I sell fentanyl six days a week under the El at Kensington and Somerset, and every bag I sell is net life-positive. Each bag carries a small but real chance of killing whoever buys it. Each bag also sends $1.80 to the Against Malaria Foundation, which GiveWell estimates saves a child’s life for about $5,500. My customers die at a rate of roughly one per 4,000 bags. Four thousand bags at $1.80 buys nets for 1.3 children. Every death on my corner is offset, with a third of a toddler left over, and I’d like that number in the conversation the next time somebody calls me a murderer out the window of a passing Kia.

I am laughing at both the text:

If I leave the corner, Hector from Lehigh Avenue has it inside of an hour. Hector sells the same tranq dope at the same price, with zero offsets and a pit bull named Dollar. The counterfactual to me is not “no fentanyl at Kensington and Somerset.” It’s fentanyl without malaria nets. Every person who wants me gone, including Officer Ruiz, who arrested me in August and asked whether I understood what I was doing, is functionally campaigning for Hector. I told Ruiz I’d modeled it extensively. He did not want to see the model.

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