Deaths, Drugs

The Death Of A Lawyer And The Power Of Relapse

I am not done facing loss and I am only as good as my last day sober.

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Brian Loncar

Brian Loncar

While I am saddened on a daily basis by deaths resulting from drug overdoses as we deal with an unprecedented heroin and prescription opiate addiction crisis, it is rare that my faith in my own long-term recovery plan gets shaken. That does not mean I don’t try to stay present in my recovery and adjust when necessary, but there are basic, core recovery maintenance principals that work for me on a daily basis.

Two weeks ago however, one of those “shaking” moment occurred. A headline in the Dallas Morning News:

“Attorney Brian ‘Strong Arm’ Loncar Death Ruled Accidental Cocaine Overdose”

For those unfamiliar with the story, in December 2016, Brian was found unresponsive in his car outside of his office. He was taken to the hospital where he was declared dead. The week before that, Brian and family had sustained a tragic loss with the suicide of one of their daughters, sixteen-year-old, Grace, who had struggled with depression. Unimaginable loss, grief and pain. At the time of Brian’s passing, the cause of his death was unknown pending toxicology. There was a lot of speculation at the time. Suicide, drugs or that Brian had simply died of a “broken heart” due to the loss of his daughter.

Brian’s struggles with alcohol and drugs as well as his long term recovery were known within the general and legal recovery community. I have no idea whether the cocaine overdose was his initial relapse or if he had relapsed at some point prior. It does not matter. In recovery, we are only as good as our last day sober.

Brian and I knew each other but we were not close. In fact, our early relationship had at one point, been volatile. In the mid to late nineties, I was approached to take a harassment case against him personally. An employee of his office at the time, told me that Brian said he would have my “legs broken” if I took the case. Of course, I have no idea if Brian really said that but it is something that stands out as I reflect back on our interactions. I never brought it up when I would see him over the years. We became “friends” on Facebook and our interactions were cordial. He congratulated me a couple of times on my sobriety anniversaries.

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As I read the story about his cause of death with a heavy heart, my thoughts drifted back to that critical “cocaine moment” for me in a hotel bathroom in Dallas in 1987. As the first line of cocaine I ever did went up my nose, I thought about a man I’d never met. I thought about Lenny Bias. Lenny was a first round draft pick of the NBA Boston Celtics in 1986. Lenny was a “can’t miss” future NBA prospect. He died of a cocaine overdose two days after being the second overall pick in the draft — it caused a deadly arrhythmia. No warning. No second chance. Just dead.

That could never happen to me. People didn’t die from cocaine. I did not die but cocaine was a factor in the collapse of my legal career, three failed marriages and many other difficulties. I totally get the power of the evil white powder. Any single line could have ended my life. I didn’t care. I was an addict.

I then thought about the pain and grief Brian must have felt over the loss of his daughter and the thought that no one could help could him out of that dark abyss. Not his family. Not his recovery group. I’ve been there. I was fortunate to get through those moments and the subsequent emptiness as I pounded the granite table top with my fists wondering where I could get some cocaine in the moments after I put my beloved dog and companion of fifteen years, Peanut down. (I am not quantifying my loss to the loss of a child, only describing my context for intense grief). With the help of my peer-support group, my therapist and my family, I thankfully made it through.

My final thought was about the power of relapse. The years do not matter. It can happen at one, ten or twenty years. It can happen to anyone. I took stock once more of my recovery program and have made adjustments. For that, I thank you Brian. In your passing, my program became stronger. I will be more vigilant in assessing its effectiveness because shit happens and tragedies occur. Those are the times when it has to be at its strongest. I am not done facing loss and I am only as good as my last day sober.

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BrianCubanBrian Cuban (@bcuban) is The Addicted Lawyer. A graduate of the University of Pittsburgh School of Law, he somehow made it through as an alcoholic then added cocaine to his résumé as a practicing attorney. He went into recovery April 8, 2007. He left the practice of law and now writes and speaks on recovery topics, not only for the legal profession, but on recovery in general. He can be reached at [email protected].

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