((5-27-26) Mental Health Advocate Jerri Clark writes brilliantly in her new book – Gone Before Gone – about how she copes with the loss of her son, Calvin, whose serious mental illness led to arrests, homelessness and eventually suicide in 2019 at age 23.

What makes Gone Before Gone unique is her exploration of “ambiguous loss”—the grief experienced when a loved one with dementia or severe mental illness is “‘gone” but is still alive. She describes it as “death by degrees.”

She concludes that “Life’s only clarity is sheer uncertainty.”

In a positive review, Kirkus noted: “Clark offers refreshingly simple responses to platitudes about mental illness, such as a measured rebuttal to “everything happens for a reason.” Clark writes: “My son’s struggle with mental illness had no reason to it. I’m trying to find meaning in what’s left of my life, but that doesn’t mean his pain was something the world needed.”

Here are my thoughts.

Jerri Niebaum Clark loved her son, Calvin, from the moment he was born. She changed his diapers, sang him to sleep at night, and felt the pure joy that came when he first said “Mama.” When Calvin later described his childhood, he pictured “a smiling sun in a cutely drawn neighborhood—everything a kid would ever want.” There were good schools, plenty of friends, and endless smiles. Jerri taught Calvin how to surf—one of her passions—and watched with pride as he caught his first wave. Family vacations and birthdays were joyful celebrations.

There were hiccups, of course—the ordinary troubles that shape both child and parent. But Calvin loved his parents and appeared on track to live a successful and full life. That was before he became sick.

Because Jerri’s love for her son was so deep and unwavering, she never doubted, after Calvin was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder, that he would recover and that life would return to what it had been. Jerri and her husband, Matt, would make certain of that outcome. With their help, Calvin would put this “blip” behind him.

She was confident this was a blip

This is how their journey began, as it does for so many parents who love children with serious mental illness: with confidence, determination, and hope. Jerri sought out the best doctors and therapists to help quiet the storm in Calvin’s brain. She learned everything she could about serious mental illness and the depression, self-medication, and addiction that often accompany a bipolar diagnosis. Together with Matt, she believed they would help Calvin return to being the loving son they had raised.

But mental illness is cruel, persistent, and—when untreated—progressive.

Those of us who have a child with serious mental illness or addiction know what it is like to look into their face and see a stranger. It can feel as though an alien force has taken control. This loss is especially devastating when an adult child refuses to accept the illness—an all-too-common symptom of the disease itself. There are moments of clarity. We hear our children promise that “this time” will be different. This time therapy will work. This time medication will help pull them back from the abyss. And slowly, painfully, we learn a truth no parent wants to face: recovery does not come in a straight line, and it is never guaranteed.

With each hospitalization and each arrest—and there were many of both—recovery seemed more distant. It was as if Jerri were trying to catch smoke in her hands. The good times grew fewer; the bad times more frequent. Calvin would beg for help and then push his parents away with cruel words. He told Jerri he loved her. He told her he hated her. As his illness progressed, Calvin cut his parents out of his life and became homeless. How does a mother sleep at night knowing her son is wandering the streets?

What is Ambiguous Loss?

What Jerri was living through, though she did not yet have the language for it, is what family therapist Pauline Boss calls ambiguous loss. Calvin was physically present but increasingly psychologically absent—a form of loss common in families affected by serious mental illness, addiction, dementia, and traumatic brain injury. There was no clear line between presence and absence, no socially recognized ending, and therefore no roadmap for grieving. Jerri was expected to hope and mourn at the same time—to hold on and let go simultaneously.

While many Americans with bipolar disorder receive treatment and are able to move forward with their lives, not everyone does. Calvin died at age twenty-three, despite the herculean efforts of his parents. He left behind unanswered questions, lingering doubts, and—most painfully for Jerri—no closure. Her grief churned like the turbulent waves she once loved to ride while surfing. The rituals that usually help people mourn proved ineffective. As Pauline Boss explains, ambiguous loss resists closure. It defies the ceremonies, language, and social acknowledgment that help make loss bearable.

Jerri came to realize that ambiguous loss had entered her life long before the March day Calvin died. Though he had been physically present during those final months, he had been psychologically absent. Like dementia or traumatic brain injury, mental illness had taken her son from her in pieces.

How loss has impacted my life

I had never heard the term ambiguous loss before I met Jerri. But when I read this book—with its skilled, compassionate writing and its clear-eyed exploration of unresolved grief—I thought about the death of my sister, Alice. She was killed in an automobile accident at seventeen while riding a motorbike I owned, on her way to visit a high school friend. A car struck her as both entered a blind rural intersection bordered by tall crops. I was two years younger and knew nothing about grief.

At her funeral, the minister quoted the Apostle Paul: “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” That verse—and the well-meaning platitudes offered by friends (“This is part of God’s plan.” “She’s in a better place.” “Everything happens for a reason.”)—rang hollow. At home, I watched my parents suffer. Even near the end of their lives—both lived to be ninety-four—you could not mention my sister’s name without reopening their pain.

Pauline Boss describes a second form of ambiguous loss—one in which a loved one is physically absent but psychologically present. Although my sister died suddenly, her absence never resolved into anything resembling closure. Decades later, she remains vividly alive in my mind, in my parents’ unhealed grief, and in my own longing. Her death, too, remained ambiguous.

Nineteen years after Alice’s death, I woke one night calling out her name. The feelings I had buried as a child—silenced because her death was too painful for my parents to discuss—came spilling out. Seeking closure, I returned to the rural intersection where she was killed, hoping to make sense of my loss. Instead, I found only frustration, anger, and bewilderment. The sadness my parents carried daily had been passed on to me, settling in as an unwanted guest, forever present.

That is why I am so grateful to Jerri Clark for writing Gone Before Gone. After Calvin’s death, she did not fall silent. She became an advocate for others living with serious mental illness. That is how we first met—as parents demanding that our nation build a more humane and effective mental health care system. Her tireless efforts locally, statewide, and nationally through the Treatment Advocacy Center—an organization dedicated to removing barriers to treatment—created an immediate bond between us.

Ambiguous loss does not require resolution

Jerri’s search for meaning led her to Pauline Boss and the teaching that ambiguous loss does not require resolution. With the same passion she brings to advocacy, Jerri found solace in understanding loss and became determined to share that understanding with others. Reading this book helped me realize that the grief I carry—for my sister’s death, my son’s serious mental illness, my father’s dementia—does not need to be fixed. Instead, it needs to be acknowledged, named, and lived with.

As Boss teaches, the goal is not closure but resilience: learning to live fully while holding unanswered questions, fractured narratives, and enduring love.

Gone Before Gone is a gift because it offers permission to stop asking the impossible of ourselves. By sharing Calvin’s life, his death, and her own journey through grief, Jerri Clark shows us that while we may never move on from loss, we can live well alongside it. Perhaps that, ultimately, is both Calvin’s legacy—and hers.

The post Jerri Clark Explains “Ambiguous Loss:” In New Book – Gone Before Gone appeared first on Pete Earley.

Kevin Earley with advocate and mother Laura Pogliano at Washington premiere hosted by TAC

(5/23/2026) My son has written a poignant review of the new documentary, No One Cares About Crazy People. Be sure to check out his blog which is posted on this webpage. Thank you!

The post Kevin reviews new documentary: No one cares about crazy people appeared first on Pete Earley.

Kevin and I spoke at a Washington D.C. mental health fundraiser – a few years ago in black tie near the White House

(1-22-26) I’m proud that my son, Kevin (known as Michael in my book), posted his first blog on this website today. Look for the tab that says: Kevin’s blog.

I’ve encouraged him to write about his mental illness, his recovery, and his work as a certified peer and recovery specialist.  I happily pass the “blog baton” to him as I continue to focus on my health and family. I will be curious to read his thoughts. I hope you will be too.

Thank you for your continued support and dedication to reforming our mental health system.

The post My Son Kevin Posts His First Blog On This Website appeared first on Pete Earley.

Celebrating with Patti

(11-21-25) My wonderful cancer doctor, Dr. Alexander Spira, with Virginia Cancer Specialists, told me this morning that a recent CT scan showed the cancer in my right lung remains in remission. It has not grown or spread!

Studies show that 60 percent of the patients taking my life-saving medication live five years of more. I am coming up on my two-year anniversary.

Being told you have Stage Four non-small cell carcinoma (BTW: I never smoked) hits you like a bucket of ice water in the face. After receiving that diagnosis, I decided to retire from writing and focus on my health, my supportive spouse Patti, our grandchildren and our family. I also began checking off adventures on a bucket list.

A month ago, I completed a tandem sky dive at Skydive Orange. I never would have jumped from a perfectly good airplane if I hadn’t gotten cancer. A friend with cancer challenged me to jump – something that my friend has done several times despite her Stage Four colon cancer.  The crew at Skydive Orange was so professional that it was not frightening.

Mario, my tandem partner (wearing helmet) has completed 8,000 jumps and specializes in “senior citizen” dives.

While I will continue to post sporadically on my blog, I have asked my son, Kevin, to start a new blog on my author’s webpage. You might remember him as “Mike” in my book, CRAZY: A Father’s Search Through America’s Mental Health Madness.

I’ve encouraged Kevin to write about his successful journey from being psychotic and arrested to earning a Masters Degree in Social Work and working full-time in Arlington County Va., as a specialist helping others with mental illnesses. He has his own strong opinions so I will be eager to read this new edition to my author’s page. (Watch for it. It should be available in the next few months.)

I continue to receive weekly emails from individuals (mostly parents) seeking advice because someone whom they love has been diagnosed with a serious mental illness. Often, law enforcement has gotten involved. These emails document how difficult it is to get decent mental health care in our country. Many of the folks reach out after reading my book. It is their first time visiting this blog. Few have read through the 1,700 blogs that I have written since 2006.

I am no longer going to my office regularly to read emails so I want to reprint a blog that I hope will help those readers just starting their journey and those of us who have walked along the same path for years.

Please know you are not alone. Have hope and be thankful for all of your fellow advocates who are working to save lives and fix our system.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Helping Someone Who Has A Mental Illness

It’s difficult helping someone with a mental illness.

My relationship with my son has not always been easy. Those of you who have read my book know that I was forced to lie about him threatening me in order to get him taken into a hospital rather than put in jail. During a later break,  I called the police and my son was shot twice with a Taser. These events can play havoc on father-son relationships.

So what have I learned?

First, mental illnesses are serious business. You can’t take an aspirin and wake up in the morning healed. It took more than five years for my son to become stable. Parents and others need to realize that there are no quick fixes. Hang in there and realize there will be many highs and lows on your journey.

Second, accept a new normal. Saying you want your child to go back to the way that he was is counter productive. You need to understand that the person who you love has a mental illness. Most people can and do recover. But the journey that you go through with them to recovery changes both of you. There is no going back to the past.

Third, learn to trust your own judgment. No one knows the person you love better than you and while there are amazing, devoted and really smart mental health professionals, they do not have to live with the person who is sick.

I’ve had people tell me that I needed to get tough with Kevin when he was psychotic and not lift a finger to help him until he hit rock bottom. I remember wondering: What does that mean exactly? After all, he was arrested and shot with a Taser? Short of allowing him to go homeless — what’s left? Suicide?

Other times, I know my anxiety about pushing him too hard has led to me being an enabler.  It helps that Patti is Kevin’s step-mom. While she certainly loves him, she sometimes can take a step back and see how Kevin and I are engaging in destructive behaviors that are not good for either of us.

I’ve turned to professionals for help numerous times and fortunately have gotten good advice. But I’ve also known some therapists who have no business advising anyone. One actually put Kevin in harm’s way because of a rushed diagnosis.

A counselor at the Miami Dade County Jail told me that his sister, who had schizophrenia, had seen more than a dozen doctors and literally hundreds of therapists during her thirty year struggle. Yet, the family was seen as part of the problem, ignored and often treated rudely. “But who was there when all of those others moved on?” he asked me rhetorically. “In the end, all my sister had was me.” You must be resilient.  Trust your heart.

Fourth, educate yourself. Think of mental illness as a formable enemy and realize you need to be knowledgeable to prevent it from destroying your loved one’s life. Seek information from the Treatment Advocacy Center,  National Alliance on Mental Illness , Mental Health America. Learn about Crisis Intervention Team training and if law enforcement in your community has CIT officers who you can call. Become knowledgable about medications and alternatives. Obtain the tools that you need to help someone you love.

Two sources that have helped me are Dr. Xavier Amador’s book, I’m Not Sick, I Don’t Need Help, and the National Alliance on Mental Illness’s Family-to-Family course. One advantage of joining a mental health group is that you meet others on the same road. Learn from them.

Fifth, realize that mental illnesses impact your entire family. Siblings often are jealous of all the attention that is being  shown someone with a disorder. They accuse their troubled brother or sister of acting out to get attention or of manipulating their parents. Encouraging them to learn about mental illness and including them in helping someone recover can ease those feelings.

Sixth, understand your own limitations. This is perhaps the most difficult lesson to learn. Sometimes, no matter what you do and how hard you try, you will not be successful. If your child had cancer and you couldn’t save them, would you blame yourself?  A parent can’t always fix things. This doesn’t mean that you give up, although some do and for good reason.

I remember talking to Bebe Moore Campbell, the late novelist who specialized in writing about mental illnesses, and listening to her explain how she never was critical of anyone who walked away from a family member — including parents. Sometimes, she told me, it was the only way for that person to save themselves. “I’ve see how these illnesses can destroy relationships,” she said. “No one can judge anyone else until they walk in their shoes.”

Seven, understand that while you love a person who is ill and because of that you hurt, that person is the one with the mental illness and what he/she is going through can be more horrific than what most of us will ever imagine. Learn to listen, treat them with respect, try to build trust and when possible, become a partner — make sure they are part of the solution and not seen as a problem that needs to be fixed.

So what’s the answer? There is no singular one.  Every person is unique, every family is different, every mental break brings with it challenges. What I have learned is that for me, ultimately, I must have hope. I must believe that recovery is possible. I must believe because without hope, I know recovery will never happen.

You have to believe that a better day is coming tomorrow.

The post My Cancer, My Son, My Advice — Savor Each Moment & Be Thankful appeared first on Pete Earley.

(11-18-25) Tis the season for charitable giving so emails asking for donations are starting to appear in my inbox. Before writing checks, I like to check on the finances of mental health non-profits.

Here are snippets from four national mental health organizations: the National Alliance on Mental Illness, Mental Health America, the Treatment Advocacy Center and the Depression Bipolar Support Alliance. 

Guidestar (now called Candid) posts federal Form 990 tax reports.

It lists NAMI’s gross revenues on its 2024 tax report at $35 million with assets worth a minimum of $62.7 million.  That is tremendous growth since I first became a lifelong member of NAMI in 2006. Back then, it only reported $5.8 million in net assets and often struggled to raise funds.

Some of the reasons for NAMI’s growth can be attributed to covid, which raised public awareness about mental health crises. NAMI expanded its membership through its “big tent” approach – welcoming all mental health diagnoses under its umbrella rather than limiting itself to the so-called serious mental illnesses. (Sczhophrenia, bipolar, and persistent and severe depression.) NAMI’s management successfully secured relationships with several high profile organizations such as the National Football League. These factors helped NAMI reach its self-proclaimed goal of becoming the nation’s voice about mental health issues.

NAMI’s salary packages also topped other grassroots groups.

Chief Executive Officer Daniel Gillison Jr. received $568,383 in salary during 2024 with an additional $34,660 in non-salary compensation according to its Form 990, making him the highest paid executive of the four nonprofits. Overall, salaries paid to the national NAMI staff surpassed $2 million per year. This includes payments to Gillison.

According to Candid, executive compensation packages at nonprofits with higher budgets (e.g., in the $25 million to $50 million range) pay significantly more than smaller ones and those in Washington D.C. pay more than in many other cities. A review by Chatgpt of Washington nonprofit salaries found:

“Based on NAMI’s real-world pay, a director CEO salary for a nonprofit in Washington DC with $35 million in gross revenues could reasonably be in the $400,000 to $600,00 range.”

This is how NAMI describes itself on its website:

What started as a small group of families gathered around a kitchen table in 1979 has blossomed into the nation’s leading voice on mental health. Today, we are an alliance of more than 650 local affiliates who work in your community to raise awareness and provide support and education that was not previously available to those in need.

NAMI affiliates in every state file separate Form 990 tax reports listing revenue and assets specific to their state.  Check Candid to find your local affiliate’s revenue and salary figures.

Candid does not have a 2024 tax form available for Mental Health America, although the nonprofit organization does list is 2024 financials on its website. It reported a minimum of $14.6 million in net assets. The most recent Form 990 posted at Candid was for 2023. It listed total yearly revenue at $12 million.

Then-CEO Elizabeth Stribling received at yearly salary in 2023 of $345,061 with $50,105 additional non-salary compensation. Salary.com’s DC benchmark for an executive of a nonprofit with $12 million yearly revenues in DC was $244,000 to $323,000. Overall, MHA paid $2.3 million in salaries to its national staff or slightly more than NAMI despite their revenue differences. This includes Stribling’s pay.

Stribling is no longer at MHA. It is currently being directed by Mary Giliberti who previously was CEO of NAMI. In 2023, her salary as MHA’s chief public policy officer was $227,163 plus $61,695 in additional compensation.

This is how MHA describes itself on its website:

Mental Health America was established by a person with lived experience Clifford W. Beers. During his stays in public and private institutions, Beers witnessed and was subjected to horrible abuse. From these experiences, Beers set into motion a reform movement that took shape as Mental Health America. Read about the Mental Health Bell—The Symbol of Our Movement

Our work has resulted in positive change. We have educated millions about mental illnesses and reduced barriers to treatment and services. As a result of Mental Health America’s efforts, many Americans with mental disorders have sought care and now enjoy fulfilling, productive lives in their communities.

The Treatment Advocacy Center listed total revenues of $3.5 million in 2023, the most recent Form 990 listed on Candid. Its net assets were $2.8 million. Its CEO, Lisa Dailey, received $189,330 in salary and $14,794 in other compensation that year. Salary.com lists a range of $110,444 to $200,000 in compensation for a CEO running a nonprofit TAC’s size. Overall, it listed total salaries at TAC of $904,241.

From TAC’s website:

Since 1998, TAC has led a nationwide movement to eliminate barriers to the treatment of severe mental illness. TAC was founded in 1998 by Dr. E. Fuller Torrey. After working for 15 years at a Washington, D.C. clinic serving unhoused people with severe mental illness, Dr. Torrey authored the book “Out of the Shadows: Confronting America’s Mental Illness Crisis,” detailing failed policies that have led to suffering, lost chances for recovery, and the widespread criminalization of mental illness in the U.S.

Dr. Torrey was contacted by Vada Stanley, who expressed an interest in funding efforts to help this vulnerable population. After consulting with other experts in policy and legal fields, Dr. Torrey concluded that treatment alone could not correct this disastrous course. Advocacy to reform state laws was necessary to make it possible to treat people before illness caused them to fall into homelessness or incarceration, or to become dangerous to themselves or to others. With the generous support of the Stanley Family Foundation, TAC was founded to meet this challenge.

Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance, which is based in Chicago, Illinois, filed a 2024 Form 990 that listed total gross revenues of $4 million, with net assets of $3.4 million. CEO Michael Pollock received $282,750 in salary and $26,356 in other compensation and was listed as the only paid employee.  Candid lists the average compensation for a CEO with a $1.7 million budget at $172,487.

DBSA describes itself on its website as:

Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (DBSA) is the leading national organization focusing on mood disorders, including depression and bipolar disorder, which affect over 21 million Americans, account for over 50% of the nation’s suicides every year, and cost $23 billion in lost workdays and other workplace losses.

DBSA offers peer-based, wellness-oriented support and empowering services and resources available when people need them, where they need them, and how they need to receive them—online, in local support groups, in audio and video casts, or in printed materials distributed by DBSA, our chapters, and mental health care facilities across America.

The post NAMI Dominates Non-Profit Rivals With $35 Million in 2024 Revenues, $62.7 Million Net Assets appeared first on Pete Earley.

(6-21-25) Ridiculous! The federal government agreed to drop charges but not state authorities.

Guest Post via email:

Hi Pete,  Nick Gallo can’t read or write, has the mental capacity of a child, and an IQ of 50. However, he is accused of posting threats against President Trump. The video of his arrest really paints the picture of who Nick is and what he understands.

Federal prosecutors have dropped their case, citing his cognitive limitations.

Yet, inexplicably, the state of Florida continues to pursue charges. This raises serious questions, especially given Florida statute 916.303, which protects certain mentally disabled individuals from prosecution. (In this case, the doctor told the court that Nick  could potentially learn to understand the charges against him in 9 to 12 months)

His mother is also pleading for the charges to be dropped. Nicholas poses no threat, had no means, and no understanding of any wrongdoing.

The case returns to court on July 23 at 1pm. So far, coverage has been limited to one or two local outlets. I believe this warrants a direct question to both Governor DeSantis and President Trump: Why is the state still prosecuting this young man? 

Thank you, Thomas Tobin

To reach Florida Governor Ron DeSantis’s office, you can call the main number at 850-717-9337. You can also contact them through their website using the contact form or by mail, sending correspondence to the Governor’s office at the Florida State Capitol.

Governor DeSantis Website comments here.

The post Crying Autistic “Child” Arrested By Florida Prosecutors For Threatening Donald Trump appeared first on Pete Earley.

(11-25-24) THIS IS NOT ABOUT MENTAL HEALTH.

My twenty-second and last book, No Human Contact: Solitary Confinement, Maximum Security and Two Inmates Who Changed the System, is not for the faint of heart because it describes – often in graphic detail and from a convict’s point of view – life imprisonment in the harshest conditions allowed under the U.S. Constitution.

For 33 years, I corresponded with Thomas Silverstein, who murdered three people while in America’s most secure penitentiary, including a correctional officer. A member of the notorious prison gang, the Aryan Brotherhood, Silverstein spent 36 years in isolation yet he found meaning in his life and ultimately rejected the gang.

His story raises questions about whether nurture or nature creates a killer.

I met him in 1987 in the bowels of Leavenworth prison where I asked him about his decision to attack and savagely stab Merle Clutts, a veteran officer.

Listen to Pete Earley’s taped interview with Thomas Silverstein describing murder that he committed.

Photo from 1987 when I first met Silverstein. Photos before his death in 2019. (Photos copyrighted by Pete Earley Inc.)

Because there was no federal death penalty in 1983, Silverstein could not be put to death. His actions helped prompt the construction of the first federal Super Max penitentiary where inmates are confined to their cells 23 hours per day with minimum comforts.

The post A Graphic Read About Isolation In America’s Toughest Prison Told Through The Eyes Of A Convicted Murderer appeared first on Pete Earley.

Nashville’s Behavior Care Center is a first-of-its-kind, licensed mental health/addiction treatment facility built inside a jail complex.

(11-22-2024) Are residential mental health and addiction centers located inside jails in our future? Should they be?

Earlier this month, I spoke to an elite group of sheriffs in Nashville attending a Large Jail Network conference. The LJN is composed of senior officials from the largest jails in the United States. This meeting focused on jails becoming the de facto largest public mental health facilities in our country. (The LJN was established in 1989 by the National Institute of Corrections, a part of the U.S. Justice Department.)

Nashville was chosen because Davidson County Sheriff Daron Hall operates a first-of-its-kind 60-bed Behavioral Care Center (BCC) as part of his jail. This is not a separate cellblock where arrestees with mental illnesses and/or addictions are housed and seen by a visiting psychiatrist or social workers. The BCC is a state licensed, residential treatment center adjacent to the jail where individuals charged with crimes – that are clearly linked to their addiction and/or mental illnesses – can have the criminal charges against them dropped if they complete a rigorous treatment regime while incarcerated.

An innovator, Sheriff Hall carved out money from his budget to construct the BCC four years ago. It is a separate, modern building that is only linked to the jail by a single hallway.  He told a reporter from the Memphis Commercial Appeal, “I’m interested in why people are here [in jail], not who is here.” That curiosity is what prompted him to create a “specific diversion program aimed at decriminalizing mental illness.”

When I toured the BCC, I couldn’t tell much difference between it and a modern residential treatment center not connected to a jail. It doesn’t look like a jail. Each arrestee receives an individualized treatment plan when they enter the program. The length of stay depends on how well an arrestee does during treatment. You can be returned to jail if you violate the rules. Most arrestees are released after thirty days with the charges against them either being reduced or dropped.

The sheriff’s website states: “Treatment at the BCC includes: Individual Therapy, Group Therapy, Medication Management, Peer Support, and Discharge Planning. After stabilization at the BCC, the discharge specialist’s goal is to connect each resident with community resources and ensure continuity of care. Residents receive follow-up calls after discharge to confirm their plan is still working and to provide additional services as needed.”

Sheriff Hall speaks at BCC which he created

In other words, the BCC does exactly what a well-run and well-funded treatment facility should do – help individuals get the treatment that they need and discharge them with wrap around community services that help them thrive. (This must include access to housing!)

At the conference, I lauded Sheriff Hall for creating the BCC and applauded those sheriffs who expressed interest in creating separate treatment centers as part of their facilities. However, I also mentioned my concerns about creating mental health treatment units inside jails.

No one should have to get arrested to get treatment and constructing jail based centers should never become a way for communities to get around the outdated IMD exclusion or reduce pressure on communities to fund supportive treatment not tied to jails.

We know that law enforcement officers deal with more individuals in mental health crises than psychiatrists do. We also know that forty-percent of individuals with serious mental illnesses will have a potentially volatile confrontation with police. We can’t ignore that some individuals will be arrested and some should. This is why Crisis Intervention Team training, pre-arrest diversion, the Sequential Intercept Model, mental health dockets, and post-division programs are important tools. Based on these realties, what Sheriff Hall has created should help people get treatment and reduce inappropriate incarceration.

But let’s never forget that our goal should be getting people help before they get arrested and the best way to do that is through well-funded community treatment services, especially those aimed at first break psychosis.

The post A First-Of-Its- Kind Licensed Treatment Center Inside A Jail: Is This The Future In Corrections? appeared first on Pete Earley.

(11-20-24) Risdon N. Slate, an expert about the criminalization of mental illness, has published a memoir, Resilience In The Storm: My Journey With Mental Illness, describing his personal struggles, lessons learned and his recovery. I asked him to share part of his story.

Dear Pete, this chapter captures me in a full-blown manic episode after my psychiatrist decided I was not mentally ill and took me off lithium. Prior to the doctor stopping my medication, I had remained in the closet regarding my mental illness for eight years, telling only significant others that I was bipolar and seeing psychiatrists behind the scenes for meds. I was running from the stigma surrounding mental illness. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed.

After the manic episode, I decided if this could happen to me as a criminology professor with a PhD in criminal justice, work experience as a federal probation officer and as an assistant to the warden at a medium/maximum death row prison it could happen to anyone.

A Wake Up Call

This episode proved to be a wake-up call in my life. Others do not have the connections that I do to help them in times of crisis. I decided to open up regarding my story. Writing a memoir enables me to reach out to a broad audience and provide hope for the possibility of recovery.  The process was cathartic as well, helping me make connections between obstacles that I encountered as an illegitimate child with a speech impediment and my mental illness. I use hardships experienced in my youth to bolster me in facing my illness today. In the words of Booker T. Washington. “Success is not measured so much by the position that one has attained in life as by the obstacles one has overcome while trying to succeed.”

RESILENCE IN THE STORM: MY JOURNEY WITH MENTAL ILLNESS

BY RISDON N. SLATE, PhD. Copyrighted. Used by permission from author

PROLOGUE

It was 9:30 on a Sunday morning, Labor Day weekend, when the police came for me.

“That’s my husband,” my wife told the two officers by the pool gate at the condominium complex which we were visiting. “He has a PhD and is a criminology professor.”  She felt compelled to tell them this because several minutes earlier I had thrown a lounge chair into the pool, taken off my clothes, and dove in after it.

“He worked in this city as a United States Probation Officer and an assistant warden,” she pled. I was at that moment standing by the side of the pool stark naked. I was relieved to have the police officers intervene and believed justice would ultimately prevail.

My wife was in tears, holding the vial of lithium that I should have been taking. Pointing to the bottle, she told the officers that a doctor had mistakenly taken me off the medication. “Please help him!”

Their help for me was to take me directly to jail.

The officers had me pull on my shirt and shorts and place my hands behind my back as they cuffed me. They placed me in the back of their squad car, where I attempted to tell them about the people conspiring to do me harm.

“Quiet,” one officer insisted as we pulled out.

Always respectful of the police, a few minutes into the ride, when I was given permission to speak, I told them how grateful I was for their intervening and liberating me from the plot against me. They did not respond.

As I entered the housing area of the county jail, the smell was a pungent mixture of bleach and bodily fluids.

I was placed in a holding cell with about fifteen other men. I recognized one of my fellow captives as the actor Wesley Snipes playing the role of a detainee. I slid underneath a bench in the cell and huddled with him. I was starving, and he shared his bologna sandwich with me. I appreciated his generosity so much that I tried to hug and kiss him. He, without speaking, deflected my advances by holding the sandwich in in his palm and redirected me to eat the sandwich by pointing to it.

“Hey, Jeff!” I called out to Jeff Bridges, who was acting as another detainee waiting to appear before a magistrate for a bail hearing.

“That is not my name, fool,” he snapped back at me.

I chalked his testiness up to the part he was playing in the film we were making, and I apologized to him for using his real name. He just ignored me.

Unabashedly, I told my fellow detainees, “I worked in that prison just up the road.”

One retorted, “I think I remember you, you son-of-a-bitch.”

I was non-pulsed and excitedly continued my diatribe, informing them, “There is a conspiracy against me involving a federal judge and my ex-wife’s father, which cost me my job as a federal probation officer. I am in this jail until I can figure out my next move.” They looked at me incredulously, but I believed we were all playing our roles.

Further antagonizing the others was my attire: I had made my way into the holding cell wearing my shirt that the cop had handed me to put on back at the pool after skinny dipping. It was a sheriff’s t-shirt from another state commemorating a 5k run with a badge prominently imprinted on it.

I continued with my conspiracy theory, getting in the face of one of my fellow detainees that another had called Jerimiah as I shouted, “I want my probation officer job back.” Jeremiah, a hulking African American, reacted by saying, “Shut up!” He then put me in a headlock, pounded me with his fist on top of the head, and ripped off my shirt. The remnants of the shirt’s collar remained intact around my neck, and I magically believed I would be shielded from harm by this mere piece of cotton encircling my neck.

Nonetheless, I sought cover by laying prone under a bench, where I was comforted by an empty ½ pint milk carton that I thought was sending me a surreptitious message only I could decipher. There was a picture of a missing child on the carton whom the authorities were looking for. I was heartened. The effort made on behalf of that little boy encouraged me not to give up and assured me that people on the outside were working on righting the wrongs that had befallen me and landed me there.

I ultimately had an initial appearance before a magistrate. Disoriented, with no view of the outside world or clock available, I lost track of time. I didn’t know the day or time of my initial appearance before a judicial authority; I would learn later that it took place about seven hours after having been brought to jail.  My bail was set at $500, but I could not make it, as I had thrown my wallet onto the roof of the condominium complex in an attempt to shield my identity from the conspirators before the police arrived. Though my wife was present at the hearing, she was unable to make bail. I had hurled all our resources away. We were 500 miles away from home, and she was without an automatic teller machine card, credit card, or sufficient funds. She had even asked my former professor, who owned the condominium where we had been staying, for financial assistance with my bond.  However, he declined to help – telling her that he did not want his name associated with my release back into the community. He recommended that she sell my car to acquire sufficient funds. She chose not to do so. My wife was greatly concerned for my well-being but was perplexed as to how to obtain proper care for me. She was not allowed to address the magistrate, but in the courtroom, she told me that she spoke to my guards about my situation. “Don’t worry,” I told her. “I can go back inside. I am protected.”

After not making bail and being returned to the holding cell, I slid up close to another detainee telling him about my previous job at the prison in town, work as a federal probation officer, and my forced resignation from that position. He got in my face and shouted, “Shut the fuck up, or I’m going to knock the shit out of you.” To my surprise, Jeremiah came to my aid, yelling “Leave him alone.” I moved to another corner of the cell.

I had to use the toilet in the cell, and I found myself stymied by the plumbing.

Flushing the toilet was beyond my comprehension. With no toilet paper available, I methodically smeared my excrement on my face like war paint.

The jailers began moving detainees one by one from the cell, leaving me housed with an inmate whom I initially mistook for Abraham Lincoln. He was lanky, stooped over, and had a ruddy complexion. However, since he had no beard, I concluded that he was actually U.S. Senator Arlen Specter from Pennsylvania, there to conduct an investigation of the jail.

My unbalanced behavior was manifested through chanting made-up words (“kudabah, wudabah, katori, mingala”) over and over again, coupled with hand over mouth war cries, ritualistic dancing while standing in place with arms outstretched from my sides level with my shoulders, palms up, bringing one knee up as high as possible to my chest. then alternating rhythmically the other knee, and eating the paper containing my charge. This resulted in five guards dragging me out of the cell. They threw me to the concrete floor, kicked and punched me in the ribs, and hog-tied me before moving me to a strip cell. My pain was muted as I drifted outside my body and floated to the ceiling, where I observed the melee below as I was snatched up, restrained, and relocated. They isolated me by moving me to an empty strip cell, with no running water, chair or bed, only a hole in the concrete floor for bodily functions in solitary confinement.

Once in the strip cell, with a magical belief that I would be protected by Native American mysticism that I had been exposed to in a college religion class, I began pounding on the metal walls of the strip cell and peering through the eye slot in my cage when the guards made their periodic checks. As the captors looked in, I proclaimed, “I have a 6^th Amendment right to counsel, and I am prohibited from cruel and unusual punishment by the 8^th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. You will soon be hearing from the President of the United States demanding my release.”  They did not respond. They just grimaced, shook their heads, and walked away.

I freshened my war paint by fishing through raw sewage in the hole for bodily excretions in the cell’s floor, and I pulled out a broken identification bracelet that had belonged to another inmate. My sole thought–They killed whoever had worn it, and they were going to kill me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Risdon Slate, Professor of Criminology at Florida Southern College, has testified before the U.S. House of Representatives Judiciary Committee, Subcommittee on Crime and was appointed by former Governor Jeb Bush to Florida’s Mental Health & Substance Abuse Commission. He has been published in numerous scholarly journals and has authored books including Criminalization of Mental Illness: Crisis and Opportunity for the Justice System and The Decision-making Network: An Introduction to Criminal Justice. Slate received his Ph.D. in criminal justice from Claremont Graduate School, M.S. in criminal justice from the University of South Carolina and B.S. in criminal justice from the University of North Carolina.

The post Expert On Criminalization Of Mental Illness Describes His Personal Journey With Bipolar Disorder appeared first on Pete Earley.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT MENTAL HEALTH. IT IS ABOUT JOURNALISM.

(11-1-24) I’ve been a working journalist since I turned 17 and I have strong feelings about the freedom of the press and open discussions. Which is why I was disappointed this week when Washington Post owner Jeff Bezos decided to kill an editorial in his own paper. This is not about whether you are going to vote for Donald Trump or for Kamala Harris. Although Bezos attempted to sugarcoat his actions (after more than 250,000 readers canceled their subscriptions), in my view he acted out of fear. 

From Bezos’ perspective, his decision make good business sense. His companies do billions of dollars worth of business with the U.S. Government and The Washington Post loses money every year. He didn’t want to offend Candidate Donald Trump who has promised to punish his “enemies.” But as a journalist, he blew it. There is nothing wrong with him using his editorial page to promote his own points of view. But what Bezos did was silence others and that is censorship. 

I was so disappointed about his decision that I wrote an Op Ed and submitted to the Post. But its editors rejected it.  Here is what I wrote. Again, this is not about Trump and Harris, it is about a newspaper publisher being afraid of a politician and that is untenable.  

The Washington Post. Op Ed submission by Pete Earley

As a former Washington Post reporter and life-long journalist, I feel obligated to explain why Jeff Bezos’ decision to censor an editorial supporting the candidacy of Vice President Kamala Harris is both wrong and dangerous. Whether The Post’s choice is Harris or Donald Trump is immaterial. There are higher stakes.

Bezos explains that he was motivated by public surveys that rank journalists and the media at the bottom when it comes to trust and reputation. “Most people believe the media is biased,” he notes. Bias restricts, limits and disregards the opinions of others. As does its twin – censorship. If his decision was aimed at eliminating bias, his actions actually have fostered it.

“We must work harder to control what we can control to increase our credibility,” Bezos writes. The pathway to credibility is not by limiting thoughtful discussion, but by encouraging more of it, including different points of view. Hiring independent ombudspersons and encouraging readers to report errors and comment freely are steps to eliminate bias, not silencing opinions.

Bezos offers an analogy, stating that voting machines must meet two criteria. The machines must count votes accurately and the people must believe they count accurately. The same, he writes, is true of newspapers. This is misleading. A voting machine cares nothing about public perceptions. It counts ballots. A journalists’ job is to investigate and report facts without fear or favor. Whether the public believes the facts should be immaterial to a fact seeker. To do otherwise is to risk pandering and, in fact, promotes bias. This is why reputable news organizations create a wall between news gatherers and editorial writers and columnists.

It is the task of opinion writers to interpret and persuade. Not reporters. The public understands this. And more opinions, not less, is what is needed.

Censoring an editorial does not eliminate bias. 

Bezos dismisses the value of his newspaper’s presidential endorsement. While an endorsement might not sway a reader, Bezos has undercut The Post opinion staff, undermining its power to educate and persuade on further issues. What now will separate The Post from a weekly, throwaway shopper that avoids offending readers and advertisers by offering no analyst or opinions, only recipes? Is this not a shirk of public trust and responsibility?

Bezos dismisses any mention about why the press and media rank so low, stating that “a victim mentality will not help.” True, but ignoring reality is equally dangerous. The “main stream” media has been under attack for nearly a decade, chipping away at its credibility in favor of “alternative facts.”

“Complaining is not a strategy,” Bezos argues. Yes, but neither is ignoring the danger in unchecked criticism and promotion of misinformation. With the loss of advertising, too many outlets – especially cable television stations – have hired non-journalists and former political operatives to carve out either a liberal or conservative view to increase their viewership. This is part of what undermines credibility. Passing these folks off as legitimate journalists hurts the profession.

Bezos assured readers that there was “no quid pro quo” while acknowledging an appearance of conflict. “I challenge you to find one instance in those 11 years where I have prevailed upon anyone at the Post in favor of my own interest. It hasn’t happened.” I agree. Until now. Arguing that a thief didn’t steal anything for years before he finally did does not lessen the crime.

Listen to the words of William Allen White for guidance.

I began my career at the Emporia Gazette, home of William Allen White, who penned a Pulitzer Prize winning editorial entitled, To An Anxious Friend, in 1922 after the Kansas governor attempted to arrest and censor any newspaper that sided with striking rail workers. White wrote: “You say that freedom of utterance is not for time of stress, and I reply with the sad truth that only in time of stress is freedom of utterance in danger. No one questions it in calm days, because it is not needed. And the reverse is true also; only when free utterance is suppressed is it needed, and when it is needed, it is most vital to justice.”

It is not too late for Bezos to reverse his decision so that readers can decide for themselves, as they will, whether or not a presidential endorsement is warranted. Silence does not foster credibility. It encourages complicity. Mr. Bezos, William Allen White’s closing comments got it right, not your’s.

White wrote: “This nation will survive, this state will prosper, the orderly business of life will go forward if only men can speak in whatever way given them to utter what their hearts hold – by voice, by posted card, by letter, or by press. Reason has never failed men. Only force and repression have made the wrecks in the world.”

The post Shame On Jeff Bezos For Putting Profits Ahead of Responsible Journalism appeared first on Pete Earley.