As the child of a formerly incarcerated person, I’ve lived with the consequences of a failed law-enforcement system that believes jails can be places for rehabilitative treatment and care. This illusion eventually cost my dad his life.
My dad was a poor man of color raised in the smallest city in Los Angeles County. He served long sentences for drug-related crimes and parole violations. Being locked up exacerbated his existing physical and mental health issues. There were no services to greet him at the gate when he was released, and so imprisonment became law enforcement’s version of treatment. When he tried to find a job and a home, he was rejected at every turn because of his felony record.
At a meeting in Sacramento earlier this month, the Board of State and Community Corrections (BSCC), a small board dominated by law-enforcement officials, appointed the chairs of the committee who will recommend where to spend the millions of dollars of savings generated through Proposition 47, the law passed one year ago that reclassifies certain low-level crimes from felonies to misdemeanors. Sixty five percent of this money must be allocated to diversion, mental health, and substance use treatment programs, giving California an opportunity to improve health outcomes for thousands of families.
But at that same meeting, despite testimonials from dozens of community members like myself whose lives have been harmed by incarceration, the BSCC voted to allocate $500 million in jail construction funds to counties across the state. Given that many of these new jail projects are being promoted as mental health treatment centers, sheriffs may soon be lining up to make the case for needing Prop. 47 funds to run these facilities. Awarding funds to expand jails makes no sense when national conversations have turned toward reducing jail populations.
The committee appointed by the BSCC to direct spending of Prop. 47 funds has the power to ensure that those savings go to treatment and care in the community, changing the culture surrounding substance use and mental health. This is the approach that finally worked for my dad.
When my dad was released for the last time in 2007, it was support from other formerly incarcerated people also grappling with substance-use and mental health conditions that helped him stay out of jail. He found his way to Homes for Life, a community-based organization in Southern California providing affordable housing and counseling for homeless and mentally-ill people. Living in a caring community empowered him to enroll in Long Beach City College’s Substance Abuse and Addiction Counseling degree program. It is bittersweet knowing that my dad didn’t find the resources he needed until he was 50 because society prioritizes punishment over healing.
Driving home to Southern California from Oakland this past spring, I prepared myself to see my dad for the first time in 20 years. It would also be the last time. I wept reflecting on 20 years of lost opportunities for our family because a poor brown man’s health conditions made him a criminal.
The real crime is the failure of law enforcement to know the difference between health care and incarceration. There is no happy ending to our story. My dad died without realizing his capacity to be a father and contribute to his community. I only find solace knowing he left this world trying to be the best person he could be.
My dad’s story is not exceptional. Families and neighborhoods continue to be torn apart by the same system that claims keeping communities safe means building more cages for people, when what they really need is comprehensive health care not administered by law enforcement.
Instead of accepting money for new jails, counties should reject the funding and give people with mental health and substance use conditions what my dad didn’t get: a fair chance at health, and a fair chance at life.
Angela Aguilar is a masters in public health candidate and a doctoral student in ethnic studies at the University of California, Berkeley.
Via: http://www.dailynews.com/opinion/20151124/heres-how-jail-based-health-treatment-failed-my-family-guest-commentary
SACRAMENTO — Evan Kim was 2 years old when he was diagnosed as autistic last year, and his parents searched for some way to curb his head-banging tantrums.
Using a state-financed healthcare program for low-income families, they found therapists who could provide a specific kind of autism treatment aimed at analyzing and improving behavior. The therapists spent 40 hours a week with Evan at the family's home in the Los Angeles area, coaxing him to stop the tantrums and improving his communication skills.
"I'm afraid he's not going to make any progress from now on," Kim said. The same service, she said, would cost $10,000 a month out of pocket.
Evan's therapy was a casualty of the state's effort to phase out its Healthy Families insurance program and shift the nearly 900,000 children it covered into Medi-Cal, the broader healthcare program for the poor. Despite officials' assurances that the transition would not jeopardize services, activists say hundreds of children are losing coverage for applied behavior analysis.
"Those are the families that fall through the cracks," said Julie Kornack, a public policy analyst at the Los Angeles-based Center for Autism and Related Disorders. "If they don't get the treatment they need, they won't be contributing members of society. And everyone will have to pay to take care of them."
Activists fear that other coverage gaps could surface as the state prepares to move the final 150,000 children into Medi-Cal in the next two months. Elizabeth Abbott, an official at the advocacy group Health Access, said she worried that dental resources could also become strained.
"This is potentially the tip of the iceberg," Abbot said.
Rene Mollow, a deputy director at the California Department of Health Care Services, said the transition has been mostly smooth. She said some children can get similar autism therapy through a federal program or local school district, but she conceded that those services won't be available to everyone.
Lawmakers agreed to eliminate Healthy Families last year as a savings measure pushed by Gov. Jerry Brown, but the money hasn't materialized the way the administration had hoped. The state saved only one-fifth of the $13.1 million it had projected in the fiscal year that just ended.
Administration officials say that's the result of delays, increasing healthcare costs and other factors.
Senate leader Darrell Steinberg (D-Sacramento) pushed to restore coverage for applied behavior analysis for children with autism in the state budget that went into effect last Monday. However, the $50 million was not included in the budget that lawmakers sent Brown last month.
"The administration promises us a resolution, but we don't have one yet," Steinberg said.
Mollow said the Brown administration was concerned about the cost as the state emerges from a years-long budget crisis.
"We're coming out of a significant deficit," she said. "We're just looking to be prudent with the dollars that we have."
Applied behavior analysis is an intensive treatment in which therapists use positive reinforcement to improve a child's behavior and detailed instructions to make learning new tasks easier. It is used to teach a child, among other things, how to get dressed in the morning and play well with others.
Brown expressed skepticism of the therapy when he signed a 2011 bill requiring many private insurers — but not Medi-Cal — to cover applied behavior analysis.
"There are remaining questions about effectiveness, duration and the cost of the covered treatments that must be sorted out," he said in a statement.
Autism experts disagree, saying the therapy can be costly but is vital.
"They're taking away the only scientifically proven treatment for children who have a very significant medical condition," said Jonathan Tarbox, director of research and development at the Center for Autism and Related Disorders. The center provides applied behavior analysis through state-funded programs.
Patrick Sullivan of San Diego said his 6-year-old autistic daughter, Naia, has benefited dramatically from applied behavior analysis.
Sullivan said a state employee assured him earlier this year that his daughter's transition to Medi-Cal would be "seamless." Later, he learned that her therapy would no longer be covered at the end of this month.
Sullivan hopes his daughter can receive treatment at one of California's regional centers that provide services to the developmentally disabled. But Naia's autism, he said, may not be severe enough for her to qualify, or the amount of therapy she receives could be sharply reduced.
"I don't know what's going to happen," he said.