Johnny Dudek had piercing blue eyes, swooping bangs and a perfect grin — thanks to the braces that came off not long ago. Soon to turn 16, he was excited about getting the white Grand Am his grandmother left him before she died, though his parents said he needed to improve his grades before he could get a driver’s license.
His mother caught him smoking marijuana a year earlier. Still, Ruth Dudek said she never imagined the boy she called her “love bug” would use heroin.
On July 10, his family found Johnny unresponsive in his bedroom in their Bartlett home. His father tried to resuscitate him, but he was cold to the touch, and Ruth Dudek knew her baby was gone. She said his inexperience with the drug, combined with seasonal allergies, proved fatal, and he stopped breathing in his sleep.
The high school sophomore-to-be was one of 11 people who died of a heroin overdose in DuPage County during a two-and-a-half-week period this summer. Chicago’s suburbs have been witness to a growing toll of heroin-related fatalities, with DuPage, Kane, Lake, Will and McHenry counties seeing year-over-year increases in 2012. But the abrupt spike in July in DuPage — accounting for more than a quarter of the county’s 2013 total to date of 38 — was particularly alarming in part because it cannot be fully explained.
Instead, it must be seen as a random statistical event that tells part of the unfolding story of a drug that is proving increasingly dangerous and increasingly fatal.
Johnny Dudek was the youngest of the 11 victims in DuPage; the oldest was 63. Three were veterans. Two were women. Geographically, the deaths stretched from Bartlett in the northwest to Clarendon Hills in the southeast.
Their deaths reflect what authorities have long said — that heroin crosses all social lines and doesn’t discriminate by age, race or income. It’s cheap, at about $10 for a small bag; easy to get; and no longer requires a needle.
Much of the heroin flooding the region is supplied by Mexican cartels and sold by Chicago gang members, said Jack Riley, head of the Drug Enforcement Administration’s five-state region that includes Illinois. Federal agents in Riley’s region said they seized nearly 180 kilos last year, compared to 25 in 2002 and just 9 in 1993.
Authorities have not identified a link between the victims or one particular supplier, nor have they uncovered evidence of a tainted product. But Riley said the unknown purity of the heroin, which varies from dealer to dealer, is a big risk factor.
“Use it once and you can die,” he said. “Nobody knows how your body is going to respond to it. It is the most dangerous of all narcotics. Unfortunately, I think sometimes parents’ first key there’s an issue is when they rush to the ER for an overdose.”
Said Oak Brook Police Detective Benjamin Kadolph, who handled one of the overdose cases: “I’ve seen the saddest cases with heroin, (more) than any other drug.”
Johnny Dudek’s mother said she only recently stopped watching for her youngest child to come through the family’s front door. She still can’t go into his bedroom without being reduced to tears.
“I’m just so tired of crying every day,” she said.
Last Sunday, Ruth and Rich Dudek put on a brave face for what would have been Johnny’s 16th birthday.
After visiting the cemetery, they invited Johnny’s friends over for a barbecue. A dozen teens listened to music in his room. They grilled outside and shared memories.
It was a celebration, minus cake, candles, presents and, of course, Johnny.
“My son was a good boy,” his mother said, fighting back emotion. “He was not a drug addict. He just made a really bad decision.”
A 19-year-old Hanover Park man is accused of twice selling heroin to Johnny in the hours before he died, police said.
“I just want people to be aware,” Ruth Dudek said. “No matter where you live, the drugs are there. They’re in the schools. They’re everywhere.”
Out to ‘change the world’
Most of the July victims had long fought addiction, an on-again, off-again battle they ultimately lost.
Brandon Engelking, a 29-year-old Iraq War veteran, lost his fight on the Fourth of July.
On the morning of the day he died, Engelking’s girlfriend kissed him goodbye and left for work. She told police they earlier had made a pact: He would remain drug-free while they were together.
Hanover Park police discovered Engelking on the floor in his home’s second-floor bathroom.
Engelking had recently started a job as an electrician. Hired in May, he impressed co-workers with his upbeat attitude, according to the union training director.
“He seemed like an excellent person,” Henry Zurawski said. “His character. His attitude.”
Longtime friend Merek Spodek, 26, remembered Engelking as an adventurer. When they would go fishing or bicycling, Engelking would talk for hours about the ways he wanted to “change the world.”
The Glenbard North High School graduate left for basic Army training about the same time the Twin Towers collapsed in the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, according to military records. He served his country for four years, including a one-year tour in Iraq, the records show. He returned home a hero, with eight medals and ribbons, and next sailed the Mediterranean Sea as a civilian fixing military ships, according to his aunt, Nicole Engelking, and military records. She said he loved travel, from Australia to Amsterdam.
She described her nephew as a confident, free-spirited person who loved all types of people.
Engelking’s loved ones told police they believed he was “clean” and that he’d passed a drug test to join the electricians union.
In 2012, he suffered a heroin overdose, police said, which led to a misdemeanor conviction for unlawful possession of drug paraphernalia. He was placed on probation, according to court records. And, in April 2013, he was charged with driving under the influence in Bloomingdale, according to police.
Nicole Engelking said after he came home from the service he sought help to overcome depression-related symptoms. She is not sure how or if that led to his illicit drug use.
Letters from men who served with Engelking in Iraq, included in court records, described him as a tank mechanic. He was “absolutely fearless” during combat recovery missions “while under fire and while aiding in casualty evacuation,” one man wrote.
Brandon is buried in the Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery in Elwood.
After he died, his aunt said, a Sikh childhood classmate told her how as a kid Engelking often defended him against bullies who made fun of his turban and the way he dressed.
“He told me Brandon had no idea what effect he had on his life,” his aunt said.
“I don’t want him to be remembered as a heroin user,” she said. “He was so much more — a son, a brother, a best friend to everyone. I definitely feel he was a hero.”
She added: “He had so much to live for. He never hurt anyone — until he died.”
SADNESS, HOPELESSNESS
Katie Evans, too, struggled with addiction most of her adult life.
Anne Evans said she respected her daughter’s privacy too much to read her journal when she was alive. But, after her daughter died of a heroin overdose, she hoped the personal thoughts her daughter penned in her final days would provide some answers.
On those pages, Anne Evans said, her 35-year-old daughter wrote of her sadness, her hopelessness.
Anne and her husband, Ed, said they thought Katie had been on the mend.
“It was very difficult for us that she didn’t come to us and say she was really still struggling,” said Anne Evans. “I think she was just very unhappy and thought, ‘If I take a little bit, I can get over the hump.’ But that’s like being a little pregnant.”
It was Ed Evans who discovered her body shortly after noon July 16 in her bedroom in their Villa Park home, he said.
Katie graduated Willowbrook High School in 1997. The second oldest of four children, she was a homebody who lived with her parents and still snuggled next to her dad on Christmas Eve for his traditional reading of “The Night Before Christmas.”
She loved mystery novels, nature and animals, especially her cat, Earl Grey, which she rescued from a shelter.
Her struggles with substance abuse, though, were evidenced by drunken driving and drug possession arrests, according to court records.
Her parents said their daughter had a few near-death overdoses and suffered short-term memory loss as a result. Their efforts to save her included several rehab programs and a tough-love decision several years ago to kick her out to teach her to stand on her own.
“That year was really tough for us,” her mother said. “Every time the phone rang, we thought the worst. It was a nightmare.”
After his daughter’s death, Ed Evans said he gave police Katie’s cellular phone to help identify the drug supplier. So far, police haven’t made any arrests.
“All these kids are dying and what happens to the people selling the drugs?” the father said.
Anne Evans had her daughter’s long, blond hair cut short before she was cremated and plans to donate the locks to a cancer survivor, but she hasn’t been able to part with it yet.
“If I were to talk to another parent going through this, I’d say, ‘Get in your child’s face, and if they tell you nothing is wrong, grill them until that smile comes back or you’re confident they’re telling you what’s going on,'” Evans said, “because I was never comfortable with Katie’s response.”
‘A BEAUTIFUL SON’
Some who lost loved ones already had known the pain that addiction can bring.
In her dreams, Susan Remely hears the voices of her son and daughter assuring her everything is OK.
The Westmont woman said her nightmare begins when she awakes to the reality that both are dead — from drug overdoses 11 years apart, she said — and she is alone.
“I cry every day,” said Remely. “Sometimes I want to put my fists through the walls and windows until this whole apartment building is gone. I am so angry. I wake up and ask, ‘Why am I still here?'”
Remely’s daughter, Kim, a 30-year-old accountant, died of a cocaine overdose, she said. This could not be immediately confirmed in public records. Then, on July 14, her son lost his long battle against drugs.
Authorities said Chris Remely, 35, overdosed on heroin in the Clarendon Hills condo he shared with his girlfriend. According to police, the two had partied the night before at the Taste of Westmont. They argued after returning home, and the girlfriend said she spent the night in a motel.
That next day, police said, she walked in to find her boyfriend’s body, partially kneeling on the floor against a love seat.
“He tried getting clean so many times,” said his mother. “I know that was a big, big struggle for him. He was very sensitive and very loving, and the drugs really dragged him down.”
He did not have a recent criminal history, but court records show her son had earlier troubles involving convictions for retail theft, passing bad checks and a car theft.
Despite his problems, Susan Remely said her son visited her every other weekend to stock her fridge, scrub her floors, wash her dishes and keep her company. He bought her a cat last year so she wouldn’t get too lonely.
“He was a beautiful son,” she said in a soft, pained voice. “I guess I just don’t understand drugs. It’s got to be pure hell. He just wasn’t strong enough.”
OTHER VICTIMS
David Lolles, 45, Glen Ellyn
This time last year, Lolles was engaged to be married, according to a post on his Facebook page. Six months later, the relationship appeared to have crumbled.
“Today is a great day Im free from a relationship that was going nowhere no hard feelings just had to get away and start fresh,” Lolles wrote in a March 4 post.
Like heroin victims Johnny Banks and Brandon Engelking, Lolles served in the military — an Army veteran, according to Illinois Department of Veterans’ Affairs officials.
On July 2, Glen Ellyn police responded to a motel on Roosevelt Road where they found Lolles unresponsive in the room he shared with a woman, according to a police report.
Lolles had a history of drug-related convictions and served time in prison for aggravated battery to a police officer and drug possession.
The woman told officers that Lolles purchased six bags of heroin from a dealer at a grocery store in town and snorted two of the bags when he got back to the hotel, according to the report.
The woman fell asleep, and when she awoke, he was lying on the bed and not breathing.
Guravtar Mundi, 27, Hanover Park
Mundi and a friend he had met through court-ordered drug abuse counseling were attending the Taste of Oak Brook on July 3. Just before a fireworks show began, Mundi went to his car, , police records show.
When he returned, “his friend knew something was wrong, that he was high,” said Kadolph, the Oak Brook detective.
The friend tried to bring him to Mundi’s car but Mundi kept falling, police said.
A passerby agreed to watch Mundi while the friend went to get the car. When he returned, cops and firefighters were tending to Mundi, so the friend panicked and left, police said.
Mundi’s past included run-ins with police for unlawful possession of controlled substances. Then, in April 2012, Mundi walked out of a Downers Grove grocery story with $558 worth of liquor he hadn’t paid for, prosecutors said. After about half a year in prison, he was paroled in April.
“It’s a total tragedy,” said the family’s attorney, David Kerstein. “He was a gifted young man, amazingly bright.”
Johnny Banks, 63, Elgin
Banks was an addict most of his adult life, and his loved ones had not been hopeful of a recovery. His sister, Lillie Banks, said Johnny survived being shot by a drug dealer in the ’80s, extended incarcerations through the ’90s, and repeated overdoses.
Banks was raised in a tight-knit family with 11 children in West Memphis, Ark. In 1969, he enlisted in the Navy and was assigned to a destroyer that operated in the Atlantic, Caribbean and Mediterranean during his nearly two-year enlistment, according to state veteran officials.
“I used to talk to him all the time and say, ‘Look, you weren’t brought up this way,'” Lillie Banks said of his lifestyle. “I’d tell him, ‘You’re going to die,’ and he’d say, ‘We all have to die someway.'”
Even at his worst, relatives say, he took pride in being impeccably groomed. His niece, Carla Clements, said he even wore his fancy “church shoes” and suits while riding his bicycle to get around town.
“He was like a functioning addict,” said Clements. Despite his demons, she said, her uncle “was a very well-liked, happy guy.”
Lillie Banks said her phone rang at 2 a.m. July 3. It was a Bloomingdale police officer. Friends had found Johnny Banks slumped against a wall.
He was buried in West Tennessee State Veterans Cemetery in Memphis. His sister said: “He just looked like he was finally free.”
Jose Giles, 43, Addison
It was Jose Giles’ younger brother who called 911 just after midnight July 6.
A truck driver with two young children, Giles lost consciousness as the two socialized in his Addison home, according to a police report.
Giles could not be resuscitated.
“He was the most lovable person on earth,” said a sister, Maribel Giles-Espinoza.
Another sister, Veronica Giles-Pina, said her brother’s fatal overdose came as a shock since relatives did not know he used drugs.
Giles-Pina said her brother labored long hours to support his family. He loved to fish and considered himself a master griller who often invited family over for his grilled steaks and ribs, which he called “the bomb,” Giles-Pina said.
Jonathan DiSimone, 32, Addison
After numerous run-ins with the law and years of addiction, Jonathan DiSimone was trying to get his life together, family said.
After being imprisoned for buying 20 bags of heroin, DiSimone had been out on parole for four months when he died July 7, records show.
Mario DiSimone, Jonathan’s father, said he had taken him in after he was released and was encouraged by his behavior.
“He got caught, convicted, came out and he said, ‘Dad, I want to change my life,'” DiSimone recalled.
The elder DiSimone, an immigrant from Italy, said Jonathan was working a job painting and thought about getting his GED. His son’s death came as a surprise.
“He was using my car to go to work, and he was doing good,” DiSimone said. “Of course I was surprised, and I was hurt and I was angry.”
Jonathan DiSimone’s mother, Karen, said she has “lived this pain (about her son’s addiction) constantly.”
“What the officer (told) me is, he had a moment of weakness, and that’s what happened,” Mario DiSimone said.
Maribel Zambrano, 29, Lombard
Maribel Zambrano was born on Halloween 1981. A single mother, Zambrano died of a heroin overdose July 9 in the Willow Lakes apartment complex near Lombard.
Her family, through a brother, declined to talk publicly.
Alfredo Rivera, 29, Addison
Rivera had a handful of drug and DUI-related convictions, but was turning his life around as he began caring for his infant son in February, according to his mother.
Charo Fiorenzo said she was shocked that he died July 19 of a heroin overdose, since she had never seen any evidence that he used the drug.
He spent much of the day before he died at her clothing store, preparing for a job interview the next morning. That night, he called to ask when she would be able to bring over some supplies for the baby.
The following afternoon, after he did not answer repeated calls, Rivera’s father went to his apartment and found his body.
Fiorenzo said authorities told her they found no evidence of drugs, alcohol or even tobacco in her son’s residence. Addison police declined to comment, saying his death is still under investigation.
“If you see all the pictures of him for the past six months, so nice, so clean, always talking about his baby,” Fiorenzo said. “I don’t know, it does not make any sense.”
