Jasveen Sangha, the Los Angeles drug dealer prosecutors dubbed the "Ketamine Queen," received a 15-year federal prison sentence Wednesday for her role in the 2023 overdose death of Friends actor Matthew Perry. U.S. District Judge Sherilyn Garnett handed down the sentence at the U.S. District Court for the Central District of California, closing one of the highest-profile celebrity drug-death prosecutions in recent memory.

Perry was found dead in a hot tub at his Los Angeles home on October 28, 2023. He was 54 years old. An autopsy determined the cause of death was "the acute effects of ketamine," with contributing factors of drowning, coronary artery disease, and the effects of buprenorphine.

Sangha had pleaded guilty last year to federal charges including several counts of distribution of ketamine and one count of distribution of ketamine resulting in death or serious bodily injury. The sentence reflects the gravity of a supply chain that funneled a dangerous drug to a man who, by all accounts, had struggled with addiction for years, and the people around him who profited from that struggle rather than stopping it.

A supply chain built on exploitation

The federal investigation that followed Perry's death did not stop with Sangha. It swept up four codefendants, all of whom pleaded guilty: Erik Fleming, an acquaintance of Perry's; Matthew Iwamasa, Perry's personal assistant; Dr. Salvador Plasencia; and Dr. Mark Chavez. Prosecutors told the court, as reported by UPI, that Iwamasa bought 50 vials of ketamine on Perry's behalf, and that one of those vials caused the actor's accidental death.

Fifty vials. Not a single dose. Not a one-time lapse in judgment. A bulk purchase of a controlled substance, facilitated by an assistant, sourced from a dealer, and enabled by licensed physicians who were supposed to protect their patients.

Plasencia and Chavez were sentenced earlier. Fleming and Iwamasa have yet to face sentencing. The case laid bare a network that stretched from a street-level dealer through medical professionals to the inner circle of a wealthy, famous, and vulnerable man. Every link in that chain failed him.

The involvement of two doctors in the scheme is particularly damning. Physicians hold a position of trust, and a legal obligation, that makes their participation in funneling ketamine to an addict not just a criminal act but a betrayal of the profession. Sangha's 15-year sentence sends a message, but the full accountability of every person in this chain remains unfinished business until Fleming and Iwamasa are sentenced as well.

A family's grief, spoken plainly

Perry's family attended the sentencing hearing. His mother, Suzanne Perry, was present. So was his stepfather, Keith Morrison, who addressed Sangha directly from the courtroom.

Morrison, as reported by the New York Times and cited in the UPI account, delivered words that were restrained but unmistakable:

"I feel bad for you. I don't hate you. You are a drug dealer, and there are a lot of drug dealers out there. The fact is you supplied an addict."

No theatrics. No rage. Just a stepfather naming what happened. Morrison's statement cut through the legal formalities to the plain truth: Sangha made money selling a dangerous drug to a man who could not stop using it.

Prosecutors also filed a victim impact statement on behalf of Perry's stepmother, Debbie Perry. Her words, reported by USA Today, carried a broader indictment of the damage drug dealers leave behind:

"The pain you've caused to hundreds, maybe thousands, is irreversible. There is no joy to be found, no light in the window. They won't be back."

That statement speaks not just for one grieving family but for the countless families across the country who have buried someone lost to addiction, someone who might still be alive if the people around them had chosen accountability over profit.

Ketamine's growing shadow

Perry's death put a spotlight on ketamine, a drug that has migrated from veterinary medicine and clinical anesthesia into a booming gray market. Therapeutic ketamine clinics have proliferated in recent years, and the drug's availability, both legal and illegal, has expanded dramatically. Questions about ketamine's reach into mainstream settings have only grown since Perry's case made national headlines.

Perry himself was open about his long battle with alcohol and drug addiction. That openness, which won him sympathy and admiration, did not protect him from the predators who saw a paying customer rather than a man in crisis. The actor who made millions laugh as Chandler Bing on Friends died alone in a hot tub because the people closest to him, his assistant, his doctors, his dealer, chose to supply his habit instead of confronting it.

The federal prosecution was thorough. Five arrests. Five guilty pleas. But the case also exposed how easily the system can be gamed when money and fame are involved. Licensed doctors wrote prescriptions or obtained drugs. An assistant ran errands. A dealer filled orders. And a 54-year-old man died.

Accountability, incomplete

Sangha's 15-year sentence is the most significant punishment handed down so far in the case. Plasencia and Chavez received their sentences earlier, though the specific terms were not detailed in the court proceedings reported Wednesday. Fleming and Iwamasa still await their day before the judge.

The broader question is whether this prosecution will serve as a deterrent or simply as a headline. Celebrity overdose cases generate intense media attention and swift law-enforcement action. The same cannot always be said for the thousands of ordinary Americans who die from drug overdoses every year, people whose dealers, enablers, and corrupt medical providers face far less scrutiny. Enforcement failures at every level remain a persistent problem in the fight against drug trafficking.

Perry's case is a reminder that addiction does not care about wealth, fame, or talent. It also reminds us that the people who exploit addicts, whether they operate out of a back alley or a medical office, deserve the full weight of the law. Sangha got 15 years. Whether that is enough depends on what comes next for the others who helped put ketamine in Matthew Perry's hands.

High-profile criminal cases involving celebrities often stir public interest precisely because they reveal how the justice system treats the powerful and the connected. Recent decisions involving other entertainment-world legal battles have shown that fame alone does not guarantee leniency, or accountability.

The system worked here, eventually. But it took a dead actor, a federal investigation, and five guilty pleas to hold one drug dealer and her network to account. For the families of the nameless thousands who die the same way every year, that kind of justice rarely arrives at all.