Addiction is its own prison
Under a new policy that began this past June, opioid addicts (heroin, et al) who voluntarily turn themselves in to the Gloucester,
Massachusetts police station are set up with treatment services. In doing so they will not be charged with a crime, even if they apply for help with
illegal drugs on their person.
As of Friday, police say 109 addicts have turned themselves in seeking help, 16 percent of them hailing from out of state and about 70 percent of them men. All have been placed into drug treatment programs at a total cost of about $5,000 to the department.
The policy, which experts say is unique in the country, has thrust this city roughly 40 miles north of Boston into the debate over what role police should play in a national heroin epidemic that has hit New England particularly hard.
"It's the next logical step in the so-called war on drugs," says Gloucester Police Chief Leonard Campanello, a former narcotics officer who launched the effort. "We need to change the conversation."
The initial hurdles this success will have to deal with are twofold:
The lead prosecutor for the Gloucester area has warned police they may lack legal authority to promise addicts they won't be charged. And treatment providers wonder what an influx of patients might mean for an already strained system.
"If several other communities adopted the same practice, it could overwhelm the existing capacity," says Chuck Faris, CEO at Spectrum Health Systems, a Massachusetts substance abuse treatment provider that's taken in about 35 Gloucester-referred patients to date.
Those problems are solved pretty easily by making it legal to choose treatment over possession charges and putting more money into public health and drug treatment over say,
the growing prison system. All in all, this is a very forward thinking program, and its success, even if it's just seen as financial by some, can really
make people's lives better.
The young woman, whose name the AP is withholding because she alleges sexual abuse as well as domestic violence by her boyfriend, is the last of six addicts who have come through the station doors in a roughly 30-hour span.
"I know this isn't the life I want to live," says the Massachusetts native and college graduate. "I just didn't know how to get out."
The woman says she landed at the police station after spending three days living on the street and shooting heroin.
Many people want help but "fall through the cracks" of a system that seems to be made up of cracks. It's our village and this woman is someone's child.