'He did everything himself': 7-year-old saves father's life with 911 call, honored by firefighters

May 1-Young lifesaver Londyn Braley is a boy of few words. He would rather run circles in the grass and pick flowers than discuss the day that still brings his father to tears.

Londyn, 7, is the most recent recipient of the Spokane Fire Department's Citizen Community Lifesaving Award. On Thursday, he was honored at the department's annual awards ceremony for deftly dialing 911 while alone with his dad, Steve Braley, who accidentally overdosed in their home.

He showed off the pin earned from his heroics and nodded firmly when his parents asked if he is proud. He said little in the room full of firefighters earning their own recognition while their children not much younger than Londyn squirmed in their seats.

"This 7-year-old saved his dad's life," said firefighter Kasey Austin, presenting the award. "It's been my experience over the past 30 years that when people face adversity, emergencies, they don't formulate a plan. This young man formulated a plan, and then he did what most people really don't do - he set that plan in motion."

On Feb. 2, Braley was home with Londyn recovering from a painful foot injury he incurred while at work in construction. He does not have health insurance, so he asked a friend for a couple of hydrocodone pills from a family member's prescription.

"I poured the prescription in my hand; they looked like hydros," Braley, 36, said.

He took half of one pill and immediately felt something was off, so he called Londyn's mother Felisha Johnson, 35, just to talk while she was checking out at a grocery store.

"I joked around about it at first," he said. "I'm like, 'You probably should call 911,' because I started feeling a little funny after I sat down."

Minutes later, it was "radio silence" on the other end of the line, Johnson said. Braley overdosed on what he later learned was a lethal dose of fentanyl disguised as a hydrocodone pill. Braley said he does not drink or do drugs, aside from occasional cannabis use.

"It was a complete accident," Braley said. "I wasn't trying to kill myself. I wasn't even trying to do fentanyl, wasn't trying to get high. I was just trying to kill the pain."

Frantic from her partner's abrupt silence, Johnson called Londyn's phone to have him check on Braley. The 7-year-old found his dad unconscious and not breathing.

"You could hear the panic in his voice; he doesn't know what to do," Johnson said. "This boy doesn't cry for nothing."

Johnson hung up on her son to call 911. She left the store as quickly as possible, but got stuck at a train crossing on her drive back home near Stevens Elementary, where Londyn is a second-grader.

Meanwhile back at their home, Londyn had already dialed 911 himself without anyone telling him to. As he waited for paramedics, he was alone with his unresponsive father and the dispatcher's voice on the phone.

"He dragged me to the floor, everything," Braley said, voice breaking. "He did everything himself."

Londyn watched for around seven minutes as paramedics revived his father after administering two doses of Narcan and rounds of CPR that left his chest bruised. The call, Austin said, was a quick-thinking act that saved Braley's life. Neither of Londyn's parents can say where he learned to dial 911.

"I just knew," the boy said.

In the weeks it took to recover from the overdose, what weighed heaviest on Braley's black-and-blue chest was guilt.

"He shouldn't be saving my life at age 7," Braley said. "He should be playing, enjoying life."

Braley grew up around substance abuse, Johnson said. He's always taken care to shield their son from drugs and still has nightmares about the overdose.

"I'm supposed to save him from that ... he's not supposed to see it, let alone his own parent," Braley said tearfully.

Londyn was shy on Thursday at the outpouring of praise for his actions, more concerned with what's for dinner than the festivities of the ceremony.

"He'll realize how big of a deal this is later in life," Johnson said.

He handed his dad purple flowers as Braley recalled tearfully what the duo had been through two months earlier. Londyn does not like to talk about it.

He is much like any other second-grader; he loves the computer game Roblox, baseball and brats. But he now feels a responsibility heavier than most 7-year-olds could lift.

"We were laying in bed one night shortly after it happened, and he looked at his dad all serious, and was like, 'Dad, what happens if I go to school and this happens again?'" Johnson said.

He still checks on his dad whenever they are home alone, running to him at every loud noise just to make sure all is well.

"We're pretty tight knit. I mean, he's my co-pilot; he's my boy," Braley said.

Braley struggled to come to the ceremony. His mind was still a "racehorse," the events still raw, but Londyn wanted him there.

"I'm his co-pilot too," he said.

The two are thick as thieves, Johnson said. Londyn won't even wear shoes without his dad's approval.

"He turned 3 one day, and all of a sudden, it was like I was nonexistent anymore," Johnson laughed. "It was all dad, which is great because a lot of kids don't have that."

When he thinks of his son's future, Braley is proud. One day, he expects the guilt will wane.

"The moment he tells me he wants to go into the fire department or the police department, it will happen," Braley exhaled, admiring his son's lifesaver pin. "It'll be a day just like today."

Elena Perry's work is funded in part by members of the Spokane community via the Community Journalism and Civic Engagement Fund. This story can be republished by other organizations for free under a Creative Commons license. For more information on this, please contact our newspaper's managing editor.

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