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"New York will now treat addiction as a health concern and focus on treating the disease, rather than locking up the patient," said Karen Carpenter-Palumbo, commissioner of the state's Office of Alcoholism and Substance Abuse.
Her office oversees one of nation's largest addiction service systems, with some 1,550 programs serving more than 110,000 people a day. Yet that caseload represents only 15 percent of those needing treatment. An estimated 80 percent of the 60,000 offenders in New York's prisons have substance abuse problems.
As the system expands, Carpenter-Palumbo is working with treatment providers on new standards. If the field wants to be a full partner in the medical community, she said, it must be ready for rigorous evaluation.
Problems can range from inadequate staff levels to fraud to the simple lack of a warm welcome when clients first visit.
"Any person with an addiction, if you give them an excuse, they'll run," she said.
Paul Samuels of the Legal Action Center, a public interest law firm, hopes New York and other states will reduce the criminal justice system's role in determining details of treatment, such as whether an addict should be given methadone or other medication.
"That would be like a judge determining the kind of treatment you get for heart disease," he said. "It really should be decided by treatment experts."
The Rockefeller law reforms foretell a potential boom for organizations like Odyssey House, a New York City nonprofit.
It serves 300 people -- young mothers, senior citizens, ex-convicts and others -- at a residential treatment center in East Harlem. At another site, run by the state corrections department, Odyssey House has just taken over a treatment program for offenders who abused drugs in violation of parole.
Darrin Brown, who runs that program, says one challenge is convincing prison staff that treatment has merits.
"It's up to us to win them over," Brown said. "Their attitude is changing for the better -- they can see the results."
Peter Provet, CEO of Odyssey House, says most of the East Harlem clients stay nine months or more, in a comprehensive program that costs $20,000 per year per client.
"You're talking about some of the most deprived, abused individuals there are," he said. "Part of our struggle, for years, is to get others interested in these people."
Among them is Clinton Goodwin, 59, who started dealing drugs at 19. Since then, he's served four stints in prison and been arrested five times, mostly recently in May. As an alternative to prison, he was given the option of participating in the Odyssey House program for at least 18 months.
Twenty years ago, serving time in Virginia, he entered a treatment program that failed to produce lasting change. "Nothing in it put me to the test," he said. "I kind of manipulated it.
"I might be more receptive now -- I have daughters and grandchildren, and I don't want to betray them again," he said. "I know it can work for me -- if I'm ready for it."
Some addicts prefer prison to a rigorous treatment program, said Provet. Others adjust only gradually.
Mary Celestino, 66, was arrested a year ago when officers found cocaine in her apartment, and entered Odyssey House in January in lieu of two years in prison.
"They're telling you what to do, when to get up, when to eat, when to sleep," she said. "I'm still trying to get used to it."
New York stands in contrast to many other states, where the push for more treatment has been undercut by the recession.
In fiscally troubled California, state funding for a landmark drug treatment program has fallen from $145 million three years ago to $18 million in the latest budget.
The result is limbo for many nonviolent offenders who, under terms of a 2000 ballot measure, are supposed to get treatment as an alternative to prison. There's now little space available as programs retrench, and experts worry that some offenders on waiting lists will lapse into crime.
"They end up being basically out on the street," said Thomas Renfree, executive director of the County Alcohol and Drug Program Administrators Association of California. "If they can't get into treatment right way, you're going to lose some of them."
Renfree says the diversion program had been highly successful -- saving up to $4 for every dollar spent and diverting 36,000 people to treatment each year.
"There's a lot of lip service paid to it," he said. "But even some of those who think it's a good idea aren't willing to kick in the resources."
Meanwhile, California's corrections department has had to slash $250 million worth of rehabilitation services, forcing cutbacks in a drug treatment program that had sharply reduced recidivism rates.
Treatment advocates say their efforts to lobby for scarce funds often lag behind those of law enforcement.
"The treatment community has never been as effective -- they're not as aggressive, not as well organized," said Margaret Dooley-Sammuli, the Drug Policy Alliance's deputy state director in Southern California. "If those two go at it, fighting for resources, who's going to win?"
Scott Burns, of the National District Attorneys Association, said many law enforcement officials are increasingly open to treatment, but not at the expense of their anti-crime budgets.
"There's always been competition between law enforcement and the treatment community for funds," Burns said. "Legislatures, and to some degree the federal government, talk a lot about how important treatment is, but somehow never seem to fund it at the levels people in the field feel they must have to make a difference."
[Associated
Press;
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