It's 2010 in Jackson, Mississippi.

It's after two in the morning and Mike Moore is speeding down a residential street driving

as fast as he can.

Moore grips the steering wheel as he turns a corner, trying to keep his eyes open, pushing

away a drunken feeling of fatigue.

Many minutes ago, Moore was lying in bed as sleep.

He was jolted awake by a phone call, and when he answered, he heard the panic voice

of his nephew's fiance.

She said that Moore's nephew had overdosed again.

Four years ago, Moore's nephew was prescribed an opioid to manage pain after he was wounded

by a gunshot.

He quickly became addicted to the medication and struggled through rehab.

But Moore has been sad to see that the treatment hasn't done much good.

His nephew hasn't been able to shake his addiction, and now he routinely buys black

market fentanyl, an opioid 100 times stronger than Moore's.

And more than once, he's overdosed.

So Moore has grown used to responding to these kind of emergencies.

And now, as he brings his car to a stop in front of his nephew's small house, he can see

there's no ambulance yet.

He's going to have to keep his nephew alive.

Moore throws open the front door and races into the living room, where he sees his 30-year-old

nephew pass out on the couch, his shirt soaked with vomit.

...