The photographs and names displayed inside Hastings Public House carried stories that families wished they never had to tell.
They were sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, parents, friends and neighbors. Some had struggled for years with substance use, others encountered fentanyl in a pill they never knew contained it. Their families came together Aug. 21 for the fifth annual Hastings Overdose & Fentanyl Poisoning Awareness Day, an evening built around remembrance, education and a determination to prevent another family from receiving the phone call that changed their own lives.
Presented by the Devin J. Norring Foundation in collaboration with United Way of Hastings and Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church, the event brought together families, law enforcement officers, public health officials, treatment and recovery advocates, elected officials and community resource organizations. A resource fair accompanied an evening of speakers and tributes honoring those who have died from overdose and fentanyl poisoning.
For Bridgette and Tom Norring, who created the foundation following the death of their son Devin, the annual gathering is part memorial, part education effort and part continuation of a promise.
That work has grown well beyond one event in Hastings. The Norrings have worked with lawmakers, spoken in schools and communities, supported other families and pushed for changes ranging from increased penalties for fentanyl trafficking to greater access to naloxone, commonly known by the brand name Narcan. The foundation has also advocated for greater accountability for drug sales arranged through social media platforms.
State Sen. Judy Seeberger told those gathered that she has worked closely with the Norrings on legislation addressing fentanyl.
“They have taken the pain of losing a child and turned it into purpose and made a real difference here in Hastings and throughout Minnesota,” Seeberger said.
She pointed to legislation increasing penalties for dealing fentanyl and allowing students to self-carry and administer naloxone in schools. Seeberger said the issue cannot be solved through enforcement alone, but accountability remains one part of the response.
“We can't arrest our way out of this crisis,” she said. “But it certainly means something to increase the penalties and hold these people that bring the deadly poison into our communities accountable.”
Seeberger also spoke from personal experience, telling the audience she lost her nephew James in 2020. She said fentanyl has reached enough families that nearly everyone knows someone directly or indirectly affected by it.
While declining death totals offer reason for encouragement, she said, the goal remains much larger.
“One death is too many,” Seeberger said.
U.S. Rep. Angie Craig, who was unable to attend in person, addressed the gathering through a recorded message. Craig has worked with the Norring family on federal legislation intended to require social media companies to report suspected illicit drug activity occurring on their platforms.
Craig described Devin as a young man who loved football and music, and said his parents turned their grief into advocacy.
“The Norrings turned to advocacy as they launched a foundation committed to ensuring that other parents never have to endure the same pain,” Craig said.
The role of social media remained a recurring topic throughout the evening. Bridgette Norring said families were once largely unaware of the extent to which illicit pills and other drugs could be marketed through apps used routinely by young people.
For law enforcement, the evening also offered an opportunity to explain how the response to overdose has changed.
Hastings Police Chief Kyle Linscheid said Hastings had documented 29 overdoses involving a variety of substances during 2026, with one fatal overdose recorded at the time of the event.
Although police continue investigating drug crimes and working to hold traffickers accountable, Linscheid said officers arriving at an overdose are first encountering a person and a family in crisis, not simply another statistic.
Law enforcement’s first responsibility, he said, is protecting life. Depending on the circumstances, that can mean making an arrest, administering naloxone, connecting someone with available resources or treating someone with dignity during an extremely difficult moment.
“We can still hold people accountable and not come to a conclusion that they're beyond redemption,” Linscheid said.
He encouraged people in recovery to continue sharing their experiences, saying those stories help others, including law enforcement officers, understand that addiction does not have to determine the remainder of someone’s life.
Linscheid also cautioned families against believing substance use is something that happens somewhere else or only to certain people.
“Nobody should also assume that addiction can't touch you or someone that you love,” he said.
His message to someone struggling was simple, talk to somebody. For younger people that could be a parent, teacher, coach or another trusted adult. For others it could be a friend, clergy member or someone connected with treatment and recovery resources.
Dakota County Sheriff Joe Leko offered a similar view, drawing from nearly three decades with the Sheriff’s Office, including years working narcotics investigations.
Leko said officers, deputies, investigators and correctional staff see substance use from many different angles. Deputies respond to overdoses, investigators see fentanyl while investigating crimes, and jail staff regularly encounter people living with substance use disorders. Families often meet those professionals during one of the worst moments they will ever experience.
“These are people we're talking about. These aren't numbers,” Leko said.
Each statistic, he said, represents someone’s son, daughter, parent, sibling, friend, coworker or neighbor, and every death leaves people carrying that loss long after emergency vehicles have left.
Leko said enforcement continues to play an important role, particularly through investigations targeting high-level dealers and drug trafficking organizations. Local agencies work with state and federal partners to identify where dangerous substances originate and how they enter communities.
At the same time, he said, prevention, treatment, education, awareness and recovery efforts must continue alongside enforcement.
“This work requires all of us,” Leko said, citing law enforcement, public health, treatment providers, advocates, schools, families and people with lived experience.
Rafael Mattei, assistant special agent in charge for the Drug Enforcement Administration in Minnesota, said the national numbers have begun moving in an encouraging direction, but warned against interpreting that progress as a reason to relax prevention efforts.
Mattei said federal data covering the 12 months through March 2026 showed 66,712 drug poisoning and overdose deaths nationally. Minnesota’s total had fallen below 1,000, to 989, according to the figures he discussed.
Each number, he stressed, still represents a person.
“Fentanyl remains the deadliest drug threat facing our country today,” Mattei said.
The DEA’s strategy, he explained, increasingly follows the fentanyl supply chain, targeting not only dealers distributing drugs in communities but the organizations manufacturing fentanyl, moving precursor chemicals and transporting finished drugs.
Mattei said the agency had removed nearly 200 million potentially deadly doses of fentanyl nationwide during 2026. In Minnesota, he said, seizures represented more than 2 million potentially deadly doses, including more than 60,000 pills and roughly 85 pounds of fentanyl powder.
One change is particularly important for families to understand, he said. Law enforcement is seeing fewer fentanyl pills and more fentanyl in powder form.
Mattei said fentanyl pill seizures had declined about 16 percent compared with the same period the previous year, while powder seizures had increased nearly 10 percent.
That does not mean counterfeit pills are no longer a danger. Mattei said 29 percent of pills tested in DEA laboratories contained a potentially lethal dose of fentanyl, and the agency continues encouraging families to talk with young people about counterfeit medications.
He also warned about fentanyl being mixed with other substances, including methamphetamine, creating another danger for people who may not know fentanyl is present in what they are taking.
Much of the discussion returned to technology and the ways dealers can reach customers through social media. Mattei described illicit drug sellers using the same location-based tools and electronic payment services that are familiar parts of everyday life. Drugs can be advertised through apps, purchased electronically and delivered, making it more difficult for parents to recognize what is happening.
The answer, speakers repeatedly emphasized, includes education before an emergency occurs.
James Johnson Jr., Dakota County Public Health’s opioid overdose prevention coordinator, said the county continues working to expand access to naloxone and train residents to recognize and respond to overdoses.
Public Health had free safe-storage boxes available at the Hastings event and continues offering naloxone training and free naloxone. Johnson also said the county is piloting youth naloxone training in collaboration with the Steve Roemer Hope Network and working with caregivers and teachers on screening, intervention and referrals for adolescents.
The objective is to make more residents prepared to step in when someone is experiencing an overdose.
Videos shown during the evening reinforced that message. One speaker described carrying naloxone in a backpack, purse, home and workplace because there is no way to know when it might be needed.
Pam Lanhart, who leads Thrive Family Recovery Resources, provided a deeply personal example.
Lanhart said her organization grew from the need to support parents, siblings, children and others whose loved ones struggle with substance use. Families, she said, deserve care and compassion without stigma or shame.
Her advocacy for naloxone is also rooted in the story of her son, Jake.
Lanhart said Jake had struggled with substance use and had spent considerable time in recovery. On Oct. 22, 2021, he was with a friend in a hotel when the friend overdosed. Jake ran to his vehicle, retrieved naloxone and returned to administer it, saving his friend’s life.
His friend is alive today.
Jake later returned to his apartment, used again and died.
His final act, his mother told the room, was saving another person.
“Carry naloxone,” Lanhart said, urging people not to assume they will never encounter someone who needs it.
The statistics, legislation and public health programs gave way later in the evening to the reason behind them all, families standing before the room and talking about the people they miss.
A mother and daughter shared the story of Carson Smith, who died Sept. 4, 2024, at age 25. His sister, Kali Anderson, described childhood adventures, laughter and the person her brother had been before substance use changed their family.
Her letter to Carson moved between grief, anger, forgiveness and memories, while offering a message to other families to speak openly, listen carefully and not allow disagreements to consume time that cannot be recovered.
“They're not just a number,” Anderson said. “They're someone who we lived with. They're our family. They're our friends. They're your neighbor down the street.”
Brenda Reedy shared the story of her son Jose, who died from illicit fentanyl poisoning on April 15, 2021, at age 20 after buying a pill through Snapchat.
Reedy remembered him as vibrant, caring and funny, a young man who “lived, breathed, and ate basketball.” He had survived a childhood cancer diagnosis and faced other challenges throughout his life, she said.
Looking back, Reedy said her family now recognizes physical symptoms they did not understand at the time as signs of opioid withdrawal. She urged parents and caregivers to learn those signs, talk openly with young people and make sure they understand the danger of taking any medication that was not prescribed to them.
“Experimenting in today's society can be an instant death sentence,” Reedy said.
Her warning was direct.
“One time can kill. Our family knows this.”
The willingness of families to continue telling those stories was not lost on Tom Norring.
He recalled earlier awareness events where only one or two people showed up, occasions that could leave organizers wondering whether they were reaching anyone at all. What kept the family going, he said, was the realization that reaching even one person could matter.
The foundation itself began, he said, partly because Devin’s friends came to the family after his death and said young people felt no one was listening as they continued losing friends.
They were afraid, Tom Norring said, “to put our funeral clothes away.”
That plea helped turn the family’s grief into a commitment that continues through school presentations, public events, legislative advocacy and the annual Hastings gathering.
Bridgette Norring said the effects of that work are not always visible.
Earlier in the week, she and other mothers joined Hastings Mayor Mary Fasbender and the City Council as August was proclaimed Overdose and Fentanyl Poisoning Awareness Month in the city. Before the meeting, she said, someone approached the group and thanked them because his brother had reached one year in recovery from fentanyl.
Those are the moments that provide encouragement.
As the evening came to a close, Norring thanked the community organizations providing prevention, treatment, recovery, mental health, harm reduction and family support, along with law enforcement officers, elected officials, speakers and families who continue sharing painful stories.
The families gathered there, she said, would give anything not to belong to the group they have become part of.
But because they cannot change what happened, they carry their loved ones forward by saying their names, telling their stories and fighting for changes that might protect someone else.
“Tonight isn't just about grief,” Norring said.
Hope, she said, can be found in a person choosing recovery for another day, in a dose of naloxone that saves a life, in a conversation between a parent and child, in a community partner who refuses to give up, and in people working to make sure another family does not experience the same loss.
For Norring, the work began with Devin.
The promise has since grown to include many more names, photographs and families.
“Remember those we have lost,” she said. “Support those who are struggling. Celebrate those in recovery. Educate those who don't yet understand, and never stop fighting for change.”