THE CRIME OF OVERDOSING

Why Some Drug Users Are Afraid To Seek Emergency Help.

A few weeks back I looked out the window of my east-side Madison home and
saw flashing red lights. Four squad cars and an ambulance had converged in
front of a neighbor's residence. After a few minutes, the ambulance loaded
up someone who had difficulty walking and drove off. But the police stayed
for a long time afterwards.

Was it a beating? A shooting? A knife attack? Obviously, the cops weren't
there because someone needed medical help but because a crime had been
committed. Later, I learned these two seemingly dissimilar concepts were
one and the same: My neighbor had overdosed on heroin, and police were
investigating.

According to Officer Ben Vanden Belt, spokesperson for the Madison Police
Department, emergency dispatch received a call about a young man who had
vomited and was "out of it" after injecting the drug. The caller said
something about not wanting police, and then apparently thought better of
having called to begin with and hung up. The call was traced, and police
and an ambulance responded.

It turns out this is standard practice. "Once we have a suggestion about
illegal activity or potential illegal activity, we're going to send the
cops," says Jim Patty, head of the county's emergency dispatch operation.
Indeed, one thing that triggers such a response is when callers ask that
police not be involved. "We would probably send the police anyway just
because of that."

To avoid drawing the fuzz, citizens must be purposely vague ("he's fallen
and I don't know why"), and even then there's no guarantee police won't get
involved once drug use is established. Perhaps it makes sense to do like
the young druggies in the movie "Traffic" and dump the overdose victim at
the emergency room door--although in the film this backfires when a cop
nails the getaway car.

Leave aside the folly of the drug war in general. In cases where a person's
life may be in danger, is it good public policy to treat a call for help as
a crime in progress?

Jimi Reinke, who works for a local needle exchange program run by the
Wisconsin AIDS Resource Center, says it's a big problem. "If you do call,
the cops are going to show up," he says. "And odds are they're going to
hunt down other people in the house before they take care of the person
with the overdose." He says some addicts have dumped overdose victims on
the curb before summoning help.

Police, says Reinke, have to start seeing drug overdoses as "a health
issue, not a criminal problem." He says he's working with the local group
Progressive Dane to advance policy initiatives along these lines.

"People will die" as a result of current policies, predicts Terry Fox, who
works for a second Madison needle exchange program run by the AIDS Network.

"It is a disincentive for people to reach out and get appropriate medical
attention." Jim Stodola, AIDS Networks' director of services, agrees,
saying his group would welcome removing the threat of criminal prosecution
in cases involving medical emergencies.

District Attorney Blanchard is sympathetic but he's not in favor of
establishing a "blanket policy" that overdose victims will not be charged
and sees no "empirical evidence of need" to change policy at all. In some
situations, he says, his office may want to bring charges in order to
compel court-ordered treatment.

Interestingly, Blanchard is one of many local players who enthusiastically
back a program called Safe Place for Newborns, through which mothers can
abandon their newborns at local hospitals without fear of prosecution. Dane
County launched the program last year, although no local cases have
demonstrated empirical evidence of its need; the state Legislature is
considering a bill to make it statewide.

Funny, isn't it, that mothers who might otherwise toss their babies in
trash bins are seen as more deserving of a break than drug users who might
otherwise die for want of medical care. But that's the war on drugs for you.