Tiffinee Scott’s Daughter
Dear <strong>First</strong> <strong>Lady</strong> <strong>Dawn</strong> <strong>Moore</strong>, I am Tiffinee "Tee" Scott, mother of Tiarra Renee Brown-Lewis, from Baltimore, <strong>Maryland</strong>, advocate, and State Lead for <strong>Maryland</strong>'s Drug Epidemic Wall. I'm requesting your support to place a permanent memorial wall to honor the lives lost to the drug epidemic. Whether local, state, or government placement of the wall, parents, and community members at large who have experienced the effects of trauma, from death, loss, and grief due to the prescription drug and illicit drug supply, epidemic, compassion, and system failures need a symbol of recognition-a stationary memorial, a symbol awareness and healing. In Baltimore last year, we lost 940 people to this disease, and based on Baltimore City opioid settlement litigation, Baltimore city alone accounts for 1 percent of all lives lost due to opioiddrug-related deaths across the country. The drug epidemic’s impact has riddled the United States with loss. As a City and State, the need to support individuals, families, and children from loss is critical. As a parent of two adult children residing in Baltimore, <strong>Maryland</strong>, I'm fully aware of the impact. In 2020, my daughter Tiarra was one of the victims of the drug epidemic. Tiarra, aged 28, had a beautiful smile, a memorable laugh, and a big heart. She also lived with the painful illness of Sickle Cell disease. Diagnosed at birth, Tiarra was no stranger to the healthcare system. Her care was adequately supported and managed until the introduction of the prescription drug Oxycontin. Within days, our lives changed. Tiarra was immediately dependent. The medication changed all aspects of her youth to adulthood. Opioids impacted every part of her life. Stole her joy and destroyed her future. Prescription drugs are made, manufactured, marketed, and prescribed to support individuals who require health aid. Not dependency nor death. On May 17, 2020, as usual, I entered Tiarra's apartment, with the smell of a recent shower still lingering in the room, clean sheets, a tray table, and half of a sandwich, meds, and juice. Tiarra appeared comfortable as if she was sleeping- She was not. I found her unresponsive and not breathing. She believed she could, so she did! Tiarra made every attempt to care for herself, made large postings of appointments, lists, and journals, and always prepared for an emergency. She was wearing the life-alert, emergency response push-button watch, which she never had the opportunity to activate. She was wearing a shirt that read, “What's not to love about me." In all the efforts of calling 911 and the arrival of <strong>First</strong> Responders, within minutes, I was accosted by police, with Tiarra lying deceased- I was questioned repeatedly like a criminal, then by the coroner office; with no regard for the circumstances. In tears, I stopped the room and yelled with all I had, "A mother just lost a child right here- Don't you see me? Don't you see her". I realized a few things in those moments. My daughter was gone. I knew my protection was the (Good Samaritan Law). So, why was I interrogated as opposed to being supported? Our city and service providers need healing.