When strangers lined up at the funeral home simply because they had read the frank obituary on her daughter, Michelle Schwartzmier was touched. Maybe, she thought, something good could happen after Casey’s death.
When the Facebook messages continued to pour in for days and then weeks, Michelle was shocked.
And then came the call from the White House. “Casey’s story has reached the White House...and we are listening,” one woman told her.
In the roughly three months since Casey Schwartzmier, 20, of Ross, died of an apparent drug overdose, her obituary and the news stories that followed have been read by people across the globe. And a strong network of supportive strangers has surrounded her mother, who’s devoting her time to trying to help others who are struggling with addiction.
“Bittersweet is probably the best way I could describe it,” Michelle said last week, as she sat inside the family’s home. “Casey and I had never imagined that her story, something as simple as an open obituary, an honest obituary from this girl in Pittsburgh, would go so far.”
Don’t say ‘suddenly’
Memories of Casey are scattered throughout the Schwartzmier home. A letter she wrote to her mother as a Christmas present — the last one she’d ever give her — is framed on the living room wall. A few feet away, her senior pictures, taken in front of Pittsburgh bridges, are hanging on the wall. The iced coffee she badly wanted is still in the refrigerator. Michelle’s not ready to throw it out.
It was in this house that Casey showed her mother an obituary for a man who had died from an overdose. Rather than saying the man died “suddenly,” it said clearly that drugs had caused his death. Casey told her mother that if that ever happened to her, she wanted the same thing.
“It was a tough conversation to have, but she knew that that possibility was always there, that something could happen,” Michelle said. “She didn’t want it to happen, and she was getting ready to leave for rehab.” She was trying to take just enough to temper the crippling pain that comes with withdrawal, Michelle said.
The autopsy results are still pending, but police have said they suspect a drug overdose. Michelle said she wouldn’t be surprised if fentanyl or carfentanil were involved.
She’s tried to go through Casey’s belongings. She thought she’d start with the easy things — the clothes — but then she found her daughter’s cheerleading T-shirts and the hoodie she wanted when they were on vacation.
On her wrist, she wears a bracelet with one of Casey’s favorite sayings — “Everything happens for a reason.”
“There’s kind of two of me going on,” she said. There’s the Michelle who’s trying to mourn her daughter, and the Michelle who’s speaking publicly about addiction.
“I’m just a mom mourning her daughter in many ways, but the way I lost her, under these circumstances and with the epidemic happening right now, it has to go further than that. It can’t just be me losing Casey. It has to be more than that, and then maybe it won’t be in vain, her dying.”
An unexpected message
A short while after Casey died, Michelle got a text message from her 17-year-old son, Eric. He had just listened to the messages on their answering machine. They don’t normally use that phone line, because most of the calls to it come from telemarketers.
But this call came from a private number, and the woman said “White House” twice. The number she left had an area code from Washington, D.C.
Michelle called White House and was told that officials there had read about Casey and that Kemp Chester, then the acting director of the Office of National Drug Control Policy, wanted to speak with Michelle. Casey’s obituary had caught their attention because of its candor and because it touched on the larger, national issues of drug addiction and access to treatment.
They arranged a time, and Michelle and Mr. Chester spoke on the phone for almost a half hour. He asked for permission to use Casey’s story and Michelle’s story in speeches. Later, someone asked her to write a letter for members of Congress and to do work with a website helping those dealing with addiction.
“I just didn’t know what to say,” Michelle said of the phone call. “I cried a little, tried not to but I did, because all I could think was ‘Wow, Casey, you did this. You did something. You really did.’”
Documenting the impact
One of Casey’s childhood friends, Miranda Caryll, had been sharing Casey’s obituary and a Pittsburgh Post-Gazette story with people on Facebook, asking for them to send photographs and messages documenting where Casey’s story had reached.
“I was very hesitant at first. I know that addiction is a very touchy subject, and it can cause arguments,” said Ms. Caryll, 20, of Castle Shannon. “There was just something in my head telling me [to do it], and I know it was probably just Casey saying, ‘Send a message. Send it.’”
She thought she might get one or two photographs. Instead, she woke up repeatedly to dozens of messages. She got so many that the messaging app on her phone crashed, and she stopped keeping count. There are photos from all 50 states, and from many foreign countries.
She spent days and long nights meticulously placing the photos in a scrapbook — the first one she’s ever made — and then surprised Michelle with it over lunch at an Eat’n Park.
“I thought I could accept it gracefully, and I just cried the entire time,” Michelle said.
Pictures continued to come in, and extra ones now fill a pouch in the back of the scrapbook. There are photos that the senders never could have known perfectly reflected Casey. Someone from Oregon sent a photo with the house from the “Twilight” movies, which Casey watched with her mom. Someone else sent a photo that looks like the house from the animated movie “Up,” one of Casey’s favorites. Another person sent a photo from Ireland, reminding them of the family’s Irish roots. There was another from Tennessee, where Casey took one of her favorite vacations, to the Great Smoky Mountains.
“She’s gotta be smiling seeing this,” Michelle said.
Reaching others
Casey’s story continues to spread.
On Wednesday afternoon, Michelle drove an hour to Youngwood to speak at a panel on drug abuse at the Westmoreland County Community College. A longtime detective talked about the signs of drug addiction — of how so many parents find stamp bags in their children’s pockets and mistake them for candy wrappers. A behavioral specialist spoke of how many of the symptoms of drug use, including moodiness and changes in social circles, resemble common teenage behavior. A K9 officer showed how his dog could detect drugs.
And then, Michelle offered a mother’s perspective.
The crowd fell silent as she told them about Casey, and about the memories she’ll never have with her daughter. She won’t see her in a wedding dress. She’ll never get the call that says, “Mom, the baby’s crying. What do I do?”
She wanted them to know that addiction takes unexpected victims, and can happen to anyone.
“I saw those wrappers too,” she said. “I thought they were candy wrappers when I first saw them. They weren’t. They were stamp bags.”
Some people in the audience wiped away tears. Some others thanked her afterward. The organizers asked her to speak again, later that night, at a panel with Cyril Wecht, Westmoreland County District Attorney John Peck and others.
She agreed.
“I keep trying to just do what I think Casey would want, and what does seem to be for the better good, for the bigger picture,” Michelle said. “If I sit at home and feel sad every day, then it’s kind of being selfish, but if her story is helping somehow make a difference, break the stigma, anything, then I’m gonna do it.”
Liz Navratil: lnavratil@post-gazette.com, 412-263-1438 or on Twitter @LizNavratil.
First Published: April 23, 2017, 3:05 a.m.
Updated: April 23, 2017, 3:21 a.m.
