Gather round the campfire and I'll tell you a spooky story about the evil strangers who fill up children's candy buckets with poison. Stories of poisoned trick or treaters have been around since the Industrial Revolution, when sweets started getting mass-produced rather than cooked in a kitchen.
In those early days some doctors claimed to have treated dozens of patients a day from poisoned candy; by the early 1900s the U.S. Bureau of Chemistry still had found no evidence of poisoned candy. The scariest part of this story is that it's almost always a myth—one that's persisted for more than a century and morphed to fit into current anxieties.
There are only two confirmed cases of candy-tampering: In 1959 a California dentist gave candy-coated laxative pills to trick or treaters, and in 1964 a Long Island woman gave out inedible items like steel wool, dog biscuits and ant buttons to kids she thought were too old for trick or treating. Sociologist Joel Best studied alleged candy sabotage for over 40 years and says of the few legitimate cases he encounters, none can be attributed to an individual committing random violence on kids.
"I have yet to find a report of an incident where a child was killed or seriously injured by a contaminated treat picked up in the course of trick-or-treating," Best told the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.
Around the time Best started investigating candy poisonings, it was a persistent fear among parents. A 1985 poll found that 60% of parents feared their children would be injured or killed from candy saboteurs. Alternative events like "trunk or treat," where people decorate their cars and allow kids to go car to car collecting candy among a trusted community — typically a church — became popular around this time.
Growing up I heard about razorblades in Reese's Peanut Butter Cups from my brother, but the hoaxes have rolled with the times. Just last year attorneys general in Ohio, New York, Illinois, Connecticut and Arkansas all advised parents to make sure their kids aren't eating marijuana edibles in their Halloween candy. They apparently weren't familiar with Best's work and assumed people would shell out $10 per candy just so some kid could have a good time. Snopes found zero cases of cannabis edibles being given to trick or treaters.
On Aug. 30 the Drug Enforcement Agency warned parents of "rainbow fentanyl," warning drug manufacturers are deliberately marketing to children. Later the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department told parents to be vigilant of candy during the holiday after seizing fentanyl pills in candy containers. Experts say they've been getting different-colored opioids for years and haven't linked it to an effort to get kids hooked — it's usually used to distinguish one product from another on the street. Additionally, dealers typically don't want to incur the severe legal penalties for dealing drugs to kids—plus, kids young enough to be attracted to bright colors don't have enough money to be good repeat customers.
Fentanyl is scary enough without hoaxes. It's now the leading cause of death among U.S. adults aged 18 to 45. It's also extremely addictive, so if someone has bought some intentionally they're probably going to use it rather than attempt to kill little Billy in his Spider-Man costume. So don't get too anxious about your kid this Halloween; their biggest danger is developing a bad cavity and a stomachache.
