Who Really Collects in the Wage Garnishment Game?

I was a consumer bankruptcy attorney for years during the global financial crisis of 2008 (pre-Affordable Care Act). Around 40% of the bankruptcies were caused by medical debts uncovered by insurance. With the effectiveness of the ACA, the number of bankruptcies in Colorado plummeted.

My comment on “State Lawmakers Seek Restraints on Wage Garnishment for Medical Debt” (Feb. 20)? BC Services acts as if it is garnishing these wages to keep rural hospitals, medical providers, etc. in business. The likely reality is that BC Services (and other collection operations) takes “90-day-overdue” bills — which may or may not have ever been delivered to the patient; usually disregards whether the hospital has offered the patient a reasonable repayment schedule; and then keeps 50% or more of the debt, along with its attorneys’ fees and costs. The medical provider receives very little of the money sent to collections.

— Bill Myers, Denver

On Work Requirements: Working Out Solutions

Eighty hours a month works out to about 20 hours a week, and I think if people can work or study from home, they should be able to meet the requirements (“New Medicaid Work Rules Likely To Hit Middle-Aged Adults Hard,” Feb. 11). More importantly, though, “navigators” will help people get exemptions if they qualify. I wonder why there is so much moaning about the law and nothing about the means to fix the problems it creates. It seems like a lot of hot air. We know it’s a problem. So how about exploring solutions?

— Therese Shellabarger, North Hollywood, California

The Flip Side of a Drug’s Benefits

I read Phillip Reese’s report on anti-anxiety medications, adults who take them, and their concerns about this administration’s policies regarding them (“As More Americans Embrace Anxiety Treatment, MAHA Derides Medications,” Feb. 23). If the anti-anxiety medications provide solace to adults such as Sadia Zapp — a 40-year-old woman who survived cancer — then she should be able to continue them. Unfortunately, the same is not true for many other people, particularly patients such as myself.

When I was 16, I went through an unnecessarily painful and traumatic year. I was sent away from home three times, sent to a wilderness therapy “troubled teen industry” camp that has now been shut down, sent to a new boarding school that I hated, and was away from my family for many months. Of course, I felt depressed and anxious, so my psychiatrist at Kaiser prescribed citalopram. At first, it caused extreme agitation and violent ideation, stuff that is commonly reported to the point it has an . Thankfully, it calmed down. And when I lowered the dose, my life was calm, stable, and productive.

Unfortunately, that did not last long. Over time, the effects wore out, so I tried to go off. I was not given any safety instructions on how to taper slowly and safely, so I went off multiple times. Each time caused extreme withdrawal symptoms, including self-harm, crying spells, and worse depression than ever before. Also, the sexual “side effects” persisted and even worsened upon cessation to this day. It is a , and it is very rarely covered. While the worst symptoms of withdrawal went away, I still live with a worsened sexuality than a young adult my age is supposed to have.

Back to the article, which seems to focus on adults. Its only named profile is Zapp, and when it cites statistics, it begins at age 18. Solely showing statistics of adults is unethical because it obscures the high and rising prescription rates among minors. Minors are also more likely to suffer permanent developmental damage to their sexualities and experience suicidal ideation. This is a major problem that warrants further conversations.

When covering the downsides of SSRIs, the article mentioned only mild side effects, like upset stomach, decreased libido, and mild discontinuation effects, without covering the major concerns of suicidal ideation, akathisia, PSSD, and severe withdrawal. I believe that framing antidepressants as an unequivocal good is equivalent to framing them as an unequivocal evil; both misguide patients through harm and deception.

Lastly, I want to finish on this by the brilliant psychiatrist Awais Aftab.

— Eli Malakoff, San Francisco

A Rigged System?

Insurers pay these exorbitant amounts because they set them in the first place (Bill of the Month: “Even Patients Are Shocked by the Prices Their Insurers Will Pay — And It Costs All of Us,” March 3). They have been doing this for years. I learned this over 15 years ago, when I dislocated and broke my elbow. I had no insurance and, as a “self-pay” patient, paid the surgeon, hospital, and radiology center myself. They set the prices high enough that people will buy insurance out of fear, ensuring they make a profit.

The first thing I learned was that there is not a set price for all; for the insured, it is a fixed system controlled by contracts and codes. As a self-pay patient, the cost may vary.

It was late in the evening and I tripped over a snow shovel, slammed my arm up against a gate post, and it was hanging like a puppet without a string! I called an ambulance and, at the hospital, they strapped me up and told me that I must see the orthopedic surgeon the next day. He sent me to a radiology facility for an X-ray; I paid for it and took it to the surgeon. When I received a bill from the radiology center, I called to say that I had paid. They said it was for the radiologist (who, as far as I knew, never analyzed it). The contract with the insurance company required that every patient had to be billed, whether or not a radiologist reviewed scans. If not, they would lose their contract.

My elbow was dislocated, with a fracture, and I needed surgery. The surgeon’s office called the hospital for pricing, and he told me it would be about $2,000 for outpatient surgery. I called the hospital to confirm the appointment for outpatient surgery, and they wanted $8,000! When I objected, and told them what the surgeon had quoted, they checked. “Oh, you are a self-pay!” Cost would be $2,000. I gave them my card number and prepaid it before they could change their minds.

I had a friend in New Jersey who had the very same injury and surgery. She had insurance through her employer, and she paid more in copays than I paid when paying directly.

Insurance companies are SHARKS!

— Stephanie Hunt-Crowley, Chamberet, Nouvelle Aquitaine, France (formerly Frederick, Maryland)

US vs. Canada

Re: the article about nurses moving to Canada (“‘You Aren’t Trapped’: Hundreds of US Nurses Choose Canada Over Trump’s America,” Feb. 26). You neglect the “rest of the story” — or maybe you don’t know it? I had my medical office in Los Angeles for about 30 years and had dozens of Canadians come to L.A., where some had to self-pay for care, but chose to because of the superior level of medicine available. One man, a son of a gynecologist in Canada, had a draining abscess from a years-old appendectomy. The reason was, after investigation, that the Canadian practice had used silk suture (organic material), which can harbor microbes and carry a greater risk of infection. The trend has been to discontinue silk in favor of nylon. The Canadians were obliged to “use up” the silk suture they had before switching to nylon. The surgeons at my hospital were astounded.

— Kathryn Sobieski, Jackson, Wyoming

On the NET Recovery Device’s Track Record — And Detractors

I read your piece about the NET Recovery device with interest (Payback: Tracking Opioid Cash: “Maker of Device To Treat Addiction Withdrawal Seeks Counties’ Opioid Settlement Cash,” March 18), and I am grateful to you for pointing to one of our many success stories — the story of Michelle Warfield, whom the NET device helped get off opioids.

I also wanted to note a couple of instances where I see the facts differently than they were portrayed in your piece. Your piece seemed to imply that the NET device is new, and I wanted to note that the device has been around for decades (it helped Eric Clapton and members of The Who and the Rolling Stones get sober back in their heyday), and is based on a proven technology that stimulates both the brain and the vagus nerve to help patients with their cravings and withdrawal. There are countless studies that prove the power of neurostimulation, including that showed significant reductions in opioid and stimulant use without medication for a polysubstance population receiving at least 24 hours of stimulation.

I also noted you quoted detractors of our device, and I’d simply urge anyone looking at the issue of opioid addiction abatement to consider who those detractors are; organizations that now find themselves competing for grant dollars from counties increasingly choosing to fund innovation. It is not surprising that those with the most to lose financially would prefer the status quo. But the counties and jails leading this charge are doing so because they have seen what works, and their constituents, real patients, are the proof.

The success stories of our patients speak for themselves, and our only motivation at NET Recovery is to help as many people as possible get truly clean and sober by helping to break that initial grip the opioids have on them. When the NET device works, and it works an astounding 98% of the time (producing a clinically meaningful reduction in opioid withdrawal symptom severity in one hour), our patients are experiencing the return of choice and true freedom.

Thank you for your interest in our work and for the coverage you provide.

— Joe Winston, NET Recovery CEO, Costa Mesa, California

Education Is the First Step in Lowering Health Care Prices

After reading this article about making hospital prices more transparent, I realized the information alone could help drive medical prices down (“Trump Required Hospitals To Post Their Prices for Patients. Mostly It’s the Industry Using the Data,” Feb. 17). Your publication shows good use of evidence-based research — it’s timeless and informative.

As a student at Thomas Jefferson University on the path to serving in the health care arena, I understand the struggles and complexities of medical decision-making. In the medical setting, the topic of price is always overshadowed by patient care and clear communication on the part of both professionals and patients, and it does not reflect how patients would navigate comparison-shopping for care. Almost every patient relies on the help of a physician or gets help from an insurance network and not from online price matching.

I believe that many people should engage with this article even if they aren’t entering the health profession; it would benefit everyone. Although price transparency may help insurers and care providers more than patients, if their goal is to lower prices, they must look beyond the simple posting or sharing of prices. I appreciate the effort to try to bring awareness to this major issue and encourage thoughtful policy discussion about lowering medical prices.

— Jan Rodriguez, Philadelphia

This <a target="_blank" href="/letter-to-the-editor/letters-to-editor-readers-nih-staff-cuts-work-requirements-march-2026/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

They worked for a bit. But by 2011, Warfield struggled to walk.

And “by that time, I was addicted,” said Warfield, now living in Shelbyville, Kentucky.

After she lost her health insurance, Warfield started buying pills on the street. She tried to quit several times, but the debilitating withdrawal — so bad she couldn’t get out of bed, she said — kept driving her back to drug use.

Until last year.

Through her church, Warfield learned about the NET device. It’s a cellphone-sized pack connected to gel electrodes placed near the ear that deliver low-level electrical pulses to the brain.

“Once I got set up on the device, within 30 minutes, I didn’t have any cravings” for opioids, Warfield said.

After three days on the device in August, she stopped using drugs altogether, she said.

Warfield’s treatment was paid for with her county’s opioid settlement dollars — money from pharmaceutical companies accused of fueling the overdose crisis.

State and local governments nationwide are receiving over nearly two decades and are meant to spend it treating and preventing addiction.

Warfield wants them to allot a good chunk to the NET device, which costs counties about $5,500 a person. The pitch is gaining traction. , which makes the device, said it has signed about $1.2 million in contracts with more than a dozen counties and cities in Kentucky. 

But some researchers and recovery advocates say the company’s rapid consumption of opioid dollars raises red flags. They see the NET device as the latest in a series of products that have been overhyped as the solution to the addiction crisis, preying on people’s desperation and capitalizing on the windfall of opioid settlements. Many of these products — from to body scanners for jails — have little evidence to back their lofty promises. That has not stopped sales representatives from repeatedly pitching elected officials or circulating ready-made templates to request settlement money for the companies’ products.

In fact, a device similar to NET called the Bridge gained popularity several years ago, receiving more than $215,000 in opioid settlement cash nationwide. But about the study backing its effectiveness, and the device is currently off the market.

NET Recovery’s activity “fits the national trends of these industry money grabs,” said , a national expert on opioid settlements based in Tennessee. The device “could be helpful for some,” she said. “But it’s being sold as a silver bullet.”

This year, 237 organizations working to end overdose — including Christensen’s consulting company — to guide officials in charge of opioid settlement money. In it, they called the NET device an example of problematic spending on unproven treatment.

Treating Withdrawal or Addiction

The FDA has for a specific use: reducing drug withdrawal symptoms. It has not approved the device to treat addiction.

That’s a crucial distinction, said , executive director of the Institute for Research, Education and Training in Addictions. He co-authored evaluating the evidence on neuromodulation devices like NET.

“The term ‘treatment’ becomes confusing,” Hulsey said. “These devices were cleared to treat opioid withdrawal symptoms, not to treat an opioid use disorder.”

NET Recovery CEO said the company adheres to FDA rules and advertises the device only for withdrawal management. But “we are finding that physicians are prescribing this to folks for long-term behavior based on the results of our study.”

He’s referring to that he co-authored and the company funded, in which researchers followed two groups of addiction patients in Kentucky for 12 weeks. The first group received the NET device for up to seven days, while the second group received a sham treatment.

The study found no significant difference between the groups’ outcomes. Participants who got the NET device were similarly likely to use illicit drugs after treatment as those who got the fake.

Hulsey, who was not affiliated with the study, said the takeaway is clear: “They didn’t find that was effective.”

A subgroup of participants who chose to use the device for more than 24 hours consecutively, however, went on to use illicit drugs less often than other participants.

As the researchers acknowledged in their paper, that subgroup might simply have been more motivated to engage with any form of treatment. The results don’t necessarily show that the device is making a difference, Hulsey said.

Rapid Growth

Winston had a different take. He said the success of the subgroup is “intriguing and outstanding.”

So outstanding, in fact, that the company this month is opening a brick-and-mortar location in Miami, where the device will be available to anyone who can pay $8,000 out-of-pocket. (The cost is higher for individuals than for county governments.) It has also applied for opioid settlement dollars from the state of Kentucky to conduct a larger research study and aims to bring the NET device into metro areas such as Louisville and Lexington.

Last year, NET Recovery hired a magistrate in Franklin County, Kentucky, to head up its operations in the state. (Magistrates function as county commissioners.) , who is also a mental health clinician, travels to different counties, extolling the benefits of the device and encouraging officials to contract with the company.

Her county to NET Recovery prior to her joining the company. Moving forward, Dycus said, she would recuse herself from any contract votes in her county.

Christensen, the national expert on opioid settlements, called Dycus’ new role “extremely strategic” for the company and “an obvious conflict of interest” for a public official.

Giving People Choice

More options for people to enter recovery is generally good, said Jennifer Twyman, who has a history of opioid addiction and now works with , a nonprofit that advocates to end homelessness and the war on drugs.

But settlement funds are finite, she said, and when counties invest in the NET device, that leaves less money to support options like mental health treatment, housing, and transportation programs — critical for many people who use drugs.

“People slip through these big, huge gaps we have and they die,” Twyman said, pointing to photos of dead friends that line her office wall.

She added that people should have the option of taking medications such as methadone and buprenorphine — for treating opioid addiction. only 1 in 4 people with opioid addiction get them.

Many people can’t afford them, find a doctor willing to prescribe them, or get transportation to appointments, Twyman said. against those who use medications, with detractors saying they’re not truly abstinent or clean.

Companies like NET Recovery sometimes lean into that stigma, Twyman said.

For instance, Scott County, Kentucky, jailer — whom the company considers a key champion for its device — to other county officials that medication treatment is just “swapping one drug for another.” It’s a common refrain from critics that .

Winston told ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News his company is supportive of all types of recovery but that the NET device can help the “underserved population” of people who don’t want medication.

Longtime addiction researcher has led studies for NET Recovery and consults for , one of the leading producers of medications for opioid use disorder. He said he sees value in both approaches. It just depends on whom you’re trying to treat.

For people injecting drugs or accustomed to high doses of fentanyl, who are more likely to return to using drugs after residential treatment, “I would hesitate to recommend the device,” he said. Abstinence-based approaches can . But for people who are “highly motivated to stay abstinent,” the NET device may be a good fit.

“Giving people choices is the right thing to do,” he said.

Community as Part of Recovery

Warfield, who has not used opioids since August, credits not just the NET device with her recovery but her community too.

“It’s not a miracle cure,” she said of the device. “You still have to manage your triggers, but it’s easier.”

She regularly attends individual and group therapy to address childhood trauma. She’s found close friends within her church and has reconnected with her daughter. She installed a car seat in her vehicle so she can drive her grandson to preschool.

Warfield explained her hope for opioid settlement money to reach others in her community simply: “I want people to get as much help as they can.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/payback-opioid-settlements-net-recovery-device-opioid-withdrawal-spending-hype/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

Julie Rovner ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News Read Julie's stories. Julie Rovner is chief Washington correspondent and host of ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News’ weekly health policy news podcast, "What the Health?" A noted expert on health policy issues, Julie is the author of the critically praised reference book "Health Care Politics and Policy A to Z," now in its third edition.

Millions of Americans are facing dramatically higher health insurance premium payments due to the Jan. 1 expiration of enhanced Affordable Care Act subsidies. But much of Washington appears more interested at the moment in culture war issues, including abortion and gender-affirming care.

Meanwhile, at the Department of Health and Human Services, personnel continue to be fired and rehired, and grants terminated and reinstated, leaving everyone who touches the agency uncertain about what comes next.

This week’s panelists are Julie Rovner of ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News, Anna Edney of Bloomberg News, Joanne Kenen of the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and Politico Magazine, and Alice Miranda Ollstein of Politico.

Panelists

Anna Edney Bloomberg News

Joanne Kenen Johns Hopkins University and Politico

Alice Miranda Ollstein Politico

Among the takeaways from this week’s episode:

• Congress remains undecided on a deal to renew enhanced ACA premium subsidies, as it is on spending plans to keep the federal government running when the existing, short-term plan expires at the end of the month. While some of the bigger appropriations hang-ups are related to immigration and foreign affairs, there are also hurdles to passing spending for HHS.
• ACA plan enrollment is down about 1.5 million compared with last year, with states reporting that many people are switching to cheaper plans or dropping coverage. Enrollment numbers are likely to drop further in the coming months as more-expensive premium payments come due and some realize they can no longer afford the plans they’re enrolled in.
• A key Senate health committee on Wednesday hosted a hearing on the abortion pill mifepristone, focused on the safety concerns posed by abortion foes — though those concerns are unsupported by scientific research and decades of experience with the drug. Many abortion opponents are frustrated that the Trump administration has not taken aggressive action to restrict access to the abortion pill.
• As the Trump administration moved this week to rehire laid-off employees and abruptly cancel, then restore, addiction-related grants, overall government spending is up, despite the administration’s stated goal of saving money by cutting the federal government’s size and activities. It turns out the churn within the administration is costing taxpayers more. And new data, revealing that more federal workers left on their own than were laid off last year, shows that a lot of institutional memory was also lost.

Also this week, Rovner interviews ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News’ Elisabeth Rosenthal, who created the “Bill of the Month” series and wrote the latest installment, about a scorpion pepper, an ER visit, and a ghost bill. If you have a baffling, infuriating, or exorbitant bill you’d like to share with us, you can do that here.

Plus, for “extra credit” the panelists suggest health policy stories they read this week that they think you should read, too:

Julie Rovner: The New York Times’ “,” by Maxine Joselow.

Alice Miranda Ollstein: ProPublica’s “,” by Anna Clark.

Joanne Kenen: The New Yorker’s “,” by Dhruv Khullar.

Anna Edney: MedPage Today’s “,” by Joedy McCreary.

Also mentioned in this week’s podcast:

• The Washington Post’s “,” by Paul Kane.
• HealthAffairs’ “,” by Mica Hartman, Anne B. Martin, David Lassman, and Aaron Catlin.
• Politico’s “,” by Alice Miranda Ollstein.
• JAMA’s “,” by Sophie Dilek, Joanne Rosen, Anna Levashkevich, Joshua M. Sharfstein, and G. Caleb Alexander.

Credits

Click here to find all our podcasts.

And subscribe to “What the Health? From ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News” on , , , , , or wherever you listen to podcasts.

This <a target="_blank" href="/podcast/what-the-health-429-obamacare-abortion-pill-mifepristone-hhs-january-15-2026/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

But inside, the store is a welcoming oasis. Twinkly string lights adorn racks of donated clothing. Shelves and bins overflow with children’s books, allergy medications, and toiletries. Curtains cordon off one side of the room, where there’s a stage for musicians and a neon sign depicting roller skates for weekly free skate nights.

The space is part free thrift store, part over-the-counter pharmacy, part punk show venue — and wholly “a radical community center,” said Dan Bingler, who runs the place.

Bingler is a waiter and bartender in the city who founded a mutual-aid organization called the . He said the building owners allow him to use the space as long as he pays the water, electricity, and trash bills.

On Monday evenings, volunteers from other community organizations show up — some used to set up in the parking lot before Bingler opened the store. They offer free testing for sexually transmitted infections, basic medical care, hot meals, and sterile syringes and other supplies for people who use drugs.

The purpose of the space is simple, Bingler said: “We’re going to make sure we provide for the community.”

Although it’s been open for a few years now, the space has become even more crucial to this community in recent months, with the Trump administration slashing funding for many social service organizations and taking an aggressive approach to homelessness and drug use. In Washington, D.C., the administration has to push people living on the street to . Nationally, it has called for people who use drugs to be . It has — practices that public health experts say keep people who use drugs safe and alive but that critics say promote illegal drug use.

The community space in New Orleans — named the Fred Hampton Free Store after the known for bringing together diverse groups to fight for social reforms — aims to be a haven among this sea of changes.

It doesn’t receive federal funding, state or local grants, or money from foundations, Bingler said. It’s simply neighbors helping neighbors, he said, tearing up and adding, “It’s a really beautiful thing to be able to share all this space.”

All items inside are provided by people or organizations in the community. Bingler said one time a local hotel undergoing renovations donated 50 flat-screen TVs.

On nights the store is open, often more than 100 people visit, Bingler said.

One fall evening, dozens of people browsed for free clothing and over-the-counter medications. Others sat on the grass outside, chatting while keeping an eye on their bicycles or grocery carts full of possessions.

James Beshears stopped by the harm reduction group in the parking lot to get sterile supplies he uses to inject heroin and fentanyl. He said he’d been in treatment for years but relapsed after his doctor moved away and he was referred to a clinic that charged $250 a day. Street drugs were cheaper than treatment, he said.

He wants to stop. But until he can find affordable care, places like the free store keep him going. Without it, he said, he’d have “one foot in the grave.”

Another man in the parking lot was waiting for the arrival of Aquil Bey, a paramedic and former Green Beret well known for helping people overcome obstacles to getting health care. As soon as the man spotted Bey’s black Jeep, he ran up.

“I’ve got stage 4 kidney disease,” the man said, adding that he was scheduled for treatments at a hospital but was struggling to get there.

“Do me a favor,” Bey said as he unloaded folding tables and medical equipment from his car. “When our team gets here, come and see us. Maybe we can get you transportation.”

Bey is the founder of , a volunteer-run organization that provides free basic medical care and referrals for people who are homeless, using drugs, or part of other vulnerable communities. The group has a steady presence at the free store.

That day, Bey and his team connected the man needing kidney disease treatment to reduced-cost transit programs. They also did blood pressure and blood sugar checks for anyone who wanted them, cleaned infected wounds, and called clinics to make appointments for patients without phones.

A man with a leg injury mentioned he was sleeping on the concrete floor of an abandoned naval base. Bey noticed the free store’s furniture section had a mattress. He and another volunteer hauled it out, strapped it to the top of a car, and delivered it to where the man was sleeping.

“We’re just trying to find all these barriers” that people face and “find ways to fix them,” Bey said.

The clinic at the free store helped Stephen Wiltz connect with addiction care. He grew up in the Lower 9th Ward and had been using drugs since he was 10.

Fed up with discrimination from doctors who blamed him for his addiction, Wiltz said, he was reluctant to go to any treatment facility. But after years of knowing the volunteers at the free store, he trusted them to point him in the right direction.

At 56, Wiltz was in sustained recovery for the first time in his life, he said during a phone interview in the fall.

Those volunteers “cared for people who didn’t have nobody to care for them,” he said.

As the sun went down that fall evening at the store, a punk band started setting up for a show across the room from the medical clinic. Lights dimmed and music blared — a reminder that this was not your everyday clinic or community center.

Bey continued consulting with a patient who had gout.

“I get used to the sound,” Bey said of the rapid drums and loud power chords. “I like it sometimes.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/new-orleans-radical-community-center-clinic-thrift-store-lifeline/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

LODGE GRASS, Mont. — Brothers Lonny and Teyon Fritzler walked amid the tall grass and cottonwood trees surrounding their boarded-up childhood home near the Little Bighorn River and daydreamed about ways to rebuild.

The rolling prairie outside the single-story clapboard home is where Lonny learned from their grandfather how to break horses. It’s where Teyon learned from their grandmother how to harvest buffalo berries. It’s also where they watched their father get addicted to meth.

Teyon, now 34, began using the drug at 15 with their dad. Lonny, 41, started after college, which he said was partly due to the stress of caring for their grandfather with dementia. Their own addictions to meth persisted for years, outlasting the lives of both their father and grandfather.

It took leaving their home in Lodge Grass, a town of about 500 people on the Crow Indian Reservation, to recover. Here, methamphetamine use is widespread.

The brothers stayed with an aunt in Oklahoma as they learned to live without meth. Their family property has sat empty for years — the horse corral’s beams are broken and its roof caved in, the garage tilts, and the house needs extensive repairs. Such crumbling structures are common in this Native American community, hammered by the effects of meth addiction. Lonny said some homes in disrepair would cost too much to fix. It’s typical for multiple generations to crowd under one roof, sometimes for cultural reasons but also due to the area’s housing shortage.

“We have broken-down houses, a burnt one over here, a lot of houses that are not livable,” Lonny said as he described the few neighboring homes.

In Lodge Grass, an estimated 60% of the residents age 14 and older struggle with drug or alcohol addictions, according to a local survey contracted by the Mountain Shadow Association, a local, Native-led nonprofit. For many in the community, the buildings in disrepair are symbols of that struggle. But signs of renewal are emerging. In recent years, the town has torn down more than two dozen abandoned buildings. Now, for the first time in decades, new businesses are going up and have become new symbols — those of the town’s effort to recover from the effects of meth.

One of those new buildings, a day care center, arrived in October 2024. A parade of people followed the small, wooden building through town as it was delivered on the back of a truck. It replaced a formerly abandoned home that had tested positive for traces of meth.

“People were crying,” said Megkian Doyle, who heads the Mountain Shadow Association, which opened the center. “It was the first time that you could see new and tangible things that pulled into town.”

The nonprofit is also behind the town’s latest construction project: a place where families together can heal from addiction. The plan is to build an entire campus in town that provides mental health resources, housing for kids whose parents need treatment elsewhere, and housing for families working to live without drugs and alcohol.

Though the project is years away from completion, locals often stop by to watch the progress.

“There is a ground-level swell of hope that’s starting to come up around your ankles,” Doyle said.

Two of the builders on that project are Lonny and Teyon Fritzler. They see the work as a chance to help rebuild their community within the Apsáalooke Nation, also known as the Crow Tribe.

“When I got into construction work, I actually thought God was punishing me,” Lonny said. “But now, coming back, building these walls, I’m like, ‘Wow. This is ours now.’”

Meth ‘Never Left’

Meth use is a throughout the U.S. and a growing contributor to the nation’s . The drug had been devastating in Indian Country, that encompasses tribal jurisdictions and certain areas with Native American populations.

Native Americans face the in the U.S. compared with any other demographic group.

“Meth has never left our communities,” said A.C. Locklear, CEO of the , a nonprofit that works to improve health in Indian Country.

Many reservations are in rural areas, which have of meth use compared with cities. As a group, Native Americans face high rates of poverty, chronic disease, and mental illness — all are . These conditions are rooted in , a byproduct of colonization. Meanwhile, the Indian Health Service, which provides health care to Native Americans, has been chronically underfunded. Cutbacks under the Trump administration have shrunk health programs nationwide.

LeeAnn Bruised Head, a recently retired public health adviser with the U.S. Public Health Service Commissioned Corps, said that despite the challenges, tribal nations have developed strong survival skills drawing from their traditions. For example, Crow people have held onto their nation’s language; neighbors are often family, or considered such; and many tribal members rely on their clans to mentor children, who eventually become mentors themselves for the next generation.

“The strength here, the support here,” said Bruised Head, who is part of the Crow Tribe. “You can’t get that anywhere else.”

Signs of Rebuilding

On a fall day, Quincy Dabney greeted people arriving for lunch at the Lodge Grass drop-in center. The center recently opened in a former church as a place where people can come for help to stay sober or for a free meal. Dabney volunteers at the center. He’s also the town’s mayor.

Dabney helped organize community cleanup days starting in 2017, during which people picked up trash in yards and alongside roads. The focus eventually shifted to tearing down empty, condemned houses, which Dabney said had become spots to sell, distribute, and use meth, often during the day as children played nearby.

“There was nothing stopping it here,” Dabney said.

The problem hasn’t disappeared, though. In 2024, officials broke up a multistate based on the Crow reservation that distributed drugs to other Montana reservations. It was one example of how drug traffickers as sales and distribution hubs.

A few blocks from where Dabney spoke stood the remains of a stone building where someone had spray-painted “Stop Meth” on its roofless walls. Still, there are signs of change, he said.

Dabney pointed across the street to a field where a trailer had sat empty for years before the town removed it. The town was halfway through tearing down another home in disrepair on the next block. Another house on the same street was being cleaned up for an incoming renter: a new mental health worker at the drop-in center.

Just down the road, work was underway on the new campus for addiction recovery, called Kaala’s Village. Kaala means “grandmother” in Crow.

The site’s first building going up is a therapeutic foster home. Plans include housing to gradually reunite families, a community garden, and a place to hold ceremonies. Doyle said the goal is that, eventually, residents can help build their own small homes, working with experienced builders trained to provide mental health support.

She said one of the most important aspects of this work “is that we finish it.”

Tribal citizens and organizations have said the political chaos of Trump’s first year back in office shows the problem with relying on federal programs. It underscores the need for more grassroots efforts, like what’s unfolding in Lodge Grass. But a reliable system to fund those efforts still doesn’t exist. Last year’s federal grant and program cuts also fueled competition for philanthropic dollars.

Kaala’s Village is expected to cost $5 million. The association is building in phases as money comes in. Doyle said the group hopes to open the foster home by spring, and family housing the following year.

The site is a few minutes’ drive from Lonny and Teyon’s childhood home. In addition to building the new facility’s walls, they’re getting training to offer mental health support. Eventually, they hope to work alongside people who come home to Kaala’s Village.

As for their own home, they hope to restore it — one room at a time.

“Just piece by piece,” Lonny said. “We’ve got to do something. We’ve got these young ones watching.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/tribal-health-meth-epidemic-recovery-montana-town-rebuilds-crow-reservation/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

NEW ORLEANS — Elyse Stevens had a reputation for taking on complex medical cases. People who’d been battling addiction for decades. Chronic-pain patients on high doses of opioids. Sex workers and people living on the street.

“Many of my patients are messy, the ones that don’t know if they want to stop using drugs or not,” said Stevens, a primary care and addiction medicine doctor.

While other doctors avoided these patients, Stevens — who was familiar with the city from her time in medical school at Tulane University — sought them out. She regularly attended 6 a.m. breakfasts for homeless people, volunteered at a homeless shelter clinic on Saturdays, and, on Monday evenings, visited an abandoned Family Dollar store where advocates distributed supplies to people who use drugs.

One such evening about four years ago, Charmyra Harrell arrived there limping, her right leg swollen and covered in sores. Emergency room doctors had repeatedly dismissed her, so she eased the pain with street drugs, Harrell said.

Stevens cleaned her sores on Mondays for months until finally persuading Harrell to visit the clinic at University Medical Center New Orleans. There, Stevens discovered Harrell had diabetes and cancer.

She agreed to prescribe Harrell pain medication — an option many doctors would automatically dismiss for fear that a patient with a history of addiction would misuse it.

But Stevens was confident Harrell could hold up her end of the deal.

“She told me, ‘You cannot do drugs and do your pain meds,’” Harrell recounted on a Monday evening in October. So, “I’m no longer on cocaine.”

Stevens’ approach to patient care has won her awards and nominations in , , and . Instead of seeing patients in binaries — addicted or sober, with a positive or negative drug test — she measures progress on a spectrum. Are they showering daily, cooking with their families, using less fentanyl than the day before?

But not everyone agrees with this flexible approach that prioritizes working with patients on their goals, even if abstinence isn’t one of them. And it came to a head in the summer of 2024.

“The same things I was high-fived for thousands of times — suddenly that was bad,” Stevens said.

Flexible Care or Slippery Slope?

More than who need substance use treatment don’t receive it, national data shows. Barriers abound: high costs, lack of transportation, clinic hours that are incompatible with jobs, fear of being mistreated.

Some doctors had been trying to ease the process for years. Covid-19 accelerated that trend. Telehealth appointments, fewer urine drug tests, and medication refills that last longer became the norm.

The result?

“Patients did OK and we actually reached more people,” said , immediate past president of the American Society of Addiction Medicine. The organization supports continuing flexible practices, such as helping patients avoid withdrawal symptoms by of addiction medication and focusing on recovery goals .

But some doctors prefer traditional approaches that range from zero tolerance for patients using illegal drugs to setting stiff consequences for those who don’t meet their doctors’ expectations. For example, a patient who tests positive for street drugs while getting outpatient care would be discharged and told to go to residential rehab. Proponents of this method fear loosening restrictions could be a slippery slope that ultimately harms patients. They say continuing to prescribe painkillers, for example, to people using illicit substances long-term could normalize drug use and hamper the goal of getting people off illegal drugs.

Progress should be more than keeping patients in care, said , a Stanford psychologist, who has treated and researched addiction for decades and .

“If you give addicted people lots of drugs, they like it, and they may come back,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean that that is promoting their health over time.”

Flexible practices also tend to align with harm reduction, a divisive approach that proponents say keeps people who use drugs safe and that critics — — say enables illegal drug use.

The debate is not just philosophical. For Stevens and her patients, it came to bear on the streets of New Orleans.

‘Unconventional’ Prescribing

In the summer of 2024, supervisors started questioning Stevens’ approach.

In emails reviewed by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News, they expressed concerns about her prescribing too many pain pills, a mix of opioids and other controlled substances to the same patients, and high doses of buprenorphine, a medication considered to treat opioid addiction.

Supervisors worried Stevens wasn’t doing enough urine drug tests and kept treating patients who used illicit drugs instead of referring them to higher levels of care.

“Her prescribing pattern appears unconventional compared to the local standard of care,” the hospital’s chief medical officer at the time wrote to Stevens’ supervisor, . “Note that this is the only standard of care which would likely be considered should a legal concern arise.”

Springgate forwarded that email to Stevens and encouraged her to refer more patients to methadone clinics, intensive outpatient care, and inpatient rehab.

Stevens understood the general practice but couldn’t reconcile it with the reality her patients faced. How would someone living in a tent, fearful of losing their possessions, trek to a methadone clinic daily?

Stevens sent her supervisors of and backing her flexible approach. She explained that if she stopped prescribing the medications of concern, patients might leave the health system, but they wouldn’t disappear.

“They just wouldn’t be getting care and perhaps they’d be dead,” she said in an interview with ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

Both University Medical Center and LSU Health New Orleans, which employs physicians at the hospital, declined repeated requests for interviews. They did not respond to detailed questions about addiction treatment or Stevens’ practices.

Instead, they provided a joint statement from Richard DiCarlo, dean of the LSU Health New Orleans School of Medicine, and Jeffrey Elder, chief medical officer of University Medical Center New Orleans.

“We are not at liberty to comment publicly on internal personnel issues,” they wrote.

“We recognize that addiction is a serious public health problem, and that addiction treatment is a challenge for the healthcare industry,” they said. “We remain dedicated to expanding access to treatment, while upholding the highest standard of care and safety for all patients.”

Not Black-and-White

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News shared the complaints against Stevens and the responses she’d written for supervisors with two addiction medicine doctors outside of Louisiana, who had no affiliation with Stevens. Both found her practices to be within the bounds of normal addiction care, especially for complex patients.

, an addiction medicine doctor and the , said doctors running pill mills typically have sparse patient notes that list a chief complaint of pain. But Stevens’ notes detailed patients’ life circumstances and the intricate decisions she was making with them.

“To me, that’s the big difference,” Loyd said.

Some people think the “only good answer is no opioids,” such as oxycodone or hydrocodone, for any patients, said , an addiction medicine doctor and associate professor at Michigan State University. But patients may need them — sometimes for things like cancer pain — or require months to lower their doses safely, she said. “It’s not as black-and-white as people outside our field want it to be.”

Humphreys, the Stanford psychologist, had a different take. He did not review Stevens’ case but said, as a general practice, there are risks to prescribing painkillers long-term, especially for patients using today’s lethal street drugs too.

Overprescribing fueled the opioid crisis, he said. “It’s not going to go away if we do that again.”

‘The Thing That Kills People’

After months of tension, Stevens’ supervisors told her on March 10 to stop coming to work. The hospital was conducting a review of her practices, they said in an email viewed by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

Overnight, hundreds of her patients were moved to other providers.

Luka Bair had been seeing Stevens for three years and was stable on daily buprenorphine.

After Stevens’ departure, Bair was left without medication for three days. The withdrawal symptoms were severe — headache, nausea, muscle cramps.

“I was just in physical hell,” said Bair, who works for the National Harm Reduction Coalition and uses they/them pronouns.

Although Bair eventually got a refill, Springgate, Stevens’ supervisor, didn’t want to continue the regimen long-term. Instead, Springgate referred Bair to more intensive and residential programs, citing Bair’s intermittent use of other drugs, including benzodiazepines and cocaine, as markers of high risk. Bair “requires a higher level of care than our clinic reasonably can offer,” Springgate wrote in patient portal notes reviewed by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

But Bair said daily attendance at those programs was incompatible with their full-time job. They left the clinic, with 30 days to find a new doctor or run out of medication again.

“This is the thing that kills people,” said Bair, who eventually found another doctor willing to prescribe.

Springgate did not respond to repeated calls and emails requesting comment.

University Medical Center and LSU Health New Orleans did not answer questions about discharging Stevens’ patients.

‘Reckless Behavior’

About a month after Stevens was told to stay home, Haley Beavers Khoury, a medical student who worked with her, had collected nearly 100 letters from other students, doctors, patients, and homelessness service providers calling for Stevens’ return.

One student wrote, “Make no mistake — some of her patients will die without her.” A nun from the Daughters of Charity, which ran , called Stevens a “lifeline” for vulnerable patients.

Beavers Khoury said she sent the letters to about 10 people in hospital and medical school leadership. Most did not respond.

In May, the hospital’s review committee determined Stevens’ practices fell “outside of the acceptable community standards” and constituted “reckless behavior,” according to a letter sent to Stevens.

The hospital did not answer ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News’ questions about how it reached this conclusion or if it identified any patient harm.

Meanwhile, Stevens had secured a job at another New Orleans hospital. But because her resignation came amid the ongoing investigation, University Medical Center said it was required to inform the state’s medical licensing board.

The medical board began its own investigation — a development that eventually cost Stevens the other job offer.

In presenting her side to the medical board, Stevens repeated many arguments she’d made before. Yes, she was prescribing powerful medications. No, she wasn’t making clinical decisions based on urine drug tests. But national addiction organizations supported such practices and promoted tailoring care to patients’ circumstances, she said. Her response included a 10-page bibliography with 98 citations.

Liability

The board’s investigation into Stevens is ongoing. shows no action taken against her license as of late December.

The board declined to comment on both Stevens’ case and its definition of appropriate addiction treatment.

In October, Stevens moved to the Virgin Islands to work in internal medicine at a local hospital. She said she’s grateful for the welcoming locals and the financial stability to support herself and her parents.

But it hurts to think of her former patients in New Orleans.

Before leaving, Stevens packed away handwritten letters from several of them — one was 15 pages long, written in alternating green and purple marker — in which they shared childhood traumas and small successes they had while in treatment with her.

Stevens doesn’t know what happened to those patients after she left.

She believes the scrutiny of her practices centers on liability more than patient safety.

But, she said, “liability is in abandoning people too.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/addiction-medicine-harm-reduction-opioids-louisiana-doctor-battle/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid,” said Ferguson, who still calls Quincy Jackson III her baby. She remembers a boy who dressed himself in three-piece suits, donated his allowance, and graduated high school at 16 with an academic scholarship and plans to join the military or start a business.

Instead, Ferguson watched as her once bright-eyed, handsome son sank into disheveled psychosis, bouncing between family members’ homes, homeless shelters, jails, clinics, emergency rooms, and Ohio’s regional psychiatric hospitals.

Over the past year, The Marshall Project – Cleveland and ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News interviewed Jackson, other patients and families, current and former state hospital employees, advocates, lawyers, judges, jail administrators, and national behavioral health experts. All echoed Ferguson, who said the mental health system makes it “easier to criminalize somebody than to get them help.”

State psychiatric hospitals nationwide have largely lost the ability to treat patients before their mental health deteriorates and they are charged with crimes. Driving the problem is a meteoric rise in the share of patients with criminal cases who stay significantly longer, generally by court order.

Patients Wait or Are Turned Away

Across the nation, psychiatric hospitals are short-staffed and consistently turn away patients or leave them waiting with few or no treatment options. Those who do receive beds are often sent there by court order after serious criminal offenses.

In Ohio, the share of state hospital patients with criminal charges jumped from about half in 2002 to .

The surge has coincided with a steep decline in total state psychiatric hospital patients served, down 50% in Ohio in the past decade, from 6,809 to 3,421, according to the . During that time, total patients served nationwide dropped about 17%, from 139,434 to 116,320, with state approaches varying widely, from adding community services and building more beds to closing hospitals.

Ohio Department of Behavioral Health officials declined multiple interview requests for this article.

The decline in capacity at state facilities unfurled as a spate of local hospitals across the country shuttered their psychiatric units, which disproportionately serve patients with Medicaid or who are uninsured. And the financial stability of is likely to deteriorate further after Congress passed President Donald Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which slashes nearly $1 trillion from the federal Medicaid budget over the next decade.

The constricted flow of new patients through state hospitals is “absolutely” a crisis and “a huge deal in Ohio and everywhere,” said retired Ohio Supreme Court Justice Evelyn Lundberg Stratton. As co-chair of the state attorney general’s , Lundberg Stratton has spent decades searching for solutions.

“It hurts everybody who has someone who needs to get a hospital bed that’s not in the criminal justice system,” she said.

‘It’s Heartbreaking’

Quincy Jackson III’s white socks stuck out of the end of a hospital bed as police officers stood watch.

At 5 feet, 7 inches tall, Jackson has a stocky build and robotic stare. Staff at Blanchard Valley Hospital in Findlay, Ohio, had called for help, alleging Jackson had assaulted a security guard.

“I’m sick; I take medication,” Jackson said to the officers, according to law enforcement body camera footage. His hands were cuffed behind his back as he lay on the bed, a loose hospital gown covering him.

Ferguson called it one of his “episodes” and said her son experienced severe psychosis frequently. In one incident, she said, Jackson “went for a knife” at her home.

From December 2023 through this July, Jackson was arrested or cited in police reports on at least 17 occasions. He was jailed at least five times and treated more than 10 times at hospitals, including three state-run psychiatric facilities. A recent psychiatric evaluation noted that Jackson has been in and out of community and state facilities since 2015.

Jackson is among a glut of people nationwide with severe mental illness who overwhelm community hospitals, courtrooms, and jails, eventually leading to backlogs at state hospitals.

High-Profile Incidents

That dearth of care is often cited by families, law enforcement authorities, and mental health advocates after people struggling with severe mental illness harm others. In the past six months, at least four incidents made national headlines.

In August, a homeless reportedly diagnosed with schizophrenia fatally stabbed a woman on a train. Also in August, police said a with a history of mental health issues killed three people, including a child, at a Target store. In July, a homeless who family members said had needed treatment for decades attacked 11 people at a Walmart store with a knife. In June, police shot and killed a reportedly diagnosed with schizophrenia after authorities said he attacked law enforcement.

Mark Mihok, a longtime municipal judge near Cleveland, told a spring that he had never seen so many people with serious mental illnesses living on the streets and “now punted into the criminal justice system.”

37-Day Wait for a Bed

At Blanchard Valley Hospital, sheriff’s deputies had taken Jackson from jail for a mental health check. But Jackson’s actions raised concerns.

In the body camera video, a nurse said Jackson was “going to be here all weekend. And we’re going to be calling you guys every 10 minutes.”

The officer responded: “Yeah, well, if he keeps acting like that, he’s going to go right back” to the county jail.

Within minutes, Jackson was taken back to jail, yelling at the officers: “Kill me, motherf—–. Yeah, shoot them, shoot them. Pop!”

Statewide, Ohio has about 1,100 beds in its six regional psychiatric hospitals. In May, the median wait time to get a state bed was 37 days.

That’s “a long time to be waiting in jail for a bed without meaningful access to mental health treatment,” said Shanti Silver, a senior research adviser at the national nonprofit Treatment Advocacy Center.

Long waits, often leaving people who need care lingering in jails, have drawn lawsuits in several states, including , , and , where a large 2014 class action case forced systemic changes such as expansion of crisis intervention training and residential treatment beds.

Ohio officials noticed bed shortages as early as 2018. State leaders assembled task forces and . They launched community programs, crisis units, and a statewide emergency hotline.

Yet backlogs at the Ohio hospitals mounted.

Ohio Department of Behavioral Health Director LeeAnne Cornyn, who left the agency in October, wrote in a May emailed statement that the agency “works diligently to ensure a therapeutic environment for our patients, while also protecting patient, staff, and public safety.”

Eric Wandersleben, director of media relations and outreach for the department, declined to respond to detailed questions submitted before publication and, instead, noted that responses could be publicly found in a governor’s working group report .

Elizabeth Tady, a hospital liaison who also spoke to judges and lawyers at the May gathering, said 45 patients were waiting for beds at Northcoast Behavioral Healthcare, the state psychiatric hospital serving the Cleveland region.

“It’s heartbreaking for me and for all of us to know that there are things that need to be done to help the criminal justice system, to help our communities, but we’re stuck,” she said.

Ohio officials added 30 state psychiatric beds by in Columbus and are planning in southwestern Ohio.

Still, Ohio Director of Forensic Services Lisa Gordish told the gathering in Cleveland that adding capacity alone won’t work.

“If you build beds — and what we’ve seen in other states is that’s what they’ve done — those beds get filled up, and we continue to have a waitlist,” she said.

This year, Jackson waited 100 days in the and Montgomery County jail for a bed at a state hospital, according to jail records.

Ferguson said she was afraid to leave him there but could not bail him out, in part, she said, because her son cannot survive on his own.

“There’s no place for my son to experience symptoms in the state of Ohio safely,” Ferguson said.

Sick System

Patrick Heltzel got the extended treatment Ferguson has long sought for her son, but he stabbed a 71-year-old man to death before getting it.

The 32-year-old is one of more than receiving treatment in Ohio’s psychiatric hospitals.

“People need long-term care,” Heltzel said in October, calling from inside Heartland Behavioral Healthcare, near Canton, where he has lived for more than a decade after being found not guilty by reason of insanity of aggravated murder. Inpatient care, he said, helps patients figure out what medication regimen will work and deliver the therapy needed “to develop insight.”

As he spoke, the sound of an open room and patients chatting filled the background.

“You have to know, ‘OK, I have this chronic condition, and this is what I have to do to treat it,’” Heltzel said.

As the ranks of criminally charged patients in Ohio’s hospitals have increased over the past decade, the shift has had an impact on patient care: The hospitals have endangered patients, have become more restrictive, and are understaffed, according to interviews with Heltzel, other patients, and former staff members, as well as documents obtained through public records requests.

Escapes and a Lockdown

Katie Jenkins, executive director of the National Alliance on Mental Illness Greater Cleveland, said the shift from mostly civil patients, who haven’t been charged with a crime, to criminally charged patients has changed the hospitals.

“It’s hard in our state hospitals right now,” she said. Unfortunately, she said, patients who have been in jail bring that culture to the hospitals.

In the first 10 months of 2024, at least nine patients escaped from Ohio’s regional psychiatric hospitals — compared with three total in the previous four years, according to .

, two female patients at Summit Behavioral Healthcare near Cincinnati escaped after one lunged at a staff member. In another, a man broke a window and climbed out.

Most of the escapes, though, were not violent. Days after a patient at Northcoast during a trip to the dentist in a Cleveland suburb, state officials stopped allowing patients to leave any of the six regional hospitals.

to leaders at the hospitals said officials had seen “similarities across multiple facilities,” raising significant concern about “ensuring patient and public safety.”

For Heltzel, the inability to go on outings or to his mother’s house on the weekends was a setback for his treatment. In 2024, when the lockdown began, he had more freedom than most patients at the psychiatric hospitals, regularly leaving to go to the local gym and attend off-site group therapy.

His mother signed him out each Friday to go home for the weekend, where he drove a car and played with his 2-year-old German shepherd, Violet. On Sundays, Heltzel was part of the “dream team” at church, volunteering to operate the audio and slides.

Federal records reveal that, at Ohio’s larger state-run psychiatric hospitals, including Summit and Northcoast, patients and staff have faced imminent danger.

In 2019 and 2020, federal investigators responded to patient deaths, including two suicides in six months at Northcoast. One hospital employee told federal inspectors, “The facility has been understaffed for a while and it’s getting worse,” according to . “It is very dangerous out here.”

Disability Rights Ohio, which has a federal mandate to monitor the facilities, in October against the department. The advocacy group, alleging abuse and neglect, asked for records of staff’s response to a Northcoast patient who suffocated from a plastic bag over their head. At the end of October, the court docket showed the parties had settled the case.

Retired sheriff’s deputy Louella Reynolds worked as a police officer at Northcoast for about five years before leaving in 2022. She said the increase in criminally charged patients meant the hospitals “absolutely” became less safe. Her hip still hurts from a patient who threw her against a cement wall.

Reynolds said officers should be able to carry weapons, which they don’t, and that more staff are needed to handle the patients. Mandatory overtime was common, she said, and often staff would report to work and not “know when we would get off.”

A Disaster That Wasn’t Averted

Back at Heartland, Heltzel requested conditional release. The judge denied the release request.

Heltzel said it was devastating. He grew up Catholic and said, “I was kind of looking for absolution.”

Now, Heltzel said he is practicing acceptance. “Acceptance is all the more important to practice when you don’t agree with something,” Heltzel said, adding, “I’m a ward of the state.”

He still hopes to be released: “I just do what I can to move forward.”

Heltzel, like Jackson, had been hospitalized before and released.

In early 2013, Heltzel said, he asked his dad to kill him. “And he refused and I did smack him,” he said. Heltzel was sent to Heartland for a short stay — about 10 days, according to his mother, Jan Dyer. She recalled “begging” the hospital staff to keep him.

Heltzel said he remembers not being ready to leave: “I was still sick, and I was still delusional.” Back at home, he said, he had a “sense of existential dread, like that all this horrible stuff was going to happen.” He stopped taking his medication.

Within weeks, Heltzel killed 71-year-old Milton A. Grumbling III at his home, placing him in a chokehold and stabbing him repeatedly, according to . He beat him with a remote control and then left, taking a Bible from the home, as well as a ring. Delusional with schizophrenia, Heltzel believed that Grumbling had sexually abused him in another life, according to the records.

A family member of the man he killed told the judge in 2023 that Heltzel should “stay in prison,” according to .

In denying his conditional release, judges cited Heltzel’s failure to take medication before killing Grumbling.

Jenkins, who said she worked at a state hospital for nine years before becoming the lead advocate for NAMI Greater Cleveland, said psychiatric medications can take as long as six weeks to become fully effective.

“So clients aren’t even getting stabilized when they’re being hospitalized,” Jenkins said.

‘He’s Not a Throwaway Child’

In a July interview, Jackson said inconsistent care or unmedicated time in jail “worsens my symptoms.” Jackson was on the phone during a stay at a state psychiatric hospital.

Without medicine, “my head hurts, to be honest,” Jackson said, before asking to get off the phone because he was hungry. It was lunchtime. “Can you get the information from my mom?” Jackson said. “She has the records.”

After Jackson hung up the phone, Ferguson explained that “he says the food is excellent, so he does not want to miss it.” And, she added, the hospital staff had not yet seen the explosive side of her son.

In early September, after 45 days at Summit — his longest stay yet at a state psychiatric hospital — Jackson returned to the Montgomery County jail facing misdemeanor charges because of with staff at a Dayton behavioral health hospital. In court, Ferguson said, her son struggled to explain to the judge why he was there. On a video call from the jail days later, she saw him playing with his hair and ears.

“That tells me he’s not OK,” Ferguson said.

Before Jackson’s diagnosis more than a decade ago, Ferguson said, her son wasn’t a troublemaker. He had goals and dreams. And he’s still “loved and liked by a lot of people.”

“He’s not a throwaway child,” she said.

 is a nonprofit news team covering Ohio’s criminal justice systems.

This <a target="_blank" href="/race-and-health/criminally-ill-state-mental-psychiatric-hospitals-prisons-waitlists-ohio/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

As night falls and temperatures drop, he erects a tent and builds a fire beneath a canopy of pine, hemlock, and cedar trees.

He evades authorities by rotating use of three tents of different colors at three campsites. As day breaks, he dismantles his shelter, rolls up his belongings, and hides them for the next night. “They don’t see you if you’re in the woods,” the 32-year-old said. “But make sure it’s broken down by morning or they’ll find you.”

During the day, he wanders, stopping at a public library to warm up or a soup kitchen to eat. What’s important is to not draw attention to himself for being homeless.

“Police want us out of the way,” he said, dressed in a gray jacket and carrying none of his possessions. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Ibrahim has been deliberate about blending in since August, when President Donald Trump placed the district’s police under and ordered National Guard soldiers to patrol its streets. The president homeless people to leave immediately. “There will be no ‘MR. NICE GUY,’” .

The Trump administration says encampment sweeps have reduced the visibility of homelessness, thereby enhancing the city. “There is no disputing that Washington, DC is a safer, cleaner, and more beautiful city thanks to President Trump’s historic actions to restore the nation’s capital,” White House spokesperson Taylor Rogers said.

While there may appear to be fewer homeless people in the nation’s capital now, they have not disappeared.

In interviews, homeless people said they are in a constant shuffle, hiding in plain sight. During the day, they stay on the move, grabbing meals at soup kitchens and resting on occasion in public libraries, on park benches, or at bus stops. At night, many unsheltered people bed down in business doorways, on park sidewalks, and on church stoops. Some ride the bus all night, while a few shelter in emergency rooms. Others find respite in the woods or flee to suburbs in Virginia or Maryland.

There are about 5,100 homeless people in Washington, D.C., including in temporary shelters, according to an . After Trump ordered the crackdown on public homelessness, people living in makeshift communities scattered and are now living in the shadows. City officials estimated in August that nearly 700 homeless people were living outdoors without tents or other shelter.

As winter draws near, they are exposed to the elements and grow sicker as chronic ailments such as diabetes and heart disease go untreated. Street medicine providers say that, since the National Guard was deployed, they have faced enormous difficulty finding patients. Many caught up in sweeps have had their lifesaving medications thrown away, and they are more likely to miss medical appointments because they are constantly on the move. Street medicine providers say they can’t find their patients to deliver medication or transport them to medical appointments. The constant chaos can suck patients with mental illness and substance use deeper into drug and alcohol addiction, raising the risk of overdose.

Caseworkers report similar disruptions, saying as clients get lost, they break connections essential for obtaining housing documents, particularly IDs and Social Security cards.

District officials and health providers say this cascade will make homelessness worse, threatening public health and public safety and racking up enormous costs for the health care system.

“It was already hard locating people, but the federal presence just made it worse,” said Tobie Smith, a street medicine doctor and the executive director of Street Health D.C.

The Homeless Shuffle

Chris Jones was born and raised in Washington, D.C., but now is homeless, having been pushed out of his tent near the White House in the initial days of the federal homelessness crackdown. He said two of his tents were taken during sweeps. Now, sleeping on a sidewalk outside a church, he doesn’t bother trying to get another one. “Why? What’s the point? It’ll just get thrown away again.”

Jones, 57, has a severe knee injury that prevents him from walking some days and said he was scheduled for a knee replacement in December. He said it’s important to stay where he is — he relies on a nearby drugstore to refill his medications for bipolar disorder, diabetes, and high blood pressure. When he’s hungry, he goes to a soup kitchen for a meal or tries to get a cheeseburger and a soda from a fast-food joint across the street.

It’s important for him to stay outside the church, he said, so his case manager can find him when a permanent housing slot opens up. If it gets too cold, he said, he will cross the street and sleep in the doorway of a business, which can provide a bit more shelter. He wants to get indoors, but for now, he waits.

Since taking control of Washington’s police force, the Trump administration has on cities and counties across the nation to clear homeless encampments under threat of arrest, citation, or detention. It has ordered or threatened similar National Guard deployments in Los Angeles; ; and other cities with large homeless populations.

Rogers, the White House spokesperson, said the president is maintaining National Guard and federal law enforcement presence in the nation’s capital “to ensure the long-term success of the federal operation.” Since March, city and federal officials have removed more than 130 homeless encampments, she said, though some local homelessness experts say that number could be inflated.

The Supreme Court last year made it easier for elected officials and law enforcement to fine or arrest homeless people for living outside. Then, in July of this year, the president issued an executive order calling for a nationwide crackdown on urban camping, including a massive removal of people living outdoors and forced mental health or substance use treatment.

Trump is also spearheading an overhaul of homelessness policy, moving to and services for homeless people. The move would limit the use of a long-standing federal policy known as “Housing First” that offers housing without mandating mental health or addiction treatment. The National Alliance to End Homelessness warns the move risks displacing in permanent supportive housing. The Department of Housing and Urban Development paused the plan on Dec. 8 to make revisions, which it “intends” to do, .

City officials say they are complying with the Trump administration’s forceful campaign against homeless people sheltering outside. Pressured by the White House, local officials said they’ve gotten more aggressive in breaking up camps. Advocates for homeless people say some of the sweeps have been conducted at night and others with little or no notice to move. City leaders believe they could be done more compassionately by offering services and shelter.

“We’ve pivoted from the notion of allowing encampments if they didn’t violate public health or safety to a position of, ‘We don’t want you in the streets,’” said Wayne Turnage, deputy mayor for District of Columbia Health and Human Services, who oversees encampment cleanups. “It’s unsafe, it’s unhealthy, and it’s dangerous.” Yet he acknowledges the encampment sweeps can waste city resources as caseworkers and street medicine providers scramble to find their clients and patients.

Advocates say the Trump administration is inciting fear and mistrust between homeless people and those working to help them while wasting taxpayer dollars used to provide care and place people into housing. There are, however, far fewer tents and large-scale encampments visible to tourists and residents.

“People found safety in those communities and service providers could find them. Now there are people with guns and flashing lights dislocating folks experiencing homelessness without notice and just throwing stuff away,” said Jesse Rabinowitz, campaign and communications director for the National Homelessness Law Center.

District officials say some people have accepted emergency shelter. But even as the city works to connect people with services and expand shelter capacity, officials acknowledge there isn’t enough permanent housing or temporary beds for everyone.

And there will be fewer places for people living outside to go.

The city, in its fiscal year 2026 budget, concentrated its homelessness funding on families, funding 336 new permanent supportive housing vouchers. Yet it cut funding for temporary housing for both families and individuals and provided no new permanent supportive housing vouchers for individuals. That means fewer housing slots for single adults, who make up most of those wandering the streets. City officials said, however, that they have slotted 260 more permanent housing units for homeless individuals or families into their construction pipeline.

Worsening Health Care

The fallout is inundating local soup kitchens with demand, including Miriam’s Kitchen in Foggy Bottom. The local institution provides hot meals, housing assistance, and warm blankets to people in need.

Caseworkers say it’s becoming increasingly difficult to help clients secure IDs and other documents needed for housing and other social services.

“I’m looking everywhere, but I can’t find people,” said Cyria Knight, a caseworker at Miriam’s Kitchen. “Most of my clients went to Virginia.”

It’s unclear how much of the district’s homeless population has fanned out to neighboring Virginia and Maryland communities. There were an estimated in the region in January, months before Trump’s crackdown. Four of six counties around Washington saw homelessness rise from 2024, while it .

“I’m not seeing my patients for a month or more, and then when I do, their chronic conditions are uncontrolled. They’ve been in and out of the ER, and they’re more likely to be hospitalized,” said Anna Graham, a street medicine nurse practitioner for , a network of clinics in Washington. “It’s just setting us back.”

Graham’s team stations its mobile medical van outside Miriam’s Kitchen at dinnertime to better find patients.

Willie Taylor, 63, was figuring out where to sleep for the night after grabbing dinner from Miriam’s. He saw Graham to receive his medications for advanced lung disease, seizures, chronic pain, and other health disorders.

He has difficulty walking and needs a wheelchair, which is complicated because he doesn’t have a permanent address. Taylor and his medical providers say his previous wheelchairs have been stolen while he slept outdoors at night. He uses a shopping cart to keep him steady, walking around all day, until nightfall.

On a cold November night, Graham helped Taylor figure out his daily medications and checked his vitals. The team handed him a warm coat and hand warmers before sending him back outside.

After walking for about 45 minutes, he found a piece of park pavement where he could build a bed out of tarps and sleeping bags.

“My body can’t take this,” Taylor said, preparing to sleep. “There’s ice on the concrete. I’m in so much pain; it hurts so much worse when it’s cold.”

Homeless people and cost the health care system more than housed people, largely because conditions go untreated on the streets, and when they do seek care, many go to the ER. Among Medicaid enrollees, homeless people have been estimated to incur $18,764 a year in spending, compared with $7,561 for other enrollees.

Over at the So Others Might Eat soup kitchen earlier that day, Tyree Kelley was finishing his breakfast of a sausage sandwich and hard-boiled eggs. He was considering going into a shelter. The streets were becoming too dangerous for someone like him, he said, referring to the police and National Guard presence. He was feeling the loss of an encampment community that would watch his back.

He’s been to the ER at least seven times this year to get care for a broken ankle he sustained falling off an electric scooter. The accident caused him to lose his job and health insurance as a garbageman, he said. His situation has caused him to sink deeper into a depression that began three years ago after his mother died, he said.

Then his father and sister died this year. He began to numb his pain with beer.

“You get so depressed, being out here,” said Kelley, 42. “It gets addictive. You start to not care about even changing your clothes.”

His depression also led him to seek out marijuana. Then he smoked a joint laced with fentanyl. The overdose sent him to the hospital for days.

“I actually died and came back,” he said, crediting other homeless people with administering naloxone and saving his life. “I need to get out of this, but I feel so stuck.”

A few blocks west of the White House sits a vacant plot of land that earlier this year held more than a dozen tents. Workers in the area sense what they don’t always see.

“I was here when this was all cleared. A bulldozer came in, and all their stuff was thrown in a garbage truck,” said Ray Szemborski, who works across the street from the now-empty lot. “People are still homeless. I still see them around underneath the bridge. Sometimes they’re at bus stops, sometimes just walking around. Their tents are gone but they’re still here.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/washington-dc-homelessness-crackdown-hiding-plain-sight-street-medicine/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

The purchases varied widely but they all came from the same source: opioid settlement money. 

The cash, which comes from companies accused of fueling the overdose crisis, was used in more than 10,500 ways last year, according to an investigation by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and researchers at the and , a national nonprofit focused on addiction. 

The money is expected to over nearly two decades, paid by companies that sold prescription painkillers. State and local governments are meant to spend most of it combating addiction. The settlement agreements even and established other guardrails to limit unrelated uses — as the Tobacco Master Settlement Agreement of the 1990s. 

But there’s still significant flexibility, and what constitutes a good use to one person can be deemed waste by another. 

“People died for this money. Families were torn apart for this money. And to not spend it to try to make our system better, so that people don’t have to experience those losses going forward, to me, is unconscionable,” said , an addiction medicine doctor who was once addicted to opioids and has served as an expert in several opioid lawsuits. 

To compile the most comprehensive national database of settlement spending, ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and its partners filed public records requests, scoured government websites, and extracted expenditures, which were then sorted into categories, such as treatment or prevention. The findings include: 

• States and localities spent or committed nearly $2.7 billion in 2024, according to public records. The bulk went to investments addiction experts consider crucial, including about $615 million to treatment, $279 million to overdose reversal medications, and $227 million to housing-related programs.Ìý

• Smaller, though notable, amounts funded law enforcement gear, such as night vision equipment and Tasers.Ìý

• Many places funded prevention efforts that experts called questionable, such as a and a , at which kids and seniors , posed with inflatable guitars, and pledged to remain drug-free.Ìý

• Some jurisdictions paid for basic government services, such as .Ìý

• The money is controlled by different entities in each state, and about 20% of it is untrackable through public records.Ìý

Explore the database here.Ìý

This <a target="_blank" href="/health-industry/the-week-in-brief-how-governments-spent-opioid-settlement-money/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

Bre Dolan, a 35-year-old resident of Hardy County, West Virginia, understands why. Throughout her childhood, when her dad had addiction and mental health crises, police officers were often the first ones to respond. Dolan calls them “good men and women” who “care about seeing their community recover.”

But she’s skeptical that they can mitigate the root causes of an addiction epidemic that has racked her home state for decades.

“Most of the busts that go down are addicts,” she said — people who need treatment, not prison.

Dolan’s father was one of them. And so was she.

Now 14 years into recovery, she’s been surprised to see many local officials spending opioid settlement money — an influx of cash from companies accused of fueling the overdose crisis — on police Tasers, cruisers, night vision gear, and more.

“How is that really tackling an issue?” Dolan said. “How will it help families battling addiction?”

Nationwide, more than $61 million in opioid settlement funds were spent on law enforcement-related efforts in 2024, according to a yearlong investigation by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and researchers at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and Shatterproof, a national nonprofit focused on addiction. That included initiatives that public health experts largely support, such as hiring social workers to accompany officers on overdose calls, as well as actions they’re more skeptical of, such as beefing up police arsenals.

Over nearly two decades, state and local governments are set to receive in opioid settlement money, which is intended to be used to fight addiction. The settlement agreements even and established other guardrails to limit unrelated uses of the funds — as the Tobacco Master Settlement Agreement of the 1990s.

But there’s still significant flexibility with these dollars, and what constitutes a good use to one person can be deemed waste by another.

To , an addiction medicine doctor who was once addicted to opioids and has served as an expert in several opioid lawsuits, some law enforcement expenses fall into that second category.

and are not “in the spirit of what we wanted to use the money for when we were fighting for it,” Loyd said.

“People died for this money. Families were torn apart for this money. And to not spend it to try to make our system better, so that people don’t have to experience those losses going forward, to me, is unconscionable,” he said.

As part of this investigation, ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and its partners compiled the most comprehensive national database of opioid settlement spending to date, featuring more than 10,500 examples of how the money was used (or not) last year. The team filed public records requests, scoured government websites, and extracted expenditures, which were then , such as treatment or prevention. The findings include:

• Nearly $2.7 billion — that’s the amount states and localities spent or committed in 2024, according to public records. The lion’s share went to investments addiction experts consider crucial, including about $615 million to treatment, $279 million to overdose reversal medications and related training, and $227 million to housing-related programs for people with substance use disorders.
• Smaller, though notable, amounts funded law enforcement initiatives — such as creating a shooting range and tinting patrol car windows — and prevention programs that experts called questionable, such as putting on a fishing tournament.
• Some jurisdictions paid for basic government services, such as firefighter salaries.
• The money is controlled by different entities in each state, and about 20% of it is untrackable through public records.

This year’s database, including the expenditures and untrackable percentages, should not be compared with the one ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and its partners , due to and state budget quirks. The database cannot present a full picture because some jurisdictions don’t publish reports or delineate spending by year. What’s shown is a snapshot of 2024 and does not account for decisions in 2025.

Still, the database helps counteract the in charge of settlement money among those .

‘How My Population Would Like Me To Vote’

Dolan has seen intergenerational addiction up close. When her father was high, he sometimes kicked teenage Dolan out of the house with her toddler siblings. She started drinking early and progressed to other drugs, eventually landing in prison.

Although she managed to find recovery on her own, even landing a job as an EMT, she wants to make the path easier for others.

If settlement money were used to hire social workers or build family recovery programs, it could change the course of a kid’s life, she said.

“Maybe people could have helped my dad get into recovery and gave him therapy,” she said. “Anything could have happened.”

But many local officials say law enforcement is one of the few tools they have, especially in rural areas. And their constituents believe it’s effective.

“If the goal was treatment and prevention, it would have been better to throw [the money] into a big grant system and give it to treatment centers,” said , city manager of Oak Hill, West Virginia, which for a drone and surveillance cameras for its police department. “Unfortunately, local governments are really not set up to do that.”

Clarkdale, Arizona, Town Manager said her town bought because they help with enforcement — such as recording crime scenes and conducting search-and-rescue operations — as well as education, when officers interact with kids at community events.

Similar perspectives nationwide have led to spending that includes:

• About (also known as silencers) in Alexandria, Indiana.
• About in Mooresville, Indiana.
• About and Tasers in Hardy County, West Virginia.
• Nearly , to add a police officer to the county’s drug task force, replace that officer locally, buy guns and vehicles, and tint car windows.

Several elected officials said their choices reflect local politics.

That’s “how my population would like me to vote,” Hardy County Commissioner said of his commission’s goal to spend about a quarter of its settlement money on law enforcement.

Mooresville Town Council President told ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News, “People have petitioned our government for less taxes but have never petitioned for less services” from the local police force. With federal and state budget cuts looming, the town must be resourceful, he said, adding that the Tasers were bought with a portion of settlement funds that have no restrictions.

After these purchases, an Indiana commission of law enforcement equipment that it cautioned against buying with restricted settlement dollars. , , and have released similar lists.

Research backs those restrictions. Studies have shown that drug busts and arrests can . Officers often , making people who use drugs or through police.

In contrast, equipping police officers with overdose reversal medications has been . That’s a key component of in Texas, the state with the highest percentage of reported law enforcement spending.

Police and Firefighter Salaries

Some places used settlement funds to maintain basic first responder services.

For example, Mantua Township, New Jersey, to “offset police salary and wages” and, according to its public spending report, . Township officials did not respond to requests for comment.

Los Angeles County to cover a portion of firefighter salaries and benefits last year and estimates it will use another $1 million this year.

County fire department spokesperson Heidi Oliva said opioid funds were used to fill a budget gap until revenue kicked in from a last November.

The use of funds was “appropriate,” she said in an email, because “the opioid crisis presents a significant burden to EMS response, from dispatch through arrival at hospitals, clinician mental health/burnout, and a variety of other factors.”

Using opioid money to replace other revenue is . But it’s .

“I don’t want to see this money used to make up for stuff that would be paid for anyway,” said , chair of the FED UP! Coalition, a national advocacy organization representing many parents who’ve lost children to addiction.

Settlement dollars are “the only financial representation from the governments and from the drug companies” of families’ losses, Busch said. To see that money used to maintain the status quo is “painful” and “distressing.”

Busch fears this practice will as states grapple with federal budget cuts.

Already in New Jersey, lawmakers in settlement funds to health systems to cushion against anticipated Medicaid losses — a move opposed by the state’s , , and .

However, some states are taking proactive steps.

Colorado this year against such actions.

“These dollars can’t be part of budget games where we simply backfill existing programs,” state Attorney General Phil Weiser told ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News. “We have to build on whatever we’re doing because it hasn’t been enough.”

Other states, such as , , and , are newly requiring local governments to report how they spend the money, which may make it easier to spot disputed practices. Officials in Delaware, Hawaii, Massachusetts, and Missouri said they expect to revamp their public reporting systems to increase transparency by early 2026.

In Mississippi, which produced no substantive public reports last year, the attorney general’s office has that will host spending information after Dec. 1.

Jennifer Twyman is anxious to see some positive changes.

“We have people literally dying on our sidewalks,” said the Louisville, Kentucky, advocate.

Twyman struggled with opioid misuse for 20 years and now works with to end homelessness and the war on drugs. To her, any spending that doesn’t directly help people with addiction betrays the settlement’s purpose.

“It is the blood from many of my friends, people that I care deeply about,” she said. “That money could have been me, could have been my life.”

Read behind this project.

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News’ Henry Larweh; Shatterproof’s Kristen Pendergrass and Lillian Williams; and the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health’s Abigail Winiker, Samantha Harris, Isha Desai, Katibeth Blalock, Erin Wang, Olivia Allran, Connor Gunn, Justin Xu, Ruhao Pang, Jirka Taylor, and Valerie Ganetsky contributed to the database featured in this article.

The has taken a leading role in providing guidance to state and local governments on the use of opioid settlement funds. Faculty from the school collaborated with other experts in the field to create , which have been endorsed by over 60 organizations.

is a national nonprofit that addresses substance use disorder through distinct initiatives, including advocating for state and federal policies, ending addiction stigma, and educating communities about the treatment system.

Shatterproof is partnering with some states on projects funded by opioid settlements. ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News, the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, and the Shatterproof team that worked on this report are not involved in those efforts.

This <a target="_blank" href="/public-health/opioid-settlements-law-enforcement-spending-states-towns-guns-narcan/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

Who Really Collects in the Wage Garnishment Game?

I was a consumer bankruptcy attorney for years during the global financial crisis of 2008 (pre-Affordable Care Act). Around 40% of the bankruptcies were caused by medical debts uncovered by insurance. With the effectiveness of the ACA, the number of bankruptcies in Colorado plummeted.

My comment on “State Lawmakers Seek Restraints on Wage Garnishment for Medical Debt” (Feb. 20)? BC Services acts as if it is garnishing these wages to keep rural hospitals, medical providers, etc. in business. The likely reality is that BC Services (and other collection operations) takes “90-day-overdue” bills — which may or may not have ever been delivered to the patient; usually disregards whether the hospital has offered the patient a reasonable repayment schedule; and then keeps 50% or more of the debt, along with its attorneys’ fees and costs. The medical provider receives very little of the money sent to collections.

— Bill Myers, Denver

On Work Requirements: Working Out Solutions

Eighty hours a month works out to about 20 hours a week, and I think if people can work or study from home, they should be able to meet the requirements (“New Medicaid Work Rules Likely To Hit Middle-Aged Adults Hard,” Feb. 11). More importantly, though, “navigators” will help people get exemptions if they qualify. I wonder why there is so much moaning about the law and nothing about the means to fix the problems it creates. It seems like a lot of hot air. We know it’s a problem. So how about exploring solutions?

— Therese Shellabarger, North Hollywood, California

The Flip Side of a Drug’s Benefits

I read Phillip Reese’s report on anti-anxiety medications, adults who take them, and their concerns about this administration’s policies regarding them (“As More Americans Embrace Anxiety Treatment, MAHA Derides Medications,” Feb. 23). If the anti-anxiety medications provide solace to adults such as Sadia Zapp — a 40-year-old woman who survived cancer — then she should be able to continue them. Unfortunately, the same is not true for many other people, particularly patients such as myself.

When I was 16, I went through an unnecessarily painful and traumatic year. I was sent away from home three times, sent to a wilderness therapy “troubled teen industry” camp that has now been shut down, sent to a new boarding school that I hated, and was away from my family for many months. Of course, I felt depressed and anxious, so my psychiatrist at Kaiser prescribed citalopram. At first, it caused extreme agitation and violent ideation, stuff that is commonly reported to the point it has an . Thankfully, it calmed down. And when I lowered the dose, my life was calm, stable, and productive.

Unfortunately, that did not last long. Over time, the effects wore out, so I tried to go off. I was not given any safety instructions on how to taper slowly and safely, so I went off multiple times. Each time caused extreme withdrawal symptoms, including self-harm, crying spells, and worse depression than ever before. Also, the sexual “side effects” persisted and even worsened upon cessation to this day. It is a , and it is very rarely covered. While the worst symptoms of withdrawal went away, I still live with a worsened sexuality than a young adult my age is supposed to have.

Back to the article, which seems to focus on adults. Its only named profile is Zapp, and when it cites statistics, it begins at age 18. Solely showing statistics of adults is unethical because it obscures the high and rising prescription rates among minors. Minors are also more likely to suffer permanent developmental damage to their sexualities and experience suicidal ideation. This is a major problem that warrants further conversations.

When covering the downsides of SSRIs, the article mentioned only mild side effects, like upset stomach, decreased libido, and mild discontinuation effects, without covering the major concerns of suicidal ideation, akathisia, PSSD, and severe withdrawal. I believe that framing antidepressants as an unequivocal good is equivalent to framing them as an unequivocal evil; both misguide patients through harm and deception.

Lastly, I want to finish on this by the brilliant psychiatrist Awais Aftab.

— Eli Malakoff, San Francisco

A Rigged System?

Insurers pay these exorbitant amounts because they set them in the first place (Bill of the Month: “Even Patients Are Shocked by the Prices Their Insurers Will Pay — And It Costs All of Us,” March 3). They have been doing this for years. I learned this over 15 years ago, when I dislocated and broke my elbow. I had no insurance and, as a “self-pay” patient, paid the surgeon, hospital, and radiology center myself. They set the prices high enough that people will buy insurance out of fear, ensuring they make a profit.

The first thing I learned was that there is not a set price for all; for the insured, it is a fixed system controlled by contracts and codes. As a self-pay patient, the cost may vary.

It was late in the evening and I tripped over a snow shovel, slammed my arm up against a gate post, and it was hanging like a puppet without a string! I called an ambulance and, at the hospital, they strapped me up and told me that I must see the orthopedic surgeon the next day. He sent me to a radiology facility for an X-ray; I paid for it and took it to the surgeon. When I received a bill from the radiology center, I called to say that I had paid. They said it was for the radiologist (who, as far as I knew, never analyzed it). The contract with the insurance company required that every patient had to be billed, whether or not a radiologist reviewed scans. If not, they would lose their contract.

My elbow was dislocated, with a fracture, and I needed surgery. The surgeon’s office called the hospital for pricing, and he told me it would be about $2,000 for outpatient surgery. I called the hospital to confirm the appointment for outpatient surgery, and they wanted $8,000! When I objected, and told them what the surgeon had quoted, they checked. “Oh, you are a self-pay!” Cost would be $2,000. I gave them my card number and prepaid it before they could change their minds.

I had a friend in New Jersey who had the very same injury and surgery. She had insurance through her employer, and she paid more in copays than I paid when paying directly.

Insurance companies are SHARKS!

— Stephanie Hunt-Crowley, Chamberet, Nouvelle Aquitaine, France (formerly Frederick, Maryland)

US vs. Canada

Re: the article about nurses moving to Canada (“‘You Aren’t Trapped’: Hundreds of US Nurses Choose Canada Over Trump’s America,” Feb. 26). You neglect the “rest of the story” — or maybe you don’t know it? I had my medical office in Los Angeles for about 30 years and had dozens of Canadians come to L.A., where some had to self-pay for care, but chose to because of the superior level of medicine available. One man, a son of a gynecologist in Canada, had a draining abscess from a years-old appendectomy. The reason was, after investigation, that the Canadian practice had used silk suture (organic material), which can harbor microbes and carry a greater risk of infection. The trend has been to discontinue silk in favor of nylon. The Canadians were obliged to “use up” the silk suture they had before switching to nylon. The surgeons at my hospital were astounded.

— Kathryn Sobieski, Jackson, Wyoming

On the NET Recovery Device’s Track Record — And Detractors

I read your piece about the NET Recovery device with interest (Payback: Tracking Opioid Cash: “Maker of Device To Treat Addiction Withdrawal Seeks Counties’ Opioid Settlement Cash,” March 18), and I am grateful to you for pointing to one of our many success stories — the story of Michelle Warfield, whom the NET device helped get off opioids.

I also wanted to note a couple of instances where I see the facts differently than they were portrayed in your piece. Your piece seemed to imply that the NET device is new, and I wanted to note that the device has been around for decades (it helped Eric Clapton and members of The Who and the Rolling Stones get sober back in their heyday), and is based on a proven technology that stimulates both the brain and the vagus nerve to help patients with their cravings and withdrawal. There are countless studies that prove the power of neurostimulation, including that showed significant reductions in opioid and stimulant use without medication for a polysubstance population receiving at least 24 hours of stimulation.

I also noted you quoted detractors of our device, and I’d simply urge anyone looking at the issue of opioid addiction abatement to consider who those detractors are; organizations that now find themselves competing for grant dollars from counties increasingly choosing to fund innovation. It is not surprising that those with the most to lose financially would prefer the status quo. But the counties and jails leading this charge are doing so because they have seen what works, and their constituents, real patients, are the proof.

The success stories of our patients speak for themselves, and our only motivation at NET Recovery is to help as many people as possible get truly clean and sober by helping to break that initial grip the opioids have on them. When the NET device works, and it works an astounding 98% of the time (producing a clinically meaningful reduction in opioid withdrawal symptom severity in one hour), our patients are experiencing the return of choice and true freedom.

Thank you for your interest in our work and for the coverage you provide.

— Joe Winston, NET Recovery CEO, Costa Mesa, California

Education Is the First Step in Lowering Health Care Prices

After reading this article about making hospital prices more transparent, I realized the information alone could help drive medical prices down (“Trump Required Hospitals To Post Their Prices for Patients. Mostly It’s the Industry Using the Data,” Feb. 17). Your publication shows good use of evidence-based research — it’s timeless and informative.

As a student at Thomas Jefferson University on the path to serving in the health care arena, I understand the struggles and complexities of medical decision-making. In the medical setting, the topic of price is always overshadowed by patient care and clear communication on the part of both professionals and patients, and it does not reflect how patients would navigate comparison-shopping for care. Almost every patient relies on the help of a physician or gets help from an insurance network and not from online price matching.

I believe that many people should engage with this article even if they aren’t entering the health profession; it would benefit everyone. Although price transparency may help insurers and care providers more than patients, if their goal is to lower prices, they must look beyond the simple posting or sharing of prices. I appreciate the effort to try to bring awareness to this major issue and encourage thoughtful policy discussion about lowering medical prices.

— Jan Rodriguez, Philadelphia

This <a target="_blank" href="/letter-to-the-editor/letters-to-editor-readers-nih-staff-cuts-work-requirements-march-2026/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

They worked for a bit. But by 2011, Warfield struggled to walk.

And “by that time, I was addicted,” said Warfield, now living in Shelbyville, Kentucky.

After she lost her health insurance, Warfield started buying pills on the street. She tried to quit several times, but the debilitating withdrawal — so bad she couldn’t get out of bed, she said — kept driving her back to drug use.

Until last year.

Through her church, Warfield learned about the NET device. It’s a cellphone-sized pack connected to gel electrodes placed near the ear that deliver low-level electrical pulses to the brain.

“Once I got set up on the device, within 30 minutes, I didn’t have any cravings” for opioids, Warfield said.

After three days on the device in August, she stopped using drugs altogether, she said.

Warfield’s treatment was paid for with her county’s opioid settlement dollars — money from pharmaceutical companies accused of fueling the overdose crisis.

State and local governments nationwide are receiving over nearly two decades and are meant to spend it treating and preventing addiction.

Warfield wants them to allot a good chunk to the NET device, which costs counties about $5,500 a person. The pitch is gaining traction. , which makes the device, said it has signed about $1.2 million in contracts with more than a dozen counties and cities in Kentucky. 

But some researchers and recovery advocates say the company’s rapid consumption of opioid dollars raises red flags. They see the NET device as the latest in a series of products that have been overhyped as the solution to the addiction crisis, preying on people’s desperation and capitalizing on the windfall of opioid settlements. Many of these products — from to body scanners for jails — have little evidence to back their lofty promises. That has not stopped sales representatives from repeatedly pitching elected officials or circulating ready-made templates to request settlement money for the companies’ products.

In fact, a device similar to NET called the Bridge gained popularity several years ago, receiving more than $215,000 in opioid settlement cash nationwide. But about the study backing its effectiveness, and the device is currently off the market.

NET Recovery’s activity “fits the national trends of these industry money grabs,” said , a national expert on opioid settlements based in Tennessee. The device “could be helpful for some,” she said. “But it’s being sold as a silver bullet.”

This year, 237 organizations working to end overdose — including Christensen’s consulting company — to guide officials in charge of opioid settlement money. In it, they called the NET device an example of problematic spending on unproven treatment.

Treating Withdrawal or Addiction

The FDA has for a specific use: reducing drug withdrawal symptoms. It has not approved the device to treat addiction.

That’s a crucial distinction, said , executive director of the Institute for Research, Education and Training in Addictions. He co-authored evaluating the evidence on neuromodulation devices like NET.

“The term ‘treatment’ becomes confusing,” Hulsey said. “These devices were cleared to treat opioid withdrawal symptoms, not to treat an opioid use disorder.”

NET Recovery CEO said the company adheres to FDA rules and advertises the device only for withdrawal management. But “we are finding that physicians are prescribing this to folks for long-term behavior based on the results of our study.”

He’s referring to that he co-authored and the company funded, in which researchers followed two groups of addiction patients in Kentucky for 12 weeks. The first group received the NET device for up to seven days, while the second group received a sham treatment.

The study found no significant difference between the groups’ outcomes. Participants who got the NET device were similarly likely to use illicit drugs after treatment as those who got the fake.

Hulsey, who was not affiliated with the study, said the takeaway is clear: “They didn’t find that was effective.”

A subgroup of participants who chose to use the device for more than 24 hours consecutively, however, went on to use illicit drugs less often than other participants.

As the researchers acknowledged in their paper, that subgroup might simply have been more motivated to engage with any form of treatment. The results don’t necessarily show that the device is making a difference, Hulsey said.

Rapid Growth

Winston had a different take. He said the success of the subgroup is “intriguing and outstanding.”

So outstanding, in fact, that the company this month is opening a brick-and-mortar location in Miami, where the device will be available to anyone who can pay $8,000 out-of-pocket. (The cost is higher for individuals than for county governments.) It has also applied for opioid settlement dollars from the state of Kentucky to conduct a larger research study and aims to bring the NET device into metro areas such as Louisville and Lexington.

Last year, NET Recovery hired a magistrate in Franklin County, Kentucky, to head up its operations in the state. (Magistrates function as county commissioners.) , who is also a mental health clinician, travels to different counties, extolling the benefits of the device and encouraging officials to contract with the company.

Her county to NET Recovery prior to her joining the company. Moving forward, Dycus said, she would recuse herself from any contract votes in her county.

Christensen, the national expert on opioid settlements, called Dycus’ new role “extremely strategic” for the company and “an obvious conflict of interest” for a public official.

Giving People Choice

More options for people to enter recovery is generally good, said Jennifer Twyman, who has a history of opioid addiction and now works with , a nonprofit that advocates to end homelessness and the war on drugs.

But settlement funds are finite, she said, and when counties invest in the NET device, that leaves less money to support options like mental health treatment, housing, and transportation programs — critical for many people who use drugs.

“People slip through these big, huge gaps we have and they die,” Twyman said, pointing to photos of dead friends that line her office wall.

She added that people should have the option of taking medications such as methadone and buprenorphine — for treating opioid addiction. only 1 in 4 people with opioid addiction get them.

Many people can’t afford them, find a doctor willing to prescribe them, or get transportation to appointments, Twyman said. against those who use medications, with detractors saying they’re not truly abstinent or clean.

Companies like NET Recovery sometimes lean into that stigma, Twyman said.

For instance, Scott County, Kentucky, jailer — whom the company considers a key champion for its device — to other county officials that medication treatment is just “swapping one drug for another.” It’s a common refrain from critics that .

Winston told ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News his company is supportive of all types of recovery but that the NET device can help the “underserved population” of people who don’t want medication.

Longtime addiction researcher has led studies for NET Recovery and consults for , one of the leading producers of medications for opioid use disorder. He said he sees value in both approaches. It just depends on whom you’re trying to treat.

For people injecting drugs or accustomed to high doses of fentanyl, who are more likely to return to using drugs after residential treatment, “I would hesitate to recommend the device,” he said. Abstinence-based approaches can . But for people who are “highly motivated to stay abstinent,” the NET device may be a good fit.

“Giving people choices is the right thing to do,” he said.

Community as Part of Recovery

Warfield, who has not used opioids since August, credits not just the NET device with her recovery but her community too.

“It’s not a miracle cure,” she said of the device. “You still have to manage your triggers, but it’s easier.”

She regularly attends individual and group therapy to address childhood trauma. She’s found close friends within her church and has reconnected with her daughter. She installed a car seat in her vehicle so she can drive her grandson to preschool.

Warfield explained her hope for opioid settlement money to reach others in her community simply: “I want people to get as much help as they can.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/payback-opioid-settlements-net-recovery-device-opioid-withdrawal-spending-hype/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

Julie Rovner ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News Read Julie's stories. Julie Rovner is chief Washington correspondent and host of ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News’ weekly health policy news podcast, "What the Health?" A noted expert on health policy issues, Julie is the author of the critically praised reference book "Health Care Politics and Policy A to Z," now in its third edition.

Millions of Americans are facing dramatically higher health insurance premium payments due to the Jan. 1 expiration of enhanced Affordable Care Act subsidies. But much of Washington appears more interested at the moment in culture war issues, including abortion and gender-affirming care.

Meanwhile, at the Department of Health and Human Services, personnel continue to be fired and rehired, and grants terminated and reinstated, leaving everyone who touches the agency uncertain about what comes next.

This week’s panelists are Julie Rovner of ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News, Anna Edney of Bloomberg News, Joanne Kenen of the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and Politico Magazine, and Alice Miranda Ollstein of Politico.

Panelists

Anna Edney Bloomberg News

Joanne Kenen Johns Hopkins University and Politico

Alice Miranda Ollstein Politico

Among the takeaways from this week’s episode:

• Congress remains undecided on a deal to renew enhanced ACA premium subsidies, as it is on spending plans to keep the federal government running when the existing, short-term plan expires at the end of the month. While some of the bigger appropriations hang-ups are related to immigration and foreign affairs, there are also hurdles to passing spending for HHS.
• ACA plan enrollment is down about 1.5 million compared with last year, with states reporting that many people are switching to cheaper plans or dropping coverage. Enrollment numbers are likely to drop further in the coming months as more-expensive premium payments come due and some realize they can no longer afford the plans they’re enrolled in.
• A key Senate health committee on Wednesday hosted a hearing on the abortion pill mifepristone, focused on the safety concerns posed by abortion foes — though those concerns are unsupported by scientific research and decades of experience with the drug. Many abortion opponents are frustrated that the Trump administration has not taken aggressive action to restrict access to the abortion pill.
• As the Trump administration moved this week to rehire laid-off employees and abruptly cancel, then restore, addiction-related grants, overall government spending is up, despite the administration’s stated goal of saving money by cutting the federal government’s size and activities. It turns out the churn within the administration is costing taxpayers more. And new data, revealing that more federal workers left on their own than were laid off last year, shows that a lot of institutional memory was also lost.

Also this week, Rovner interviews ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News’ Elisabeth Rosenthal, who created the “Bill of the Month” series and wrote the latest installment, about a scorpion pepper, an ER visit, and a ghost bill. If you have a baffling, infuriating, or exorbitant bill you’d like to share with us, you can do that here.

Plus, for “extra credit” the panelists suggest health policy stories they read this week that they think you should read, too:

Julie Rovner: The New York Times’ “,” by Maxine Joselow.

Alice Miranda Ollstein: ProPublica’s “,” by Anna Clark.

Joanne Kenen: The New Yorker’s “,” by Dhruv Khullar.

Anna Edney: MedPage Today’s “,” by Joedy McCreary.

Also mentioned in this week’s podcast:

• The Washington Post’s “,” by Paul Kane.
• HealthAffairs’ “,” by Mica Hartman, Anne B. Martin, David Lassman, and Aaron Catlin.
• Politico’s “,” by Alice Miranda Ollstein.
• JAMA’s “,” by Sophie Dilek, Joanne Rosen, Anna Levashkevich, Joshua M. Sharfstein, and G. Caleb Alexander.

Credits

Click here to find all our podcasts.

And subscribe to “What the Health? From ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News” on , , , , , or wherever you listen to podcasts.

This <a target="_blank" href="/podcast/what-the-health-429-obamacare-abortion-pill-mifepristone-hhs-january-15-2026/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

But inside, the store is a welcoming oasis. Twinkly string lights adorn racks of donated clothing. Shelves and bins overflow with children’s books, allergy medications, and toiletries. Curtains cordon off one side of the room, where there’s a stage for musicians and a neon sign depicting roller skates for weekly free skate nights.

The space is part free thrift store, part over-the-counter pharmacy, part punk show venue — and wholly “a radical community center,” said Dan Bingler, who runs the place.

Bingler is a waiter and bartender in the city who founded a mutual-aid organization called the . He said the building owners allow him to use the space as long as he pays the water, electricity, and trash bills.

On Monday evenings, volunteers from other community organizations show up — some used to set up in the parking lot before Bingler opened the store. They offer free testing for sexually transmitted infections, basic medical care, hot meals, and sterile syringes and other supplies for people who use drugs.

The purpose of the space is simple, Bingler said: “We’re going to make sure we provide for the community.”

Although it’s been open for a few years now, the space has become even more crucial to this community in recent months, with the Trump administration slashing funding for many social service organizations and taking an aggressive approach to homelessness and drug use. In Washington, D.C., the administration has to push people living on the street to . Nationally, it has called for people who use drugs to be . It has — practices that public health experts say keep people who use drugs safe and alive but that critics say promote illegal drug use.

The community space in New Orleans — named the Fred Hampton Free Store after the known for bringing together diverse groups to fight for social reforms — aims to be a haven among this sea of changes.

It doesn’t receive federal funding, state or local grants, or money from foundations, Bingler said. It’s simply neighbors helping neighbors, he said, tearing up and adding, “It’s a really beautiful thing to be able to share all this space.”

All items inside are provided by people or organizations in the community. Bingler said one time a local hotel undergoing renovations donated 50 flat-screen TVs.

On nights the store is open, often more than 100 people visit, Bingler said.

One fall evening, dozens of people browsed for free clothing and over-the-counter medications. Others sat on the grass outside, chatting while keeping an eye on their bicycles or grocery carts full of possessions.

James Beshears stopped by the harm reduction group in the parking lot to get sterile supplies he uses to inject heroin and fentanyl. He said he’d been in treatment for years but relapsed after his doctor moved away and he was referred to a clinic that charged $250 a day. Street drugs were cheaper than treatment, he said.

He wants to stop. But until he can find affordable care, places like the free store keep him going. Without it, he said, he’d have “one foot in the grave.”

Another man in the parking lot was waiting for the arrival of Aquil Bey, a paramedic and former Green Beret well known for helping people overcome obstacles to getting health care. As soon as the man spotted Bey’s black Jeep, he ran up.

“I’ve got stage 4 kidney disease,” the man said, adding that he was scheduled for treatments at a hospital but was struggling to get there.

“Do me a favor,” Bey said as he unloaded folding tables and medical equipment from his car. “When our team gets here, come and see us. Maybe we can get you transportation.”

Bey is the founder of , a volunteer-run organization that provides free basic medical care and referrals for people who are homeless, using drugs, or part of other vulnerable communities. The group has a steady presence at the free store.

That day, Bey and his team connected the man needing kidney disease treatment to reduced-cost transit programs. They also did blood pressure and blood sugar checks for anyone who wanted them, cleaned infected wounds, and called clinics to make appointments for patients without phones.

A man with a leg injury mentioned he was sleeping on the concrete floor of an abandoned naval base. Bey noticed the free store’s furniture section had a mattress. He and another volunteer hauled it out, strapped it to the top of a car, and delivered it to where the man was sleeping.

“We’re just trying to find all these barriers” that people face and “find ways to fix them,” Bey said.

The clinic at the free store helped Stephen Wiltz connect with addiction care. He grew up in the Lower 9th Ward and had been using drugs since he was 10.

Fed up with discrimination from doctors who blamed him for his addiction, Wiltz said, he was reluctant to go to any treatment facility. But after years of knowing the volunteers at the free store, he trusted them to point him in the right direction.

At 56, Wiltz was in sustained recovery for the first time in his life, he said during a phone interview in the fall.

Those volunteers “cared for people who didn’t have nobody to care for them,” he said.

As the sun went down that fall evening at the store, a punk band started setting up for a show across the room from the medical clinic. Lights dimmed and music blared — a reminder that this was not your everyday clinic or community center.

Bey continued consulting with a patient who had gout.

“I get used to the sound,” Bey said of the rapid drums and loud power chords. “I like it sometimes.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/new-orleans-radical-community-center-clinic-thrift-store-lifeline/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

LODGE GRASS, Mont. — Brothers Lonny and Teyon Fritzler walked amid the tall grass and cottonwood trees surrounding their boarded-up childhood home near the Little Bighorn River and daydreamed about ways to rebuild.

The rolling prairie outside the single-story clapboard home is where Lonny learned from their grandfather how to break horses. It’s where Teyon learned from their grandmother how to harvest buffalo berries. It’s also where they watched their father get addicted to meth.

Teyon, now 34, began using the drug at 15 with their dad. Lonny, 41, started after college, which he said was partly due to the stress of caring for their grandfather with dementia. Their own addictions to meth persisted for years, outlasting the lives of both their father and grandfather.

It took leaving their home in Lodge Grass, a town of about 500 people on the Crow Indian Reservation, to recover. Here, methamphetamine use is widespread.

The brothers stayed with an aunt in Oklahoma as they learned to live without meth. Their family property has sat empty for years — the horse corral’s beams are broken and its roof caved in, the garage tilts, and the house needs extensive repairs. Such crumbling structures are common in this Native American community, hammered by the effects of meth addiction. Lonny said some homes in disrepair would cost too much to fix. It’s typical for multiple generations to crowd under one roof, sometimes for cultural reasons but also due to the area’s housing shortage.

“We have broken-down houses, a burnt one over here, a lot of houses that are not livable,” Lonny said as he described the few neighboring homes.

In Lodge Grass, an estimated 60% of the residents age 14 and older struggle with drug or alcohol addictions, according to a local survey contracted by the Mountain Shadow Association, a local, Native-led nonprofit. For many in the community, the buildings in disrepair are symbols of that struggle. But signs of renewal are emerging. In recent years, the town has torn down more than two dozen abandoned buildings. Now, for the first time in decades, new businesses are going up and have become new symbols — those of the town’s effort to recover from the effects of meth.

One of those new buildings, a day care center, arrived in October 2024. A parade of people followed the small, wooden building through town as it was delivered on the back of a truck. It replaced a formerly abandoned home that had tested positive for traces of meth.

“People were crying,” said Megkian Doyle, who heads the Mountain Shadow Association, which opened the center. “It was the first time that you could see new and tangible things that pulled into town.”

The nonprofit is also behind the town’s latest construction project: a place where families together can heal from addiction. The plan is to build an entire campus in town that provides mental health resources, housing for kids whose parents need treatment elsewhere, and housing for families working to live without drugs and alcohol.

Though the project is years away from completion, locals often stop by to watch the progress.

“There is a ground-level swell of hope that’s starting to come up around your ankles,” Doyle said.

Two of the builders on that project are Lonny and Teyon Fritzler. They see the work as a chance to help rebuild their community within the Apsáalooke Nation, also known as the Crow Tribe.

“When I got into construction work, I actually thought God was punishing me,” Lonny said. “But now, coming back, building these walls, I’m like, ‘Wow. This is ours now.’”

Meth ‘Never Left’

Meth use is a throughout the U.S. and a growing contributor to the nation’s . The drug had been devastating in Indian Country, that encompasses tribal jurisdictions and certain areas with Native American populations.

Native Americans face the in the U.S. compared with any other demographic group.

“Meth has never left our communities,” said A.C. Locklear, CEO of the , a nonprofit that works to improve health in Indian Country.

Many reservations are in rural areas, which have of meth use compared with cities. As a group, Native Americans face high rates of poverty, chronic disease, and mental illness — all are . These conditions are rooted in , a byproduct of colonization. Meanwhile, the Indian Health Service, which provides health care to Native Americans, has been chronically underfunded. Cutbacks under the Trump administration have shrunk health programs nationwide.

LeeAnn Bruised Head, a recently retired public health adviser with the U.S. Public Health Service Commissioned Corps, said that despite the challenges, tribal nations have developed strong survival skills drawing from their traditions. For example, Crow people have held onto their nation’s language; neighbors are often family, or considered such; and many tribal members rely on their clans to mentor children, who eventually become mentors themselves for the next generation.

“The strength here, the support here,” said Bruised Head, who is part of the Crow Tribe. “You can’t get that anywhere else.”

Signs of Rebuilding

On a fall day, Quincy Dabney greeted people arriving for lunch at the Lodge Grass drop-in center. The center recently opened in a former church as a place where people can come for help to stay sober or for a free meal. Dabney volunteers at the center. He’s also the town’s mayor.

Dabney helped organize community cleanup days starting in 2017, during which people picked up trash in yards and alongside roads. The focus eventually shifted to tearing down empty, condemned houses, which Dabney said had become spots to sell, distribute, and use meth, often during the day as children played nearby.

“There was nothing stopping it here,” Dabney said.

The problem hasn’t disappeared, though. In 2024, officials broke up a multistate based on the Crow reservation that distributed drugs to other Montana reservations. It was one example of how drug traffickers as sales and distribution hubs.

A few blocks from where Dabney spoke stood the remains of a stone building where someone had spray-painted “Stop Meth” on its roofless walls. Still, there are signs of change, he said.

Dabney pointed across the street to a field where a trailer had sat empty for years before the town removed it. The town was halfway through tearing down another home in disrepair on the next block. Another house on the same street was being cleaned up for an incoming renter: a new mental health worker at the drop-in center.

Just down the road, work was underway on the new campus for addiction recovery, called Kaala’s Village. Kaala means “grandmother” in Crow.

The site’s first building going up is a therapeutic foster home. Plans include housing to gradually reunite families, a community garden, and a place to hold ceremonies. Doyle said the goal is that, eventually, residents can help build their own small homes, working with experienced builders trained to provide mental health support.

She said one of the most important aspects of this work “is that we finish it.”

Tribal citizens and organizations have said the political chaos of Trump’s first year back in office shows the problem with relying on federal programs. It underscores the need for more grassroots efforts, like what’s unfolding in Lodge Grass. But a reliable system to fund those efforts still doesn’t exist. Last year’s federal grant and program cuts also fueled competition for philanthropic dollars.

Kaala’s Village is expected to cost $5 million. The association is building in phases as money comes in. Doyle said the group hopes to open the foster home by spring, and family housing the following year.

The site is a few minutes’ drive from Lonny and Teyon’s childhood home. In addition to building the new facility’s walls, they’re getting training to offer mental health support. Eventually, they hope to work alongside people who come home to Kaala’s Village.

As for their own home, they hope to restore it — one room at a time.

“Just piece by piece,” Lonny said. “We’ve got to do something. We’ve got these young ones watching.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/tribal-health-meth-epidemic-recovery-montana-town-rebuilds-crow-reservation/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

NEW ORLEANS — Elyse Stevens had a reputation for taking on complex medical cases. People who’d been battling addiction for decades. Chronic-pain patients on high doses of opioids. Sex workers and people living on the street.

“Many of my patients are messy, the ones that don’t know if they want to stop using drugs or not,” said Stevens, a primary care and addiction medicine doctor.

While other doctors avoided these patients, Stevens — who was familiar with the city from her time in medical school at Tulane University — sought them out. She regularly attended 6 a.m. breakfasts for homeless people, volunteered at a homeless shelter clinic on Saturdays, and, on Monday evenings, visited an abandoned Family Dollar store where advocates distributed supplies to people who use drugs.

One such evening about four years ago, Charmyra Harrell arrived there limping, her right leg swollen and covered in sores. Emergency room doctors had repeatedly dismissed her, so she eased the pain with street drugs, Harrell said.

Stevens cleaned her sores on Mondays for months until finally persuading Harrell to visit the clinic at University Medical Center New Orleans. There, Stevens discovered Harrell had diabetes and cancer.

She agreed to prescribe Harrell pain medication — an option many doctors would automatically dismiss for fear that a patient with a history of addiction would misuse it.

But Stevens was confident Harrell could hold up her end of the deal.

“She told me, ‘You cannot do drugs and do your pain meds,’” Harrell recounted on a Monday evening in October. So, “I’m no longer on cocaine.”

Stevens’ approach to patient care has won her awards and nominations in , , and . Instead of seeing patients in binaries — addicted or sober, with a positive or negative drug test — she measures progress on a spectrum. Are they showering daily, cooking with their families, using less fentanyl than the day before?

But not everyone agrees with this flexible approach that prioritizes working with patients on their goals, even if abstinence isn’t one of them. And it came to a head in the summer of 2024.

“The same things I was high-fived for thousands of times — suddenly that was bad,” Stevens said.

Flexible Care or Slippery Slope?

More than who need substance use treatment don’t receive it, national data shows. Barriers abound: high costs, lack of transportation, clinic hours that are incompatible with jobs, fear of being mistreated.

Some doctors had been trying to ease the process for years. Covid-19 accelerated that trend. Telehealth appointments, fewer urine drug tests, and medication refills that last longer became the norm.

The result?

“Patients did OK and we actually reached more people,” said , immediate past president of the American Society of Addiction Medicine. The organization supports continuing flexible practices, such as helping patients avoid withdrawal symptoms by of addiction medication and focusing on recovery goals .

But some doctors prefer traditional approaches that range from zero tolerance for patients using illegal drugs to setting stiff consequences for those who don’t meet their doctors’ expectations. For example, a patient who tests positive for street drugs while getting outpatient care would be discharged and told to go to residential rehab. Proponents of this method fear loosening restrictions could be a slippery slope that ultimately harms patients. They say continuing to prescribe painkillers, for example, to people using illicit substances long-term could normalize drug use and hamper the goal of getting people off illegal drugs.

Progress should be more than keeping patients in care, said , a Stanford psychologist, who has treated and researched addiction for decades and .

“If you give addicted people lots of drugs, they like it, and they may come back,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean that that is promoting their health over time.”

Flexible practices also tend to align with harm reduction, a divisive approach that proponents say keeps people who use drugs safe and that critics — — say enables illegal drug use.

The debate is not just philosophical. For Stevens and her patients, it came to bear on the streets of New Orleans.

‘Unconventional’ Prescribing

In the summer of 2024, supervisors started questioning Stevens’ approach.

In emails reviewed by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News, they expressed concerns about her prescribing too many pain pills, a mix of opioids and other controlled substances to the same patients, and high doses of buprenorphine, a medication considered to treat opioid addiction.

Supervisors worried Stevens wasn’t doing enough urine drug tests and kept treating patients who used illicit drugs instead of referring them to higher levels of care.

“Her prescribing pattern appears unconventional compared to the local standard of care,” the hospital’s chief medical officer at the time wrote to Stevens’ supervisor, . “Note that this is the only standard of care which would likely be considered should a legal concern arise.”

Springgate forwarded that email to Stevens and encouraged her to refer more patients to methadone clinics, intensive outpatient care, and inpatient rehab.

Stevens understood the general practice but couldn’t reconcile it with the reality her patients faced. How would someone living in a tent, fearful of losing their possessions, trek to a methadone clinic daily?

Stevens sent her supervisors of and backing her flexible approach. She explained that if she stopped prescribing the medications of concern, patients might leave the health system, but they wouldn’t disappear.

“They just wouldn’t be getting care and perhaps they’d be dead,” she said in an interview with ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

Both University Medical Center and LSU Health New Orleans, which employs physicians at the hospital, declined repeated requests for interviews. They did not respond to detailed questions about addiction treatment or Stevens’ practices.

Instead, they provided a joint statement from Richard DiCarlo, dean of the LSU Health New Orleans School of Medicine, and Jeffrey Elder, chief medical officer of University Medical Center New Orleans.

“We are not at liberty to comment publicly on internal personnel issues,” they wrote.

“We recognize that addiction is a serious public health problem, and that addiction treatment is a challenge for the healthcare industry,” they said. “We remain dedicated to expanding access to treatment, while upholding the highest standard of care and safety for all patients.”

Not Black-and-White

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News shared the complaints against Stevens and the responses she’d written for supervisors with two addiction medicine doctors outside of Louisiana, who had no affiliation with Stevens. Both found her practices to be within the bounds of normal addiction care, especially for complex patients.

, an addiction medicine doctor and the , said doctors running pill mills typically have sparse patient notes that list a chief complaint of pain. But Stevens’ notes detailed patients’ life circumstances and the intricate decisions she was making with them.

“To me, that’s the big difference,” Loyd said.

Some people think the “only good answer is no opioids,” such as oxycodone or hydrocodone, for any patients, said , an addiction medicine doctor and associate professor at Michigan State University. But patients may need them — sometimes for things like cancer pain — or require months to lower their doses safely, she said. “It’s not as black-and-white as people outside our field want it to be.”

Humphreys, the Stanford psychologist, had a different take. He did not review Stevens’ case but said, as a general practice, there are risks to prescribing painkillers long-term, especially for patients using today’s lethal street drugs too.

Overprescribing fueled the opioid crisis, he said. “It’s not going to go away if we do that again.”

‘The Thing That Kills People’

After months of tension, Stevens’ supervisors told her on March 10 to stop coming to work. The hospital was conducting a review of her practices, they said in an email viewed by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

Overnight, hundreds of her patients were moved to other providers.

Luka Bair had been seeing Stevens for three years and was stable on daily buprenorphine.

After Stevens’ departure, Bair was left without medication for three days. The withdrawal symptoms were severe — headache, nausea, muscle cramps.

“I was just in physical hell,” said Bair, who works for the National Harm Reduction Coalition and uses they/them pronouns.

Although Bair eventually got a refill, Springgate, Stevens’ supervisor, didn’t want to continue the regimen long-term. Instead, Springgate referred Bair to more intensive and residential programs, citing Bair’s intermittent use of other drugs, including benzodiazepines and cocaine, as markers of high risk. Bair “requires a higher level of care than our clinic reasonably can offer,” Springgate wrote in patient portal notes reviewed by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

But Bair said daily attendance at those programs was incompatible with their full-time job. They left the clinic, with 30 days to find a new doctor or run out of medication again.

“This is the thing that kills people,” said Bair, who eventually found another doctor willing to prescribe.

Springgate did not respond to repeated calls and emails requesting comment.

University Medical Center and LSU Health New Orleans did not answer questions about discharging Stevens’ patients.

‘Reckless Behavior’

About a month after Stevens was told to stay home, Haley Beavers Khoury, a medical student who worked with her, had collected nearly 100 letters from other students, doctors, patients, and homelessness service providers calling for Stevens’ return.

One student wrote, “Make no mistake — some of her patients will die without her.” A nun from the Daughters of Charity, which ran , called Stevens a “lifeline” for vulnerable patients.

Beavers Khoury said she sent the letters to about 10 people in hospital and medical school leadership. Most did not respond.

In May, the hospital’s review committee determined Stevens’ practices fell “outside of the acceptable community standards” and constituted “reckless behavior,” according to a letter sent to Stevens.

The hospital did not answer ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News’ questions about how it reached this conclusion or if it identified any patient harm.

Meanwhile, Stevens had secured a job at another New Orleans hospital. But because her resignation came amid the ongoing investigation, University Medical Center said it was required to inform the state’s medical licensing board.

The medical board began its own investigation — a development that eventually cost Stevens the other job offer.

In presenting her side to the medical board, Stevens repeated many arguments she’d made before. Yes, she was prescribing powerful medications. No, she wasn’t making clinical decisions based on urine drug tests. But national addiction organizations supported such practices and promoted tailoring care to patients’ circumstances, she said. Her response included a 10-page bibliography with 98 citations.

Liability

The board’s investigation into Stevens is ongoing. shows no action taken against her license as of late December.

The board declined to comment on both Stevens’ case and its definition of appropriate addiction treatment.

In October, Stevens moved to the Virgin Islands to work in internal medicine at a local hospital. She said she’s grateful for the welcoming locals and the financial stability to support herself and her parents.

But it hurts to think of her former patients in New Orleans.

Before leaving, Stevens packed away handwritten letters from several of them — one was 15 pages long, written in alternating green and purple marker — in which they shared childhood traumas and small successes they had while in treatment with her.

Stevens doesn’t know what happened to those patients after she left.

She believes the scrutiny of her practices centers on liability more than patient safety.

But, she said, “liability is in abandoning people too.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/addiction-medicine-harm-reduction-opioids-louisiana-doctor-battle/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid,” said Ferguson, who still calls Quincy Jackson III her baby. She remembers a boy who dressed himself in three-piece suits, donated his allowance, and graduated high school at 16 with an academic scholarship and plans to join the military or start a business.

Instead, Ferguson watched as her once bright-eyed, handsome son sank into disheveled psychosis, bouncing between family members’ homes, homeless shelters, jails, clinics, emergency rooms, and Ohio’s regional psychiatric hospitals.

Over the past year, The Marshall Project – Cleveland and ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News interviewed Jackson, other patients and families, current and former state hospital employees, advocates, lawyers, judges, jail administrators, and national behavioral health experts. All echoed Ferguson, who said the mental health system makes it “easier to criminalize somebody than to get them help.”

State psychiatric hospitals nationwide have largely lost the ability to treat patients before their mental health deteriorates and they are charged with crimes. Driving the problem is a meteoric rise in the share of patients with criminal cases who stay significantly longer, generally by court order.

Patients Wait or Are Turned Away

Across the nation, psychiatric hospitals are short-staffed and consistently turn away patients or leave them waiting with few or no treatment options. Those who do receive beds are often sent there by court order after serious criminal offenses.

In Ohio, the share of state hospital patients with criminal charges jumped from about half in 2002 to .

The surge has coincided with a steep decline in total state psychiatric hospital patients served, down 50% in Ohio in the past decade, from 6,809 to 3,421, according to the . During that time, total patients served nationwide dropped about 17%, from 139,434 to 116,320, with state approaches varying widely, from adding community services and building more beds to closing hospitals.

Ohio Department of Behavioral Health officials declined multiple interview requests for this article.

The decline in capacity at state facilities unfurled as a spate of local hospitals across the country shuttered their psychiatric units, which disproportionately serve patients with Medicaid or who are uninsured. And the financial stability of is likely to deteriorate further after Congress passed President Donald Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which slashes nearly $1 trillion from the federal Medicaid budget over the next decade.

The constricted flow of new patients through state hospitals is “absolutely” a crisis and “a huge deal in Ohio and everywhere,” said retired Ohio Supreme Court Justice Evelyn Lundberg Stratton. As co-chair of the state attorney general’s , Lundberg Stratton has spent decades searching for solutions.

“It hurts everybody who has someone who needs to get a hospital bed that’s not in the criminal justice system,” she said.

‘It’s Heartbreaking’

Quincy Jackson III’s white socks stuck out of the end of a hospital bed as police officers stood watch.

At 5 feet, 7 inches tall, Jackson has a stocky build and robotic stare. Staff at Blanchard Valley Hospital in Findlay, Ohio, had called for help, alleging Jackson had assaulted a security guard.

“I’m sick; I take medication,” Jackson said to the officers, according to law enforcement body camera footage. His hands were cuffed behind his back as he lay on the bed, a loose hospital gown covering him.

Ferguson called it one of his “episodes” and said her son experienced severe psychosis frequently. In one incident, she said, Jackson “went for a knife” at her home.

From December 2023 through this July, Jackson was arrested or cited in police reports on at least 17 occasions. He was jailed at least five times and treated more than 10 times at hospitals, including three state-run psychiatric facilities. A recent psychiatric evaluation noted that Jackson has been in and out of community and state facilities since 2015.

Jackson is among a glut of people nationwide with severe mental illness who overwhelm community hospitals, courtrooms, and jails, eventually leading to backlogs at state hospitals.

High-Profile Incidents

That dearth of care is often cited by families, law enforcement authorities, and mental health advocates after people struggling with severe mental illness harm others. In the past six months, at least four incidents made national headlines.

In August, a homeless reportedly diagnosed with schizophrenia fatally stabbed a woman on a train. Also in August, police said a with a history of mental health issues killed three people, including a child, at a Target store. In July, a homeless who family members said had needed treatment for decades attacked 11 people at a Walmart store with a knife. In June, police shot and killed a reportedly diagnosed with schizophrenia after authorities said he attacked law enforcement.

Mark Mihok, a longtime municipal judge near Cleveland, told a spring that he had never seen so many people with serious mental illnesses living on the streets and “now punted into the criminal justice system.”

37-Day Wait for a Bed

At Blanchard Valley Hospital, sheriff’s deputies had taken Jackson from jail for a mental health check. But Jackson’s actions raised concerns.

In the body camera video, a nurse said Jackson was “going to be here all weekend. And we’re going to be calling you guys every 10 minutes.”

The officer responded: “Yeah, well, if he keeps acting like that, he’s going to go right back” to the county jail.

Within minutes, Jackson was taken back to jail, yelling at the officers: “Kill me, motherf—–. Yeah, shoot them, shoot them. Pop!”

Statewide, Ohio has about 1,100 beds in its six regional psychiatric hospitals. In May, the median wait time to get a state bed was 37 days.

That’s “a long time to be waiting in jail for a bed without meaningful access to mental health treatment,” said Shanti Silver, a senior research adviser at the national nonprofit Treatment Advocacy Center.

Long waits, often leaving people who need care lingering in jails, have drawn lawsuits in several states, including , , and , where a large 2014 class action case forced systemic changes such as expansion of crisis intervention training and residential treatment beds.

Ohio officials noticed bed shortages as early as 2018. State leaders assembled task forces and . They launched community programs, crisis units, and a statewide emergency hotline.

Yet backlogs at the Ohio hospitals mounted.

Ohio Department of Behavioral Health Director LeeAnne Cornyn, who left the agency in October, wrote in a May emailed statement that the agency “works diligently to ensure a therapeutic environment for our patients, while also protecting patient, staff, and public safety.”

Eric Wandersleben, director of media relations and outreach for the department, declined to respond to detailed questions submitted before publication and, instead, noted that responses could be publicly found in a governor’s working group report .

Elizabeth Tady, a hospital liaison who also spoke to judges and lawyers at the May gathering, said 45 patients were waiting for beds at Northcoast Behavioral Healthcare, the state psychiatric hospital serving the Cleveland region.

“It’s heartbreaking for me and for all of us to know that there are things that need to be done to help the criminal justice system, to help our communities, but we’re stuck,” she said.

Ohio officials added 30 state psychiatric beds by in Columbus and are planning in southwestern Ohio.

Still, Ohio Director of Forensic Services Lisa Gordish told the gathering in Cleveland that adding capacity alone won’t work.

“If you build beds — and what we’ve seen in other states is that’s what they’ve done — those beds get filled up, and we continue to have a waitlist,” she said.

This year, Jackson waited 100 days in the and Montgomery County jail for a bed at a state hospital, according to jail records.

Ferguson said she was afraid to leave him there but could not bail him out, in part, she said, because her son cannot survive on his own.

“There’s no place for my son to experience symptoms in the state of Ohio safely,” Ferguson said.

Sick System

Patrick Heltzel got the extended treatment Ferguson has long sought for her son, but he stabbed a 71-year-old man to death before getting it.

The 32-year-old is one of more than receiving treatment in Ohio’s psychiatric hospitals.

“People need long-term care,” Heltzel said in October, calling from inside Heartland Behavioral Healthcare, near Canton, where he has lived for more than a decade after being found not guilty by reason of insanity of aggravated murder. Inpatient care, he said, helps patients figure out what medication regimen will work and deliver the therapy needed “to develop insight.”

As he spoke, the sound of an open room and patients chatting filled the background.

“You have to know, ‘OK, I have this chronic condition, and this is what I have to do to treat it,’” Heltzel said.

As the ranks of criminally charged patients in Ohio’s hospitals have increased over the past decade, the shift has had an impact on patient care: The hospitals have endangered patients, have become more restrictive, and are understaffed, according to interviews with Heltzel, other patients, and former staff members, as well as documents obtained through public records requests.

Escapes and a Lockdown

Katie Jenkins, executive director of the National Alliance on Mental Illness Greater Cleveland, said the shift from mostly civil patients, who haven’t been charged with a crime, to criminally charged patients has changed the hospitals.

“It’s hard in our state hospitals right now,” she said. Unfortunately, she said, patients who have been in jail bring that culture to the hospitals.

In the first 10 months of 2024, at least nine patients escaped from Ohio’s regional psychiatric hospitals — compared with three total in the previous four years, according to .

, two female patients at Summit Behavioral Healthcare near Cincinnati escaped after one lunged at a staff member. In another, a man broke a window and climbed out.

Most of the escapes, though, were not violent. Days after a patient at Northcoast during a trip to the dentist in a Cleveland suburb, state officials stopped allowing patients to leave any of the six regional hospitals.

to leaders at the hospitals said officials had seen “similarities across multiple facilities,” raising significant concern about “ensuring patient and public safety.”

For Heltzel, the inability to go on outings or to his mother’s house on the weekends was a setback for his treatment. In 2024, when the lockdown began, he had more freedom than most patients at the psychiatric hospitals, regularly leaving to go to the local gym and attend off-site group therapy.

His mother signed him out each Friday to go home for the weekend, where he drove a car and played with his 2-year-old German shepherd, Violet. On Sundays, Heltzel was part of the “dream team” at church, volunteering to operate the audio and slides.

Federal records reveal that, at Ohio’s larger state-run psychiatric hospitals, including Summit and Northcoast, patients and staff have faced imminent danger.

In 2019 and 2020, federal investigators responded to patient deaths, including two suicides in six months at Northcoast. One hospital employee told federal inspectors, “The facility has been understaffed for a while and it’s getting worse,” according to . “It is very dangerous out here.”

Disability Rights Ohio, which has a federal mandate to monitor the facilities, in October against the department. The advocacy group, alleging abuse and neglect, asked for records of staff’s response to a Northcoast patient who suffocated from a plastic bag over their head. At the end of October, the court docket showed the parties had settled the case.

Retired sheriff’s deputy Louella Reynolds worked as a police officer at Northcoast for about five years before leaving in 2022. She said the increase in criminally charged patients meant the hospitals “absolutely” became less safe. Her hip still hurts from a patient who threw her against a cement wall.

Reynolds said officers should be able to carry weapons, which they don’t, and that more staff are needed to handle the patients. Mandatory overtime was common, she said, and often staff would report to work and not “know when we would get off.”

A Disaster That Wasn’t Averted

Back at Heartland, Heltzel requested conditional release. The judge denied the release request.

Heltzel said it was devastating. He grew up Catholic and said, “I was kind of looking for absolution.”

Now, Heltzel said he is practicing acceptance. “Acceptance is all the more important to practice when you don’t agree with something,” Heltzel said, adding, “I’m a ward of the state.”

He still hopes to be released: “I just do what I can to move forward.”

Heltzel, like Jackson, had been hospitalized before and released.

In early 2013, Heltzel said, he asked his dad to kill him. “And he refused and I did smack him,” he said. Heltzel was sent to Heartland for a short stay — about 10 days, according to his mother, Jan Dyer. She recalled “begging” the hospital staff to keep him.

Heltzel said he remembers not being ready to leave: “I was still sick, and I was still delusional.” Back at home, he said, he had a “sense of existential dread, like that all this horrible stuff was going to happen.” He stopped taking his medication.

Within weeks, Heltzel killed 71-year-old Milton A. Grumbling III at his home, placing him in a chokehold and stabbing him repeatedly, according to . He beat him with a remote control and then left, taking a Bible from the home, as well as a ring. Delusional with schizophrenia, Heltzel believed that Grumbling had sexually abused him in another life, according to the records.

A family member of the man he killed told the judge in 2023 that Heltzel should “stay in prison,” according to .

In denying his conditional release, judges cited Heltzel’s failure to take medication before killing Grumbling.

Jenkins, who said she worked at a state hospital for nine years before becoming the lead advocate for NAMI Greater Cleveland, said psychiatric medications can take as long as six weeks to become fully effective.

“So clients aren’t even getting stabilized when they’re being hospitalized,” Jenkins said.

‘He’s Not a Throwaway Child’

In a July interview, Jackson said inconsistent care or unmedicated time in jail “worsens my symptoms.” Jackson was on the phone during a stay at a state psychiatric hospital.

Without medicine, “my head hurts, to be honest,” Jackson said, before asking to get off the phone because he was hungry. It was lunchtime. “Can you get the information from my mom?” Jackson said. “She has the records.”

After Jackson hung up the phone, Ferguson explained that “he says the food is excellent, so he does not want to miss it.” And, she added, the hospital staff had not yet seen the explosive side of her son.

In early September, after 45 days at Summit — his longest stay yet at a state psychiatric hospital — Jackson returned to the Montgomery County jail facing misdemeanor charges because of with staff at a Dayton behavioral health hospital. In court, Ferguson said, her son struggled to explain to the judge why he was there. On a video call from the jail days later, she saw him playing with his hair and ears.

“That tells me he’s not OK,” Ferguson said.

Before Jackson’s diagnosis more than a decade ago, Ferguson said, her son wasn’t a troublemaker. He had goals and dreams. And he’s still “loved and liked by a lot of people.”

“He’s not a throwaway child,” she said.

 is a nonprofit news team covering Ohio’s criminal justice systems.

This <a target="_blank" href="/race-and-health/criminally-ill-state-mental-psychiatric-hospitals-prisons-waitlists-ohio/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

As night falls and temperatures drop, he erects a tent and builds a fire beneath a canopy of pine, hemlock, and cedar trees.

He evades authorities by rotating use of three tents of different colors at three campsites. As day breaks, he dismantles his shelter, rolls up his belongings, and hides them for the next night. “They don’t see you if you’re in the woods,” the 32-year-old said. “But make sure it’s broken down by morning or they’ll find you.”

During the day, he wanders, stopping at a public library to warm up or a soup kitchen to eat. What’s important is to not draw attention to himself for being homeless.

“Police want us out of the way,” he said, dressed in a gray jacket and carrying none of his possessions. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Ibrahim has been deliberate about blending in since August, when President Donald Trump placed the district’s police under and ordered National Guard soldiers to patrol its streets. The president homeless people to leave immediately. “There will be no ‘MR. NICE GUY,’” .

The Trump administration says encampment sweeps have reduced the visibility of homelessness, thereby enhancing the city. “There is no disputing that Washington, DC is a safer, cleaner, and more beautiful city thanks to President Trump’s historic actions to restore the nation’s capital,” White House spokesperson Taylor Rogers said.

While there may appear to be fewer homeless people in the nation’s capital now, they have not disappeared.

In interviews, homeless people said they are in a constant shuffle, hiding in plain sight. During the day, they stay on the move, grabbing meals at soup kitchens and resting on occasion in public libraries, on park benches, or at bus stops. At night, many unsheltered people bed down in business doorways, on park sidewalks, and on church stoops. Some ride the bus all night, while a few shelter in emergency rooms. Others find respite in the woods or flee to suburbs in Virginia or Maryland.

There are about 5,100 homeless people in Washington, D.C., including in temporary shelters, according to an . After Trump ordered the crackdown on public homelessness, people living in makeshift communities scattered and are now living in the shadows. City officials estimated in August that nearly 700 homeless people were living outdoors without tents or other shelter.

As winter draws near, they are exposed to the elements and grow sicker as chronic ailments such as diabetes and heart disease go untreated. Street medicine providers say that, since the National Guard was deployed, they have faced enormous difficulty finding patients. Many caught up in sweeps have had their lifesaving medications thrown away, and they are more likely to miss medical appointments because they are constantly on the move. Street medicine providers say they can’t find their patients to deliver medication or transport them to medical appointments. The constant chaos can suck patients with mental illness and substance use deeper into drug and alcohol addiction, raising the risk of overdose.

Caseworkers report similar disruptions, saying as clients get lost, they break connections essential for obtaining housing documents, particularly IDs and Social Security cards.

District officials and health providers say this cascade will make homelessness worse, threatening public health and public safety and racking up enormous costs for the health care system.

“It was already hard locating people, but the federal presence just made it worse,” said Tobie Smith, a street medicine doctor and the executive director of Street Health D.C.

The Homeless Shuffle

Chris Jones was born and raised in Washington, D.C., but now is homeless, having been pushed out of his tent near the White House in the initial days of the federal homelessness crackdown. He said two of his tents were taken during sweeps. Now, sleeping on a sidewalk outside a church, he doesn’t bother trying to get another one. “Why? What’s the point? It’ll just get thrown away again.”

Jones, 57, has a severe knee injury that prevents him from walking some days and said he was scheduled for a knee replacement in December. He said it’s important to stay where he is — he relies on a nearby drugstore to refill his medications for bipolar disorder, diabetes, and high blood pressure. When he’s hungry, he goes to a soup kitchen for a meal or tries to get a cheeseburger and a soda from a fast-food joint across the street.

It’s important for him to stay outside the church, he said, so his case manager can find him when a permanent housing slot opens up. If it gets too cold, he said, he will cross the street and sleep in the doorway of a business, which can provide a bit more shelter. He wants to get indoors, but for now, he waits.

Since taking control of Washington’s police force, the Trump administration has on cities and counties across the nation to clear homeless encampments under threat of arrest, citation, or detention. It has ordered or threatened similar National Guard deployments in Los Angeles; ; and other cities with large homeless populations.

Rogers, the White House spokesperson, said the president is maintaining National Guard and federal law enforcement presence in the nation’s capital “to ensure the long-term success of the federal operation.” Since March, city and federal officials have removed more than 130 homeless encampments, she said, though some local homelessness experts say that number could be inflated.

The Supreme Court last year made it easier for elected officials and law enforcement to fine or arrest homeless people for living outside. Then, in July of this year, the president issued an executive order calling for a nationwide crackdown on urban camping, including a massive removal of people living outdoors and forced mental health or substance use treatment.

Trump is also spearheading an overhaul of homelessness policy, moving to and services for homeless people. The move would limit the use of a long-standing federal policy known as “Housing First” that offers housing without mandating mental health or addiction treatment. The National Alliance to End Homelessness warns the move risks displacing in permanent supportive housing. The Department of Housing and Urban Development paused the plan on Dec. 8 to make revisions, which it “intends” to do, .

City officials say they are complying with the Trump administration’s forceful campaign against homeless people sheltering outside. Pressured by the White House, local officials said they’ve gotten more aggressive in breaking up camps. Advocates for homeless people say some of the sweeps have been conducted at night and others with little or no notice to move. City leaders believe they could be done more compassionately by offering services and shelter.

“We’ve pivoted from the notion of allowing encampments if they didn’t violate public health or safety to a position of, ‘We don’t want you in the streets,’” said Wayne Turnage, deputy mayor for District of Columbia Health and Human Services, who oversees encampment cleanups. “It’s unsafe, it’s unhealthy, and it’s dangerous.” Yet he acknowledges the encampment sweeps can waste city resources as caseworkers and street medicine providers scramble to find their clients and patients.

Advocates say the Trump administration is inciting fear and mistrust between homeless people and those working to help them while wasting taxpayer dollars used to provide care and place people into housing. There are, however, far fewer tents and large-scale encampments visible to tourists and residents.

“People found safety in those communities and service providers could find them. Now there are people with guns and flashing lights dislocating folks experiencing homelessness without notice and just throwing stuff away,” said Jesse Rabinowitz, campaign and communications director for the National Homelessness Law Center.

District officials say some people have accepted emergency shelter. But even as the city works to connect people with services and expand shelter capacity, officials acknowledge there isn’t enough permanent housing or temporary beds for everyone.

And there will be fewer places for people living outside to go.

The city, in its fiscal year 2026 budget, concentrated its homelessness funding on families, funding 336 new permanent supportive housing vouchers. Yet it cut funding for temporary housing for both families and individuals and provided no new permanent supportive housing vouchers for individuals. That means fewer housing slots for single adults, who make up most of those wandering the streets. City officials said, however, that they have slotted 260 more permanent housing units for homeless individuals or families into their construction pipeline.

Worsening Health Care

The fallout is inundating local soup kitchens with demand, including Miriam’s Kitchen in Foggy Bottom. The local institution provides hot meals, housing assistance, and warm blankets to people in need.

Caseworkers say it’s becoming increasingly difficult to help clients secure IDs and other documents needed for housing and other social services.

“I’m looking everywhere, but I can’t find people,” said Cyria Knight, a caseworker at Miriam’s Kitchen. “Most of my clients went to Virginia.”

It’s unclear how much of the district’s homeless population has fanned out to neighboring Virginia and Maryland communities. There were an estimated in the region in January, months before Trump’s crackdown. Four of six counties around Washington saw homelessness rise from 2024, while it .

“I’m not seeing my patients for a month or more, and then when I do, their chronic conditions are uncontrolled. They’ve been in and out of the ER, and they’re more likely to be hospitalized,” said Anna Graham, a street medicine nurse practitioner for , a network of clinics in Washington. “It’s just setting us back.”

Graham’s team stations its mobile medical van outside Miriam’s Kitchen at dinnertime to better find patients.

Willie Taylor, 63, was figuring out where to sleep for the night after grabbing dinner from Miriam’s. He saw Graham to receive his medications for advanced lung disease, seizures, chronic pain, and other health disorders.

He has difficulty walking and needs a wheelchair, which is complicated because he doesn’t have a permanent address. Taylor and his medical providers say his previous wheelchairs have been stolen while he slept outdoors at night. He uses a shopping cart to keep him steady, walking around all day, until nightfall.

On a cold November night, Graham helped Taylor figure out his daily medications and checked his vitals. The team handed him a warm coat and hand warmers before sending him back outside.

After walking for about 45 minutes, he found a piece of park pavement where he could build a bed out of tarps and sleeping bags.

“My body can’t take this,” Taylor said, preparing to sleep. “There’s ice on the concrete. I’m in so much pain; it hurts so much worse when it’s cold.”

Homeless people and cost the health care system more than housed people, largely because conditions go untreated on the streets, and when they do seek care, many go to the ER. Among Medicaid enrollees, homeless people have been estimated to incur $18,764 a year in spending, compared with $7,561 for other enrollees.

Over at the So Others Might Eat soup kitchen earlier that day, Tyree Kelley was finishing his breakfast of a sausage sandwich and hard-boiled eggs. He was considering going into a shelter. The streets were becoming too dangerous for someone like him, he said, referring to the police and National Guard presence. He was feeling the loss of an encampment community that would watch his back.

He’s been to the ER at least seven times this year to get care for a broken ankle he sustained falling off an electric scooter. The accident caused him to lose his job and health insurance as a garbageman, he said. His situation has caused him to sink deeper into a depression that began three years ago after his mother died, he said.

Then his father and sister died this year. He began to numb his pain with beer.

“You get so depressed, being out here,” said Kelley, 42. “It gets addictive. You start to not care about even changing your clothes.”

His depression also led him to seek out marijuana. Then he smoked a joint laced with fentanyl. The overdose sent him to the hospital for days.

“I actually died and came back,” he said, crediting other homeless people with administering naloxone and saving his life. “I need to get out of this, but I feel so stuck.”

A few blocks west of the White House sits a vacant plot of land that earlier this year held more than a dozen tents. Workers in the area sense what they don’t always see.

“I was here when this was all cleared. A bulldozer came in, and all their stuff was thrown in a garbage truck,” said Ray Szemborski, who works across the street from the now-empty lot. “People are still homeless. I still see them around underneath the bridge. Sometimes they’re at bus stops, sometimes just walking around. Their tents are gone but they’re still here.”

This <a target="_blank" href="/mental-health/washington-dc-homelessness-crackdown-hiding-plain-sight-street-medicine/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

The purchases varied widely but they all came from the same source: opioid settlement money. 

The cash, which comes from companies accused of fueling the overdose crisis, was used in more than 10,500 ways last year, according to an investigation by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and researchers at the and , a national nonprofit focused on addiction. 

The money is expected to over nearly two decades, paid by companies that sold prescription painkillers. State and local governments are meant to spend most of it combating addiction. The settlement agreements even and established other guardrails to limit unrelated uses — as the Tobacco Master Settlement Agreement of the 1990s. 

But there’s still significant flexibility, and what constitutes a good use to one person can be deemed waste by another. 

“People died for this money. Families were torn apart for this money. And to not spend it to try to make our system better, so that people don’t have to experience those losses going forward, to me, is unconscionable,” said , an addiction medicine doctor who was once addicted to opioids and has served as an expert in several opioid lawsuits. 

To compile the most comprehensive national database of settlement spending, ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and its partners filed public records requests, scoured government websites, and extracted expenditures, which were then sorted into categories, such as treatment or prevention. The findings include: 

• States and localities spent or committed nearly $2.7 billion in 2024, according to public records. The bulk went to investments addiction experts consider crucial, including about $615 million to treatment, $279 million to overdose reversal medications, and $227 million to housing-related programs.Ìý

• Smaller, though notable, amounts funded law enforcement gear, such as night vision equipment and Tasers.Ìý

• Many places funded prevention efforts that experts called questionable, such as a and a , at which kids and seniors , posed with inflatable guitars, and pledged to remain drug-free.Ìý

• Some jurisdictions paid for basic government services, such as .Ìý

• The money is controlled by different entities in each state, and about 20% of it is untrackable through public records.Ìý

Explore the database here.Ìý

This <a target="_blank" href="/health-industry/the-week-in-brief-how-governments-spent-opioid-settlement-money/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">

Bre Dolan, a 35-year-old resident of Hardy County, West Virginia, understands why. Throughout her childhood, when her dad had addiction and mental health crises, police officers were often the first ones to respond. Dolan calls them “good men and women” who “care about seeing their community recover.”

But she’s skeptical that they can mitigate the root causes of an addiction epidemic that has racked her home state for decades.

“Most of the busts that go down are addicts,” she said — people who need treatment, not prison.

Dolan’s father was one of them. And so was she.

Now 14 years into recovery, she’s been surprised to see many local officials spending opioid settlement money — an influx of cash from companies accused of fueling the overdose crisis — on police Tasers, cruisers, night vision gear, and more.

“How is that really tackling an issue?” Dolan said. “How will it help families battling addiction?”

Nationwide, more than $61 million in opioid settlement funds were spent on law enforcement-related efforts in 2024, according to a yearlong investigation by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and researchers at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and Shatterproof, a national nonprofit focused on addiction. That included initiatives that public health experts largely support, such as hiring social workers to accompany officers on overdose calls, as well as actions they’re more skeptical of, such as beefing up police arsenals.

Over nearly two decades, state and local governments are set to receive in opioid settlement money, which is intended to be used to fight addiction. The settlement agreements even and established other guardrails to limit unrelated uses of the funds — as the Tobacco Master Settlement Agreement of the 1990s.

But there’s still significant flexibility with these dollars, and what constitutes a good use to one person can be deemed waste by another.

To , an addiction medicine doctor who was once addicted to opioids and has served as an expert in several opioid lawsuits, some law enforcement expenses fall into that second category.

and are not “in the spirit of what we wanted to use the money for when we were fighting for it,” Loyd said.

“People died for this money. Families were torn apart for this money. And to not spend it to try to make our system better, so that people don’t have to experience those losses going forward, to me, is unconscionable,” he said.

As part of this investigation, ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and its partners compiled the most comprehensive national database of opioid settlement spending to date, featuring more than 10,500 examples of how the money was used (or not) last year. The team filed public records requests, scoured government websites, and extracted expenditures, which were then , such as treatment or prevention. The findings include:

• Nearly $2.7 billion — that’s the amount states and localities spent or committed in 2024, according to public records. The lion’s share went to investments addiction experts consider crucial, including about $615 million to treatment, $279 million to overdose reversal medications and related training, and $227 million to housing-related programs for people with substance use disorders.
• Smaller, though notable, amounts funded law enforcement initiatives — such as creating a shooting range and tinting patrol car windows — and prevention programs that experts called questionable, such as putting on a fishing tournament.
• Some jurisdictions paid for basic government services, such as firefighter salaries.
• The money is controlled by different entities in each state, and about 20% of it is untrackable through public records.

This year’s database, including the expenditures and untrackable percentages, should not be compared with the one ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and its partners , due to and state budget quirks. The database cannot present a full picture because some jurisdictions don’t publish reports or delineate spending by year. What’s shown is a snapshot of 2024 and does not account for decisions in 2025.

Still, the database helps counteract the in charge of settlement money among those .

‘How My Population Would Like Me To Vote’

Dolan has seen intergenerational addiction up close. When her father was high, he sometimes kicked teenage Dolan out of the house with her toddler siblings. She started drinking early and progressed to other drugs, eventually landing in prison.

Although she managed to find recovery on her own, even landing a job as an EMT, she wants to make the path easier for others.

If settlement money were used to hire social workers or build family recovery programs, it could change the course of a kid’s life, she said.

“Maybe people could have helped my dad get into recovery and gave him therapy,” she said. “Anything could have happened.”

But many local officials say law enforcement is one of the few tools they have, especially in rural areas. And their constituents believe it’s effective.

“If the goal was treatment and prevention, it would have been better to throw [the money] into a big grant system and give it to treatment centers,” said , city manager of Oak Hill, West Virginia, which for a drone and surveillance cameras for its police department. “Unfortunately, local governments are really not set up to do that.”

Clarkdale, Arizona, Town Manager said her town bought because they help with enforcement — such as recording crime scenes and conducting search-and-rescue operations — as well as education, when officers interact with kids at community events.

Similar perspectives nationwide have led to spending that includes:

• About (also known as silencers) in Alexandria, Indiana.
• About in Mooresville, Indiana.
• About and Tasers in Hardy County, West Virginia.
• Nearly , to add a police officer to the county’s drug task force, replace that officer locally, buy guns and vehicles, and tint car windows.

Several elected officials said their choices reflect local politics.

That’s “how my population would like me to vote,” Hardy County Commissioner said of his commission’s goal to spend about a quarter of its settlement money on law enforcement.

Mooresville Town Council President told ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News, “People have petitioned our government for less taxes but have never petitioned for less services” from the local police force. With federal and state budget cuts looming, the town must be resourceful, he said, adding that the Tasers were bought with a portion of settlement funds that have no restrictions.

After these purchases, an Indiana commission of law enforcement equipment that it cautioned against buying with restricted settlement dollars. , , and have released similar lists.

Research backs those restrictions. Studies have shown that drug busts and arrests can . Officers often , making people who use drugs or through police.

In contrast, equipping police officers with overdose reversal medications has been . That’s a key component of in Texas, the state with the highest percentage of reported law enforcement spending.

Police and Firefighter Salaries

Some places used settlement funds to maintain basic first responder services.

For example, Mantua Township, New Jersey, to “offset police salary and wages” and, according to its public spending report, . Township officials did not respond to requests for comment.

Los Angeles County to cover a portion of firefighter salaries and benefits last year and estimates it will use another $1 million this year.

County fire department spokesperson Heidi Oliva said opioid funds were used to fill a budget gap until revenue kicked in from a last November.

The use of funds was “appropriate,” she said in an email, because “the opioid crisis presents a significant burden to EMS response, from dispatch through arrival at hospitals, clinician mental health/burnout, and a variety of other factors.”

Using opioid money to replace other revenue is . But it’s .

“I don’t want to see this money used to make up for stuff that would be paid for anyway,” said , chair of the FED UP! Coalition, a national advocacy organization representing many parents who’ve lost children to addiction.

Settlement dollars are “the only financial representation from the governments and from the drug companies” of families’ losses, Busch said. To see that money used to maintain the status quo is “painful” and “distressing.”

Busch fears this practice will as states grapple with federal budget cuts.

Already in New Jersey, lawmakers in settlement funds to health systems to cushion against anticipated Medicaid losses — a move opposed by the state’s , , and .

However, some states are taking proactive steps.

Colorado this year against such actions.

“These dollars can’t be part of budget games where we simply backfill existing programs,” state Attorney General Phil Weiser told ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News. “We have to build on whatever we’re doing because it hasn’t been enough.”

Other states, such as , , and , are newly requiring local governments to report how they spend the money, which may make it easier to spot disputed practices. Officials in Delaware, Hawaii, Massachusetts, and Missouri said they expect to revamp their public reporting systems to increase transparency by early 2026.

In Mississippi, which produced no substantive public reports last year, the attorney general’s office has that will host spending information after Dec. 1.

Jennifer Twyman is anxious to see some positive changes.

“We have people literally dying on our sidewalks,” said the Louisville, Kentucky, advocate.

Twyman struggled with opioid misuse for 20 years and now works with to end homelessness and the war on drugs. To her, any spending that doesn’t directly help people with addiction betrays the settlement’s purpose.

“It is the blood from many of my friends, people that I care deeply about,” she said. “That money could have been me, could have been my life.”

Read behind this project.

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News’ Henry Larweh; Shatterproof’s Kristen Pendergrass and Lillian Williams; and the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health’s Abigail Winiker, Samantha Harris, Isha Desai, Katibeth Blalock, Erin Wang, Olivia Allran, Connor Gunn, Justin Xu, Ruhao Pang, Jirka Taylor, and Valerie Ganetsky contributed to the database featured in this article.

The has taken a leading role in providing guidance to state and local governments on the use of opioid settlement funds. Faculty from the school collaborated with other experts in the field to create , which have been endorsed by over 60 organizations.

is a national nonprofit that addresses substance use disorder through distinct initiatives, including advocating for state and federal policies, ending addiction stigma, and educating communities about the treatment system.

Shatterproof is partnering with some states on projects funded by opioid settlements. ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News, the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, and the Shatterproof team that worked on this report are not involved in those efforts.

This <a target="_blank" href="/public-health/opioid-settlements-law-enforcement-spending-states-towns-guns-narcan/">article</a&gt; first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="">KFF Health News</a> and is republished here under a <a target="_blank" href=" Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src="/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=150&quot; style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;">