Home / U.S / Prosecution Trend: After Fatal OD, Dealer Charged With Death

Prosecution Trend: After Fatal OD, Dealer Charged With Death

He knew he was in difficulty even before he review a content message: “Did u hear what hapnd 2 ed?”

Ed Martin III had been found passed in a lavatory of a preference store. He’d mainlined fentanyl, an opioid adult to 50 times some-more absolute than heroin.

Michael Millette was unhappy that his friend, only 28, had died. But he was scared, too. He’d sole him his final fix.

Millette fled to Vermont, yet fast returned to sell some-more drugs to support his habit. Now, though, military had a tip that he’d been Martin’s dealer. After he sole drugs to an informant, they arrested him.

That’s when Millette assimilated a flourishing series of dealers around a republic to face charge for a deadly heroin and fentanyl overdoses of their customers. He was charged not only with drug dealing, yet with causing Martin’s death.

Maximum penalty: life behind bars.

In many states, including Ohio, Maine and New Jersey, authorities grappling with an shocking swell in opioid abuse are filing homicide, involuntary manslaughter or associated charges opposite dealers. They disagree deadly overdoses should be treated as crimes, and that unbending sentences broach probity and might deter others.

“We need to send that summary that we can’t sell things that are a organic homogeneous of poison,” says New Hampshire Attorney General Joseph Foster, whose state has witnessed an blast in drug-related deaths in new years.

Millette says he always feared he’d get caught, yet never approaching anyone would die.

“I consider about Ed each day,” he says, sitting in his new home, a New Hampshire State Prison for Men.


Littleton is a hint of New England charm, with a white clapboard motel and 19th century show house. But over a postcard picture is a crime register where a strenuous infancy of vital crimes are tied to drugs.

Last year, a preference store was strike 4 times by opposite armed robbers seeking income for drugs. “There was a common theme: ‘I’m unemployed. I’ve burnt all my bridges. we can’t means a drugs anymore,'” says military Capt. Chris Tyler. “People are only that desperate.”

In New Hampshire, drug-related deaths have soared from 163 in 2012 to a projected 478 this year. Fentanyl is increasingly a culprit.

Millette’s and Martin’s connectors to drugs were famous to police.

Martin had been jailed for about 5 months in 2013-2014 for forgery. His father, who owns a home and blurb cleaning company, went to military after his son cashed thousands of dollars of his business checks, presumably to buy drugs or compensate off debts.

Millette had been related to another deadly fentanyl overdose, yet a declare wasn’t credible, so military didn’t pursue a claims.

Millette says he didn’t know he was offering Martin pristine fentanyl and insists he was no big-time dealer, only a unfortunate addict. But Tyler records he peddled fentanyl, heroin and heroin to some-more than 30 customers.

His strongest things was dubbed “the fire.”


Millette got bending prolonged ago.

After being severely harmed while operative as a logger, he became contingent on Percocet. When a painkiller became too expensive, he incited to heroin, that offering a cheaper, faster high.

Millette quit, yet relapsed. Several other attempts failed.

“I strike stone bottom. we mislaid everything,” he says, including control of his daughter, now 17. His 3 comparison kids stayed away. “Nobody wanted zero to do with me,” he says. “They’d given me adequate chances.”

Millette’s life incited into a dead-end cycle of traffic dope, afterwards shopping drugs for himself.

For Ed Martin III, drugs also were all-consuming.

Erika Marble, Martin’s fiancee and mom of their dual immature sons, says he attempted to stop yet something always got in a approach — no insurance, no room in diagnosis centers.

Being jailed for rascal “made him better, strangely,” she says. “He was clean. He had a transparent conscience.”

Marble says Martin was a caring, big-hearted male and she hoped a participation of her and their children would enthuse him. “He was a good dad,” she says, “and we knew that he was improved with me than he was though me.”

On Nov. 30, 2014, she reluctantly gave him $180 after he told her Millette was melancholy him if he didn’t pay.

Hours later, Martin was dead. His father, also named Ed, says he’d attempted to advise him months progressing that he risked losing everything.

“I wanted him to be happy,” a elder Martin says. “I wanted him to be a good father and husband. And many of all — we wanted him to be my best friend.”


The charge of Michael Millette was partial of a new bearing opposite opioid traffic in New Hampshire.

Last spring, a U.S. attorney’s bureau and state’s profession ubiquitous shaped a charge force to pursue dealers who sell opiates that outcome in deadly overdoses. So far, 56 cases are being investigated, says Benjamin Agati, comparison partner profession general.

The plan has divided a authorised community

“I find it so counterproductive that they consider promulgation these people to jail for prolonged durations of time is going to have any halt effect,” says Marcie Hornick, who was Millette’s open defender. “It’s an easy repair and maybe it satisfies partial of a population.”

But James Vara, who prosecuted a box and now is a governor’s special drug adviser, rejects such criticism. “Say that to a family who mislaid their child …,” he says. “Say that to Ed Martin’s dual children who are though their father as a outcome of this.”


Millette stood in justice final October, great as he apologized to Martin’s family.

He was systematic to offer 10 to 30 years in prison, and will be authorised for release in 2022.

Martin’s fiancee and father contend they’ve forgiven Millette. But they both consider he deserves to be sealed up.

Gamble visits Martin’s grave often; she’s placed dual ceramic plates there embedded with their sons’ little palm prints.

Back during a prison, Millette, who has reconciled with his possess children, ponders contingent freedom.

“Do we trust we should have left to jail? Yes. Absolutely,” he says. “Do we trust we should have left to jail for as prolonged as we have? Maybe not.”

He’s beholden for his second chance, yet doubtful about this strategy.

“I could have died. Anybody could have died. And people are failing each day. It’s a possibility we take when we do drugs,” he says. “I don’t know what’s going to work with this epidemic. we unequivocally don’t.”


Sharon Cohen, a Chicago-based inhabitant writer, can be reached during scohen@ap.org.


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