Amid Baltimore's OD crisis, city's lack of transparency endangers more
Photo by Smash the Iron Cage.

In the fentanyl-laced streets of Baltimore's Penn North neighborhood, the atmosphere is loud and raucous in the sweltering summer heat.

But as higher-ups in City Hall pursue litigation against opioid manufacturers, claiming to seek justice for those who became addicted to opioids and now seek out adulterant-filled capsules on street corners, they won't muster a word.

"No comment" is a thorn in the side of journalists. And Mobtown Mag has heard that repeatedly from public officials, the police and, most frequently, the Baltimore City Health Department, as it reports on the overdose crisis.

That's the same health department that the public funds to oversee harm reduction programs and provide resources to those in the throes of addiction.

After reporting extensively on the impact of poverty, health disparities and generally poor social determinants of health on overdose rates, Mobtown Mag explored whether there were unique aspects of Baltimore's drug supply that cause its abnormally high fatal overdose rate.

After all, Baltimore is far from the only city struggling to combat the crisis – nor is it the only city that helped cause it by leaving its Black community to rot through redlining, over-incarceration and other practices.

When asked about the issue, given studies have shown Baltimore to be a drug hub where synthetic opioids are cut and subsequently distributed to nearby cities and states, the response from the health department was lackluster.

"The Mayor remains committed to addressing the overdose crisis in its entirety. We are currently actively engaged in litigation related to the opioid epidemic; therefore, we are unable to provide further comment," said health department spokesperson Blair Adams.

Amanda Krotki, spokeswoman for the Baltimore City Police Department, said the department doesn't comment on pending litigation. The local division of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency did not respond to multiple requests for comment.

The silence makes it clear that there is no appetite in Baltimore for even paying lip service to the more than 1,000 residents who die each year by overdose.

That's especially troubling because, while the U.S. recently saw a decrease in overdose deaths for the first time in five years, Baltimore's death toll has again begun to tick up.

There were 1,025 fatal overdoses in the city in the 12-month period ending in February, a 5% increase over the year prior, according to the most recent data by the state's Office of Overdose Response.

That translates to a death rate of 175 deaths per 100,000 people – the highest in the nation.

That staggering figure, which includes the fact that older Black men in the city's "Black Butterfly" are most impacted, was first reported by Mobtown Mag in February.

Meanwhile, a majority of counties saw a decline in deaths during that time period, as did the state as a whole.

The Baltimore Banner and The New York Times confirmed that reporting recently but, despite the health department acknowledging the city's uniquely high death rate months prior, Mayor Brandon Scott and others told the publications that they had no idea.

Other city officials have vowed to find the answers.

Recently, two members of the Baltimore City Council announced at least four public hearings to examine the city's response to the overdose crisis. They are slated to begin next month.

However, at least one of them, led by Councilman Mark Conway, chair of the Public Safety and Government Operations Committee, won't allow public testimony.

"I think that is partially because of the sensitivity of the topic and the fact we're currently in litigation," Conway told Mobtown Mag.

That's right. Mothers, fathers and children – and don't forget drug users themselves – won't have a say in the matter.

Nearly 40 people are estimated to die by overdose before the first hearing on July 10, based on the most recently reported death rate. The litigation, which is going to trial on Sept. 16, has ostensibly served as a shield permitting public officials to remain mum about the overdose crisis.

The trial will come after the city opted out of a $395 million statewide settlement in 2021 with Johnson & Johnson, an opioid manufacturing giant, as well as AmerisourceBergen, Cardinal Health and McKesson.

For more data about the overdose crisis in Baltimore and beyond, check out Mobtown Mag's Overdose Death Data Dashboard here.

Baltimore missed out on millions of dollars because it sought more money, but officials have also shown going independent can pay off.

Earlier this month, the city announced it reached a $45 million settlement with the pharmaceutical company Allergan over its role in the opioid crisis.

The city will use at least $5 million of the funds for its Peer Navigator Program and $5 million for Charm City Care Connection, officials said.

It will also create a board to oversee the spending of future funds, but it's unclear whether all of the funds will be required to be used for prevention purposes.

That could be a cause for concern if they follow the state model. For state settlements, some of the money is allowed to replace existing funding streams, a practice that has raised concern among experts throughout the country.

If used correctly, though, the settlement funds could revolutionize Baltimore's harm reduction infrastructure and save innumerous lives.

It's self-evident that the city must do everything it can to secure these settlements. Risking losing the funds, especially after deciding to bow out of state settlements – except for one with Walmart that netted the city $7.2 million – is off the table.

However, by shooting down media requests, muzzling officials and preventing public input as more than 1,000 Baltimoreans die by overdose each year, the city is shooting itself in the foot.

Public officials, including the health department, responded to questions posed by Mobtown Mag about the overdose crisis as recently as February. The mayor briefly talked about the matter in his State of the City address in late March.

Surely these legal pursuits were ongoing then, too. So why black out the public now?

The overdose crisis necessitates discussions with all parties. Addicts and their families must know they have resources available and that city officials have their backs.

The people must be aware of what's happening at every step of the way to save lives.

Be careful what you say as the trial looms, but don't let even one person die by overdose while you remain reticent in your suit and tie.