Mum says ‘dropping two is unthinkable’ as each of her sons tragically die to identical horror

Liz Brown, 61, lost her son Lee, 42, to an overdose in December 2024, just 27 months after son Karl, 40, died from a heart damaged by drug use

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Lee (right) 42, had fatally overdosed alone in his room

When Liz Brown answered her door on December 23, 2024, she expected the police officer on her doorstep had arrived to arrest her son.

Lee had battled heroin addiction and she presumed he was in trouble again. Nothing could have prepared her for the devastating news that followed.

“The police officer said, ‘Something very unfortunate has happened to Lee.’ I just thought he’d been taken into custody,” recalls Liz, 61, from Plymouth. “But then he told me. My son had died.”, reports Plymouth Live.

Lee, 42, had fatally overdosed alone in his room and the heartbreaking revelation left his mother utterly stunned.

She had already lost her son Karl two years prior following his own lengthy battle with addiction, and the anguish was unbearable. “I couldn’t believe it,” she explains.

“Lee had just been through a full rehab programme. He really wanted to get his life back. He had a lovely girlfriend. He was doing so well. He’d come out of rehab and been put in a dry house. His girlfriend would visit from Exeter. But when she left, he’d meet people he knew in town and get pulled back in to using.

“That Saturday, a policeman brought him to my door at three in the morning. He’d lost his keys. I knew he’d taken something, not a lot, but I told him off, told him to sleep. I went through his bag – which I never did – and found some tablets. I took them out.”

The following morning, Lee demanded the pills back. “I told him, ‘They’re gone.’ He said, ‘I want them.’ I said, ‘You either stay here or take them and leave.’ He took them and went.”

Liz spoke to him later that day. “He said he’d got into his room, that he didn’t feel like coming out. He’d play his PlayStation and maybe come over on Christmas Eve. I tried ringing him that night. No answer. I thought he’d fallen asleep.”

When she attempted to reach him again the following day, there was still no response.

“Me and my daughter had to do the Christmas food shopping. We got back and ten minutes later there was a policeman at the door.”

Lee had passed away on his own. “The official cause was overdose,” Liz says quietly.

Her son had wrestled with addiction for most of his adult years.

He’d managed to get sober previously and maintained employment for nearly a decade.

He grafted as a waiter, a chef, and in retail. “I was so proud of him,” Liz reflects, explaining that a run-in with the law resulted in him losing his position.

“After that, he went back to using. He got into trouble, but he was kind. He looked after people.”

Lee’s younger brother Karl also faced struggles. “Karl was a prankster,” Liz recalls.

“He was funny. Everyone knew him. He was in the Salvation Army hostel for five years and really wanted to change.”

Karl passed away in March 2022, aged 40. “He’d gone into detox, but it was too hard for him. He left early. He was supposed to have a phone call about going back. Then I saw some of his friends saying he was heading back. I thought – great. Half an hour later, there was a knock at the door.”

Karl was discovered lifeless near the Salvation Army hostel, a devastating blow that Liz had to break to Lee.

“Lee was in a mess. He said Karl was meant to come and see him. I had to tell him that his brother was gone.”

The cause of death was a heart ravaged by drug use. In the UK, drugs claim 18 lives daily – a staggering 88 per cent increase from just ten years ago, as reported by the Salvation Army.

Since Karl’s passing, every Christmas Eve sees Liz visiting the spot where he breathed his last, accompanied by her two daughters Kerri, 39, and Daisy, 25. They lay flowers and pen heartfelt messages on cards.

Last Christmas, after receiving the distressing news about Lee, she left her home without a destination in mind. She found herself at the nearby Salvation Army, who had been a pillar of support for Karl.

“I couldn’t sleep. I just needed air. I was walking, didn’t know where I was going. Then I saw a man lying in the street, lying on his front. People were walking past him.”

She rushed to assist and found that he was still breathing, albeit faintly. “I had naloxone in my bag, a medicine that rapidly reverses an opioid overdose. The boys had told me about it, and the Salvation Army had trained me in case I ever needed it. I gave him an injection in his backside.”

The medication saved his life. Paramedics arrived, scooped him up and whisked him off to hospital where he made a full recovery.

After they departed, Liz noticed all the drug paraphernalia scattered on the ground, so she instinctively collected it in a plastic bag and handed it over to the Salvation Army.

“One of the workers saw me, gave me a hug, and I just broke down,” she recalls. “I always think, if only someone had been there to give my boys naloxone. But there wasn’t.”

She now keeps it in her handbag every day, just in case. Christmas 2024 was supposed to be the first in Kerri’s new flat.

“There were presents laid out. Lee loved Christmas. It was the one day we all got together. So we tried to have it. But it was very muted.”

In 2025, Liz decided to volunteer at the Salvation Army with the intention of giving back some of the support she has received. She visited 10 Downing Street to submit a petition on behalf of the church and charity, urging the Government to acknowledge drug abuse as a national health crisis.

She hopes her sons’ stories will make a difference. “They were good men. They cared more for others than themselves. They made mistakes and they struggled with addiction. I want people to understand what addiction really looks like. These people on the streets – they don’t need judgment. They need help.

“No one should ever have to bury a child, to lose two is unthinkable. I don’t want anyone else to go through what I went through, and that’s why I would encourage more people to get to understand Naloxone and get trained up in it, so that we can save lives.”

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When asked how she manages to find strength amidst her profound grief, Liz responded: “I don’t know,” she says. “I just keep going.”

To sign the petition, visit: https://www.salvationarmy.org.uk/addiction-support.

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