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They watched as two more hearses drove past them, headed to other gravesites, the rest of their processions filing in behind them.
“Lot of funerals in this town,” noted Decker.
“Dollars to donuts you’re looking at ODs there,” said Kemper, pointing to some young people getting out of cars and heading to one of the gravesites. “Over eighty thousandpeople in America this year alone,” she added. “More than died in Vietnam and the wars in the Middle East combined. And far more than die in traffic accidents or by guns, and it’s only getting worse. Next year we’ll probably be looking at over a hundred thousand dead. The opioid crisis is actually responsible for the life expectancy in this country starting to go down. Can you wrap your head aroundthat? Nearly a half million dead since 2000. Drug overdoses are the leading cause of death for Americans under age fifty. We had a recent study done at DEA. Life insurance companies value a human life at about five million bucks. Using that number and other factors, our people projected the economic loss to the country each year due to the opioid crisis at about a hundred billion dollars. A thirdof the population is on medication for pain. And they’re not getting addicted on street corners. They’re getting addicted at their doctors’ offices.”
“From prescription painkillers.”
“Right. Back in the eighties we had the crack crisis. The government’s position was just say no and if you didn’t you went to prison. So we locked up millions, mostly men from the inner cities.Then came the nineties and Big Pharma decided that Americans weren’t taking enough painkillers. They sort of madepainthe fifth vital sign. Spent billions on ads, payoffs to doctors, used legit-looking organizations and think tanks to make it all seem aboveboard. ‘No possibility of addiction, no long-term negatives’ was the mantra everyone was spouting. Turns out all of that was based on eitherfaulty research or no research at all. It’s ironic but a lot of opioids were initially given out to combat lower back pain.”
“Why was that ironic?” asked Decker.
“Because opioids actually are pretty ineffectual with chronic lower back pain. Last year doctors wrote nearly a quarter billion prescriptions for painkillers. It’s a miracle we’re not all hooked. And the numbers wesee now, bad as they are, are just the tip of the iceberg. It’s beyond a national crisis and no one is doing a damn thing about it. Because of our position on crack cocaine in the eighties, we built a lot of prisons but not many treatment centers or addiction protocols. So now this crisis is filling hospitals, prisons, and”—she waved her hand in front of her—“cemeteries all across the country. Andto top it off, last year about twenty-five thousand babies were born with what’s called neonatal abstinence syndrome because their moms were opioid users while pregnant. What kind of life will they have, do you think?”
Decker stared at the coffin being carried to a gravesite by what looked to be a group of pallbearers who were still in high school. Then he looked at the line of carsparked along the road and was surprised to see some brand-new luxury vehicles along with ancient heaps.
Suddenly they heard a horn begin to blare.
Kemper said, “Where’s that coming from?”
“There,” said Decker, pointing to a pickup truck parked in the middle of the line of cars.
They jumped out of the SUV and ran across the road. By the time they got to thepickup truck, several people had crowded around it.
In the driver’s seat was a young man slumped against the steering wheel. His shoulder was pressed against the horn.
Decker reached through the open window and pushed him back against the seat and the sound stopped.
His breath was coming in gasps.
Decker opened the young man’s eyelids. The pupils were pinpricks.
“He’s overdosed,” said Kemper, who had also seen this.
“Yeah, he has,” said a thin man in a threadbare coat. “Third time this week.”
Decker spotted the half-empty syringe on the truck seat. Inside it was a clear sand-colored liquid.
“It looks to be pure heroin,” Decker said.
Kemper nodded, punched in 911 on her phone, and requested an ambulance.
Decker said, “Does anybody have any Narcan?”
“I got some,” said a woman standing next to the man.
“Give it to me,” said Decker as the young man in the truck gasped again.
“He coulda at least waited till after the funeral to pull this crap,” said the thin man.
“Give it to me,” Decker exclaimed as the young man started to gurgle. “He’s going to stopbreathing any second.”
The woman rummaged in her bag.
The man said again, “Coulda waited. Dumbass.”
“Give me the Narcan!” shouted Decker, as the young man slumped against the door, his lips turning blue.
The woman handed Decker a bottle from her purse.
