Should you call 911?

Danielle's seizure lasted about five minutes, and after it ended she appeared to fall asleep. Other people began going to sleep in various rooms of the house. Some members of the group said they woke up at 6:30 a.m., but others claimed it wasn't until 8:30 a.m. that Ryan Mills started dinging a cowbell to wake the group. Danielle looked terrible. Her face was cold to the touch; her lips were blue. So, once again, the group had to make a decision. They could call 911, they could drive Danielle to the hospital, or they could take matters into their own hands.

Some guys carried Danielle to a tub they had filled with warm water, where Dona splashed water on Danielle's face. But Danielle was unresponsive. After 15 minutes, one of them lifted Danielle's arm and let go. Instead of relaxing, Danielle's muscles stiffened and her hand hardened into a cup. Everyone panicked.

But they still didn't call 911.

And why do you suppose they didn't do that? Well, something about a pesky war on drugs...

The state of Washington's position is clear: If someone calls 911 when a friend is overdosing, not only does the witness risk charges for possessing or selling drugs (which 911 callers in these situations have feared since the passage of the Controlled Substances Act), but he or she could be charged with homicide, too. The end result? Overdose victims—who might survive with prompt medical care—may be abandoned and left to die.

"It goes in the wrong direction and cuts against overdose prevention, overdose reporting, and taking someone to the hospital," says defense attorney Hiatt. "If I give you the drugs, I'll be less likely to take you to the hospital."

In the end, it's not entirely clear that "ecstasy" is the primary reason the girl died (an undiagnosed form of diabetes may have been the smoking gun), but that's not the point of Holden's piece. What he drives home is this: no matter what the authorities do, demand for illegal drugs will never be fully suppressed, and in the meantime, the law seems structured to inflict undue punishment on these users all across the board. The analogy Holden makes is that "it's the equivalent of holding a gun dealer liable if someone shoots himself," which would never pass legislative muster. But apparently individual pills of street ecstasy are just inherently more dangerous than guns, and deserve punishment further up the chain - at the expense of any poor users who underestimate their own health or make any other miscalculation.

It's just weird, I tell you.