treatment for me. With an addictionologist examining me and other doctors and nurses seeing to my physical needs, I was apparently healthy in a short time. My lawyer and doctor went to court for me and were able to get me off with no jail time.

I was eager to get on with my life, though those darn doctors tried to put a monkey wrench in my plans. Being 16 years old, it was obvious to me that the doctors had misdiagnosed me. They recommended that I go to extended care. I could see that my father was considering it, but I threw one of the most amazing temper tantrums I could throw and it worked, as long as I promised to get it together. That was one of many lies I would tell.

-- Kelly K.

Newport Beach, California

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