SINGAPORE: It began with something small – an empty pod tucked inside a school bag. But that single pod, part of a drug-laced vape known as a Kpod, unravelled 17-year-old Wei Qiang's life in September.
Wei Qiang (not his real name) was on a staycation with three friends, one of them just 14. The younger teen had slipped out without telling her parents, who filed a missing person report when they could not reach her.
Police traced her last known location to the hotel the group was staying at. During checks, they found the pod in Wei Qiang's bag along with a vape.
The pod was not his and he had no idea how it got there, he claimed. "I was quite upset," he said.
When officers questioned him, he admitted that he had tried Kpods twice the year before. Instead of being fined S$500 (US$390), he was told to go for rehabilitation – part of a national move to help etomidate users turn their lives around.
First-time youth abusers go through a three-month programme with up to 10 intervention sessions.
For Wei Qiang, this was the wake-up call he needed.
In the months before he was caught, he had been mixing around with what he called "quite bad influence people", picking up habits like staying out late and sneaking into bars and clubs while underage.
"I got into a lot of trouble. I feel like that was the last straw. Lucky I got caught there," he said. "I feel like I needed the punishment, then I would learn my lesson."
Across two interviews with CNA in November and December, he described his three-month rehabilitation journey and the bond he formed with his case worker. A pseudonym is used to protect his identity.
Wei Qiang (not his real name), an etomidate user, with his case worker during a rehabilitation session at Singapore Children's Society on Nov 19, 2025. (Photo: CNA/Mak Jia Kee)
Wei Qiang first heard about Kpods in late 2024 and his first encounter was at a friend's house.
He started vaping when he was 13, doing it on and off for about four years – often when he was bored at home or with friends.
But Kpods were new territory. He would not have bought one himself, he said, although he knew where to get it.
"When you're with your friend, you wouldn't even think if there's any risk of getting caught," he said. "You feel safe taking it."
But the experience was anything but pleasant. "It's not a nice feeling actually … It's disgusting after a while."
Within minutes, he felt nauseous and drifted off to sleep. He tried it a second time with another group of friends who insisted it was a different type, but he also disliked it.
When police notified his parents, anger was their first response. They had warned him to stay away from "this kind of thing", he said, and they did not believe the pod was not his.
He was officially referred to the Youth Enhanced Supervision Scheme on Sep 22 and started rehabilitation at Singapore Children's Society three days later.
His mother accompanied him to the first session, and it was tense.
Case worker and assistant director at Singapore Children's Society, Mr Franz Lowe, who was assigned to oversee Wei Qiang, sensed "a bit of an intense conflict" between them.
She was bogged down, worried about her son's future, and fearful that he would get into more trouble. "She found it very difficult to visualise how things can take a better turn," said Mr Lowe.
Wei Qiang was visibly frustrated and spoke in a nonchalant manner. He felt uncomfortable and could not open up.
"Actually, I was a little bit nervous when I saw him for the first time," Mr Lowe said. "In my mind, it was like 'oh no, I'm not sure if it's going to be an easy youth to work with'."
At the second session, and this time without his mother present, Wei Qiang was a lot friendlier.
The teenager reflected not only on his own actions, but on his mother's fears, something not easy for people his age, said Mr Lowe.
As sessions went on, there was more laughter and rapport grew.
"The way he looks, the tone he uses, the choice of words, and I think for him, particularly if he's able to keep his language very informal, that's where you know you got a win," said Mr Lowe.
When CNA met Wei Qiang in the final stretch of the programme, he said he enjoyed every session.
The mandatory rehabilitation was not something he dreaded and he had always been curious about counselling. He saw it as something new that he had not been through before and wanted to experience.
Wei Qiang liked having an older adult he could talk to, who offered advice without judgment.
"I'm quite a talkative person. I just enjoy telling people about myself, my days, and just telling them about my thoughts," he added.
A teenager with a vaping device. (File photo: iStock)
About 85 per cent of the sessions covered core issues – emotion management, relapse prevention, decision-making, equipping youths with strategies to stay away from drugs.
During a session on managing emotions, Wei Qiang told his case worker that breathing exercises did not work. Instead, he said he copes by closing his eyes for a minute to calm himself.
They also discussed how drugs are prohibited in countries beyond Singapore, with Mr Lowe emphasising that substance use can damage friendships and is not the solution to problems.
In another session on decision-making, Wei Qiang shared that distraction by close friends made it difficult for him to stick to the right choices.
Mr Lowe explained how such influence can be a barrier to change. He encouraged Wei Qiang to weigh the pros and cons of a decision and to consider what works best.
As for the remaining 15 per cent of sessions? "Other nonsense that will make things more interesting and keep me focused,” said Wei Qiang.
Food was a favourite detour. Mr Lowe once recommended dumplings near Bishan MRT station; Wei Qiang bought them the same day.
These lighthearted exchanges are key to spotting how youths are changing their lives for the better, said Mr Lowe.
"It may sound ridiculous, but it's actually a very helpful strategy to keep yourself occupied, distracted from all the bad behaviours taking up your time," said Mr Lowe.
The off-topic conversations also helped build trust.
"If we are persistent and consistent in how we treat them, that actually helps them to open up a little bit more, to share more about their lives with us," said Mr Lowe.
Case workers can also better tailor their approach to suit the youths' learning styles. Mr Lowe used comics and analogies in Wei Qiang's case, adjusting on the fly.
He once used a zombie apocalypse scenario to spark discussion on crisis management. But Wei Qiang dismissed it as unrealistic, saying he had only seen that happening in movies.
So Mr Lowe quickly swapped it for something more relatable – a fire emergency.
"As practitioners, we always have a few tricks up our sleeves," Mr Lowe said. "Sometimes we are like magicians, we will pull things out of our hat.”
Franz Lowe, Youth Enhanced Supervision Scheme case worker and assistant director at Singapore Children's Society, showing slides used during a rehabilitation session. (Photo: CNA/Mak Jia Kee)
As the weeks passed, Wei Qiang felt his life shift to a steadier, healthier path.
He drifted away from his old crowd and gravitated toward older and more mature friends he met through mutual connections, gatherings and social media.
"They may be quite boring," he joked, saying there were no escapades such as sneaking into clubs.
Instead, he filled his days with “proper", "worry-free" activities like fishing, eating at new places, flying kites at Marina Barrage and cooking at home.
"It's just more fun times, I will say, that doesn't get me involved in trouble," he said.
He started keeping to curfews and going home earlier.
This change for the better also eased tension at home. His parents, who once lay awake worrying when he would return, are now relieved.
They are less stressed, knowing he is with friends they can trust. He also no longer dodges their calls when he is out.
Wei Qiang's ninth and final session was in mid-December 2025. It took longer than expected to wrap up.
When he and Mr Lowe sat down with CNA afterwards, the mood was warm. The two of them appeared closer than before.
Wei Qiang's mother again sat in, but she was noticeably calmer this time, said Mr Lowe. She shared about her son's progress, noting that he had become more mature.
She also felt that Mr Lowe and her son were "a good match".
Wei Qiang immediately agreed. He did not see Mr Lowe as a case worker, he said, but as "a friendly teacher" who gave good advice and taught him to live properly.
He said he felt “lucky” that Mr Low was his case worker, as he may not have opened up as much with someone else.
He added that he felt more knowledgeable and sensible, being more cautious of his actions and more aware of the people he mixed with.
Franz Lowe, Youth Enhanced Supervision Scheme case worker and assistant director at Singapore Children’s Society, during Wei Qiang’s (not his real name) final rehabilitation session on Dec 16, 2025. (Photo: CNA/Mak Jia Kee)
While Wei Qiang was placed under MSF's scheme, etomidate abusers above 21 are referred to the Institute of Mental Health’s National Addictions Management Service (NAMS).
Dr Christopher Cheok, NAMS' chief, estimated that roughly two-thirds of youths in the mandatory programme at NAMS are recreational etomidate abusers, and a third are addicts.
Like Wei Qiang, many start out of curiosity or peer influence; some others use drugs to cope with deeper stresses like adverse childhood experiences or academic pressures.
The mandatory programme had been quite well received, said Dr Cheok, although a few youths had complaints about its length and struggled with attending weekly sessions.
The rehabilitation process begins with assessing the severity of use. Heavy users undergo a six-month programme – three months at NAMS and three more with social service agencies. Light users complete a three-month programme – first month at NAMS and two more with the agencies.
Relapse occurs in a "handful" of severe cases, often detected when youths self-disclose, parents notice signs, or during enforcement checks, said Dr Cheok.
But Wei Qiang is steadfast in his belief that he would not relapse.
"The chance of that happening is close to zero," he said. "Right now, I'm happy with what I have and I'm satisfied with what I'm doing."
He has goals to achieve, such as staying on track and being a "good guy". He wants to focus on his studies and spend time with his family.
"Just refrain from reoffending after knowing how harmful it is … Sometimes it's not only harmful to my health, but people around me," he said.
"I've already made the mistake once, I know what it's going to be like. I don't want to make the same mistake. It's honestly not worth it at all."
Case workers are heartened when youths change, said Mr Lowe, noting that "any form of change is not easy".
Asked how he feels when youths like Wei Qiang finish their rehabilitation, he smiled. He said he would miss some of them, and some would linger in his mind.
"But I would say that the ones that have really done their job to complete their rehabilitation with us, their stories continue to live on within us," he added.
"(We) pass their experience on to the next youth that we meet."
Wei Qiang’s parting words were simple. If he missed Mr Lowe or needed his advice, he could just text him.
But both agreed that they hoped never to meet again in the same setting.
"We can meet outside like friends," the teen said to Mr Lowe. "Not (as) case worker or client."
Mr Lowe wished him well. "I always say this to all of my youths: I hope to see you, but never in my centre again."
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Wei Qiang (not his real name) was on a staycation with three friends, one of them just 14. The younger teen had slipped out without telling her parents, who filed a missing person report when they could not reach her.
Police traced her last known location to the hotel the group was staying at. During checks, they found the pod in Wei Qiang's bag along with a vape.
The pod was not his and he had no idea how it got there, he claimed. "I was quite upset," he said.
When officers questioned him, he admitted that he had tried Kpods twice the year before. Instead of being fined S$500 (US$390), he was told to go for rehabilitation – part of a national move to help etomidate users turn their lives around.
First-time youth abusers go through a three-month programme with up to 10 intervention sessions.
For Wei Qiang, this was the wake-up call he needed.
In the months before he was caught, he had been mixing around with what he called "quite bad influence people", picking up habits like staying out late and sneaking into bars and clubs while underage.
"I got into a lot of trouble. I feel like that was the last straw. Lucky I got caught there," he said. "I feel like I needed the punishment, then I would learn my lesson."
Across two interviews with CNA in November and December, he described his three-month rehabilitation journey and the bond he formed with his case worker. A pseudonym is used to protect his identity.
Wei Qiang (not his real name), an etomidate user, with his case worker during a rehabilitation session at Singapore Children's Society on Nov 19, 2025. (Photo: CNA/Mak Jia Kee)
THE FIRST PUFF
Wei Qiang first heard about Kpods in late 2024 and his first encounter was at a friend's house.
He started vaping when he was 13, doing it on and off for about four years – often when he was bored at home or with friends.
But Kpods were new territory. He would not have bought one himself, he said, although he knew where to get it.
"When you're with your friend, you wouldn't even think if there's any risk of getting caught," he said. "You feel safe taking it."
But the experience was anything but pleasant. "It's not a nice feeling actually … It's disgusting after a while."
Within minutes, he felt nauseous and drifted off to sleep. He tried it a second time with another group of friends who insisted it was a different type, but he also disliked it.
Related:
ANGRY PARENTS AND FIRST REHAB SESSION
When police notified his parents, anger was their first response. They had warned him to stay away from "this kind of thing", he said, and they did not believe the pod was not his.
He was officially referred to the Youth Enhanced Supervision Scheme on Sep 22 and started rehabilitation at Singapore Children's Society three days later.
His mother accompanied him to the first session, and it was tense.
Case worker and assistant director at Singapore Children's Society, Mr Franz Lowe, who was assigned to oversee Wei Qiang, sensed "a bit of an intense conflict" between them.
She was bogged down, worried about her son's future, and fearful that he would get into more trouble. "She found it very difficult to visualise how things can take a better turn," said Mr Lowe.
Wei Qiang was visibly frustrated and spoke in a nonchalant manner. He felt uncomfortable and could not open up.
"Actually, I was a little bit nervous when I saw him for the first time," Mr Lowe said. "In my mind, it was like 'oh no, I'm not sure if it's going to be an easy youth to work with'."
BONDING OVER FOOD
At the second session, and this time without his mother present, Wei Qiang was a lot friendlier.
The teenager reflected not only on his own actions, but on his mother's fears, something not easy for people his age, said Mr Lowe.
As sessions went on, there was more laughter and rapport grew.
"The way he looks, the tone he uses, the choice of words, and I think for him, particularly if he's able to keep his language very informal, that's where you know you got a win," said Mr Lowe.
When CNA met Wei Qiang in the final stretch of the programme, he said he enjoyed every session.
The mandatory rehabilitation was not something he dreaded and he had always been curious about counselling. He saw it as something new that he had not been through before and wanted to experience.
Wei Qiang liked having an older adult he could talk to, who offered advice without judgment.
"I'm quite a talkative person. I just enjoy telling people about myself, my days, and just telling them about my thoughts," he added.
A teenager with a vaping device. (File photo: iStock)
About 85 per cent of the sessions covered core issues – emotion management, relapse prevention, decision-making, equipping youths with strategies to stay away from drugs.
During a session on managing emotions, Wei Qiang told his case worker that breathing exercises did not work. Instead, he said he copes by closing his eyes for a minute to calm himself.
They also discussed how drugs are prohibited in countries beyond Singapore, with Mr Lowe emphasising that substance use can damage friendships and is not the solution to problems.
In another session on decision-making, Wei Qiang shared that distraction by close friends made it difficult for him to stick to the right choices.
Mr Lowe explained how such influence can be a barrier to change. He encouraged Wei Qiang to weigh the pros and cons of a decision and to consider what works best.
As for the remaining 15 per cent of sessions? "Other nonsense that will make things more interesting and keep me focused,” said Wei Qiang.
Food was a favourite detour. Mr Lowe once recommended dumplings near Bishan MRT station; Wei Qiang bought them the same day.
These lighthearted exchanges are key to spotting how youths are changing their lives for the better, said Mr Lowe.
"It may sound ridiculous, but it's actually a very helpful strategy to keep yourself occupied, distracted from all the bad behaviours taking up your time," said Mr Lowe.
The off-topic conversations also helped build trust.
"If we are persistent and consistent in how we treat them, that actually helps them to open up a little bit more, to share more about their lives with us," said Mr Lowe.
Case workers can also better tailor their approach to suit the youths' learning styles. Mr Lowe used comics and analogies in Wei Qiang's case, adjusting on the fly.
He once used a zombie apocalypse scenario to spark discussion on crisis management. But Wei Qiang dismissed it as unrealistic, saying he had only seen that happening in movies.
So Mr Lowe quickly swapped it for something more relatable – a fire emergency.
"As practitioners, we always have a few tricks up our sleeves," Mr Lowe said. "Sometimes we are like magicians, we will pull things out of our hat.”
Franz Lowe, Youth Enhanced Supervision Scheme case worker and assistant director at Singapore Children's Society, showing slides used during a rehabilitation session. (Photo: CNA/Mak Jia Kee)
A NEW LIFESTYLE
As the weeks passed, Wei Qiang felt his life shift to a steadier, healthier path.
He drifted away from his old crowd and gravitated toward older and more mature friends he met through mutual connections, gatherings and social media.
"They may be quite boring," he joked, saying there were no escapades such as sneaking into clubs.
Instead, he filled his days with “proper", "worry-free" activities like fishing, eating at new places, flying kites at Marina Barrage and cooking at home.
"It's just more fun times, I will say, that doesn't get me involved in trouble," he said.
He started keeping to curfews and going home earlier.
This change for the better also eased tension at home. His parents, who once lay awake worrying when he would return, are now relieved.
They are less stressed, knowing he is with friends they can trust. He also no longer dodges their calls when he is out.
Related:
"A GOOD MATCH"
Wei Qiang's ninth and final session was in mid-December 2025. It took longer than expected to wrap up.
When he and Mr Lowe sat down with CNA afterwards, the mood was warm. The two of them appeared closer than before.
Wei Qiang's mother again sat in, but she was noticeably calmer this time, said Mr Lowe. She shared about her son's progress, noting that he had become more mature.
She also felt that Mr Lowe and her son were "a good match".
Wei Qiang immediately agreed. He did not see Mr Lowe as a case worker, he said, but as "a friendly teacher" who gave good advice and taught him to live properly.
He said he felt “lucky” that Mr Low was his case worker, as he may not have opened up as much with someone else.
He added that he felt more knowledgeable and sensible, being more cautious of his actions and more aware of the people he mixed with.
Franz Lowe, Youth Enhanced Supervision Scheme case worker and assistant director at Singapore Children’s Society, during Wei Qiang’s (not his real name) final rehabilitation session on Dec 16, 2025. (Photo: CNA/Mak Jia Kee)
THE NEXT STEP
While Wei Qiang was placed under MSF's scheme, etomidate abusers above 21 are referred to the Institute of Mental Health’s National Addictions Management Service (NAMS).
Dr Christopher Cheok, NAMS' chief, estimated that roughly two-thirds of youths in the mandatory programme at NAMS are recreational etomidate abusers, and a third are addicts.
Like Wei Qiang, many start out of curiosity or peer influence; some others use drugs to cope with deeper stresses like adverse childhood experiences or academic pressures.
The mandatory programme had been quite well received, said Dr Cheok, although a few youths had complaints about its length and struggled with attending weekly sessions.
The rehabilitation process begins with assessing the severity of use. Heavy users undergo a six-month programme – three months at NAMS and three more with social service agencies. Light users complete a three-month programme – first month at NAMS and two more with the agencies.
Relapse occurs in a "handful" of severe cases, often detected when youths self-disclose, parents notice signs, or during enforcement checks, said Dr Cheok.
But Wei Qiang is steadfast in his belief that he would not relapse.
"The chance of that happening is close to zero," he said. "Right now, I'm happy with what I have and I'm satisfied with what I'm doing."
He has goals to achieve, such as staying on track and being a "good guy". He wants to focus on his studies and spend time with his family.
"Just refrain from reoffending after knowing how harmful it is … Sometimes it's not only harmful to my health, but people around me," he said.
"I've already made the mistake once, I know what it's going to be like. I don't want to make the same mistake. It's honestly not worth it at all."
Case workers are heartened when youths change, said Mr Lowe, noting that "any form of change is not easy".
Asked how he feels when youths like Wei Qiang finish their rehabilitation, he smiled. He said he would miss some of them, and some would linger in his mind.
"But I would say that the ones that have really done their job to complete their rehabilitation with us, their stories continue to live on within us," he added.
"(We) pass their experience on to the next youth that we meet."
Wei Qiang’s parting words were simple. If he missed Mr Lowe or needed his advice, he could just text him.
But both agreed that they hoped never to meet again in the same setting.
"We can meet outside like friends," the teen said to Mr Lowe. "Not (as) case worker or client."
Mr Lowe wished him well. "I always say this to all of my youths: I hope to see you, but never in my centre again."
Listen:
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