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Nobody Can Say Why You Stopped Dying. Until They Can, Don't Bet on It Lasting.

A new JAMA analysis of 2.5 million ambulance runs knocks down the naloxone explanation. What's left is a drug supply nobody is measuring.

ByThe Rize NewsroomOctober 25, 20268 min readOpioids

Morgan Godvin has a way of saying the thing the dashboards miss. In October 2024, when national overdose deaths had barely started to fall, she told NPR that “people are reporting getting dope sick, going into withdrawal despite smoking fentanyl,” and that “the daily amount that they’re spending trying to stay well has skyrocketed.” Godvin studies the street drug supply for a living. She also came to that work through her own opioid use disorder, which is why she was counting what the product actually contained when the agencies were still counting bodies.

Nobody can tell you why the dope got weaker, which means nobody can promise it stays weak.

That is the plain reading of what landed this week. On October 21, Brown University’s Michael Barnett and colleagues published a JAMA research letter that went looking for the thing public health has been crediting for the drop in deaths: naloxone. Two days later, Barnett and two co-authors wrote in STAT that “no one knows why opioid overdose deaths have fallen so dramatically.” If you have been through the last three years of this, you do not need a journal to tell you the supply changed. What the journal tells you is that the people in charge of explaining it have been guessing, and the guess they leaned on hardest does not hold up.

The naloxone story everyone told turns out to be a story about fewer overdoses

The team pulled emergency medical services records from 5,324 agencies, roughly 2.5 million nonfatal overdoses between May 2020 and December 2025, according to Brown’s summary of the paper. They compared what happened after May 2023, when deaths began to fall, against what earlier trends predicted. Opioid-related overdoses ran 32.7 percent below projection. Naloxone administrations ran 21.3 percent below. The ratio between the two barely moved, which means paramedics were not reaching for naloxone more often per overdose. There were simply fewer overdoses to reverse.

The detail that should sting is the bystander number. Even after accounting for the drop in overdoses, naloxone given by laypeople before the ambulance arrived was 28.6 percent lower than expected. The expansion of free kits, over-the-counter nasal spray, and standing orders did not translate into more reversals showing up in the EMS record. Barnett was careful in Science News: “Naloxone still saves lives every day,” he said, but it “doesn’t look like the reason for the sudden turn.” To Brown, he put the conclusion more bluntly: “This study changes the narrative and says we have to look to other causes for overdose declines.”

Read the limits before you repeat that on social media. The EMS data cannot see a reversal that happened on a bathroom floor when nobody called 911, and those are the reversals harm reduction workers have been counting for a decade. The paper studied nonfatal overdoses, not deaths, and it did not test any explanation for the decline. It rules out one story. It does not prove another. A single research letter is a single research letter.

The decline is real, and it is not small. Dasgupta told NPR that no one under 25 in Maine has died of an overdose in nearly twelve months, a sentence that would have sounded like a joke in 2022. Nationally, the CDC’s provisional count over the twelve months ending October 2025 was about 71,542 overdose deaths of all kinds, down from a peak of nearly 113,000 in August 2023, as NPR reported in April. Both things hold at once: fewer people are dying, and the reason sits outside anything a clinic, a pharmacy, or a harm reduction van did. If you work in a clinic, that is humbling. If you use, it is a reminder that survival this year was partly luck you did not choose and cannot bank.

If you use, it is a reminder that survival this year was partly luck you did not choose and cannot bank.

The likeliest explanation is also the most fragile one

The best-supported candidate is the drug itself. A Science paper published in January, built on U.S. mortality data, DEA potency and seizure figures, and drug-forum posts, found that fentanyl potency dropped suddenly around mid-2023. Co-author Peter Reuter of the University of Maryland told STAT “it has to be a supply-side shock,” and that something systematic drove deaths down by at least a third over two years. The authors floated Chinese crackdowns on precursor chemicals. China has not claimed credit, and the DEA no longer publishes regular purity and price data, so nobody can check.

Here is what that means in the body, and why people in recovery should hear it before policymakers do. Fentanyl is far more potent than heroin, so the margin between enough and too much is thin. A Drug Checking Los Angeles analysis led by Godvin estimated that people using illicit fentanyl take in an average of 8,887 morphine milligram equivalents a day, roughly 60 times what the CDC calls potentially lethal for someone with no tolerance. That is a number about tolerance, not recklessness. A body that has adapted to that load is a body living one bad batch from the edge. When the batches got weaker, the edge moved away. Nobody asked the body’s owner to do anything differently. Cravings and withdrawal did not get easier. People described getting sick on product that used to hold them.

Even the supply-shock story has holes its own authors name. North Carolina’s Nabarun Dasgupta noted that deaths in western states were already falling before mid-2023, so the shock does not explain the whole country, and that supply shocks are often temporary. Barnett told Science News the decline slowed in 2025 and that traffickers may find new chemical sources or more potent synthetic opioids. A drop that came from outside medicine can leave the same way.

None of this is new, which is the part that should worry you. In 2001, heroin all but vanished from Australian streets. Prices rose, purity fell, and in New South Wales emergency department visits for heroin overdose dropped by about 40 percent. A three-state study in Addiction found fatal and non-fatal heroin overdoses fell between 40 and 85 percent, with no matching rise in overdoses from cocaine, methamphetamine, or benzodiazepines. Governments claimed the win for enforcement. Researchers who later weighed the explanations concluded it was a mix of causes, including big traffickers becoming less able or willing to ship to Australia. Nobody built a durable program around a shortage that nobody understood. The market stabilized, drugs changed, and the people who had lived through the drought were left to survive whatever came next. We do not get to run that experiment twice and call it policy.

What the supply is turning into

The drug supply did not stop changing when fentanyl weakened. It kept moving. In Richland County, South Carolina, coroner Naida Rutherford worked an apparent overdose this year that showed every sign of a fentanyl death, including foam at the nose and mouth, yet the blood tests came back negative. Expanded testing found cychlorphine, which she told NPR was “the first time we’ve seen it in South Carolina.” The same reporting describes medetomidine, a sedative that damages the heart and whose withdrawal Dasgupta called “life-threatening if you quit cold-turkey,” and notes that stimulants now kill more people than opioids for the first time in decades.

The STAT authors want a survey that reaches shelters and jails, tests drug samples, and asks what things cost, and they make a point worth taking home: “If we cannot explain why deaths are falling now, we won’t know what is driving them up if they rise again.” Their count is that opioid deaths peaked at 81,806 in 2022 and fell to 44,564 in 2025, according to the CDC figures they cite. That is tens of thousands of people who are alive for reasons nobody can name.

That is tens of thousands of people who are alive for reasons nobody can name.

If you are a provider, three things are yours to do this week. Add one question to intake and follow-up: what changed in what you’re buying, and how do you feel when it wears off? Write the answers down and share the pattern with your local drug-checking or health department contact, because you may be the only surveillance your county has. Check that your clinic’s withdrawal protocol knows medetomidine exists and has a plan for who gets sent to a hospital. And keep naloxone moving, because a lower number of reversals in the EMS record is not a reason to stock fewer kits.

If you are the one living this: naloxone is still yours. Over-the-counter naloxone is on pharmacy shelves, it does not care why deaths fell, and it works on an overdose that is still an overdose. Keep it where you can reach it.

The weaker dope bought a lot of people time. Time is what you do something with. If the drop in deaths turns out to belong to a supply nobody is watching, then the most useful thing any of us can do with the borrowed months is the oldest thing in recovery: tell the truth about what’s actually in front of us, and keep the door to treatment open for the day the supply swings back. Godvin was watching the product while everyone else watched the count. The count has now caught up with her.

Filed Under

sciencepolicypsychologyFentanylNaloxoneOverdoseGovernment Data

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