Saving Grace: The Story Behind Tyler’s Redemption Place and Its Mission

An expansive, two-story log cabin, located on 10 acres of scenic wooded land in Lakemore, is replete with peace. Step inside, and find relaxing amenities — a salt cave, cold plunge pool, infrared sauna, reading area, game room, fully stocked kitchen and more. This refuge is a certified Recovery Community Organization drop-in center called Tyler’s Redemption Place.

On Oct. 1, it’s bustling. At 4 p.m., a group called Addiction Recovery Through Christ meets, followed by a Ladies’ Fitness Boot Camp and a Be the Light veterans’ group at 5. At 6 p.m., co-ed guests study the Bible, and at 6:30 p.m., the Well grief support group gathers. When they first enter Tyler’s Place, visitors pass through a wide, calming space, filled with natural light — a room that honors Tyler Bornstein.

In photos, Tyler is full of life. As a toddler, he grins, his face covered in cake. As a kid, he kneels with his golf club. These vibrant memories are a memorial. At age 23, Tyler, overdosing on heroin and fentanyl, was dumped in a vacant Akron lot and left to die.

“He was a very smart, caring, athletic young man,” his mother, Shelly Bornstein, says. “Really had a beautiful smile, loved to meet new people. Anywhere he went, people were drawn to him.”

Tyler was an all-county golfer who graduated magna cum laude. Later, he was on a golf and academic scholarship at Walsh University in 2012 and 2013 and competed in a bodybuilding competition in 2013.

But Tyler’s athleticism led to injuries over the years. He broke his right arm four times playing sports, requiring two surgeries — one at age 11 and the next at 18. Doctors sent him home with prescription opioids.

Opiates and opioids can be extremely addictive.

“Because we have naturally occurring receptors in the brain for our own internal endorphins, which are very similar in chemical structure to the opiates and opioids, the net result is that our brains are set up to react to those substances,” explains Doug Smith, chief clinical officer and medical director at the County of Summit ADM Board. “That reaction triggers, in some people more so than others, what we call a reward pathway. … That makes it addictive.”

The signs, at first, were small. Tyler began to pull away from friends and family. Things he loved to do, like playing golf, fell by the wayside.

At 19, Tyler was staying with a friend, attending classes at The University of Akron in the evening. One day, his father, Travis, offered to drive him to school.

“I could just tell something’s wrong. I pulled off the side of the road and stopped, and said, Tyler, What’s going on with you, man? And he said, I’m addicted to heroin,” recalls Travis.

The news was devastating.

“I was heartbroken,” Travis says. “I also knew that we were going to do everything we could to get him help.”

For years, Tyler tried different methods of recovery, including Suboxone and Vivitrol. But a combination of life circumstances and financial limitations meant Tyler couldn’t reach long-term recovery.

“He could never get a year of sobriety,” Travis says. “He could get six or seven months at a time, but he never could get a year.”

In early September 2014, Tyler called his parents: He relapsed, was waiting to get into detox and wanted them to take his vehicle. A few days later, he went out on foot with another person who was using substances. The pair bought drugs and heroin — laced with fentanyl.

“You’ve got heroin, and then along comes fentanyl,” says Smith. “The net result is more people were dying, because it’s very potent.”

Tyler used the laced heroin.

“It immediately put him into an overdose,” Travis says. “The other kid took him to a vacant lot on the corner of Alfred and Arlington and dumped him in a field and left him there to die. The next day, the Summit County sheriff showed up at our house, proceeded to tell Shelly and my 17-year-old daughter that a resident found a dead body in a vacant lot, and it was our 23-year-old son. ... Shelly and I and our youngest daughter who was with us, we kind of all laid down on the floor, just held each other and cried.”

There were 2,531 overdose deaths in Ohio that year.

About a month afterward, Shelly began visiting the lot where Tyler had died.

“That’s where I felt Tyler. I went there, began just praying,” she says. “I literally felt in my spirit that we were going to get the property and do something there, and that’s when the mission started.”

After one of the Bornsteins’ daughters began speaking about the opioid epidemic — alongside two other girls who had lost their brothers — the Bornsteins formed a Facebook page. In 2016, the Bornsteins launched a nonprofit now called Hope United. Soon, Travis presented Tyler’s story at the Teamsters national convention, where he raised 1.365 million dollars.

“Hope United, we pretty much founded it on three pillars — education, support and recovery,” Travis says. “The ultimate goal of the recovery piece was to build Tyler’s Redemption Place.”

The Bornsteins purchased the lot where Tyler died, hoping to build a recovery facility — but it wasn’t large enough. Travis approached Summit County about getting the former Edwin Shaw property donated, and Hope United received 10 acres.

The 7,500-square-foot Tyler’s Redemption Place opened in 2023 with free programs.

“We give our least to people in recovery. Ty never saw his value and worth,” Shelly says. “We wanted a place that, when they walk in, they instantly feel peace.”

“It’s a whole-body transformation, mind, body, spirit, community,” Travis adds. “We have a lot of unique things at Tyler’s Place that most folks in early recovery can’t get because they can’t afford it.”

Tyler’s Place averages about 1,200 visitors per month. The facility offers drop-in peer support meetings, classes, groups and wellness programs. From yoga for recovery and cardio drumming to art making sessions and support groups, such as one for families living with someone in addiction or recovery, Tyler’s Place hosts a wide range of programming for those in recovery and their loved ones.

“A lady that I met through the loss of her son … she went through treatment, got out, became connected with some of our groups,” Shelly says. “It’s over two years now that she’s been in recovery.”

At least 70 percent of people, Travis says, relapse within the first year.

“If we can get you between one and three years, it comes down to 34 percent. And if we can get you between three and five years, it comes down to 14 percent,” he says. “Recovery is a long-term game, and you gotta develop a long-term strategy. And that’s what Tyler’s Redemption Place is.”

As of mid-October 2025, there have been 91 confirmed and 11 suspected overdose deaths in Summit County — as opposed to 139 confirmed deaths in 2024. Though the numbers are trending down, the only acceptable rate of overdose deaths, Smith says, is zero.

Veteran peer supporter Kenny Haynes got involved with Hope United in March 2025.

“I’m also in recovery, 11 years in recovery, and I’ve lost my sister to addiction and numerous friends from the military,” Haynes says.

From 2001 to 2006, Haynes was in the Marine Corps, where he sustained a major back injury. He was prescribed opioids — and soon found himself addicted.

Haynes detoxed in his bedroom for two weeks. He got sober, went to college and obtained a degree in social work. Now, he works with Summit County’s Valor Court for veterans through Hope United, runs groups for those in recovery — including a group that discusses childhood trauma and generational trauma — and offers drop-in peer support at Tyler’s Place.

“I always try to help people identify things in their life … their reason. I call it having a why,” he says. “If they can find some really positive reasons in their life, whether it’s family or friends or goals that they have, it’s much easier to say no.”

Haynes’ recovery journey allows him to connect with peers, which can take the form of an assignment through Valor Court or a drop-in session with someone who is struggling with recovery or relapse.

“There’s just something about sitting across from someone that you know gets it. I think that’s why peer support is so crucial, especially in this community,” he says.

Stories like that of one young man, who connected with Travis through Valor Court and recently celebrated two years of sobriety, illustrate the purpose of the Bornsteins’ mission.

“I was working through this with a counselor one time, frustrated and angry, like, My story ends with my son being dumped in a field. And one of the things somebody said to me is, Well, that’s not true. That’s where Tyler’s story ended. But your story picks up from the field,” Travis says. “That’s why we work so hard trying to make a difference in people’s life.”

Donate or volunteer: 2684 Sanitarium Road, Akron, 330-794-5023, hopeunited.life