Page 17 of Tough Justice

“Dr. Sampson has treated several of these patients personally,” Deck continued, “and she saved Dan’s life. That could have been any of us lying on her table, and we all owe her a debt of gratitude for saving one of our own.”

Decker faced her and began clapping. Everyone else in the room stood and also began clapping, the sound becoming so loud Tori could barely hear herself think. This was the last thing she ever expected. Hundreds of law enforcement officers—DEA agents, no less—giving her a standing ovation. A lump formed in her throat, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t dislodge it. It seemed like five minutes before the crowd quieted and sat, although in reality, it had probably been no more than twenty seconds.

“Take it away, Doc.” Deck set the microphone back on the podium then walked to one side of the room and leaned against the window ledge. He snapped his fingers. Thor ran to his side and sat.

Too bad. It was childish, but she considered the dog her buffer. Having him close gave her courage. “Thank you.” The shock at hearing her voice coming from what seemed like every inch of wall and ceiling space was enough to momentarily destroy what little remaining composure she had.

Get a professional grip on yourself. These men and women put their lives on the line every day to keep the public safe. The least she could do was to give them some information that might one day save their lives.

“I understand that many of you have already gone through field training on how to treat an inadvertent overdose. My job today is to build on that. I’ll go over early onset symptoms of an overdose, then we’ll discuss using the auto-injectable naloxone.”

Deck had informed her that most, if not all, officers carried the nasal spray but would soon be given auto-injectors. Some people were squeamish where needles were concerned.

“Symptoms to look for,” she began, counting off on her fingers, “include nausea or vomiting, dizziness, lethargy, cold or clammy skin, slow breathing, or no breathing at all. Other classic signs are very small or pinpoint pupils, slow heartbeats, extreme drowsiness. If your partner falls asleep on you for no reason at all during a warrant, you should assume there’s been an exposure. Administer naloxone right away, then watch for signs of improvement. You may have to administer additional doses. If they stop breathing, you’ll have to breathe for them. If their heart stops beating, you’ll have to administer CPR until the paramedics can take over and get your partner to a hospital.”

“Above all else,” Deck interjected from where he still leaned against the window ledge, “on these high-risk warrants, work in pairs. Don’t get separated. Dan nearly died because we—I—lost track of him. He passed out before we discovered he was missing.”

From his stiff body posture and his use of the word I, only now did she realize how much of the blame he shouldered for what had happened to Dan.

Tori cleared her throat. “Agent Decker initiated rescue breathing until the paramedics arrived. Before he arrived at the hospital, Dan went into cardiac arrest. And this was a case of very minimal exposure,” she added for emphasis to the crowd, whose expressions were sobering more by the second. “The effects of this particular formula of gray death are unlike anything we’ve seen in the ER. It works fast, so if you think you or one of the officers you’re with have been exposed, don’t take any chances. Naloxone is key to counteracting the effects of opioids. It blocks or reverses the effects. How many of you are authorized to carry naloxone with you in the field?”

Nearly everyone in the room raised their hands. “How much do you carry?” she asked the agent in the first row.

“Two nasal spray bottles, two milligrams each.”

She moved down the aisle, pointing to a woman in the fifth row she’d seen with her hand in the air. “The same.”

“And you?” Tori indicated another man several rows down.

“The same.”

She stopped in the middle of the room. “Even if you all carried as much as these three officers combined, statistics at North Metro show that it might not be enough to reverse the effects of gray death. After we got Dan’s heart beating again, we had to push a total of eleven milligrams of naloxone into him before he started breathing again on his own.” The faces staring back at her were appropriately disturbed. “So, if you only have a few milligrams and one of you is exposed far away from mobile emergency services or a hospital…you could die.”

While she paused to let that unsettling statistic sink in, murmurs went around the room.

Decker and Thor rejoined her at the podium. “The DEA is working with other agencies in Colorado to equip you with naloxone auto-injectors and specialized PPE,” he said. “A few of you have the injectable kind already, but most of you don’t. That’s about to change. What we’re going to do now is instruct you on how to use it.”

As they’d planned in advance, Deck sat on the table. It was impossible not to notice the muscles in his forearms flexing as he lay down on his back. The muscles in his abdomen were so well-defined their outline was easily visible beneath his black polo.

As much as she hated to admit it, Suzie’s assessment was spot on. Tori still found him infuriating, but he was definitely Double H material.

Thor leaped onto the table and licked Deck’s face. A few snickers came from the front row.

“Atta boy, Thor,” commented Brett Tanner, Deck’s ATF friend.

“Before you touch the individual, assess the scene,” she began. “If there’s any contaminant on the victim’s clothes, you should, at a minimum, wear gloves. Most ODs won’t be transdermal. Inhalation is more likely, so wear a mask if you have one. An N95 works, but if you’ve got an air purifying respirator, use it. If able, put the clothes in a bag or cover the victim in a sheet. It’ll go against your instincts, but your priorities should be to protect yourself, then get the naloxone into the victim. Understand?”

There were nods and a rumble of agreements.

“Good. So, where to give the injection? Assuming you don’t have an IV set up, the best place to administer the injection is in the outer thigh.” She approached the table, gently placing her hand on Decker’s thigh. For a moment, their gazes met and held, and his strong, thick muscle twitched beneath her fingers. Was it her touch or was he just not a fan of needles?

Tori yanked her hand away. “In an emergency, which you should consider any opioid exposure to be, don’t waste time. Give the injection right through the person’s clothing. For an adult, the usual dose is between point-four and two milligrams. If you have the spray, the typical dosage is two milligrams. Use it. If the person remains unresponsive after the first injection, keep administering another dose every two to three minutes, and transport them immediately to the nearest emergency room.”

“What if we run out of naloxone before the person starts breathing again?” Agent McGarry asked.

Then your colleague will most likely die long before they get to the ER. “Aside from getting appropriate quantities of naloxone to have with you in the field at all times, my advice is to bone up on your CPR and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation skills, because you may need them in order to keep the victim alive until paramedics arrive and they make it to the hospital.”

Deck sat up. “Thor, stand,” he ordered.