On November 16, 2022 I got a knock on my door at 7:30pm My husband opened the door, and it was my 28-year-old son Christian’s cousin, Skylor. My heart sank. “It’s Christian.” “Is he okay?” “No he’s not.” I dropped onto the floor. My husband said I needed to get dressed to identify his body. I was screaming no no no no no. It was the news no mom should ever get, ever. I knew when I got the knock on the door it was terrible. I could tell by the urgency and the time of evening. I was shocked.
My son was working at a five-star restaurant and had been dating a beautiful girl Kat for quite some time who was working on her master’s degree. He was living in Laguna Niguel, in Crystal Kay, a prestigious neighborhood with two Christian men who were also sober. He got baptized, had given his life to Christ worked his way into a server position in Dana Point at the Laguna Cliffs Marriott with many friends cheering him on because of his bright future and lovely demeanor. He was beloved, popular his whole life, with many friends.
Christian was bright. He learned to read at age 4 and graduated early from Dana Hills High School. He was a musician, not an academic but a fervent reader. He played all kinds of instruments mastering a new one every year in grade school. In middle school he started writing his own music, and by the time he graduated, was recording and then later started live performances as a lyrical genius with his brother Brandon, cousin and friends. He grew a large following in Orange County, a Sound Cloud artist. Most importantly, he was my oldest son with two younger brothers, Kevin just 18 months younger, and Brandon 7 years younger. They were all best friends. As a single mother for many years, we were all we had.
When Christian was 14, he was involved in a terrible surfing accident at Aliso Creek Beach with a shore break that caused massive oral reconstructive surgery. He had to have painful extractions, a bridge made, and sutures of his lower lip. He was terrified of dentists and already suffered major anxiety. The urgent care doctor prescribed Norco. Christian later told me it was euphoric, and I honestly knew nothing about opioids at the time. I was still young and wanted my son to be okay. However, he never forgot that feeling and moved on to marijuana. Christian spent the next 14 years in and out of rehabs but the last one stuck. He went to the Ranch in Phelan, then Joshua House, then sober living and worked at La Tienda Thrift Shop. He got baptized, accepted Christ, studied the Bible with good Christian men, he put in the hard work for his sobriety and was almost two years sober with a hopeful future.
On the night of Christian’s death he reached out for a substance because he thought he was sick with Covid and was anxious. It turned out to be a lethal dose of fentanyl, and it killed him. Cops initially did nothing, even refusing to take the evidence I found in his backpack…just wrote it off as just another overdose and closed their investigation. The dealer was eventually given a slap on the wrist for an unrelated offence which was insulting.
When Christian died I was in my doctor of nursing practice program at Baylor University and was one term away from completing residency. My doctor of nursing practice project was specifically implementing mandatory assessment of addictive personalities before prescribing opioids, mandatory co-prescribing Narcan with opioids, and checking a national database for other prescriptions. I had Narcan on my desk and had to physically go to Christian’s house to identify his cold, dead, blue body that was being zipped up in a body bag in front of me. This is a kind of horror I can never escape. My grief is intense, never ending and all I want to do is hug my son, hear his precious voice say “mamma” one more time and call him on the phone as I did at least 3 times daily to check in.
I now work in pain management, and I try to use my experience to educate patients about the dangers of illicit fentanyl and the proper indication for opioid prescriptions.
Americans and politicians, educators and parents need to recognize the devastation illicit fentanyl causes, the dreams it steals, and the scope of the problem. Fentanyl is POISONING our children. There is NO accountability and we are FIGHTING to get people to understand why we need closed borders, strict convictions with murder charges for fentanyl dealers, and drug cartels held accountable for perpetuating this epidemic through profiteering on dealing death to Americans. Fentanyl is the NUMBER ONE cause of death in children and adults age 14-48 with millions of lives stolen and families shattered. The previous administration allowed these drugs to pour through our country, unabated and with zero accountability.
We thank President Donald J. Trump and The American Border Story for their efforts in taking affirmative action in annihilating cartel boats. Thank you also for giving us the ability to grieve through creating a memorial to honor families who have been devastated by this incredible loss with The American Border Story Memorial Act. Let’s protect future generations and plan for a brighter future for Americans stomping out this epidemic through proper education, firm policies, and harsh convictions. We will need health care initiatives by funding in-patient medical detox programs for surviving addicts to support our efforts in ensuring the aftermath is addressed.