Trump’s Border Crackdown Claims Victory: Overdose Deaths Plummet, Biden Camp Pushes Back

Paul Riverbank, 1/21/2026Overdose deaths fall sharply; political debate rages over border policy, public health, and real causes.

But almost as quickly as the news landed, the political blame and credit game kicked off. President Biden’s administration saw the trend beginning as his own term was tapering. Allies of Donald Trump, now back in the Oval Office, insist his policies drove the drop. “There’s no question border security is at the heart of this,” says Joseph Giacalone, an ex-sergeant with the NYPD who teaches at Penn State Lehigh Valley, his confidence clear even over the phone. He points to new patrols and a surge in enforcement—hallmarks of the Trump approach—as fundamental changes.

Voices outside law enforcement echo that sentiment. Dr. Raul Garcia, treating addiction’s fallout daily in Washington state hospitals, credits renewed border crackdowns for making his emergency department a little quieter. “The things President Trump has pushed—closing the borders, taking on these traffickers—it’s made a difference,” he said, pausing to recall a shift in the kinds of overdoses he was treating.

But not everyone buys the narrative that tighter borders alone get the credit. In fact, plenty of researchers describe the story as tangled, with strands running through addiction medicine, public health, and even pandemic sociology. The CDC, for one, has not released a causal analysis. You’ll find respected scientists like UNC’s Nabarun Dasgupta dismissing the “border alone” argument as much too neat. “Street supply prices have mostly stayed low,” Dasgupta notes, suggesting that dealers are still getting product through, perhaps by land more than by sea, certainly not just on boats.

History complicates the picture too. Drug deaths spiked during lockdowns as isolation grew and support systems vanished. But as offices, schools and clinics cautiously reopened, social scaffolding returned—relieving some of the isolation that fuels addiction. Meanwhile, the rise in naloxone use, especially versions like Narcan that are almost household names now, has been quietly saving lives one reversal at a time. No single lever explains the shift. But advocates and critics alike recognize that prevention, treatment, and rescue now play a more visible role.

Sometimes the claims stretch credulity. Eric Trump extolled his father’s campaign as the force behind a collapse in fentanyl deaths, though the biggest dip predated the latest round of “military strikes” on smuggling boats. The campaign likes to tout that every boat destroyed saves 25,000 lives, which, when added up, suggests nearly a million lives spared by January—numbers that the CDC’s actual data simply does not support.

Then, look closer: Parts of the country tell their own conflicting stories. Louisiana, New York, Vermont, Wyoming, even DC, all saw deaths fall dramatically—over 30% in just one year. Arizona, on the other hand, endures a stubborn rise: an 18% increase, even as officials chased after traffickers harder than ever. No expert I spoke with could pinpoint exactly why Arizona is bucking the trend. Maybe the border is more porous there, or perhaps local drug blends are shifting in ways national models don’t track.

If you’re searching for a neat hero or villain here, you might be looking in the wrong place. Political leaders have tools—sometimes blunt, sometimes subtle—at their disposal, but so do public health workers, paramedics, families, and communities themselves. The temptation, especially in an election year, is to hang success or failure on a president’s portrait in the White House. Yet what’s clear on the ground is rarely so clean from 30,000 feet.

Often, we’re quick to turn tangled realities into slogans. But when it comes to overdose deaths—where charts mask the pain of thousands—there’s less certainty and more complexity. Lives are not just numbers, and the forces driving change run far deeper than border fences or policy speeches. There’s progress, yes. But the real story, as always, is still unfolding.

For years, the numbers told a bleak story: overdose deaths in the United States kept climbing, year after year, devouring families and devastating communities. So when federal health authorities quietly announced that fatalities had tumbled nearly 21% in just twelve months, eyebrows shot up all around. The CDC’s latest data points to a fall—from north of 91,000 overdose deaths the year before, to just over 72,600 for the year ending last August. For those who track these numbers, this is not just another statistic. It feels, at least momentarily, like a break in the clouds.But almost as quickly as the news landed, the political blame and credit game kicked off. President Biden’s administration saw the trend beginning as his own term was tapering. Allies of Donald Trump, now back in the Oval Office, insist his policies drove the drop. “There’s no question border security is at the heart of this,” says Joseph Giacalone, an ex-sergeant with the NYPD who teaches at Penn State Lehigh Valley, his confidence clear even over the phone. He points to new patrols and a surge in enforcement—hallmarks of the Trump approach—as fundamental changes.Voices outside law enforcement echo that sentiment. Dr. Raul Garcia, treating addiction’s fallout daily in Washington state hospitals, credits renewed border crackdowns for making his emergency department a little quieter. “The things President Trump has pushed—closing the borders, taking on these traffickers—it’s made a difference,” he said, pausing to recall a shift in the kinds of overdoses he was treating.But not everyone buys the narrative that tighter borders alone get the credit. In fact, plenty of researchers describe the story as tangled, with strands running through addiction medicine, public health, and even pandemic sociology. The CDC, for one, has not released a causal analysis. You’ll find respected scientists like UNC’s Nabarun Dasgupta dismissing the “border alone” argument as much too neat. “Street supply prices have mostly stayed low,” Dasgupta notes, suggesting that dealers are still getting product through, perhaps by land more than by sea, certainly not just on boats.History complicates the picture too. Drug deaths spiked during lockdowns as isolation grew and support systems vanished. But as offices, schools and clinics cautiously reopened, social scaffolding returned—relieving some of the isolation that fuels addiction. Meanwhile, the rise in naloxone use, especially versions like Narcan that are almost household names now, has been quietly saving lives one reversal at a time. No single lever explains the shift. But advocates and critics alike recognize that prevention, treatment, and rescue now play a more visible role.Sometimes the claims stretch credulity. Eric Trump extolled his father’s campaign as the force behind a collapse in fentanyl deaths, though the biggest dip predated the latest round of “military strikes” on smuggling boats. The campaign likes to tout that every boat destroyed saves 25,000 lives, which, when added up, suggests nearly a million lives spared by January—numbers that the CDC’s actual data simply does not support.Then, look closer: Parts of the country tell their own conflicting stories. Louisiana, New York, Vermont, Wyoming, even DC, all saw deaths fall dramatically—over 30% in just one year. Arizona, on the other hand, endures a stubborn rise: an 18% increase, even as officials chased after traffickers harder than ever. No expert I spoke with could pinpoint exactly why Arizona is bucking the trend. Maybe the border is more porous there, or perhaps local drug blends are shifting in ways national models don’t track.If you’re searching for a neat hero or villain here, you might be looking in the wrong place. Political leaders have tools—sometimes blunt, sometimes subtle—at their disposal, but so do public health workers, paramedics, families, and communities themselves. The temptation, especially in an election year, is to hang success or failure on a president’s portrait in the White House. Yet what’s clear on the ground is rarely so clean from 30,000 feet.Often, we’re quick to turn tangled realities into slogans. But when it comes to overdose deaths—where charts mask the pain of thousands—there’s less certainty and more complexity. Lives are not just numbers, and the forces driving change run far deeper than border fences or policy speeches. There’s progress, yes. But the real story, as always, is still unfolding.