The National Addiction Memorial honors the loved ones we’ve lost.

Joey was a very smart and funny guy. He could run a business like no other and be successful. The only problem was he got caught up in the drug scene and was very addictive. He was handsome like s movie star smart as a whip caring (when he was Joey) and would give you shirt off his back. He loved his sisters and niece and nephew. We miss him dearly and pray he is at peace and not struggling. Love you joey Rest In Peace love mom

Casey Jo was full of hopes and dreams that all young adults share. She was studying to be a nurse like her mom, and truly loved working with people. She was diagnosed with Crohn's disease at 18 years old. That diagnosis resulted in numerous surgeries and complications that resulted in prescribed pain medications. Addiction came quickly and without warning. She struggled to see herself as someone with an addiction. After all, these were medications prescribed by her doctor. How could this be her fault? Finally, after years of concern, we were able to convince her to go to a facility to help her medically detox from her medications. And then she discovered heroin. Unfortunately, her body was found in her garage the day before she was to be admitted. She was 26 years old. Her death was ruled a suicide, investigated as a homicide, but was absolutely the result of her addiction to opioids. Our hearts are forever shattered, our memories of her are too few, she wanted so much in life. She wanted children so badly, a family of her own. Casey Jo deserved much more than this, but most of all, she deserved to trust a medical system designed to help heal her, not kill her.

Evan was very smart but had very low self esteem about being gay and shy. He was a very loyal friend and was happiest with them and helping them out. He loved road trips and Nicki Minaj. The drugs were used to self-medicate from the pain, and when the needles started it was down hill all the way. He was in a great rehab in CA but one person ruined it by transferring him to a sober house before he was ready. All alone there he was wandering the streets, very uncomfortable and was dead 24 hours later. I am in RI, his mom, not being able to be there to hold his hand or say goodbye. My life sentence has begun and I am so broken missing him. We did him wrong and I do not get a second chance. What can we do?

My son struggled for six years. It started with pills and then snorting heroin and then shooting it. I had him in the best rehabs and when he was there, he was great. But he couldn't live there forever! I found him in my house where he died from fentanyl laced heroin. I have not nor will I ever get over the death of my child.

Mandy was a beautiful person, she was always ready to help anyone and would have given you the shirt off of her back. She was a huge part of my family for years, a daughter, sister, and mother to my children. Things came at her too fast, the life she had envisioned for herself disappeared and I think she was unable to cope. Mandy's story happened fast, the slide down that slope happened in a blink of an eye. The addiction took hold fast and never let go. My heart cries out at the loneliness she must have felt. And my mind places blame squarely on my own shoulders. See, I think the hard core approach that we are told to take left her alone and without reasons to live. She always had a smile even when she was dying inside, unable to cope. She'd make you laugh and be the first one to make sure you were okay and take care of everyone. She was a wonderful, good heart and beautiful soul, long before the drugs took over her life. My memories are many and wonderful. She walked away and never came back. I have to believe that she knew our door was always open and that our love was always there. Mandy's life has to be celebrated--she lived and was loved. Addiction didn't always define her. I missed her before, now I miss her even more knowing that she will never walk through the door. The hope is gone....

Dylan was energetic, loving, kind, caring, and had a great sense of humor. He worked hard to get where he was in life with music and as a drummer and his welding career. He married in 2014 his high school sweetheart, Jordan, after 17 years of their love saga. He had his first child, the light of his life, in June of 2016. Just 4 months after she was born, his cycle of addiction took his life.

Dylan struggled, like most people with addiction, with drugs for an excruciatingly long time. In 2004, he was addicted to vicodin and oxycontin. He realized he had a problem and could not get sober without going into rehab. He did that and completed a full recovery. Focused on the 12 steps and found himself needing to find a better support system so he distanced himself from certain friends. But his addiction was too powerful and he substituted for alcohol and marijuana. Between 2004 and 2009, his drug of choice changed from prescription medicines to drugs found on the street. He was addicted to heroin. He was searched by cops for trying to pick up in the city. He was nodding in and out of moving vehicles. He overdosed the night of his birthday in 2008/2009. He went into rehab again and came clean to his family that he was very sick and needed a program more than the hospital could provide. Some of the details to me (his wife/girlfriend at the time) were very vague as he never fully wanted to admit he didn't have control over what he was doing. He went into a halfway house and met several people at NA meetings and in the house that were good influences. In 2015, his Grandfather passed away and he found it very difficult to deal with this passing. He numbed himself by finding Xanax - prescribed or not. He was also taking Methadone to control his craving of heroin that he hadn't had in many years. He was trying to lower his Methadone dose so he could save more money for the family he wanted to start. He suffered from depression and anxiety and found a physician that would prescribe him 60 pills of Xanax every 60 days. His cycle was vicious. He was so loving and there for his family and wife and child when he was not taking Xanax but then he would realize his prescription was available and he would fill it and satisfy the demon within.

We sent many letters to his doctor and tried several encounters with family/friends to convince him he had a problem. But he never saw it as a problem and would blame everyone else for his use but himself. On Thursday October 13th, he fought with his wife and grabbed his baby girl in anger that she had confronted him about receiving a prescription from his doctor. He died on Friday October 14th at 4:30pm when his wife took their dog and went to pick up their daughter from daycare. He had accidentally overdosed on a combination of prescription medications, one of which was Fentanyl. He was not prescribed this medication and he got it off the street from a dealer who probably sold it to him as heroin.

The heroin epidemic and addiction as a disease is serious and if this story touches anyone and makes them think before they allow the demon and addiction to win, then I have done my part in trying to make everyone aware of it with my husband's story. I miss him every day and the love we shared and I have this beautiful toddler to show me how to be strong and guide her into a drug free life.

Rest easy Dylan Hoffman. Taylor and I love you very much.

Shawn was a risk taker his whole life. Although he loved life and had dreams, he didn’t plan for tomorrow. He lived for each day! He was a comedian and wanted to be one professionally, but his addictions held him back. Even at the end, he talked of his dreams to make people laugh. He was good at it too. He could talk to anyone and by the end of the conversation you thought Shawn was your friend :). He just had this personality that you could not help but love. He dreamed of becoming that comedian and even wanted to write books. He would have written some awesome books because he was the smartest person we knew. I literally would call him with questions all the time--history, life, politics, sports, cooking, anything! He knew it all. One thing he couldn’t figure out is how to live without substances.

Shawn was born to very young parents and grew up in Connecticut. He was the oldest of three. We grew up close and loved deeply. As a kid he was a daredevil and that led into taking risks as a teenager and experimenting with drugs and alcohol.

It wasn’t a bad life. In his 20s there was much happiness. He was in a movie, fell in love, got married (and divorced twice), and most of all had a little boy, Benjamin. Being a dad brought him so much happiness but didn’t stop his struggles with drugs and what became the worst addiction, alcohol.

He overcame an addiction to heroin but alcohol kept him in its grasp so tight that he lost everything, his family, his car, his home, and his job. He had nothing in Connecticut so decided to try a fresh start in Florida. After four years of living there and trying to make ends meet he was still in the same situation. Barely getting by, but he stayed happy on the outside. People loved him. He had a job and was getting by when just a few months before he passed he was reunited with his son after almost four years of no contact.

We all thought that would be it. He would get clean and strive to better his life. Although he spoke to his son regularly, on October 9, 2015 he drank as he did everyday. He went to bed and took pain killers which mixed with his alcohol and killed him. He didn’t overdose, the levels in him were only slightly elevated. He died because he was an alcoholic and didn’t think before taking someone else’s medication to get to sleep or numb his pain. He was 37!

He didn’t want to die, he wanted to make people laugh and talk to his son!

My mom, dad, sister, daughter, nieces, nephew (his son!), myself, and many more love him and are mad that we lost him. He spoke to him regularly and he knew we loved him.

Shawn you are forever in our hearts! Happy birthday today!! You would have been 40.

Jacob had a promising future in skiing. Throwing new tricks in the park and jumping big cliffs at an early age. Competing and finishing frequently on top. At the age of 14 he had a fall that fractured C4, closed head injury and spinal cord compression injury. As we look back, that is the day his life changed. Although he fully recovered from the physical injury, the lasting depression and introduction to prescribed opioids led to several years with tragic incidents, an overdose, and a very painful struggle for him on so many levels.
At the age of 17 he was diagnosed with bi-polar disease, and getting a 17 year old to take daily medication that altered the way they feel is not easy. It removed the highs and lows that are so dangerous but that was his normal. Instead, he would stop his medication and gravitate to whatever drug was going around at the time. During his relapses, his father and I always allowed him a safe place in our home-not one of enabling but a place where he knew he was loved. And when he was ready, we made sure he received the help he needed.

At the age of 23 we witnessed a major shift in him. Maturity, possibly but he became more interested in his health and well being. Became more consistent with his sobriety program and medication regime. He said he just wanted to "feel normal". Before Jacobs death, he had been in a wonderful loving relationship for three years; he was back in school, working and planning his future. All his dreams! Unfortunately, on the night of November 19, 2017 for some reason, a reason we will never know, he went and picked up some heroin and used. That injection killed him.

All throughout Jacob's struggle he was brutally honest with us and those treating him. I believe in my heart that he just wanted to "feel normal." He told me once that things that seem really easy for others are so difficult for him. I could not rationalize this knowing he was brilliant, artistic, and generally a loving human being. I pray everyday that he is at peace and he is safe. Free of the mental anguish and in a place of love.

I miss so many things about my son...the list is so long. At this moment I miss the daily phone calls and his voice checking in to see how I am doing. One thing I want to share specific to opioids: I do recall the day after he had his neck surgery. He was only 14. He was freaking out and crying, pacing, and screaming to me to help him...at that moment I discontinued the pain medication the surgeon prescribed-MS contin. I am a hospice nurse. We use MS Contin all the time. Then I had an epiphany recently-that the behavior I witnessed after his surgery was the same behavior exhibited when he was used heroin.

My youngest son Jonathan  lost his father when he was 6 years old. For the rest of his life he searched and wanted to know more about him. As a young boy, he excelled in school and sports and was enrolled in the gifted and talented program.

When he was a teenager, he was prescribed Oxycontin for back pain. While in the Army he was introduced to other stronger drugs and finally at some point in his adult life to heroin.

He married a young girl with an eight month old son who he raised as his own. They had two sons together.

After trying to help him recover from his addiction, his wife asked him to leave their home. I already had cut off giving him money four years earlier having a suspicion the money was going to his addiction of drugs and gambling. He loved his family deeply but for some reason could not bestow that love back onto himself.

Jonathan and I had a close but sometimes strained relationship. I supported him in everything he took on in life but for some reason could not finish to completion. I believe the addiction was the main reason for his lack of follow through with his endeavors to the end 

Jon was the type of young boy/man who loved everyone and showed immense compassion no matter where you came from. He always lit up the room when he entered and was a magnet to people around him when they heard his warm laugh and saw his beautiful smile.

In his last few years, Jonathan struggled with his deep depression and the battle against his best friend, the demon drug heroin.

He will be forever missed and loved by all who knew him in his life here on earth, especially me, his Mom.

I will never let my son Jon be forgotten and will continue to honor him, doing anything I can to see that not one more family loses a child to this ever growing epidemic in our country.

I have already started a fundraiser through Shatterproof in his name.

Thank you for allowing my son to be a part of your memorial page and sharing his story.

Dakota was the love of my life. Dakota had struggled with heroin addiction for 10 years. His family and I all thought he could overcome this demon. This drug had a hold on him like no other. He hid the signs from us, and we all thought he was doing so much better. Dakota had been in and out of jail; and after getting out this last time in December, he swore he was going to get straight. He wasn’t in treatment. Maybe that’s something we should have encouraged him to get involved in.

Dakota could light up a room with his goofy grin and beautiful, kind soul. People were drawn to him and wanted to be friends with him. His family and I feel like this is a nightmare that we should wake up from any second, but we also don’t want his death to be in vain. We want to help encourage other families to support their loved ones with addiction issues and encourage them to seek the help they need.

In his final days, he was happy. We were making plans for the future. We were always together and doing fun things together. I try to hold these memories in my heart, where they will live forever.

Zachary Aaron Kresslein of Poolesville, Maryland, passed away on Tuesday, January 16, 2018, in Asheville, North Carolina, at the age of 17.
Zack was born on August 22, 2000, to Michael and Kimberli Kresslein. He was the oldest of their three children. He leaves behind a younger brother, Xavier (16), and sister, Katarina (9). He was intelligent, athletic, free-spirited, personable, and popular with his friends. His passions included baseball, football, cars, technology, cooking, jet skiing, snowboarding, and his pet pitbull, Roscoe, whose name was tattooed on Zack's upper arm.
Zack recently attended Winston Churchill High School in Potomac, Maryland. Though his education was temporarily derailed by his battle with substance use, he nevertheless finished his high school education online and graduated early, earning his high school diploma in the fall of 2017 at barely 17 years old. At the time of his death, he was in recovery in Asheville, North Carolina, and was scheduled to begin classes at the University of North Carolina at Asheville this spring semester. His future was full of promise.

My Sweetest Baby Boy, GARBEAR;

The moment your daddy and I found out that I was pregnant with you, I could hear the trumpets in Heaven blow. My pregnancy with you was, to say the least, troublesome. I spent the first two trimesters in bed. I was allowed to walk back and forth to the bathroom. It was winter and I do not like winter, as it is dreary, cold, and rainy. Yes, I complained a lot but it was worth every moment once I laid eyes on your beautiful face for the first time.

You were the missing link to our small family. Jon-Jon was five and could not wait for you to be born. He was very much into HE-MAN FIGURES and was preparing which ones you would play with. The real truth was he was freaking out because he did not want anyone to touch his precious figures.

Before you were born, your daddy and I invited a gathering of many friends because we were clueless as to what we were going to name you. One of our friends suggested the name Garret. I looked up the meaning of your name and it means; A SERVANT OF GOD! Your father and I fell in love with your name and with great pride, a baby conceived in love was born on September 11, 1985. We named you Garret Poole Kilgore. Your brother Jonathan’s name meant a gift from God. How perfect!

You were perfect, healthy, a whopping eight pounds and fourteen ounces. I remember the first time Budrow, your grandfather laid eyes on you. Though I was drugged to the max, I saw a glow of pure love swell in his eyes. He had another grandson! Then he saw the port-wine stain on your hand. Budrow ran out of the room to find a nurse, a doctor, someone he could speak to about having laser done on your hand. STAT! And you always said; I was overly protective? HA! We had a wonderful family and I was very lucky to have two in-laws that were truly like my real mama and daddy. I miss both of them so much!

Your daddy and I were not about to allow laser surgery to be performed on your hand at one day old. We never had to do anything to your little hand because as you grew, the port wine stain disappeared. God took care of that!

One day when you were about six weeks old, we got into our minivan, bought for the added baby. We were picking Jonathan up from St. Frances School, and my friend, Teresa Palladino saw you and said; In her country, the Philippines, it is believed that any person born with a mark like yours was a sign of greatness, a leader, a person that would make the world a better place. Though I knew this, I felt it was another sign of confirmation that you were placed on this earth for greatness, to make a difference in our fallen world.

Because of the layout of the home we lived in prior to the one on Cold Harbor, and I was recovering from a C-section, you stayed in our bedroom until you were six months old. The picture where you are in your baby bed sitting up was taken in our room. You were always an early riser and the moment your dad and I heard you stir, we very quietly covered ourselves with the sheet. Praying that you would go back to sleep and we could have just one more hour of rest. We would lay there, trying not to laugh, or breath but you were very wise and knew those two idiots were your parents hiding.

Since Monday, October 16, 2017, when your grandmother, Gil called me to let me know that your life on earth had ended, my life changed forever. Presently, I find that I never realized how many tears could flow from my eyes. I cannot think, I cannot breathe, I am believing that there is no such thing as stages of grief when parents lose a child.

From the moment I heard the news, all I could focus on was the book you loved so much; “THE RUNAWAY BUNNY”, I do not know if you placed that thought into my mind or God. Every night up into your teens, you had me read that book to you. “Ferdinand” was your second favorite. You were Ferdinand, as you would rather smell the flowers, find a place where you had complete shalom. You were never a fighter, you always had a smile as everyone who knew you experienced your infectious laughter, which was identical to your Uncle Curt’s laughter. I have journalled every day of your life, as I have your brothers.

I remember when you would come home from school, almost every day before you did your homework, you would go into the pantry and make potions. You would mix spices, add baking soda, vinegar, whatever you could find to complete your mission. You would spend hours doing this. I believe your interest in potions came from when we worked on your brother’s school project where we had to make a volcano and you were so excited when we mixed the two magical ingredients that caused the lava flow.

Then you were off to play with your best friends, Blake and Morgan, Andy, Brett, the list go on and on. We were blessed to have so many boys your age on our street on Cold Harbor Drive.

Your daddy and I knew by the time you were three-years-old that you would be in the filming industry. You had an imagination that blew us away. You were always putting on skits. In kindergarten, your class had an assignment where all of you were to come to school with something to do with 100. Your idea, LAST MINUTE, was that you wanted 100 pennies glued to your T-shirt. Thank God for glue guns, as I hurried to glue 100 pennies to your shirt right before carpool. I finished in time to take a picture of you, all smiles, standing on the front porch, ready for your big day.

Which leads me to your entrepreneurship abilities at the age of three.
You would set-up a lemonade stand in the front yard. No one would come, as we lived on a cul-de-sac and as I sat on the front steps watching you, I could see the wheels turning in your head. You grabbed your little wagon, put your supplies in the wagon, and with my permission, you went door to door, selling your lemonade for 50 cents per cup. They were the very small cups you and your brother had in your bathroom for rinsing after you brushed your teeth.

Who could resist you? No one! If memory serves me, that first day, you came home with a total of $15.00. That opened a whole new world for you. You continued your quest with how do I make more money? Every time I went to the feed store downtown to buy supplies for my horses, you were the first one in the car. You had discovered that they sold the kind of candy that you and your friends loved, in bulk, at a reasonable price.

At that time, you were nine-years-old, Santa had brought you a dune buggy. OMG, that caused me to have so much stress, though you wore a helmet, shoulder pads, shin guards, elbow pads, I still worried. I was an overprotective mama!

It was the beginning of summer, you were insistent that I take you to the feed store so you could buy candy and sell it so you would have money to spend when we went to Sarasota to visit your grandparents.

Off we went, all the way downtown and we arrived, you bought an assortment of various kinds of candy. When we got home, you threw everything on the kitchen table and began to sort everything. You asked me for lunch bags, markers, and a stapler. At that point, I thought it would be a promising idea to teach you about how to truly run a business. I charged you for the bags, the markers, and the staples.

That ended up in a temper tantrum. How could a mama charge her baby boy? It was so overwhelming, I just let it slide and as you settled down, you prepared your bags and when you were finished, off you went to sell your wares. Again, door to door but this time you had wheels. In two days, you made over $100. This cycle continued for years but what really made me insane was all the trips I had to make to the bank for you. First, you wanted a $100 bill, then, you wanted 100 dollars in quarters, then 100 dollars in pennies. This went on forever but Garret, if I could go back in time, I would do it all over again. BUT I CAN NOT!

Because Jonathan was involved in so many outside sports, your car seat had become your crib. The song we used to sing all the time was; “ON THE ROAD AGAIN.” Garret never wanted to be anywhere but in my arms. I soon learned how to clean, wash dishes, vacuum with one arm. As long as he was moving, he was happy.

As Garret started school and was old enough to spend the night with his friends, we had a problem. He was ok if someone spent the night with us but he was not going to leave our home. I knew that I had to do something to push him into a new way of thinking.

Garret was in fourth grade and knowing the school had a mandatory week camping trip as part of their curriculum in 5th grade, I had to do something quickly. Against his will, I signed him up for one week of day camp the end of 4th grade. We met the bus at the church and as all the mothers and his friends watched the scene Garret made, I calmly got him out of the car and walked towards the bus. One of the camp counselors was a linebacker on the football team. I finally got Garret in the bus, in the seat, kissed him and said I will see you this afternoon. I started walking out of the bus, all of a sudden, I heard what sounded like a body hitting the floor of the bus and a bolt of lightning pass me and jump into the very back of the car.

The linebacker was down and by the time I got to the car, Garret was in the very back seat, tying the seatbelts around his legs and arms. Screaming at the top of his lungs; “I AM NOT GOING!” We followed the bus to the campsite. When we arrived, Garret submitted and stayed the day and mama was waiting for him to arrive back to the church. I truly saw a smile on his face while he was in the bus but that smile quickly disappeared once he saw me.

As the memories flood my brain, my heart, I could continue with stories about you until my eyes close and my heart stops beating.

Garret, you made a difference in this cruel world. I have received hundreds of emails from people I never knew, letting me know how you helped change their lives for the better. These emails give me comfort in knowing that your father and I did a pretty good job!

It breaks my heart when I heard you were found on your knees, kneeling at the side of your bed. Your head laying on your mattress.
I have to believe that you were speaking to OUR LORD AND SAVIOR.
As your mama, I am still suffering from the empty nest syndrome and will until we meet again.

Garbear, you have, my heart, my mind, my everything! If there was ever a young man loved as much as you, they had all they needed. YOU HAD IT ALL!

YOU ARE LOVED, YOU WILL BE MISSED!~AS FOR YOUR MAMA, I WILL CONTINUE TO READ THE RUN-AWAY BUNNY, UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN.

SWEET SHALOM MY ANGEL!

LOVE, MAMA

Boone is my heart. He was so fun loving, and he was wonderful with family and with his many friends. Usually upbeat, he had " shoe game", and that was the only thing he cared about as far as clothes. He loved to skateboard, and became pretty good at it, starting at a young age. He pretty much detested other sports though- He LOVED dirt biking, 4 wheeling, mudding in his old Chevy jacked up truck that he saved for years to get. He didn't see boundaries in people, meaning he never judged anyone that I know of, as long as they were remotely nice to him and those he cared most about. Boone never loved school, but he tested well, so he got by easily until later high school, when he stopped trying at all, or attention issues got the best of him- I think it was both.
Boone starting smoking weed occasionally when he was 16, I think. His senior year he started trying pills at school, every once in a while from what we have heard, a dealer we met after he died said he didn't touch oxys or roxys, heroin, etc- he told her "that stuff can kill you".... He was working, going to school, and being part of our family, so we were assuming it was still just weed on occasion- we didn't like it, but he never did anything around us, and we didn't smell it on him, and he continued being a great son to us, so we chalked it up to teen behavior and he would outgrow it.
He started partying around the end of march 2017. His closest friend died tragically- left by some other kids at a rock quarry ledge- where he fell in and drowned. Boone blamed himself for not being there and for a couple of weeks he completely stopped partying all together- his grief counselor told us at his age, it would get worse again, and quickly- that an 18 year old would not have that grand wake up call we needed and wanted him to have. She was right- 5 weeks after Sean died, Boone started doing more Xanax- a benzo drug that is extremely addictive although this country uses it like aspirin to fix any stress it seems. Boone went in one week from a kid who we are told was taking 1-3 Xanax a day to someone who was needing upper of 15 .25 mg bars a day. He was arrested the fourth day of this binge- the 17th of July, and we talked him into starting rehab-and told him it was the only way his charges would be dropped- which is what our lawyer told us. He was set to check into a facility the 19th. On the 18th, he left our house, saying he was just going to the rope swing with some friends- a common activity where we live in the country by a great river for camping and swimming. He was supposed to be back home before dark. He called and said he was staying out at a friends place, and that since he was 18, he knew we couldn't force him to rehab, but he would go if we would let him have this last night of hanging with some buddies. We knew where he was, and we were clueless about the amount of pills he had been taking at that point, so we said okay, and that we would get him in the AM to go.
That night he got a ride to a dealer, bought 30 pills, took them all- posted it on his social media and asked tons of kids to meet him out at the same quarry where his friend had died. For the most part, the kids said no way, and for him to stay in, but he found two kids willing to party with him at 3AM. Once they gave him the ride to the quarry, they decided it was a bad idea for them, and they left him there alone- knowing how many pills he had taken. He was a constant video guy so he taped them together and it was obvious he was under the influence big time. He continued to call out to others to ask them to come party with him, to celebrate his friend that had died there, before he went into rehab the next day. Once he realized no one was coming, he started calling, texting and snapchatting, asking kids for rides out, saying again he had taken 30 bars and to please come "scoop him" meaning to pick him up. At this time it was almost 4 AM, and kids were either asleep, or unable, or unwilling to come. His last snap out was around 5:15 and at that time it was just random letters. His last film out was around 4:30 and he is no longer able to stand, and is leaning against the spot where his friend was left. The next day we finally tracked down who he was with and they lied about where they took him, so it took hours to figure out where he was. When we finally did check there, his things were there but he was not. It took 5 days to find him, because the quarry is more than 100 feet deep, and murky and cold, so nothing rises. The kids involved were his friends- not just strangers. They cared about him, and we know that. They didn't want to get him in trouble for taking the pills, and also didn't want to get themselves in trouble for leaving him there alone, so they lied. They never imagined he would drown. The 20 or so kids that he was snapchatting to on a group chat felt the same- they knew he was out of control, but didn't want to be the one to say so- and because of their lack of knowledge about a state law called the Good Samaritan 911 law, he died, just like his close friend Sean.
The two boys each have a teenage sister- Bridget Odonnell and Elly Cummins. They have made it their mission, along with our families, to make sure every middle schooler and high schooler in the state know about this law- and how it could save lives. They are going around to local high schools, church groups, community meetings, etc- to show their program on this to spread the word. They have met with our Attorney General, and we will be meeting with legislative members in the weeks to come. This information needs to be EVERYWHERE- it's different state to state, but the point is if someone calls to help a friend in need, neither the person calling or the person you are calling on will get prosecuted for whatever you have on you- drugs, underage drinking, etc- four of the kids who got that call/text/ snap from Boone where he begged for a ride away, have told us they would have called if they knew it wouldn't get Boone in trouble, or themselves. The same goes for the kids who left Sean.
This past weekend, less than 6 months from the day we lost him, a person was saved in our little county because of our boys, and our girls now campaigning to make this a better known law. Someone who saw one of their talks was with a group of kids where one OD'ed- and while almost everyone in the group wanted not to call, because they didn't want to get in trouble- one kid had seen this presentation and made the call. It saved a life we are told. Nothing brings back our son, but being able to keep another family from going through what we all have means something so powerful. Thank you for letting me share this- and what Shatterproof has done is incredible- we hope to get the lifeskills section included in our county schools, one day at a time. if you have any interest in learning more about the girls' campaign- go to BeKindLeavenoonebehind on Facebook or Instagram.

His story is typical of most. Began with marijuana, and then pills at 15. He spent a week in rehab. Then released as I was told he was “cured.” Which eventually escalated into more. The thing was that the world was oblivious. He worked a full time job and had many friends and family that he interacted with often. He was diligently trying to get a higher paying job and had goals. He was focused more than ever. And he relapsed and died from fentanyl laced heroin. None of us knew he was struggling. The stigma needs to be erased so that people with addiction are not all seen as jobless, menaces to the world. They are white collar, blue collar, moms, Dads, kids, even grandparents. It does not discriminate.

Martin was born and raised in California and grew up in the Niles District of Fremont where kids could still run around the neighborhood and have fun. Martin and his friends would often play street hockey at the end of his street. His little sister often played hockey and rollerbladed with the big boys, sometimes wearing her princess dress and shoes. Martin didn’t mind and they got along fine. They liked playing around and being silly together.

One of Martin's favorite places to gather was at the hockey rink. He loved hockey. It probably all started playing street hockey and advanced from there. He loved the togetherness, the sportsmanship, and his teammates. He knew what it was like to make the perfect save in front of the goal. He knew what it was like to win a championship. He also knew what it was like to lose. He was a goalie and loved doing "old school" moves like the poke check and stacking his pads to make a save.

After a year in a sober living residence, Martin had been clean for about a year and a half; graduated and moved out of the house. Then he relapsed and got high. After that he confided in his mother and said, "Last time It took over a year for me to wake up and not feel bad, is it going to take another year before I don't feel bad again?"

No one wanted to see Martin's life end this soon. No one wanted to see Martin's life ending with a drug overdose, but it did. It's sad and a real cheat that Martin's life is over. He had so much to live for. A family that loved him, a sport he enjoyed. He didn’t want to die, he wanted to live. Don't dwell on Martin's addiction; that will just tear you up. Instead, focus on Martin the person. Focus on his smile and his laugh. Focus on that twinkle in those eyes of his. Don't be afraid to just hop in your car, crank up the tunes, and take a drive through the country. Go to a hockey game, put some snow down your swimsuit. Focus on each person like him that you meet.

Martin's sister said it best. She hated Martin's addiction, but she loved her brother. He was her best friend. She said, "It's okay to hate the addiction, but never stop loving Martin. His battle is over. "

Jeremy was a fun loving and kind-hearted young man. He grew up in a loving home with three brothers. He played baseball from ages 8 to 16. However, he struggled with addiction since he was a teenager. It started out with marijuana from age 13 until 18. Then he started using other drugs like cocaine, spice, and amp. When he was about 21, he started taking pills like Xanax & Percocet. A friend suggested heroin since it was cheaper and once Jeremy tried it, he was hooked. Eventually he got arrested and had to go into an outpatient rehab program and was treated using Methadone. After about six months, he got off of Methadone and stayed clean--until he overdosed and passed away. He was doing really well with his recovery but decided to meet up with a few old friends and used and overdosed. It was such a shock and I'm so devastated! I miss my son so much. Jeremy wasn't just a person with an addiction. He was a brother, a grandson, a Beloved Son, a good friend to many!

Cassie was 27 when she passed away. She'd been struggling with addiction for about four years. She left two beautiful little girls behind Starley who is 5 and Zay who is 7. It broke our hearts. Cassie had life in the palm of her hand. She graduated from high school with honors and went to Weber State and was accepted into the nursing program. Passionate in life. She danced since she was 4 years old. Her children and family love the outdoors. The passion you had for your patients was amazing. You will always be loved and never forgotten.