Over 450 Coloradans died of fentanyl poisoning or overdoses just through August of this year, according to the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment. That number could be on the low end though, as toxicology testing and investigations sometimes take months, CDPHE statistician, Kirk Bol, says
Through August this year fentanyl had 462 faces in Colorado.
Those faces belong to the young and old, to well-to-do and poor, to brilliant and barely literate. Those faces belong to people cherished by family and friends, faces now deeply grieved.
The 462 faces of fentanyl.
That's the most accurate count through August from the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment of the number of people who have died in the fentanyl overdose epidemic. Even that number is on the low side, as investigations and post-mortem toxicology can take several months or more to complete, according to CDPHE statistician Kirk Bol.
The deadly drug did not discriminate, but CDPHE stats show that most of fentanyl's victims are white, single and aged 25-44.
The Denver Gazette conducted dozens of interviews with family members, coroners and death investigators, local sheriffs, police and first responders. Their words expose the human tragedy and grave urgency behind the numbers.
Almost every county and many cities have their own stories. Pueblo has reported 11 fatalities from fentanyl this year compared to 5 in 2021. Brush reported two new unrelated fentanyl overdoses since August — one mixed with cocaine, the other with alcohol.
El Paso County Coroner Leon Kelly recently stated that fentanyl-related deaths are plateauing in his jurisdiction. Same for Arapahoe County Coroner Kelly Lear and Victor Yahn, medical examiner for Mesa County. The biggest fatality numbers are in the most populated urban areas. Denver, Arapahoe, Adams and El Paso counties lost the most.
Among the counties, Gunnison, Alamosa, Mineral, Chaffee, Saguache and Lincoln reported no fentanyl-involved overdoses, but “it will catch up with us soon,” Lincoln County Coroner Andrew Lorensen warned.
The first fentanyl victim of 2022 is likely also the youngest — a one-year-old Brighton child who, according to her parents’ arrest affidavit, died from an ingestion of pure fentanyl.
One teenager died in her Colorado Springs classroom, another collapsed in a Dairy Queen lobby, and two sisters overdosed from suspected fentanyl in their car.
In 2022, fentanyl has killed five children under 14 and an elderly cowboy, a drug peer counselor and a shy 15 year old.
When a child dies, the parents suffer. When a parent dies, the kids suffer.
Christina Luna, the mother of Josiah Velasquez, holds the necklace pennant with his name while standing for a portrait on Thursday, Oct. 20, 2022, at the Crown Hill Cemetery in Lakewood, Colo. (Timothy Hurst/The Gazette)
Coroners are tired. “We’ve been shouting into the wind for five years,” Jefferson County forensic pathologist John Carver told The Denver Gazette, “and you guys are finally writing about it.”
There has been so much hype about fentanyl, some families who've lost loved ones feel stigmatized. All are reeling from the shock of how the drug destroyed their lives. When approached, some families did not want to talk, and their names are not used.
One of those victims was a 31-year-old physicist. Visiting from New Mexico, the scientist died alone in a Glendale hotel room, according to the Arapahoe County coroner. His autopsy revealed that he was found with drug paraphernalia near his body and that he had ingested fentanyl. Another victim was a 79-year-old Texas cowboy who died in the Highlands Ranch home he shared with others. His roommates and family declined to be interviewed.
Two sisters, 18- and 19-year-old Fort Lewis College students who were American Indian, died this month after ingesting suspected fentanyl on campus, according to La Plata County Coroner Jann Smith. The 19-year-old perished almost immediately, the 18-year-old succumbed after two-and-a-half weeks in the hospital, leaving the young women's family further devastated.
"It’s everywhere, the stigma at all levels,” said Andrea Thomas, who started the Voices for Awareness Foundation after her daughter, Ashley Romero, died in a car in Grand Junction after ingesting fentanyl. “I get it. It’s painful. It’s hard for families to come forth. But that leaves us with the perspective that the only people who are using are in a dark alley.”
That is not true.
The families who shared the stories of the worst day of their lives did so to spread awareness of the danger. Their lost loved ones were not "dark alley" drug users.
JOSIAH VELASQUEZ
Josiah “Joe” Velasquez was just beginning to make friends. But after years of being bullied and lonely, the crowd he chose to hang with turned out to be a tough fit for a shy 15 year old who could not say no.
Christina Luna, the mother of Josiah Velasquez, looks at the large photo of Josiah she brings with her each time she visits his grave on Thursday, Oct. 20, 2022, at the Crown Hill Cemetery in Lakewood, Colo. Luna and her close friend and sister Tara Garcia visit the grave multiple times a week and decorate the site, care for the grass they planted and decorate it for the upcoming holiday. (Timothy Hurst/The Gazette)
Last May, Velasquez joined his new friends at the 64th and Wadsworth Dairy Queen.
Left alone in the lobby, he collapsed from the stool he was sitting on after swallowing a wedge of a fentanyl pill. His mother, Christina Luna, is still angry that it took 15 minutes before anyone noticed. "Not the people working behind the counter. Not his new so-called friends," she said.
Those kids were milling around outside, not paying attention. “My true feeling in my heart is he took that pill to try and fit in. Because in his eyes he had found friends who were being nice to him,” said Luna.
On an 80-degree October Thursday, Luna and her sister, Tara Garcia, were at Crown Hill Cemetery in Wheat Ridge raking the small patch of sod covering Joe's grave. Tara visits twice a day to manicure the plot. While there, she talks to her nephew. She hates it that "he's all by himself out here, especially during his favorite holiday."
Christina Luna, the mother of Josiah Velasquez, and her close friend and sister Tara Garcia spend time at Josiah’s grave that’s been decorated for Halloween on Thursday, Oct. 20, 2022, at the Crown Hill Cemetery in Lakewood, Colo. Luna and Garcia visit the site often and bring a large photo of Josiah with them each time they visit. (Timothy Hurst/The Gazette)
Any visitor who loves Halloween would likely smile for the 15-year-old who loved to scare trick-or-treaters at the front door. His grave is decorated with ghosts and witches, jack-lanterns and fake spider webs. Tara said the candy-corn lights are so bright you can see them from Wadsworth, blocks away, at night.
The day that he took the pill, he had just attended a balloon release in memory of another of Luna's sisters who died five years ago. Luna said she felt happy as her son rushed out the door to meet his new friends, including a girl who worked at the Dairy Queen.
An hour after he left Luna got an urgent call from Joe’s older brother, Carlos, to come quickly. Joe was unconscious.
The police and ambulance were just setting up at the DQ when Luna parked her car. She overheard the paramedic say her son “had no heartbeat.” But the boy was revived, and eventually taken to Children's Hospital Colorado where he lay in a coma for a week. She took him off life support May 21.
Josiah "Joe" Velasquez was 15 when he died after ingesting what his brother, Carlos said was a quarter of a fentanyl pill last May 21. His mother, Christina Luna, said he was a shy boy who took the fentanyl "to fit in." She buried him in his favorite Puerto Rico cap.
She buried Joe in his favorite Puerto Rico ball cap.
There is no money for a tombstone, but when Luna visits his grave, she brings a huge photo of him so that she can see his face while she's there.
“I would say to other moms be more vigilant with your kids," said Luna, who had preached to Joe about the dangers of drugs. "Make sure you’re checking their social media and their phones. It’s still so hard.”
In just one month, Joe would have celebrated his 16th birthday
AVIYANA MONTOYA CASIAS
Aviyana Montoya Casias was just 1 year old when she died on the second day of 2022. Brighton police found the child unresponsive after they were called to her home where her parents were dealing fentanyl disguised as Oxycodone pills, according to a 17th Judicial District grand jury indictment. Alonzo Montoya, 31, and Nicole Casias, 31, are facing seven charges, including first degree murder of a victim under 12 by a person in a position of trust.
Nicole Casias, 31, faces seven charges, including first degree murder of a victim under 12 by a person in a position of trust for the death of her 1 year old daughter, Aviyana. Surveillance video showed that Casias put the child in her crib where she for 14 hours, at times crying in pain. She will appear at a hearing in the case in 17th Judicial District courtroom Nov. 8.
Alonzo Montoya, 31, faces seven charges, including first degree murder of a victim under 12 by a person in a position of trust for the death of his one year old baby, Aviyana. The baby was the first of 5 children to die of fentanyl-involved poison this year. He will appear in a 17th Judicial District courtroom for a hearing Nov. 8.
In addition to the murder count, charges include racketeering and various child abuse charges in relation to a second female child.
Surveillance video obtained by investigators showed that Casias said “get out of that,” picked up Aviyana and put her in her crib, according to the warrant. It’s unclear what Casias was talking about in the footage, the indictment pointed out. As her parents continued their narcotics transactions and people were in and out of their home, the affidavit states that they left the baby alone in her crib for 14 hours.
The indictment said the couple often brought clients into their bedroom, making transactions in front of their two children. It alleges they were exposing their kids to the drugs “at all hours of the day and night.”
“Fentanyl is literally killing children from every age group,” 17th Judicial District Attorney Brian Mason said at a press conference from his Brighton office last month.
According to the Colorado Department of Health and Environment, Aviyana was the first of five Colorado children under 14 to die of fentanyl-involved poisoning in 2022.
JAMES WEATHERBEE II
James Weatherbee III aimed his NERF gun at the box which held his father’s ashes and shot it off of the ledge. “Gotchya,” he said.
James Weatherbee II holding ten month old James Weatherbee III with his wife, Erica, standing behind him. The couple eventually separated but were sharing parental duties when Weatherbee died. The younger James is now 14 years old.
James Weatherbee II, of north Colorado Springs, drowned Jan. 23 after ingesting fentanyl and meth. The anger the teenager feels over his dad's death shows up in ways that only he understands.
"He's pretty good about telling me to leave him alone. He going through his own grief. And it's uncertain at times for both of us," said his mom, Erica Rankin. "He understands who his dad was."
Young James’ parents were separated and the boy moved with his mother to Arapahoe, Neb., pop. 1,242. He became involved in sports. Rankin and Weatherbee shared parental duties for their two sons.
Weatherbee had struggled with addiction, but for the last several years Rankin said he had been “living a healthy life.” She said he was an assistant manager at a Wendy’s, and was always good about sending money.
He saw his sons regularly.
Last Christmas, Weatherbee bought James the gift he wanted most: A pricey pair of mismatched basketball shoes, one pink and one blue.
But Weatherbee didn’t tell Erica that he had started using drugs again. His death was brutal for his son.
James III didn't want anyone in the small town to know how his dad died, but kids found out. Some of them were cruel.
Young James (second from left and wearing the number 3) lives in a tiny town in Nebraska where he is a 14 year old freshman in high school and playing on the Junior Varsity football team.
Last spring, one 8th grade classmate told James he was going to die like his dad and then followed up later in the locker room with a hurtful question: “Why don’t you call him?”
James punched the boy.
Rankin has angry moments too. To help deal with it, she’s fighting back. Recently, she created black sweatshirts with the words “F Fentanyl Dealers” written in large gothic print across the front. James Weatherbee III is wearing one with a Purge mask as his Halloween costume.
The mom and son are learning together. When young James shows anger, they openly discuss why. He’s also an honor student and plays three sports. “When people reach out, I just tell them to please help give James ‘normal,’” said Rankin.
SHONDELLA SILAS
Shondella Silas was full of life. “She had so many more years to give. It was cut short,” said her niece, Janille Mills. Silas was 44 years old when she was found dead in a Cortez hotel March 4, a victim of a fentanyl overdose. She was with two friends who also died.
Shondella Silas, 44, was a mother of five who lived in Towaoc on tribal land. Her overdose death last March in a Cortez hotel room along with two friends sent shock waves through the Ute Mountain Ute community of which she was a member.
Assistant Cortez Police Chief Andy Brock said late that night officers responded to a complaint from the manager of the National Nine Inn about a loud disturbance coming from a single room. The three people inside were already dead. “One was slumped over in a chair and two were lying on the floor,” said Brock. “It was as if they went to sleep.”
He told The Gazette that police found alcohol and pills in the room. “This was for personal use,” Brock said. “This is the first time we’ve had multiple deaths at one time.”
Silas, Tharon Grayhair, 40, and 27-year-old Tilden Arrates were all American Indian, according to Mills. Grayhair was Navaho, from White Mesa, Utah, and Arrates and Silas both lived in Towaoc on Ute Mountain Ute tribal land near Cortez.
“It’s her kids I’m most worried about,” said Mills. Silas left behind five children. Mills said that her aunt likely didn’t know that she was ingesting the deadly opioid.
Montezuma County Coroner George Deavers said the room where the three were partying was on the bottom floor where cars could park right outside of the front door. Motel video from outside the room showed that a man came to the door and knocked several times, presumably to deliver drugs, but no one answered, said Deavers.
That same person is suspected of entering the room before investigators could get there. Once law enforcement did arrive, cellphones for all three people were missing, according to Deavers.
Investigators found tiny blue pills in the room suggesting the deaths were caused by an overdose. “We found pills consistent with other pills we’ve seen,” Deavers said. “They were turquoise blue stamped with an ‘M’ on one side and ‘30’ on the other.”
TYLER COLLINS
Tyler Anthony Collins loved cars, his niece Skylar and cooking. The 24 year old died of acute fentanyl toxicity in La Junta on Feb. 17, 2022. His autopsy showed that he also had marijuana and alcohol in his system.
Tyler Collins, 24, used to call his mom "Mama Bear." Candace Giltner Collins said no one else ever called her by that name. She. misses his sense of humor most of all. He died in La Junta last February.
His mom, Candace Giltner Collins, who is a nurse, found him in his room in the home they shared. He was face down, his glasses smashed. When the paramedics came, it took seven men to place Tyler on a gurney and walk him down the stairs. “I was shattered. I remember throwing myself over him, in my front yard, while the fire department chaplain prayed over him with us."
Giltner Collins said her son was on track to start nursing school and had big ideas. "He dreamed of owning his own food truck,” she said.
The coroner told Giltner Collins that her son had drug paraphernalia in his room. "I thought he was only doing weed and drinking," she said.
"I just miss his laugh."
It’s important to her to share the details of her son’s death in the hope that other parents might learn something.
This photo of Tyler Collins was taken at Vogel Canyon. His mom, Candace, said he loved the outdoors, cars and cooking. The Collins' moved to La Junta from Aurora to get away from the crime. Instead, it followed them. Tyler died of a fentanyl-involved poisoning at the age of 24 Feb. 15.
JACQUELINE RIVAS
Days after Jacqueline Rivas of Grand Junction was found dead of a fentanyl involved overdose, her mom found the Mother’s Day card she had meant to send in her backpack. It was stamped and signed. “Mom you’re as brave as you are beautiful. Any time I talk about you everyone knows I’m talking about my hero.”
Jacqueline Rivas, 18 in this photo, grew up in Pueblo and became a paralegal with dreams of getting a master's degree. But she battled addiction and at one time found herself on the street. When she died at the age of 43, she was clean and ironically had a job helping addicts at a Grand Junction clinic.
Rivas, the mother of three, was found May 23 in a doorway between two rooms in her home “as if she was trying to get help,” said her mom, Valerie Valdez Decker.
Many who knew Rivas, 43, were surprised that the paralegal who went to school to get her masters died this way.
Though homeless at one time, she had come clean, and, ironically, had begun work as a peer specialist at Grand Junction’s Mind Springs Health, helping others overcome the clutches of addiction. “She was helping people and she was not helping herself,” said Valdez Decker, who retired early from her job as a nurse in Pueblo from the stress of Rivas’ death.
Jacqueline Rivas was 43 when she died of fentanyl poisoning May 23 in Grand Junction, Colorado. Her mother, Valerie Valdez, couldn't understand the timing of her relapse. Rivas had just received a raise and promotion, but had a history of drug use.
Rivas had just received a promotion and a raise, but Valdez believes she could not shake the depression of losing her teenage son, Avery, to a congenital heart defect two years earlier.
The DEA is working with the Grand Junction police to find the person who sold Rivas the drugs that killed her. They told Valdez that they found a promising amount of evidence at the crime scene and hope to make an arrest.
Valdez Decker wanted to share a bit of good news. Her grandson Avery was such a good student his high school is honoring him on a memorial wall.
ALEXANDRA ELIZABETH TURNER
Alexandra Elizabeth Turner lived a life as charmed as her name.
Three photos of Alexandra Elizabeth Turner decorate a Facebook page dedicated to a celebration of her life. The 31 year financial analyst died Aug. 7. Because of the chance Alexandra’s death could possibly have been prevented by an immediate phone call, her mother, Deborah Turner, has plans to create a workshop to teach people how to respond to opioid poisonings
She was the only child of a champion U.S. figure skater and race car driver father and an attorney mom who specialized in child advocacy.
Only a few people are offered the top-tier kind of existence as the Turners. Alexandra grew up with views of the Maroon Bells in Aspen’s famous “dome” house — a mid-century modern marvel with curved lines and endless windows — designed by a Frank Lloyd Wright protégé and commissioned by her father, Allan Turner.
The stunning 31-year-old was an interior designer and financial analyst who had started her own company just six months before she died.
Alexandra Turner, left, was well-known as a young up and comer with movie-star looks. She died of a fentanyl overdose Aug. 8 in a $1200 per night 5-star hotel room at Aspen's The Little Nell.
On Aug. 7, after a night of partying, Alexandra ingested a fatal dose of fentanyl in a $1,200 per night room at Aspen's Little Nell. When she fell unconscious, her roommate called their friends in a panic and started posting on social media — instead of dialing 911.
When police and EMT’s eventually got the call that morning, they rushed to the scene at the base of Aspen mountain, but it was too late. “We responded around 7 a.m. and she was transported to the Aspen Valley Medical Hospital where she was pronounced dead,” said Aspen Det. Sergeant Rick Magnuson. The investigation is still underway.
“People did a double-take when they saw her, but the beauty she had on the inside offered the greatest impact,” said her mom, Deborah Turner, in a phone interview from her Newport Beach, Calif., home. “She wanted to save others and went to extraordinary lengths to do so.”
Turner got the news about her daughter’s death from a friend who came to the door. “Alexandra,” he said with tears in his eyes. She finished his sentence, “… she’s dead.” And then, she said it two more times.
The first month, she approached the loss stoically, but the second month was harder. “The sadness of losing her is overwhelming,” the mother said.
On Oct. 18th, Turner would have turned 32.
When Alexandra first learned to talk, she would walk up to strangers in airports and start conversing. “They would walk away from these conversations impacted,” said Turner. Alexandra tested out of high school in 9th grade and toured the world instead of going to college.
Because of the possibility her death could have been prevented by a more urgent phone call, Deborah Turner is creating a workshop to help teach people how to respond to opioid poisonings. “Kids are afraid they’ll get in trouble. We need to start talking about opioid abuse openly or more people are going to die.”
Last weekend, 85 of Alexandra's friends gathered at her favorite Los Angeles restaurant. “It was a party, just like the ones her dad used to have in Aspen,” said Deborah, who was too grief-stricken to attend. Allan Turner died when his daughter was 17.
The celebration of Alexandra's life was called, “The Legend Has Retired.”