OF WASTED YOUTH AND FAMILIAR FACES

Understand me.

At least try.

That's all Pat Terrill wanted. He's 23, one of the many young heroin
addicts we spent the last year getting to know -- and trying to understand.

They conceded to revealing their pain and sins because they wanted
to send the same message -- that none of them ever expected or
wanted to become a heroin addict, ever expected to stick a needle in
their arm, poison their body, muddy their minds, and hurt friends
and loved ones in doing so.

Virtually none of them had any idea what heroin was, never heard of
it, until their bodies and corruptible minds told them they had to
learn. That is, until the OxyContin they were lured into trying,
thinking it was safe, became an addiction, and the addiction became
too expensive.

It's the theme that carried from interview to interview, person to
person as we prepared our "Wasted Youth" packages the past 12
months. Be they mourning mother or struggling adolescent addict,
nobody expected this to happen to them.

Nobody wanted it.

And they all want it to end. Amazingly, it was often the younger
addicts, the ones with the most living ahead of them, who often
considered death the only escape from this hell.

Some sought it, wished it, courted it through journals or messages
on their bedroom walls. The thought of years or decades dealing with
this disease overwhelmed them.

It was that concession, that loss of hope, that was most
disquieting. Young adults giving up on life, because they thought
life had given up on them.

In many ways, they were right.

This region was unprepared for an OxyContin surge that has become a
deadly heroin epidemic. Parents, schools, towns, cities, friends,
family, coaches, counselors, cops -- nobody saw it coming. Once
here, nobody knew what to do, or how to respond.

Worse, most were afraid to even acknowledge it, or admit the
sickness was near for fear they would be infected.

Many still are.

As a result, many did nothing -- are still doing nothing.

There is no action. No discussion. Few public forums. No banding
together. No unified front in this war against death.

Instead, there is more suffering. Instead of protecting these sick
people, we punish them.

Instead of consoling and cajoling their families, we ostracize them.

The results are beyond tragic, border on criminal -- 144 have died
in 3 1/2 years.

That's a conservative number -- experts say there are probably
dozens more that went unrecorded. The deadly surge prompted the
state to disclose a frightening fact recently -- the top killer of
young adults in Massachusetts is now opiate overdose.

Not car crashes or shootings or alcohol poisonings -- but opiate overdoses.

But the victims weren't just drug addicts -- they were our
cheerleaders and hockey stars and quarterbacks and drama standouts
and honor students and class clowns and singers and dancers.

They were our sons and daughters -- our brothers, sisters, students
and friends.

Before addiction overtook them, they cherished life just like you,
cherished their families, cherished each other as they squinted into
a fuzzy future that seemed as limitless as their parents' love.

They didn't want this -- didn't expect it. Made a misstep and got swept away.

But they didn't want to be cast off, ignored by society, left as if
leprous. They're just like you, after all.

They wanted you to know that. Their parents wanted you to know that.
That's why they shared their stories this past year.

They wanted you to try and understand, before it happens to you.

Because something as horrific as this shouldn't be allowed to happen
to anybody.