Small Town.
Big Issues
In The Home Front, a former journalist returns to her small New England hometown to report on a mother’s (Jeanine Kane) unusual obituary—one that boldly names the overdose that took her daughter’s life. But as Natalie (Stephanie Bisono) steps back into the neighborhood she once fled, the line between her assignment and her own buried past begins to blur. What unfolds is a slow-burning mystery rooted in family, silence, and the unseen weight of grief.
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At 25 minutes, The Home Front is a fictional narrative—but its truths are deeply rooted all around us.
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Inspired by personal loss and years of local reporting, the film serves as a microcosm of the ongoing opioid epidemic that continues to devastate communities across the country. From obituaries that conceal the cause of death to homes where mourning is layered with shame, this story echoes countless others that never make the headlines.
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Through one family’s reckoning, The Home Front asks what happens when we finally speak the truth—about addiction, about those it took from us, and the lives we build in the quiet that follows.
The Story
Between the Lines
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Find what's buried...
between the lines...
a cover-up.
Why Now?
We’re telling this story now because it matters now.
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The CDC's National Center for Health Statistics indicate there were an estimated 80,391 drug overdose deaths in the United States during 2024.
Many of their names never made the news. Their obituaries were softened, their stories rewritten, their truths buried under stigma. And those of us who loved them—we’re left to carry what silence can’t hold.
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The Home Front is told from that place: the perspective of those living in the aftermath. Of those who stayed. Who witnessed. Who weren’t using—but who lost someone who was.
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This film isn’t a sweeping exposé. It’s a close, quiet portrait of what it means to grieve in a world that doesn’t know how to talk about grief. It’s a fictional story rooted in real themes — because while the details may differ, the ache is shared.
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We made this film not just to reflect the moment we’re in, but to challenge the way we’ve learned to survive it: quietly, and alone.
A Drop in Numbers. Not in Grief.
In 2024, the United States witnessed a significant decline in drug overdose deaths, dropping nearly 27% from the previous year to approximately 80,391 fatalities—the lowest level since 2019.
— Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), May 2025
When People Say, “They Made Their Bed…”
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We hear it all the time. As if that explains everything. As if it’s the end of the story.
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Yes—people make choices. And yes, those choices come with consequences. But addiction is never just a series of bad decisions. It’s more often a response to pain. To trauma. To the feeling of being stuck in a life that offers no way out.
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Most people don’t wake up one day and decide to lose everything. They slip. Slowly. Quietly. Often while trying to hold it all together. It’s easy to judge from a distance. But what if it was your child? Your brother?
Your best friend from high school who didn’t know how to ask for help?
The Home Front doesn’t try to explain away addiction. It holds space for the people left in its wake—those who tried to love, to help, to stay.
Because telling someone they made their bed doesn’t account for who stripped the sheets, who left the door open, and who had to keep sleeping in that house after they were gone.
