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I am the father of two in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  I am a professional and have been blessed enough to live and raise my two children in one of the more prominent communities around Pittsburgh.  Over the last seven years, I have been supporting one of my children in her battle against an opioid addiction.  It has been the most difficult battle of our lives.  One rehab facility after another.  Several overdoses that nearly killed my daughter.  There have been times when I didn’t know where my child was living or if she was still alive.  To support her addiction, she stole from her grandparents, her mother, me, stores at the mall and probably countless others. 

 

While I was waiting in an emergency room of one of the inner-city hospitals, I called the local drug task force to inform them of the name of my daughter’s pusher.   They dismissed me and suggested that I move to quickly get my daughter on Suboxone.  I was nothing short of furious.  While I am blessed that my daughter is still alive and fighting for her life, I have personally witnessed nearly a dozen children, friends, acquaintances and co-workers die from opioid overdoses.  Children who started out stealing pills from their parents.  Friends that started by treating the pain from surgery or an injury.  First-time users that injected heroin laced with some other poison that stopped their breathing and took their lives.  

 

I want, no, I insist that the peddlers of this poison be treated like the vile human beings that they are. 

I want them treated like the murderers that they are.  Believe it or not, my primary care physician was actually convicted of the illegal sale of opioid prescriptions.  I want him and street level dealers of heroin treated the same. 

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