Two years earlier, Robin had moved into an apartment, downsizing from the suburban split-level where she’d raised her only child. It had been hard to leave the Hidden Valley home: the place where she’d removed all the bathroom doors, thinking that might keep Scott from shooting up; the yard where she’d grown the massive sunflower field after his death. Occasionally, stray sunflowers still sprout up in the yard of her former home—eight feet tall, some of them, with a dozen or more blooms. They are not just memorials to Scott Roth but also to the epidemic’s intractability. The young woman who
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