FENTANYL'S PRESENCE GROWING IN CHICAGO, SUBURBS

His first love, first car and first full-time job marked the
beginning of his adult years.

But it was David Konen's first encounter with fentanyl that caused
their abrupt end.

The 18-year-old Streamwood resident was found unconscious in his bed
- -- an unfinished line of heroin and a bloodied dollar bill on the
table beside it.

"He didn't know the heroin was laced," said David's mother, Carin
Konen. "He never would have done it."

David was pronounced dead later that Mother's Day at St. Alexius
Medical Center in Hoffman Estates.

His death was among the first related to the additive that doctors
there had ever encountered, but Drug Enforcement Administration
officials said it is unlikely to be the last. Fentanyl has
increasingly been used to create lethal hybrid drugs in Chicago and
the suburbs, they said.

"On most occasions, the buyers didn't know it was fentanyl," said
Christopher Hoyt, a special agent with the Chicago DEA division.
"We've conducted buys of our own. They sold us heroin, and it tested
as fentanyl."

A Painkiller That Kills

Fentanyl, a painkiller that doctors say can be used in surgery
without the patients losing consciousness, has seeped into the heroin
supplies of specific cities, and federal officials are not sure why, they said.

Drug dealers might see fentanyl as a marketing tool; the high created
by the mixture can be hundreds of times stronger than street drugs
alone, federal officials said.

Heroin containing fentanyl looks the same as heroin alone, Hoyt said.
Users may not realize it's a hybrid until their respiratory systems
begin to shut down, sometimes resulting in death, he said.

In Cook County, fentanyl has been linked to 102 deaths since April
2005, Chief Medical Examiner Edmund Donoghue said last week. More
than 90 percent of those deaths have occurred since December 2005, he said.

"Apparently, we haven't seen the peak yet," Donoghue said.

Although the deadly phenomenon is more prevalent in the city, its
presence is beginning to be felt in the suburbs.

"We have overdoses from time to time, but nothing this significant,"
said Deputy Chief James Gremo of the Streamwood police. David Konen's
death "could be the first fentanyl case in Streamwood."

David's Last Hours

Friends and family members said David had used alcohol and marijuana,
but harder drugs -- heroin, cocaine and ecstasy -- were ones he had
just begun trying.

"He wasn't a drug addict; he was like any other child," Carin Konen
said. "This was the second time he tried heroin."

The night before his death, David met two acquaintances at about 10
p.m. for a drive to Chicago, where he bought two bags of heroin for $30.

It was one of the few instances he was apart from childhood friend
Jeff Zilinger.

"Those kids took advantage of his money," Zilinger said. "He never
plotted to use drugs, and he didn't go into the city every day to get them."

In memory of David, Zilinger has had the words "In loving memory D K"
tattooed on his arm.

David's 14-year-old brother, Tyler, expresses his grief in a similar
manner, donning a memorial armband on his baseball uniform.

Tyler Konen was the last person to see David conscious, checking in
on him at about 4 a.m. -- hours after David had returned from the city.

But by noon, David was dead.

Where It Comes From

"People from the suburbs have been coming to Chicago's South and West
Sides for years for their heroin," Hoyt said.

Fentanyl is even newer to the suburbs than it is to the city, he said.

The surge in its use since January has prompted federal officials to
begin collecting samples of heroin for testing, Hoyt said.

"They're trying to identify the source and see if it's coming from
one place or if it's all a coincidence -- if it's pharmaceutical
grade or it's manufactured clandestinely," Hoyt said.

David's fatal overdose could have originated with the May theft of
fentanyl from Chicago's Resurrection Hospital or labs illegally run
in Mexico like the one busted, also in May, federal officials said.

DEA officials met with Chicago police in early June for a two-day
summit, acknowledging the fentanyl problem has become larger than
they expected.

They plan to continue investigations of traffickers, but also to
increase public awareness through the media and drug prevention
professionals, federal officials said.

"We're letting everyone know that fentanyl is making a dangerous drug
even more dangerous," Hoyt said.

Police and their DEA counterparts also cooperated June 21 to charge
47 gang members on Chicago's South Side with conspiring to distribute
fentanyl-laced drugs from a housing complex there. The bust is a
start to curbing the fentanyl problem in the area, federal officials said.

Family, Friends Grieve

The Konen family said they don't care where the fentanyl originates
as long as authorities stop its illegal use.

They plan to concentrate on grief counseling sessions that began last
month, Carin Konen said.

They also want to remember how David lived, not how he died, she said.

A talented baseball player, "David was always the MVP," Konen said.
"People still talk about how when he got up to pitch, they were
afraid to hit off of him."

David made friends everywhere he went, she said.

Hundreds of them flocked to be with David in the hospital, and
thousands came to his funeral, Konen said. There wasn't enough room
in the book of condolences for everyone to sign, she said.

"He never liked to fight with people and never got anyone mad," Zilinger said.

In the weeks after his death, David's friends painted their cars with
the words "R.I.P., D.K.," Zilinger said.

Friend J.T. Patel still won't allow anyone to sit in his car in "David's seat."

David had insisted on being an organ donor when he received his
driver's license, Carin Konen said.

His liver, kidney, pancreas and heart will save four lives through
the Gift of Hope organ donation program, she said.

"He would give you the shirt off his back," Konen said. "He always
wanted to help someone out."

Growing up in Streamwood, David experienced adolescent angst. After
his parents, Carin and Dave, divorced, his mother underwent 52
surgeries and his father suffered a near-fatal strep infection. David
struggled with courses at Streamwood High School, dropping out his junior year.

The consistent factor through it all was his dependability as a friend.

"Just a couple months ago, David saved a friend who had (overdosed)
on cocaine," Carin Konen said.

Others called David to come to the party where the friend had passed
out, she said.

"They knew he would help," Konen said. "He dragged the kid down the
stairs by himself and threw him face-first in the snow."

The paramedics said David's actions had helped open the friend's air
passages, she said.

David's first love, Kelly Bruno, to whose side he rushed each time
she asked, continues to mourn with his family.

His first car -- a 1997 Dodge Intrepid -- has been donated to Zilinger.

And co-workers at his first full-time job -- a labor position at the
Kirk Corp., where his father worked as a project manager -- are
opening an account to help the Konen family with David's hospital expenses.

"He used to tell me, 'You've got to let me make mistakes,'ae" Carin
Konen said. "His death is his own fault.

"He wasn't a saint; he was just a teenager," she said. "He wanted to live."