In 2005, J. was a young pharmacist, in the middle of a divorce, when he decided he needed a change. He was outgoing, a former rugby player, and he had begun to feel out of place among his quiet co-workers. “Does a pharmacist ever come over to you and chitchat?” he says. “They’re very mousy and very introverted.” For his new job, J. — who asked to be referred to by his first initial to protect his privacy — had in mind something a little more glamorous: pharmaceutical sales. He found a contract position at Reckitt Benckiser Pharmaceuticals, a U.S. subsidiary of a household-goods company based in Britain that was best known for Lysol and French’s mustard. The company had recently introduced Suboxone, a groundbreaking new medication in the United States that treats opioid addiction. Much like nicotine gum, Suboxone worked as a substitute, binding to the same receptors in the brain as illicit opioids, taking away withdrawal symptoms, quelling cravings and making it hard to continue misusing drugs. At other companies — like Purdue Pharma, the maker of OxyContin — sales reps regularly trawled doctors’ offices and used company credit cards to treat physicians to expensive meals and lavish trips. At Reckitt, sales reps were told they had a different mandate. “You weren’t a credit card on legs,” says Chris Hassan, who oversaw Reckitt’s sales force at the time. Reps held the title “clinical liaisons,” and their job was not only to sell Suboxone but also to convince doctors that addiction was a disease, not a moral failing, and that it could be treated with medication instead of prison sentences. Subscribe to The Times to read as many articles as you like.