Sacklers Forced to See the Real People and Families Behind the Grim Opioid Crisis Statistics
This was originally published for Hazelden Betty Ford’s monthly Recovery Advocacy Update. If you’d like to receive our advocacy emails, subscribe today.
By Jeremiah Gardner
Twenty-three years since the dawn of America’s opioid crisis, more than two dozen people whose lives were upended by the national tragedy had the chance to confront owners of the drug company — Purdue Pharma — that many blame for initially fueling our nation’s still-raging overdose epidemic.
My mom might have been one of those people sharing her pain, anger and frustration. Unfortunately, she is no longer here: one of 500,000 loved ones, friends and neighbors lost to opioids — and almost 1 million total overdose victims — since 1999. On March 12, my family quietly marked seven years since her passing.
Two days earlier, a handful of families channeled the louder voices within so many of us, unleashing years of sorrow, grief and anguish on the Sackler family that profited amid the pain caused by overselling the benefits of OxyContin and lying about the risks.
For years, the news has been relentless: record overdoses again and again, shrinking life expectancy, pills then heroin then fentanyl, trials, books, movies. It’s hard not to have grown numb to the reality that we’re in the midst of a long, protracted national tragedy, which is why I’m so grateful to every person who has sustained their advocacy for solutions and accountability including those who spoke to the Sacklers.
Reading their remarks, I was reminded of my own family’s experience. And while there was some satisfaction knowing the Sacklers had to sit squarely in the grief to which they contributed, my bigger takeaway was a reminder that I am not alone.
We are not alone. Not in our sorrow or frustration. Not in our weariness.
My friend and colleague William C. Moyers was part of a sober contingent in the St. Patrick’s Day parade in New York City this week — the first time a group representing people in recovery had been invited to participate in America’s largest and oldest parade. I was thousands of miles away but with him all the same.
We are not alone. Not in our resiliency and hope. And not in our joy and gratitude for our lives in recovery.
In these contrasting events we see the high stakes that accompany the disease of addiction and the extremes of outcomes, from the lowest lows to the highest highs. I also see, and feel, the truly tremendous power of advocacy and the long reach of community. To everyone advocating from a place of grief and loss, and all those advocating from a place of gratitude for recovery, thank you. We are in this together.
Jeremiah Gardner is the director of communications and public affairs at the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation.
