His lifeless body lay still on the bed, peaceful yet heartbreakingly silent—’like an angel,’ his mother said, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her face.
Laura Collanton couldn’t fathom what had happened to her 20-year-old son, Spencer Newsom, who had such a bright future ahead of him.
Newsom died in his Roseville, California apartment after taking a pill purchased on Snapchat, believing it to be Xanax.
Now four and a half years after his death, Christopher Williams, 29, has been arrested for fentanyl poisoning in connection with Spencer’s death and charged with murder and possession of drugs for sale, marking a first-of-its-kind resolved cold case.
The Placer County Sheriff’s Office has pioneered charging dealers with homicide in such cases and this is the first resolved cold case involving a fatal fentanyl poisoning in California, the sheriff’s office confirmed.
Williams’ arraignment is set for February 20, where he will be represented by the Placer County Public Defender’s Office. District Attorney Morgan Gire said his office alleges Williams provided the fentanyl that killed Newsom, knowing its dangers, and that they can prove it ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’.
‘This case was considered ‘cold,’ but our detectives didn’t give up,’ sheriff’s officials said. Williams is currently held without bail.
For Newsom’s mother Collanton, this arrest is the culmination of years of tireless advocacy for justice and fentanyl awareness. Speaking to DailyMail.com, she described seeing Williams in court for the first time.
A man has been arrested in connection with the 2020 fentanyl poisoning death of 20-year-old Spencer Newsom, marking the first time a law enforcement agency has solved a cold case involving a fatal fentanyl poisoning
Laura Collanton, Spencer’s mother, has been vocal in advocating for justice and awareness surrounding fentanyl-related deaths
‘It was incredibly shocking and gut wrenching to look him in the face. I had no idea what he looked like,’ said Collanton through tears.
Spencer had recently moved into a shared apartment near his family in Roseville. It was September 21, 2020, during the height of the COVID lockdown.
His future was bright: he had finished EMT classes at Sierra College, had been accepted into the Fire Academy, and was even nominated to be crew chief. He and his girlfriend, a ‘star couple’ according to his mother, dreamed of careers as a firefighter and a nurse – a livesaving duo.
The night before his death, Collanton had sent a simple text – just checking in, hoping to schedule lunch. She never imagined it would be the last message she’d ever send him.
It was Spencer’s girlfriend who first raised the alarm on Monday afternoon, calling his 16-year-old sister. His location hadn’t changed all day; he hadn’t gone to work. A terrible feeling settled in: something was wrong.
Collanton rushed to his apartment, only to find his car parked outside and no answer at the door. A mother’s intuition screamed that something was wrong. She called Spencer’s father and together, with their spouses, they raced to the apartment, bracing themselves for the worst.
They contacted the police for a welfare check, but Spencer’s stepfather, determined to act, was boosted up by Spencer’s father onto the balcony and was able to make his way inside.
‘He looked like he was asleep, just laying on his bed. He was fully dressed. He just looked like an angel laying there. He looked perfect. But he was gone. He’d been gone, probably since the night before,’ said Collanton.
Christopher Williams, 29, has now been formally charged with murder and possession of drugs for sale in connection with Newsom’s death
Newsom died in his apartment in Roseville, California four years ago, after taking a pill purchased on Snapchat that he believed to be Xanax
Collanton’s family was blindsided by their son’s drug use. He had struggled with anxiety and ADHD and experimented with marijuana in high school, but his parents had promptly gotten him the help he needed.
‘He made a mistake and it cost him his life,’ said Collanton.
‘But we didn’t know to have a talk about somebody hiding a deadly substance in your drug,’ she said. ‘If he’d have gotten a Xanax, a legitimate Xanax like he thought he had gotten, Spencer would not have died. You don’t die from Xanax.’
The isolation of the Covid lockdown compounded Collanton’s grief and shock. Initially, she felt completely alone in her loss, unaware that other families were experiencing the same tragedy.
It wasn’t until she turned to social media that the horrifying reality of the fentanyl crisis became clear.
Thousands of parents shared similar stories, and she was stunned by the silence surrounding the issue.
She said there were no public warnings, no government acknowledgment of the escalating crisis. Yet, within a few short years, fentanyl became the leading cause of death for Americans aged 18 to 45, surpassing car accidents and even cancer.
‘You’d think it would be a national crisis if you’re losing 200 kids a day. That’s a plane crash every single day for the past four years,’ she said, emphasizing the sheer scale of the problem.
‘[These cases] don’t get investigated, and you don’t get calls back, and it gets put on a shelf, which is what happens throughout our country for almost 95 percent of parents who lose a loved one this way,’ she said.
Collanton warns that social media has become a dangerous new avenue for drug trafficking, with apps like Snapchat playing a key role.
‘The drug landscape has changed, and it’s no longer meeting a dealer in a back alley, you know, like we used to see on all of the old TV shows. Social media is the drug superhighway.
Pictured: Spencer walking his mother down the aisle at her wedding
His future was bright: he was taking online classes at Sierra College, had been accepted into the Fire Academy, and was even nominated to be crew chief
Laura Collanton remembers her son, Spencer, as a ‘brilliant, bright light,’ whose presence the world deserved
Fast forward to today, Collanton said she couldn’t believe an arrest had been made.
‘I never thought I’d see the day,’ she said.
For years she worked closely with detectives on her son Spencer’s case, even becoming an advocate and speaker for the Placer County ‘One Pill Can Kill’ program.
Through her advocacy, she discovered federal involvement in the investigation and, remarkably, learned the identity of the man she believed was responsible for Spencer’s death – he had previously served time for drug trafficking.
Having lost hope of seeing justice for Spencer, particularly because law enforcement couldn’t access his phone data, she focused on supporting other families with similar pending cases.
Nearly two years later, she received a call from the Placer County Special Opioid Task Force, a newly formed unit. A detective she knew from her speaking engagements asked to review Spencer’s case, which had been sitting dormant.
Roseville police readily handed over the evidence. The task force detectives began their investigation, but they faced a significant hurdle: crucial location and cell phone data had been erased after two years, as is often the case.
These ‘unicorn’ detectives, as Collanton calls them, persevered, going above and beyond typical investigative efforts.
A year later, on Collanton’s birthday in August, after months of failed attempts to access Spencer’s phone (it had been off and uncharged), a detective called with incredible news.
Collanton speaking to an assembly of students about the dangers of fentanyl poisonings
Laura worked closely with detectives on her son Spencer’s case for years, even becoming an advocate and speaker for the Placer County ‘One Pill Can Kill’ program
Spencer was the oldest of three siblings
That morning, Collanton had spoken to Spencer, saying, ‘Son, give me a sign. Give me a big one. It’s my birthday. Just let me know you’re with me today… I need a big sign, Kiddo.’
And then, the detective’s called: they had finally broken into Spencer’s phone.
Eight months prior, the DA’s office had informed her they knew who was responsible but lacked sufficient evidence.
Thirteen more months passed before they called again, requesting a family meeting. Collanton, expecting only an update, was stunned to learn they had made an arrest. The man she had long suspected was finally in custody.
Williams could face 15 years to life in prison for murder. Additional charges or enhancements could result in a longer sentence.
‘I feel so honored that that somebody cared enough about my kid to keep digging,’ Collanton said. ‘I feel so hopeful. This case can gives other parents hope that maybe their babies, who died before and after Spencer, have a chance to see justice too.’
While Collanton said she is ‘ecstatic’ than an arrest has been made, she said she still doesn’t feel like the chapter has been closed.
‘There’s never closure, never,’ she said. ‘It helps me to know that this man cannot sell to another human being. He cannot take someone else’s baby from them.’
Though acknowledging that illegal drug use is never condoned, and rejecting victim-blaming, Collanton argues that selling fentanyl disguised as legitimate prescription pills, leading to fatalities, is murder and should be prosecuted as such ‘no matter where you live’.
She points to California’s Proposition 36 and ‘Alexandra’s Law,’ which, like DUI laws, warn fentanyl dealers of potential murder charges for subsequent fatal offenses.
‘It only takes 2.5 milligrams of fentanyl to kill an average adult,’ she emphasizes, ‘and you’re talking thousands of doses, enough to kill a small city, that one dealer could potentially have. So even if you arrest one person and get them off the street, think of all the people you could be saving.’
The day before Spencer died, Laura Collanton exchanged a simple but loving text message with her son
While Collanton said she is ‘ecstatic’ than an arrest has been made, she said she still doesn’t feel like she will ever get closure
The day before Spencer died, Collanton exchanged a simple but loving text message with her son.
She told him she missed him and that she loved him. He replied, ‘I love you too.’
The following day, completely unaware that Spencer had already passed away, Collanton saw a fire truck outside and, thinking of his dream of becoming a firefighter, snapped a photo and sent it to him with the message, ‘Pulled up next door. This will be you soon!’
Looking back, she said she wonders if this was a sign, a message from Spencer, a way of saying, ‘Mama, you need to find me.’
‘Don’t ever say not my kid,’ she said. ‘One pill truly can kill, and it’s not just the pills. It’s in every street drug. It’s so lethal and powerful that it can shut your respiratory system down in three minutes, so if you’re alone, you cannot survive it.’
Collanton remembers her son, Spencer, as a ‘brilliant, bright light,’ whose presence the world deserved. She acknowledges the immense pain of losing a child and understands why many parents find it too difficult to share their stories.
However she feels compelled to speak out, believing that Spencer’s story deserves to be told.
‘He deserves to save lives. He didn’t get to do that as a firefighter, but he gets to do it indirectly through me,’ she said.
‘Whether it’s to one person, or a thousand kids in an assembly, they walk out of there remembering his name and who he was as a person, and maybe they’ll share it, and maybe they’ll make different decisions for themselves.’
