A comprehensive investigation into Lucas County, Ohio, has revealed a remarkable 35% reduction in overdose deaths since 2020. The decline demonstrates how coordinated community efforts can achieve significant overdose death reduction even amid evolving drug threats.

Lucas County recorded 344 overdose deaths in 2020, with 296 tied to opioids. By 2024, total deaths had fallen to 223. Through September 2025, only 65 confirmed overdose deaths had been recorded, a dramatic shift from the crisis peak.

The investigation by WTOL 11 spent two months examining the current state of the drug epidemic. What emerged was a story of Herculean countywide collaboration involving law enforcement, health departments, treatment facilities, and recovering individuals themselves.

The Human Face of Overdose Death Reduction

Samantha McFarland embodies the transformation possible through comprehensive support. The 46-year-old mother of two remembers the exact moment her journey into addiction began: a Vicodin in the back seat of a car at age 21.

“My brain’s 72 tabs open all the time, and when I took that Vicodin, my brain went quiet, and I really liked that,” she recalls.

From that moment, McFarland crossed off a list of “nevers” she had sworn she would never do. Never steal. Never do heroin. Never use a needle. She crossed them all off.

The lowest point came when her oldest son was three. She drove to buy drugs with him in the backseat. She was later found unconscious on Sylvania Avenue. It took three doses of Narcan to revive her.

“My eyes opened and I saw the police officer and EMT and my son,” she says. “It absolutely hit me like a ton of bricks.”

But even that wasn’t enough to keep her sober. Not yet.

DART: The Game-Changing Intervention

Her journey changed when she encountered Deputy Sheriff Shawn McMahon from the Drug Abuse Response Team (DART). She had just driven into someone’s front yard. The elderly homeowner came out terrified.

“They were like, ‘Listen, you need serious help or you’re going to end up in prison or worse, dead,'” McFarland remembers McMahon telling her.

DART was launched in 2014 by former Sheriff John Tharp after he witnessed the ravages of the opioid epidemic inside the county jail every day.

“He came up with this idea that rather than incarceration, we need to find a better way to help these individuals get back on their feet because jail is not it,” DART’s Lt Steve Rogers explains.

The unit’s compassion, understanding, and patience finally made a difference for McFarland.

“They never made me feel small or like I wasn’t capable of it,” she says. “They also just didn’t give up on me, which is pretty cool.”

On 31 August 2022, McFarland stopped chasing the next high. She recently celebrated three years of sobriety. She’s now a lead case manager at Vital Health in Maumee, helping others who once felt exactly like she did.

“Two little boys got their mum back because of them,” she says of the DART unit. “That’s a priceless gift.”

Dramatic Shift in Overdose Statistics

Lt Zakariya Reed, the EMS supervisor for Toledo Fire & Rescue Department, has tracked the transformation through his overdose database.

“Two to three years ago, we were in double digits each month,” Reed says. “We were anywhere between 12 and 20 deaths a month. Now, we’re seeing seven to eight a month.”

In 2021, there were 2,100 overdoses and nearly 200 deaths. So far in 2025, there have been 680 overdoses and 48 deaths. Reed’s overdose map once exploded with pins marking deaths, concentrated heavily on Toledo’s east side. Now those pins are spread more evenly across the city.

One striking trend in achieving overdose death reduction: fentanyl-related deaths have fallen dramatically. There were 278 fentanyl deaths in 2020 versus 49 through September 2025.

This is corroborated by Ohio State Highway Patrol data. Troopers seized 56,933 grams of fentanyl across the state in 2023. Through September 2025, that number dropped to 26,106 grams.

Naloxone Distribution Surges

Mahjida Steffin, supervisor of injury prevention at the Lucas County Health Department, has witnessed unprecedented expansion in life-saving resources.

When she joined overdose prevention work at the end of 2019, the department distributed about 2,000 naloxone kits annually. Last year, approximately 18,000 were handed out.

Naloxone is now available from a vending machine at the health department. Press a button. No charge. No questions. Anonymous. They’ll even mail it to your house if needed.

“They’re going to use it anyway. We’re just giving the tools to prevent death and prevent that injury,” Steffin explains when asked if easy access enables drug use.

She points out that naloxone isn’t just for people who use drugs. It’s for anyone prescribed opioids, for the elderly person who forgets they already took their medication, for the parent mowing the lawn whilst wearing a fentanyl patch.

Cautious Optimism Despite Progress

Despite the impressive overdose death reduction statistics, experts refuse to declare victory.

“A 35% decrease isn’t that big of a decrease when we had like a 200% increase before that,” Steffin cautions. “We’re not out of the woods. This is still a huge problem that impacts areas, especially Toledo.”

She raises an important question: “Is this a true decrease because the problem’s starting to become solved, or is this a decrease because this is what normal would look like from pre-COVID-19 days?”

Shifting Drug Landscape Presents New Challenges

Whilst fentanyl deaths decline, cocaine seizures have surged dramatically. Ohio State Highway Patrol seized 331,430 grams of cocaine in 2023. Through just nine months of 2025, that number reached 706,596 grams.

Deaths tied to alcohol and cocaine have remained fairly consistent, but the drug crisis continues evolving. Methamphetamine use is rising. Polysubstance use—mixing opioids with stimulants and alcohol—creates deadly combinations that naloxone cannot reverse.

“Our biggest defence against overdose death only works on opioids,” Steffin laments. “If the shift moves towards methamphetamines and other things, there isn’t something in our arsenal that can help.”

Todd Crandell, founder of Racing for Recovery, confirms the shift from his experience. Nearly 33 years sober and 128 Ironman triathlons completed, Crandell has spent 25 years helping others recover.

“Now we’re seeing the return of the stimulants with methamphetamine and cocaine. Alcohol and weed are pretty consistent,” he says.

Addressing Root Causes Beyond Substances

Crandell has learned something many people don’t understand: the drugs aren’t the problem. They’re the symptom.

“Ninety-nine per cent of this stuff is unresolved trauma,” he explains. “People are choosing whatever substance to cope with that trauma.”

He calls it “whack-a-mole.” Law enforcement cracks down on fentanyl, so users switch to methamphetamine. Take away the drugs entirely, and people turn to gambling, food, spending, sex (anything to numb the hurt).

Crandell’s mother killed herself when he was three. That wound, left untreated, led him to alcohol and cocaine.

“When I look at the hurt that people endure at the age of impact, that’s where we need to do surgery on people,” he says.

Racing for Recovery offers a holistic approach. The facility includes a large gym and kitchen. Each week, a vegan chef cooks for clients. Counselling and group meetings are provided, but so is education about living a holistic lifestyle.

“I haven’t wanted to drink or do drugs since 15 April 1993,” Crandell says. “I can do drugs if I want to. I don’t want to. Those are two different things.”

DART’s Relational Approach Drives Results

Budget cuts have trimmed the DART roster through the years, but perhaps no county agency has been more influential in driving overdose death reduction.

“We don’t go in as vice. We don’t go in as investigative officers,” Rogers says. “It is strictly a conversation focussed around treatment and recovery.”

That conversation doesn’t end when someone signs into detox. DART deputies drive people to treatment, stop in for visits, call, message, knock on doors. They keep showing up, even when the person has walked out of rehab for the third time—or even the tenth time.

“It’s a long-lasting relationship that our officers are building,” Rogers says, “and honestly, some of them turn into friendships over the years.”

The work carries real risks. Deputies have attended funerals and sat with families who received the call every loved one dreads.

“It’s very mentally taxing,” Rogers acknowledges. “It’s sad to see.”

The work became deeply personal for Rogers on 6 December 2021.

“I received a phone call from my daughter’s grandmother that her mother had passed away from a fentanyl overdose,” he says. “She had never overdosed prior to this. Her story started out like so many others, unfortunately, from a severe work injury that led to some substance use.”

He had already been with DART for years, already believed in what they were doing. But grief carved the stakes even deeper.

“It’s still somebody’s mother, daughter, father, son. There are still people out there that love and care for these individuals deeply,” Rogers says.

Youth Self-Harm Emerging Concern

Reed has identified another troubling trend that threatens continued overdose death reduction progress. Young people are taking prescription drugs, cough syrup—anything easily accessible—to harm themselves.

“In our younger community, when it comes to trying to harm themselves, those numbers have gone up. They’ve risen dramatically over the last 12 months,” he says. “That’s a bigger problem that I think community health needs to sort of concentrate on. What is going on with our young folks?”

Geographic and Demographic Shifts

Reed’s current heat map shows something unexpected. During the crisis height, pins were stacked atop each other on the east side. Now those pins are spread almost evenly across the city.

“A couple of years ago, we could say if somebody died from an opiate overdose, chances are it was in the 43605 ZIP Code,” he says. “Now, it’s spread across the city equally.”

Demographic patterns have also shifted. “Three years ago, 70, 75, 80% of our opiate overdoses and calls were for white males,” Reed says. “Now, it’s spread out pretty close. Hispanic use has gone up and African-American use has gone up. We’re seeing more overdoses in those communities.”

Street Supply Remains Unregulated Threat

The street supply is wildly unregulated. Xylazine and meatomidine—animal tranquilizers—are now being mixed into drugs. People don’t know what they’re getting. There’s no ingredient list on the streets.

Despite the complexity, Steffin’s message to anyone struggling is unequivocal: help exists, and you deserve it.

“There are a lot of people in this community who are ready to—with no questions asked—provide help,” she says. “If you are someone who uses drugs, you still deserve all the dignity and all the respect as someone who doesn’t.”

Family Support Systems

DART now hosts a family support group so parents and partners can sit in a room with others living with the same fears and frustrations. It meets the first and third Monday of every month at Aldersgate United Methodist Church in Toledo.

“Nobody truly understands the daily fear of getting that phone call from the detectives saying that we have your son or your daughter, your mother, your father here and they’re deceased from an overdose,” Rogers says.

Lessons from Recovery

McFarland admits she has “been Narcanned more than I’d like to admit.” McMahon has watched her fall, rise, and finally turn around to pull others up behind her.

“I think that it’s just her determination and drive,” he says. “She finally just came to a place in life where she was tired of being tired.”

She went from being legally prohibited from seeing her children to becoming their “safest person.” She boasts about this “with my whole chest.”

She gets to attend every single event for Chad, nine, and Logan, six.

“I am going to get emotional because it’s so good. It’s so good,” McFarland says when asked how her life is today. “I’m a very present mother.”

When asked what she would say to her past self—the one using drugs, thinking she wasn’t worthy of recovery—she doesn’t hesitate.

“If I could go back, I would just hug her,” she says. “She was just doing the best she could.”

Lucas County’s 35% overdose death reduction demonstrates that comprehensive, compassionate approaches work. But experts emphasise the fight continues. With shifting drug trends, emerging youth concerns, and persistent stigma, sustained effort remains essential to save more lives.

Source: WTOL