This is an open letter from Julie Wiggins to her son, Nicholas, a wanted man whose picture appeared on the front page of Saturday’s Whidbey News-Times. He is wanted by the Island County Sheriff’s Office on suspicion of committing several felonies.

If someone would have told me when you were born, Nicky, that I would wake up 21 years later to see your picture on the front page of the local paper as a wanted criminal, I would have never believed them. I think back to when you were born, when you were just a tiny baby, so precious, and all the dreams I had for you.

I never dreamed that you would grow up to become addicted to meth. I never dreamed that you would break my heart so badly that it may never heal. I never dreamed that you would cause your little sister so much pain that it haunts her everyday, or that you would hurt your father so deeply, who loves you so much.

I never dreamed that it could come to this. I love you, Nick, more than you will ever know. You think I hate you because I kicked you out of the house when you were 18, and you think I hate you because I have turned my back on you. I don’t hate YOU. I hate the addiction that has you held prisoner so tightly that you would choose to destroy our family and rob us and lie to us and call us up on the phone and call us filthy names because you will do anything to get the drug. I hate the addict that steals from his grandmother. I hate the addict that has caused you to become a wanted felon.

I know somewhere inside there, Nick still exists. I know that Nick knows right from wrong. I know in my heart that you hate what you’ve become. It’s not too late to start over, Nicky. You’re only 21. You need to do the right thing and turn yourself in. Did I ever think when you were born that I would be begging you to turn yourself into the cops? No. But I never thought I would lie awake every night scared the phone will ring and it will be the police telling me that you are dead. I live in fear every day that the drug will kill you, or that the drug-addicted people you with will kill you, or that someone will just find you dead in a ditch. I never thought that our lives would all be devastated because you would become addicted to meth.

If you get the chance to read this letter, Nicky, if any part of you still loves me, please, I am BEGGING you to turn yourself in and start getting all of this horrid life that you have been living over with and behind you. Yes, you will no doubt go to prison, but it’s better than being buried six feet under the ground in the dark, where you will never see me again and I won’t be able to see you again. Surely meth hasn’t blackened your heart so badly that you can no longer love your mother. If you love me, Nick, do this for me. Please. It’s not too late. I will always love you no matter what because you are my child. Do this for me before it’s too late and all I have left of you are photos to remember the wonderful person you used to be.

Please, Nicky. I love you. Mom.