The toxic drug crisis has been dragging on for almost a decade, claiming more than 50,000 victims in Canada so far, most of them young adults.
It should have been blindingly obvious, long ago, that we should be doing more to help young people protect themselves against overdose.
Yet, in 2025, that self-evident truth is at the heart of new recommendations from a coroner’s inquest into the death of 18-year-old University of Victoria student Sidney McIntyre-Starko.
Specifically, the five-person jury recommended that all high-school students undergo instruction on how to do cardio-pulmonary resuscitation (CPR), how to operate an automated external defibrillator (AED), and how to administer the overdose-reversal drug naloxone, also known as Narcan.
The jury also recommended that post-secondary institutions like UVic make naloxone readily available on campus, and teach students and staff how to use it. Further, they said drug testing facilities should be available on campus, and that there should be no repercussions for students requesting naloxone or drug testing.
They also had some recommendations for campus security, saying they should have a full suite of equipment that would be useful in case of overdose, including supplemental oxygen, naloxone, an AED, oxygen/pulse monitors, and advanced first aid training.
Again, all this is pretty straightforward, common-sense advice.
Unfortunately, it was necessary to repeat it, in a manner as formal as a coroner’s inquest, because of the debacle that followed Ms. McIntyre-Sturko’s overdose.
As a previous, more detailed report on the circumstances surrounding her death by retired police chief Bob Rich concluded, “had the response been different, Sidney likely would not have died.”
Her death, like so many others, was preventable.
What happened in that dorm room on the evening of Jan. 23, 2024, is every parent’s worst nightmare. Three friends decided to get together, get high, and watch a movie. Pretty standard stuff. But their drug of choice turned out to be a potent mixture of fentanyl and cocaine.
They were not using alone, which is good. But none of them had naloxone. Ms. McIntyre-Sturko overdosed. So did another student. (He survived.)
Campus security and 9-1-1 were called. That’s when things really went awry.
Long story short: Ms. McIntyre-Sturko did not receive naloxone until nine minutes after security arrived, and CPR another three minutes later. There was no oxygen available until paramedics arrived.
Why the delays? Largely because the security guards were not trained to respond to an overdose even though the two students displayed all the classic signs: Reduced consciousness, laboured breathing and undilated, or pinpoint, pupils.
There were problems with 9-1-1 too. The operator was not told the students were using drugs because the caller was afraid of getting into trouble. (Hence the inquest’s amnesty recommendation.)
But when two students are unconscious and turning blue you don’t ask if they are pregnant or have brain tumours; as a 9-1-1 operator in a province where toxic drug use is a public health emergency, you should make some assumptions.
When paramedics transported Ms. McIntyre-Sturko to hospital, they left the two other students behind. They subsequently started vomiting and made their own way to the ER.
To add insult to injury, no one contacted the parents to tell them their daughter was in hospital, dying. Her brother learned that from another student.
Ms. McIntyre-Sturko was taken off life support two days later. The official cause of death: Hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy, meaning lack of oxygen to the brain, as a result of an overdose.
But her parents were determined that Sidney would not be just another statistic.
They demanded answers from the university, and pushed for the coroner’s inquest. Hopefully, it will all make a difference.
B.C. Premier David Eby said all the recommendations of the coroner’s inquest will be implemented.
The University of Victoria has made important changes, too, like making naloxone available and improving training of security. Every other college and university should do the same.
No one wants to believe their loved one would use potentially lethal drugs like fentanyl. But the statistics tell a different story. From January to September, 2024, Canadian paramedics responded to a daily average of 105 overdoses; 72 people ended up in the ER, 15 were hospitalized, and 21 died of overdoses – every single day.
People do drugs, especially young people. The least we can do is equip them with harm-reduction tools.
Because if there is a chilling lesson to retain from Sidney’s tragic story, it’s this: it could just as easily have been your kid in that dorm room.
Editor’s note: A previous version of this article incorrectly stated that dilated pupils are a sign of opioid overdose. Undilated, or pinpoint, pupils are among the classic signs. This version has been updated.