BRADLEY STOKESBURY

I’m Hailee Rouch, and this is a part of my brother Bradley’s story. We’re from Dayton, Ohio.

My brother, Bradley Stokesbury, passed away in March of 2016 at 20 years old after taking a Xanax that was laced with fentanyl.

Brad was the oldest of my sister and I, and one of seven kids in our blended family. He and my sister share the same dad from my mom’s first marriage, and then my mom met my dad and had me. Later, my mom met our stepdad, who had four kids of his own.. making seven of us altogether. No matter how big our family was, Brad was someone we all deeply admired.

Brad was one of those people you don’t forget. He was outgoing, extremely likable, and just… goofy. That’s the word he always used “goofy” and it’s a word I still use today because of him. He had this laugh that was contagious. The kind of laugh that would make everyone else laugh without even knowing why. That’s one of the things I remember most about him—his laugh.

People naturally gravitated toward him because of how open and authentic he was.

Some of my favorite memories are actually the times he would pick on me. He constantly picked on my sister and I. It was just his way of showing love. One time, we went to a small fair near our house and there was a ride that swung back and forth and then upside down. I refused to go on it, but he convinced me because he didn’t want to go alone. As soon as the ride started, I completely freaked out. He thought it was hilarious and said, “It’s okay, just think about how fat I am.” Looking back now, I laugh, but in that moment, I was terrified. I can still hear exactly how he said it, because when he joked, his voice would change in a way that made it obvious he knew he was funny.

He loved being active and outdoors. Growing up, he played baseball, basketball, and football. He loved sports, and he loved fishing.  He was always happiest just being outside doing something simple like that.

He absolutely loved our dog, Zoey. She was a dachshund-beagle mix, and he was obsessed with her. He would talk to her like a baby, cuddle her constantly, and even wrap her up in his baby blanket. He basically lived on that dog. As weird as it sounds, he would even have her in the shower with him. She would jump in every time. That was just him: goofy, loving, and full of personality.

As a big brother, he was incredibly present. He was at any event he could be at for us and always made time to be there. He did everything with us. I remember him taking my sister and I to a new arcade when it first opened. When Brad and I were around each other, we were always glued to each other. He was always there sitting with me when I was sad or didn’t want to be alone, driving me anywhere I wanted to go. And, even when he wasn’t physically there, he’d spend hours on the phone with me until I fell asleep.

He would also be the type of big brother that stole my leftovers. Nothing I had was ever safe. It was just another one of those things that made him who he was.

He would always remind me that he would be there for me no matter what and that I could talk to him about anything. He used to say he would give the world to my sister and me. He loved us so deeply, and we felt that every single day.

He was genuinely a good person.

In the year before he passed, we had many deep conversations. Even though I was younger, I knew he was struggling. Looking back at old posts and conversations, I can see how much he was battling depression. But he hid it so well. I think he kept a lot inside, instead of opening up, and instead of dealing with what he was feeling.  He tried to self-medicate.

Before he passed, people were quick to label him as an addict. But he wasn’t an addict. He was just trying to find new ways to cope. He was a young adult going through a lot, experimenting with friends and one of those times, what he got wasn’t real.

It was fentanyl!

At the time, people didn’t really know what fentanyl was. Brad was one of the first fentanyl-related overdose cases in Dayton. People were quick to point fingers and make assumptions, but the reality is much more human than that.

He was young. He was struggling. He was trying to find peace.

And he didn’t know any better.

The last day we all saw him, he was with our family. We had gone to a family member’s birthday party. He was being himself, picking on us like always. Before he left, he hugged me tight, told me bye, and said he loved me.

That was the last time we saw him as him.

When he took the Xanax that was laced, he was at a friend’s house. He was found in the bathroom. No one knew what had caused it to happen at that time, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. That’s something many people may not agree with, but it’s the truth.

When he went into the hospital on Sunday, March 20th, people immediately assumed he was an addict. They assumed it was a heroin overdose. But there was nothing in his system that showed that.

He had brain activity the first day he was in the ICU, but it became less and less as the days went on. We tried everything to wake him up by talking to him, holding his hand, playing music. One song he loved and used to listen to was “Promises” by Nero, and I remember playing that for him. Every time I hear that song now, I think of him.

Eventually, the doctors told us he was brain dead.

We had to make the decision to pull the plug that Friday, March 25th.

When it came time for his funeral, it showed just how many people he had impacted. There were over 400 people who came to his viewing. The line was wrapped around the building.

I truly believe he did not intend to take his life. Some people may disagree, but that is the truth as I know it and feel it. It was unintentional but it still took everything from us.

Brad was the glue of our family and his friend group. He was my best friend, the person I went to for everything. He was the rock for me, my mom, and my sister. He always showed up for us in every way he could.

I miss him every single day. I still think about him all the time.

His loss changed all of us.

And his story is just one of many. This is what the opioid epidemic has done not just to my family, but to so many families across America. It takes the lives of people who are just trying to find their way, trying to cope with the cards life has dealt them.

And I still feel, in some way, that he’s with me.