By David Trone
In the final days of 2016, a North Carolina halfway house called to say my nephew was missing. It wasn’t the first called I’d gotten about Ian. He was like our fifth child and the focus of my attention for many years. We were in touch regularly, and he went with us on vacations and to ballgames.
Ian was a drug addict. We made sure he had access to the best doctors, residential and out-patient recovery programs, counselors and halfway houses. We worked with lawyers and parole officers to deal with his legal problems. We arranged for him to live at the halfway house and work in Asheville, N.C., because one of our daughters lives there.
We did everything we knew to do — and everything experts told us to do — but it wasn’t enough. After several days of searching, Ian was found in a hotel room. He was alone, dead from an opioid overdose.