The fallout from Toronto’s recent supervised injection site closures has been immediate and visible. Walking through Moss Park last week, I witnessed what many community workers have been warning about – people injecting in alleyways, on sidewalks, and in public washrooms. It’s a troubling shift in a city already grappling with an escalating overdose crisis.
“We’re seeing exactly what we feared would happen,” says Zoe Dodd, a longtime harm reduction advocate with the Toronto Overdose Prevention Society. “When you remove safe spaces, people don’t stop using drugs – they just use them in riskier environments.”
The closure of five supervised consumption sites across Toronto has created what health experts describe as a dangerous gap in services. According to Toronto Public Health data, these sites collectively managed over 130,000 visits last year and reversed more than 900 overdoses.
The impact extends beyond those who use drugs. Business owners along Queen Street East report finding more discarded needles in their doorways. “I’m sympathetic to everyone involved, but I’m also cleaning up needles every morning before customers arrive,” says Maya Chen, who owns a small café near Sherbourne Street.
What’s particularly concerning is the timing. Toronto paramedics responded to 478 suspected overdose calls in June alone – a 15% increase from the same period last year. Without supervised sites, many of these emergencies now occur in isolated areas where help may arrive too late.
City councillor Josh Matlow told me the closures represent “a massive step backward” in addressing Toronto’s drug crisis. “We know from decades of evidence that harm reduction saves lives. This isn’t about politics – it’s about keeping people alive until they can access treatment.”
The human toll is becoming increasingly apparent. At a community meeting in Regent Park yesterday, I met Sylvia, who lost her son to an overdose three weeks ago. “He used at one of those sites for years,” she said, requesting I use only her first name. “It kept him alive long enough that we could still have dinner together every Sunday. Now he’s gone.”
Hospitals are feeling the strain too. Emergency departments at St. Michael’s and Toronto General report increases in overdose admissions since the closures. “We’re seeing patients who would previously have been monitored at consumption sites,” explains Dr. Jennifer Tam, an emergency physician. “Many arrive in critical condition that could have been prevented.”
The provincial government has defended the closures, citing concerns about increased crime and neighborhood impacts. However, Toronto Police data doesn’t support this connection, with crime statistics showing no significant difference in areas with or without these facilities.
Community organizations are scrambling to fill the gap. The Parkdale Queen West Community Health Centre has expanded outreach hours, with staff distributing naloxone kits and providing basic wound care on the streets. “We’re doing what we can, but it’s not enough,” says outreach worker Devon Morris. “You can’t monitor someone for an overdose when you’re constantly moving.”
For many Torontonians, the debate transcends politics. “This is about whether we value all human lives equally,” says Rev. Alexa Gilmour of the Windermere United Church, which hosts community meals for vulnerable residents. “The people dying are someone’s children, parents, and neighbors.”
As someone who’s covered Toronto’s evolving response to substance use for years, the current situation feels like watching preventable tragedy unfold in slow motion. The evidence supporting supervised consumption as an effective harm reduction strategy is overwhelming, with research showing these sites not only prevent overdose deaths but also reduce public drug use and connect people to health services.
While walking back to my car after interviewing residents near Moss Park, I noticed paramedics rushing into an alley – another overdose call. The paramedic I spoke with later looked exhausted. “This is my fourth today,” he said. “And it’s only 2 p.m.”
The question now facing Toronto isn’t whether supervised consumption sites should exist, but rather how many more preventable deaths will occur before evidence-based solutions return to our city’s harm reduction strategy.
