Hopeless to Heroic: The Johnny Shamou story
By Crystal Kassab Jabiro
It is hard to hide a secret when one is randomly babbling, chaotically removing everything from the freezer, or suddenly talking to an imaginary cat on the top of the fridge.
These were Johnny Shamou’s odd behaviors in front of his family while he was addicted to heroin. His addiction began with illegally prescribed drugs as a teenager, and before that he had smoked cigarettes and dabbled in marijuana and alcohol once in a while if it was around. This was because of his need to “fit in” with the crowd.
The need to be accepted by peers in school is not a new concept. But for Shamou, the “newness” was constant because his family moved several times over the span of a few years. In 1997, his father Jack went to federal prison for a couple of years for bootlegging movies, and the family lost their big model home in Sterling Heights.
They moved first to a rental in Rochester and then to a townhouse in Troy. The Shamous tried to reassure their son– who was nine and ten years younger than his older siblings– that everything would be okay. His mom, Barbara, and his brother and sister wanted to protect him from the stress and pain of their father’s absence.
When Jack came back home, the Shamous invested in a restaurant. The dad went back to his gambling ways, which caused a financial and emotional strain on the whole family. In a span of ten years, Shamou had gone to eight different schools before he finally graduated from Royal Oak Churchill Community High School in 2005. It was after that when his life took a turn for the worse.
At 18, Shamou tried Vicodin, a prescription pain-reliever, from a friend. It gave him a euphoric high and made him feel powerful. It made his whole body numb and it made lifting heavy furniture easier at his job in a local furniture store. So he craved it more and more.
“Once you become dependent on it, you need it to function,” said Shamou, now 36. “If you do not take it, you get withdrawals.”
Withdrawals include restless legs, no sleep, aches and pains, and even vomiting.
Each pill typically lasts 4-8 hours, but since Shamou had become dependent on it, the numbness did not last. So he was taking 10-15 a day, and one time, he took 20.
After the opioid epidemic hit and he was unable to illegally obtain Vicodin, he started improperly acquiring Oxycontin and Oxycodone. Then he started doing heroin, which was cheaper than the pills and more intense. He was fired from his job at a local hospital for having fallen over on a stretcher. The hospital gave him a second chance because they support recovery, but he refused to keep up with their demands, which included taking Suboxone, a medicine used to treat opioid use disorder, and reporting for drug-testing. After one month, he failed his drug test and was fired again.
Shamou tried hiding this from his parents, but they caught on. He believes they were initially in denial, but they confronted him the first time he went to jail. He was pulled over for swerving on the road as he tried to inject himself with heroin while driving. He stayed in the Macomb County Jail for one week before a friend bailed him out since his parents refused to. He went home to get clothes and told his parents he was not on drugs, that the police were lying. He knew that he had hurt them but did not care at the time. All he was thinking about was how he was going to get his next fix.
The next few years were a battle. Shamou was in and out of jail and rehab. His mother and sister, Eva, started going to Peter’s Angels, a drug awareness program held at Mother of God Chaldean Catholic Church in Southfield. They met other family members of drug addicts and learned about a treatment center in Hawaii that a recovering addict had gone to. They resolved to send Shamou there for the two-and-a-half year program.
At first, Shamou thought it was going to be a vacation. He thought it might help. He thought he would just shut his family up. He did not know the place was going to break him down to build him back up. He did not give it a chance. After two months, Shamou checked himself out and became homeless in Hawaii, sleeping under a tree for a week until he got a job and found a room to rent. Two months later, he showed up on his parents’ doorstep.
Of course, the Shamous were upset and urged him to go back, but they let him stay so they could keep a close eye on him. Yet he still managed to get in trouble with the law– the last time for possession and use of heroin and crack while driving.
“2017 was my breaking point,” recalled Shamou. “After years of abusing my body and my family, I finally said ‘enough is enough!’”
He went to jail for 30 days and then rehab for 30 days. Shamou asked for drug court. Eva, his older sister who was at her own breaking point, went in front of the judge and demanded he send her baby brother to prison.
“I shouted, ‘Judge, we have been through hell and back! If you let him out on these streets, it will be blood on your hands!’” Eva recounted. The judge even threatened to hold her in contempt of court. Eva feared that after several overdoses and lockups and rehabs, that her brother was going to be another statistic.
It was not only Johnny suffering; it was the whole family. His mother especially would cry all day and night and was often hospitalized because of her anxiety.
“My son was dying before my eyes,” Barbara remembered. “We did everything we could, but it was ultimately up to him.”
The judge sentenced Shamou to drug court, an 18-month program in three phases that included counseling, meetings, and drug-testing. At first, he was upset with his sister, but he realized her efforts came from her deep love for him. She had come to jail and court and the hospital, often schlepping her young kids along with her, and she had done everything she could to save him. He now knew he was worth more and he was ready for a new life.
“It was a long road ahead,” said Shamou. “All of those years of blocked emotions started revealing themselves to me, and I had to deal with them. And I had to deal with the issues of everyday life. But I had to prove to everyone I could do it.”
While in recovery, he got a job in a bottling company making good money. The long hours kept him busy and free from thinking about drugs. He no longer craved them anymore. There were no more excuses and no more lies. He would no longer be hopeless.
In the meantime, Shamou met a nice young lady named Marian. He was upfront about his recovery with her, and she decided to give him a chance. He finished drug court within 16 months (instead of the prescribed 18) and was one of a small number of people to successfully complete the program without sanctions since the 1980s. He owes his recovery to the support of his family, a great job, and drug court.
“During my addiction, I didn’t put God at the forefront,” said Shamou. “My wife went to church every Sunday, so I did too. God helped me a lot. He always did. I just didn’t believe it at the time. God really is there.”
Shamou’s parents and siblings never gave up on him nor did they ever stop praying.
“We want people to know about my son’s story because it will help others,” said Barbara. “Nobody should be embarrassed. You have to help your kids. You have to educate yourselves. And you have to understand this is a sickness. But you have to also give them the space to recover. They have to want it. We are so proud of Johnny now. He is heroic, and his wife is equally amazing.”
Shamou and Marian got married in 2020 and now have a five-month old baby, Jacklyn, named after his father who passed away in 2021. He recently completed a program in robotics automation at M-Tec through Macomb Community College and works as a controls technician. He has been clean since April 8, 2017.
Johnny Shamou can be found on Facebook and is willing to support you on your recovery journey.
If you or a loved one need support, you can go to:
Your family physician (who are now allowed to treat and refer patients with addictions).
www.michigan.gov/opioids.
Call 211 or go to www.mi211.org.
www.familiesagainstnarcotics.org and find your local area.
Your local coalitions through church and community programs.