Sometime on Dec. 2, sophomore Jacob (Jake) Stiles died from a drug overdose – a lethal cocktail of fentanyl, cocaine and alcohol.

Fentanyl is a synthetic opiate that is 100 times more potent than morphine. It’s used to treat the excruciating pain associated with terminal cancer. One of its delivery systems is a berry-flavored lollipop. A street form of fentanyl is sometimes used to cut heroine.

Jake was a student of mine last spring. I can’t say I knew him. He attended class less than a month before dropping the class. The photos of Jake that I saw on Facebook don’t really square with the young man I remember. The Facebook Jake was animated and convivial. The Jake I (barely) knew was quieter and more withdrawn.

Most of Jake’s friends would probably say that the Facebook Jake was closer to the real guy. I wonder if the mirthful party animal who wore palm-tree sunglasses was just one side of a very complex person.

Just hours after Jake’s tragic death, officials scurried to conduct damage control. A representative from his fraternity’s national headquarters labeled the death an “individual isolated incident.”

Few people know, with absolute certainty, what the circumstances were surrounding Jake’s overdose. But one thing is certain: there was nothing isolated or incidental about it.

It was not incidental that Jake was able to obtain an expensive, highly-controlled schedule 2 narcotic.

It was not incidental that Jake was also using cocaine.

It was not incidental that Jake, a minor, was consuming alcohol – whether at Ozona Bar & Grill or in his fraternity house.

Nothing about Jake’s life or death at SMU was incidental. If anything, Jake’s life was emblematic of the lives of (too) many students at this school.

It would be na’ve to say that Jake took drugs and drank alcohol simply because he liked to have a good time. No matter how convenient or tempting it is to dismiss Jake’s death as an “individual isolated incident,” no one mixes lethal doses of drugs and alcohol just to have a good time.

There are a lot of (uncomfortable) questions that need to be asked. Not to do so is to relegate Jake’s death to a mere footnote to the fall semester. He deserves better.

Where did Jake get the drugs? Surely he didn’t come to school with drugs packed between his toothpaste and his iPod. How did he find a dealer? Did Jake buy a dime bag on Friday night? Or did he share a teener or an 8-ball with someone?

Was Jake the only SMU student doing drugs that Friday night? It would be unrealistic to believe that he was the only SMU student doing bumps and lines the night before finals.

Jake belonged to a Facebook group called Adderall Enthusiasts. Was that a red flag that friends overlooked? Or is Adderall abuse no big deal?

Adderall is the reincarnation of an appetite suppressant (amphetamine) that was developed in the 1920s. It was re-approved in 1997 by the FDA to treat ADHD, attention-deficit-hyperactivity-disorder. It’s also one of the most abused drugs on college campuses today. According to a University of Wisconsin study, one in five college students have abused Adderall. That translates into more than 2200 SMU students.

During the decade from 1987 to 1997, the diagnoses of ADHD in children increased almost 400 percent. There’s little wonder why the manufacturers of Adderall were eager to have it re-approved for ADHD. That’s a chunk of change.

Adderall is also used to treat narcolepsy, ergo its appeal to college students: it allows them to stay awake for prolonged periods of time while studying.

Unfortunately, ADHD is too often (mis)diagnosed by family physicians with little or no training in diagnosing spectrum disorders, much less prescribing psychotropic drugs like Adderall for their treatment.

That’s not to say that many children and adolescents do not benefit from drugs like Adderall. The question is how many have been misdiagnosed by overzealous, prescription-happy doctors. A better question might be, “For how many students has Adderall been a gateway drug?”

The most common method of Adderall delivery among students is snorting. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t suspected some students had snorted something – Adderall? – after getting up during class to “go to the bathroom”

Who knows if Jake abused Adderall? Perhaps one of his fellow Adderall enthusiasts knows.

It’s possible that some of Jake’s friends didn’t know he abused drugs. That’s not to say they didn’t know he used them. It would be interesting to know how many make a distinction. It’s also possible that some didn’t feel empowered to do anything.

Perhaps the administration will publish a protocol for students and faculty on how to handle suspected drug use.

Earlier I mentioned a red flag on Jake’s Facebook page. Hindsight, of course, is 20/20. It can also be paranoid. Take for example this excerpt, listed under his favorite quotes, taken from the 1996 heroine-chic film “Trainspotting”:

“Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. the [sic] reasons? There are no reasons.”

Shortly following Jake’s death, the quote was erased. Apparently, someone didn’t like the impression it created.

Perhaps I’m being paranoid. Perhaps someone wasn’t being paranoid enough. One thing’s for sure: the circumstances surrounding Jake’s death raise questions that need to be answered.

Granted, we may never know all the whys surrounding Jake’s death. But it would be unfortunate if we ignored the opportunity to learn something from it. Then again, we could just sit around and wait for the next “individual isolated incident.”

Rest in peace, Jake.

George Henson is a Spanish professor at SMU. He can be reached at [email protected].