Bradly     Cameron     Devin     Geri     Haley     Jared     Matt     Max     Michael     Paul     Roman     Stephen



Use the "Contact Us" link above if you would like to submit a memorial of a loved one.


Bradly McCready - 1992 to 2016 - Age 24

Brady loved Playing basketball with his brother and friends. He had the best outgoing personality, he was a best friend to many, a proud dad to his newborn baby girl, loving son and awesome big brother... Brady struggled with opiates for over 6 years in and out of detox and rehabs... He tried his best but unfortunately his demons got the best of him. He will be greatly missed and forever loved.

- Julie Incollingo



Cameron Weiss - September 26, 1992 to August 13, 2011 - Age 19

Cameron Weiss passed away at the age of 18 on August 13, 2011. He died in his bed of a drug overdose. His death sent shock waves throughout the community, his close network of friends, and of course his family. We know that life is precious and every day is a gift; however, in the life of a drug addict, the game of Russian Roulette is played each time they use drugs. We, as parents, live in a sheltered world of denial in that we think it won't happen to us. Cameron was a normal teenager who loved to play football and had a passion for wrestling, grappling, and MMA. He loved life and had many friends who considered him their brother. Cameron's first exposure to heroin was in August, 2009. He made a fateful decision to try something he knew nothing about. That one decison is something he regretted almost from day one as the stranglehold of addiction gripped him by the neck and controlled his life. He didn't want to be addicted to heroin; he didn't want this drug controlling his mind, his thoughts, and his every move. He realized very quickly what it meant to be a heroin addict and what it meant to stare death in the face. He wanted out and he wanted his life back. Cameron's death is devastating to so many people on so many levels and his family only hopes that in his death, he is able to save the lives of others by sharing his story, his struggles, and his triumphs, hopes, and dreams. All of these things taken away by the power of heroin. Don't even try it, not even once. This risk is not worth the reward.

- Curtis, Jennifer, and Kaitlyn Weiss



Devin Glenn - March 23, 1993 to March 8, 2017 - Age 23

Some of you know that I write for a living. That was always my dream and, for maybe a semester, that was also Devin's very brief dream after a kind CNM professor told him he had potential. That's the thing. Devin, my first born and my last born, had so much potential. Sometimes I think he knew that maybe all too well. Sometimes I don't think he realized that at all. Words are my business, but in the 10 days since Devin left us all, they have been hard to gather together to convey anything meaningful, anything near what I want, what I need to say about my son, Devin Gabriel Krueger Glenn.

So what I did was look back to words I wrote about Devin about 23 years ago on the eve of his very first birthday. At the time, I wrote a column for The Albuquerque Tribune called The Mother Load, which was all about raising kids as I saw it through raising Devin. For a time, that meant Devin was the most famous kid in the city, and thousands of readers knew about his dirty diapers, his first boo boo, his first haircut, his first wise words. In that first birthday column, I reflected on the many gifts and lessons he had given me. In part, here is what I wrote. We were talking about his impending first birthday -- I talked, he gibbered -- and wishing that days like these could go on forever. But today Devin Gabriel turns 1, and I'm already mindful of the day when he is no longer just my little buddy, ready to burst into a fit of giggles with the tickle of my finger or the crunch of my face. My buddy who thinks that I can turn juice bottle lids into gems. My buddy who reaches for me when he is scared, when he is happy, when he just wants to be loved.

So it goes... First birthdays are monumental, joyous but bittersweet, made more of by the parent than the unassuming birthday star. In Devin's mind, it is just another day, just another haircut. Just another toy. But for me it's a year of memories. He taught me that I must play a part in making this world a better place for him and all children. He has taught me that there is more to life than a career and a Cuisinart. He has taught me the importance of clipping coupons for disposable diapers because they sure get expensive.

And he has taught me about unconditional love. As we sat there that day at the Point, I thought about the things I'd like to teach him. Things like being kind to animals, treating women as equals, how to fish, how to bake bread, how to keep appreciating nature like that which surrounds us in the Manzanos. How to stay perfect and never grow old. But that would be a gift for me. Better that he should grow up healthy, strong, independent and wise.

Most of all, I want to teach him to remember simple days like those at the Point and how much I love him, how these days will not go on forever but that love will. Happy Birthday, my dear son. May you have many more. Devin went on to have 22 more birthdays. He would have celebrated his 24th birthday next Thursday. Like I said in that column long ago, these days will not go on forever. And they didn't. And my heart is broken.

I am angry that such a thing as heroin found him, seduced him and enslaved him, all with me having not a clue it was happening. I am angry that Devin did not believe he was as good and perfect as I saw him that he needed that horrible killer in his life. Devin and I talked often about drugs like heroin. Mom, he'd say, I'll never even try heroin. I'm scared of it. I hate needles. Besides, I'm invincible.

There will be time for that reckoning, for fighting against the scourge of heroin and opiates, which are killing so many of our sons and daughters. And believe me, I swear, if any of you for a moment think about using that poison, remember who we lost because of it and remember that I will come for you and smack you into your senses, something I didn't get a chance to do for Devin.

Today, though, I ask that we remember the beautiful days, the happy days, the days when we were fortunate enough to have my son, my buddy, my rock, your Suga D, in our lives. I ask you all to honor him as he honored me, by learning we must all play a part in making this world a better place for all children.

- Joline Krueger, Mother



Geri L. - December 20, 1984 to April 2, 2010 - Age 26

Geri-L was 25 years old when she lost her battle with heroin addiction on April 2, 2010. She was a beautiful and smart girl who graduated from University High School in Orlando, Florida, at the top of her class. She had a bright future ahead of her, and she loved her family very much. Geri-L loved shopping, cooking, and laughing. Her laugh was loud and infectious. She had no problem making you smile even when you didn't want to. My sister left behind many loved ones, including her 5-year-old daughter, Harmony.

- Jennifer Dunnell



Haley Paternoster - December 25, 1993 to April 9, 2010 - Age 17

I watched my 16-year-old daughter fight for her last few breaths in a hospital ER. In the end, the heroin won. On April 8, 2010, I was in Roswell for the New Mexico Military Institute Board of Regents meeting. I noted on my Blackberry that the daily credit card report for our restaurant, La Provence, hadn't been finished, so I called home. Haley had spent the previous night snuggling with me and watching a movie. She answered and assured me that she would let my wife Jane, her stepmother, know about the credit card issue and call right back. She called me back and went downstairs to play with her two younger brothers: Jameson, 2, and 5-year-old Jackson. A short time later, as Jane was leaving the house with the boys, she told Jameson to knock on Haley's door and "tell Sissy goodbye." Haley didn't answer. Jane knocked, still no answer. She entered the bedroom and discovered that the bathroom door was locked. Jane ran downstairs, grabbed a butter knife and came back up to jimmy the door.

Haley was on the floor, no pulse, no breathing. The paramedics arrived immediately; it was apparent that she took the drug - it was heroin - in both wrists. They also found some Vicodin. They were able to get her heart started, but she never regained consciousness.

Haley was rushed to UNMH where she hung on for 17 hours, her breathing became more labored, her heart rate dropping, fever climbing, lungs filling with fluid. Haley received "complete and compassionate care" from the hospital staff. Several times, they would restart her heart and plead with her to stay alive. That evening, it became clear that Haley wasn't going to make it. I said that if they couldn't make it where Haley would still be Haley, that I couldn't do it. The priest administered last rites and I issued a do not resuscitate order. She went into arrhythmias, and this is something no one should ever have to witness; she sat staight upright in the bed, and her eyes flashed open. she fell back. It was horrifying, and it will haunt me for the rest of my life. I told her it was OK to go, and she did.

Haley loved her firends, loved doing things for other people, and we had plans to go skiing that weekend. Everybody was crazy about her. She had good family support. She was a kid who was getting high like her friends were getting high, and that's what she chose to do. She was a good girl with a good family who had everything going for her. She made bad choices that ultimately took her life. I don't want anyone else to go through the pain we have experienced. It is so important people understand the dangers of prescription drugs and heroin abuse, so they can educate themselves and their kids before it's too late.

- Steve Paternoster



Jared Daniel Szalay - July 3, 1990 to January 31, 2011 - Age 21

The day Jared was born was the happiest day of my life. I wanted to be a mother more than anything. Soon after he was born, I was diagnosed with cancer and never able to have another child. Jared was my pride and joy, my heart, my everything. My world ended when I was informed he was found unconscious in an ER bathroom in Dallas, Texas. On January 31, 2011, I had to make the decision to take him off life support. I was told there was no chance of him coming back and forced to make a decision that no parent should ever have to make. We give our children life and never expect to have to aid in their death. His life ended because of a horrible, nasty, addictive, relentless, and inexpensive drug called heroin.

Jared had everthing going for him, a loving, supportive family who encouraged him to follow his dreams. He was witty, intelligent, charming, handsome, and very personable. He was a typical boy growing up who enjoyed fishing, hunting, friends, animals, and traveling the world. His favorite was coming into my Kindergarten classroom and working with the children. He had a beautiful girlfriend, was halfway through college, and had a brand new truck (graduation gift). He always had a mind of his own, was very headstrong and determined to live life his way.

When I discovered his addiction to heroin it was a total shock and surprise. I had no idea that drug dealers were targeting our youth. I did everthing possible to get him the help he so desperately needed. He was in and out of rehabs for a year and featured on the Dr. Oz show and I believed that this was Jared's saving grace from God. He was sent to one of the best rehab facilities in the nation. After two weeks, he was kicked out. His roommate snuck in drugs and he took them. Two days later he was in Dallas, Texas with an old suitcase and a few items of clothing. The hospital called because of the ID tag on the suitcase, informing me that my son had been found. That call was absolutely a mother's worst nightmare. I told myself it wasn't true and that it couldn't possibly be that bad as I drove the agonizing 14 hous to rescue my baby and hold him close in my arms. Upon arriving, there was an orange sign on his door saying "Immediate Family Only." I fell to my knees in despair knowing his fate was sealed. I cried harder than I've ever cried, I prayed harder than I've ever prayed, and screamed louder than I've ever screamed. I sat at his bedside for two days begging him to open his beautiful hazel eyes and tell me that everything was going to be okay.

Jared lived 20 years, 6 months, and 28 days. Because of his gift of organ donation, three other people now live on. I don't understand how or why this had to happend to my son, I pray ever day that God will use his story to bring awareness to others about this horrible drug and to help others understand that even using heroin once can be a death sentence.

- Lori Magee



Matt Gutierrez - September 4, 1990 to October 9, 2008 - Age 18

Our son Matt had barely turned 18 when he was taken from us in an abrupt, brutal fashion. Life, as we knew it, would change forever. Life, as it is now, has required extensive and on-going repair. A task that is far from over. A task that no one should ever have to face. Losing a child is the most horrific, gut-wrenching, anxiety-filled pain there can be. A parent's heart is broken beyond recognition. Nothing is familiar and nothing is the same because a constant pain is all you feel. Matt was a charismatic, good natured kid who loved animals, travel, the outdoors (nature), friends, and family. He had a remarkable patience with children and deep respect for the elderly. But he wasn't perfect. There were times that his imperfections, combined with a free-spirited demeanor led him to make poor decisions, some big, some small, (some) others in between... as we all do. His decision to experiment with alcohol was one that we were aware of but did not condone. His decison to use heroin blindsided us. Imagine the shock to the heart and mind when police inform you that your child is dead! It becomes magnified when the mind searches for answers. Was it a car accident? Did he fall? Did he drown? Where? How? Instead you are informed that he overdosed on heroin! The shock and dsmay that you are in is now doubled, as you struggle frantically to hold on to life as you knew it to be a minute ago. Your mind rejects the news and your life has now been shattered into a million pieces.

Matt was not into that! It has to be someone else! Yes, that's it! It has to be some kind of mistake - not heroin! Not Matt? God, No! We were unaware of the prevalence and availability of this horrible monster called heroin - we were unaware that heroin would shatter our lives... we're aware NOW! If only we would have been made aware of how prevalent, inexpensive, and available heroin is. How popular it is with kids, our kids. Not heroin, not my kid, not my Matt!

- Gary and Elaine Gutierrez



Max Slade - March 3, 1989 to June 7, 2014 - Age 25

In life it's so rare to find someone who truly understands and accepts everything you are. I am so glad I got to experience that with Max at such a young age. I have learned how fragile life is and that things don't always go according to plan. I look back on my time with Max and am so grateful I had him in my life all these years. He was my best friend, lover, and soul mate. I will miss having him close to me at night, his beautiful smile, silly laugh, our adventures, our laughs, our cries, our ups and downs.

Thank you for the memories. Max was smart, funny, and brilliant. He did not come into this world wanting to be controlled by this nasty drug. He will be a part of me until the day I die. Forever Max is my happy place. I truly understood his struggle and soul. Nobody knows Max on the level I'm glad to know him on. There are too many bad people in the world and there are not enough people like my Max. Rest in Paradise my love, not a day goes by that I don't miss you. I will forever have the best guardian Angel.

- Our Love is Immortal... Christina Sanchez (girlfriend / bestfriend)



Michael Duran - August 18, 1991 to February 2, 2011 - Age 19

Michael L. Duran, Jr. was a handsome, funny, intelligent and athletic young man who chose the wrong path three years prior to his death. His love for baseball began when he was only two years old; he would sit with his dad and watch major league baseball. He loved music and learned to play the piano and the guitar. At six, he played chess and was able to beat most adults. He loved to fish, camp, hunt, jet-ski, and snowboard. He enjoyed the challenge of the black diamonds. Michael began playing baseball at the age of five in little league, as well as club ball, and was coached by his dad throughout the years. He was on varsity and lettered in the 8th grade. He also played basketball and soccer, but his passion was baseball.

Like most boys, he dreamed of being a professional ballplayer. He was a typical teenager, he was a total slob, and lazy when it came to doing anything other than sports!!! He often demanded to be the center of attention and quite often reminded us that he knew it all! He enjoyed his role as big brother and took great pleasure in driving his sister crazy, most especially in their teen years! His dream was to someday return to California where he spent a semester in college; he also attended NMSU.

On February 2, 2011, at the young age of 19, Michael lost his battle to drug addiction. We will never see him live his dreams, we will never see him have a family of his own, nor will we be blessed with the nine children (baseball team) he often told us he would have one day. We will forever miss him and he will always be in our hearts. There is not a day that goes by that we do not think of him - our lives will never be the same. Michael - We love you, you are finally at peace.

- Mom, Dad, and Nikkie



Paul Anthony Marquez - January 7, 1992 to October 28, 2011 - Age 19

Paul Marquez was an amazing person. He was a very handsome young man and he had a big smile that made him shine. During his high school years he was a very talented football player and wrestler. Paul was a very humble and respectful person. He was always willing to defend someone or help anyone that needed it. He was a little shy at times, but you could always see his little smirk come through and it would eventually turn into his gorgeous smile.

He was really close to his family, he was a great son, a wonderful big brother, the world’s best uncle, and the best little brother a sister could ask for. Paul wanted to beat his addiction so he could help others fight and beat their drug addiction. Unfortunately on October 28, 2011 Paul lost his battle with drugs. It was a terrible loss to our family and friends, and we will never be the same without him. But through Paul’s family, his dream of helping others fight drugs will come true.

Paul’s strength is what is giving our family strength to help stop drug addiction, and his name and memory are going to help save lives. We love and miss you every single day Paul and you will be in our hearts forever!

Love,   Your big sis Jenna, Mom, Dad, lil sis Brianna, and your niece Jayla!



Roman Montano - 1990 to May 2, 2012 - Age 22

Our son Roman Montano died at 22 years old on May 2, 2012. Roman began his battle with heroin addiction after he chose to self medicate when his world came crashing down on him 4 months before he graduated in 2008. Roman had the time of his life throughout high school and lived it to the fullest. He was a three sport athlete and especially had a passion for baseball…to him, “baseball was life”! Roman began playing sports as soon as he was old enough. He stood out in every sport he participated because he was big for his age and had the athleticism to go with it. By the time he was a senior in high school he had many scholarship offers and was going to be in the MLB draft in June following graduation. Things didn’t work out the way he had planned when he made a mistake and got into trouble with some boys which consequently led to him being kicked out of sports the rest of his senior year. Roman didn’t expect to lose everything he had worked for over an impulsive mistake. His entire identity to him was being an athlete and he knew he had the rare opportunity to play pro ball…that crushed him not to finish his senior year with a “BANG”, instead he was humiliated in the media and endured intense ridicule and shame. Although we reassured our son that it would pass and he still had his entire life ahead of him, he was devastated. He began using pain pills to escape his turmoil which led him to heroin. We were shocked when we discovered he was using heroin and immediately got him help. He never went to rehab or counseling despite our insistence and instead chose to see a doctor who prescribed suboxone. He continued taking the suboxone and seemed to be moving forward in life. He enrolled at UNM, joined a fraternity, entered a bodybuilding competition, and even got into MMA. Roman had remarkable work ethic and self discipline in anything he did. For the most part that period of time he was clean, but there were a couple of times we believed he had slipped for a weekend here & there but continued to try very hard to stay on track. Because Roman didn’t use on a daily basis and didn’t fit the stereotypical image of a “heroin addict”, I guess we were all in denial at different levels, including Roman. We never expected for him to relapse, let alone die.

Roman loved cars and loved to socialize. He had more cars in his short life than most adults have in a lifetime. He was also a neat freak and obsessive about his clothes and being organized to the point that it made us laugh. Roman was full of life and we know he didn’t expect to die. He for reasons we will never know, relapsed the day he died. He had a great life with family who loved him and adored him. He had a new baby girl and a fiancé he loved very much. He had just been in contact with a man at NFL headquarters in New York who wanted to get him a tryout….life was good for him. Roman was well known throughout the community and the state for his status as an athlete, he was loved by so many people because of his kindness and genuine personality. He smiled all the time, was a people person and extremely funny. We miss him more than words can ever express. Losing our beautiful Roman has profoundly impacted our lives with inconceivable pain and anguish. We miss him so much in our lives and still feel like it’s a bad dream or nightmare that he’s gone.

- JoAnn (mom), Bo (dad), Beau (brother), Mikaila (fiancé), and Addyson (daughter)



Stephen Cianciabella - February 24, 1988 to December 3, 2010 - Age 22

On December 3, 2010, my son Stephen was soon to be 23. On that day, the world changed forever. My understanding is that, when Stephen collapsed from the overdose, everyone involved left in fear, leaving him on the floor. Don't know how long. They returned and the 911 calls were made. My call came at 9pm. the EMTs revived him 3 or 4 times. He lived on a ventilator for less than 48 hours. When it became apparent that the damage was too great from being down so long, Stephen's older brother Michael and I had to make the decision to turn it off, watch him disappear from us and say goodbye. We felt dismembered, thrown into some crazy impossible parallel universe. Not real, Can't be real.

Our family's struggle (Stephen's struggle) lasted throughout 6 or 7 years. Some clean months, but more painful months. A roller coaster of laughter and love, along with agonizing fear and worry. Over that time, there were multiple trips to rehab, misdemeanor charges then felony charges, probation, counseling, drug testing, clinics, doctors, and suboxone. I saw glimpses of my son amidst it all. His uncontainable lust for life, love for music and art, particularly urban and street art. His thoughts were deep and his love was deep, but he was unable to become independent from this drug despite his fight. I know that one of the things he responded to so greatly was when people were real with him and didn't treat him only as an addict but saw who he was as a person. He was creative, very intelligent, funny, brutally honest, and loving. His inner struggle was desperate and painful to watch. He was ashamed and didn't want to be addicted to this drug, but heroin does not let you go, does not let you walk away. It is a relentless lover.

Heroin addicton is a disease that is very real. We must, as a community and as parents, enlighten ourselves, become armed with knowledge and help our kids. Before we judge them, we need to understand the depth of their struggle. None came into this world ever wanting this for themselves. I know their desperation is to be free from the "gutter life" as Stephen would say. It is imperative that we fight for our kids and future leaders.

- Susan Cianciabella, Mother




The HAC does not support, endorse, or provide referrals to any medication, practitioner, or treatment program relating to heroin or opiate addiction. The HAC recommends that you call 911 in an emergency situation. Seek the advice of a medical professional to determine the proper course of treatment for your specific circumstance.  If you have health insurance, contact the customer service line for your specific carrier as they are able to help find providers in your area based on your particular coverage.