The following was read by Liam O'Connor at a Neponset community meeting at the Murphy Community Center last Thursday. O'Connor, who grew up in the neighborhood, recounts the last days of his friend Patrick Joseph Flavin, who died on June c9 from the effects of drug abuse.

"Just a few weeks ago, I sat by my best friend who lay in bed for what would be his last few hours on this earth. I was making calls frantically to get him into a de-tox. His last words to me were, "I love you man, you're my lifeline. I'm not gonna let you down. I'm not gonna let my family down."

"You see, Patrick Joseph Flavin was a special young man, loved by so many despite his battle with addiction and all its inherent stigmas. We quickly became best friends at age eight and grew up like most kids in Dorchester, looking for trouble and finding it. P.J. had been bouncing in and out of programs for years. Never before had I seen him this desperate to get help. He was finally willing to commit to a long-term treatment program, where he would be separated long enough from the dope to work on himself and rebuild his life.

"I watched his hopes rise and fall as one de-tox after the next told me there were no free beds. I must have called about 20 hospitals and de-toxes. I even begged them, please my friend is going to die. I remember P.J. saying, 'Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.' I reassured him that we would find him a bed even if we had to drive to Pittsfield. P.J. had no insurance, and it was the end of the fiscal year.

"The next morning I continued to call de-toxes with still no free beds. One hospital worker even said, "Sorry, the state cut them all." P.J. kept his phone on over night so that if I found something I could wake him up. These are not the actions of a kid trying to kill himself with heroin. We spoke once, and then I couldn't reach him. I called a friend to go over and check on him, but it was too late. Patrick Joseph Flavin died on the morning of June 9, 2006. He was 21 years old.

"As soon as I heard I started walking toward Dorchester from Summer Street downtown. I cried uncontrollably. I cried for his family. I cried because I lost a brother. I cried because I was angry. Never had I lost a friend who I was so sure wanted help. I immediately thought about all the cuts in funding and free beds over the past few years. I thought about how the wealthy and powerful who make these cuts probably never met anyone who needed a free bed.

"Just a few weeks after P.J.'s funeral we lost another young man I grew up with. He died in a local hospital after a night of snorting heroin.

"People want to act like it isn't real. Our state is suffering. It is suffering from leadership that is completely out of touch with the needs of those who are marginalized and forgotten about. People in neighborhoods like Roxbury, Dorchester, South Boston, and Charlestown are tucked away in a corner, literally to die, and for what? I have an uncle in Afghanistan, fighting with the Special Forces. At least he confronts his enemy. We ignore ours.

"The disease of addiction is what killed P.J. No one else took his life. But many stood by and watched, and did nothing.

"We need at least a doubling of de-tox beds to handle the growing heroin and OxyContin epidemic. How many more kids will we bury this year? Or send to our jails, the most expensive and overcrowded de-tox centers of all? It is unacceptable. We are all responsible in this fight. There is not a family out there who is not touched by this disease. Let our leaders know this has to stop."