Since 9/11, TAPS has seen a steady increase in individuals and families looking for help after losing a veteran to suicide. Approximately 4,000 survivors of military suicide are currently in the organization’s database, and according to Ruocco, those who actually take the step to seek treatment are often at rock bottom.

“Their wife may have left them, they may have lost their job, they may have had criminal issues or addiction issues that have built up, and then it’s a complex matter,” said Ruocco. “But because of the stigma, they wait till when things are falling apart and it’s the very last option to ask for help.”

As for deaths from overdose, TAPS says that’s harder to quantify. Anecdotally, the organization has been seeing an increase in deaths by poisoning or accidents that aren’t counted as suicides. However, no data exists to help measure the issue.

“When someone’s engaging in self-destructive behavior, it's almost always because they’re not mentally well,” said Jill Harkavy-Friedman of the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. “When you talk about things like addiction, like alcohol or drugs, those are really disorders that can be treated.” Staff Sgt. Lonnie Al Watts was a career soldier. He joined the Army at 18, never leaving until his death. He served tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. He was never diagnosed with PTSD. In fact, he refused to even entertain the notion of seeing a doctor despite the growing number of alarming behaviors that had surfaced since he returned from Afghanistan.

Watts’ primary reason for refusing treatment: He was still on active duty with the New Mexico National Guard 1116th Transportation Company, and he was worried a diagnosis would affect his ability to work in the future.

“We in leadership positions have been trying to alleviate the stigma out there that if you claim PTSD that it’s going to be held against you,” said Lt. Cmdr. Anthony Rivera, one of Watts’ superior officers. “Our primary concern is that if somebody is suffering from that diagnosis of PTSD, we want to get them well and healthy for themselves and their families.”

Rivera and Watts held a few conversations about being deployed during their time working together, but for the most part, Watts was quiet about his time in Afghanistan. And while on the job, he was responsible, friendly and generally well liked, never showing any signs of a struggle with PTSD or even alcohol.

“He helped counsel some people with alcohol addiction and things like that,” said Rivera. “He helped coach and mentor people to get over that.”

According to Johnson, Watts would often get lost in conversation and zone out. When asked what was the matter, his usual answer was “You’ll never understand.” One night Johnson woke up when he had a nightmare and tried to choke her. On the Fourth of July, the family lit fireworks and Watts hid in the bushes, while the kids laughed at him, thinking he was playing a game. He often disappeared to drink after Johnson banned him from doing it in the house — sometimes for hours, then days and, eventually, months, which finally pushed Johnson to file for divorce.

Meanwhile, at work, Watts was an irreplaceable team member.

“I would characterize Sergeant Watts as a true American soldier,” said Rivera. “He did everything that was asked of him, no matter what. He was always there to help out any way he could. I would have a whole company of Sergeant Watts if I could.”