ADDICTS FIND LITTLE ACCESS TO TREATMENT

With Nowhere to Turn, Dozens Attend Group Gatherings at Churches

Bernard Okray found a method to get help for his cocaine habit the hard way.

He found it in jail.

Four years ago, caught with a cocaine pipe in his pocket, Okray spent three
days in the Milwaukee County Jail. Three drug-free days, Okray said.

At the time, because the residential drug treatment centers were all
filled, jail was his best option.

Three times a week, sometimes more, Easter Dethrow hears more stories like
that than he can stomach.

Dethrow is a drug counselor and recovering addict who offers help and
counseling to drug addicts at three Lutheran churches in Milwaukee. Every
Tuesday at Incarnation Lutheran Church, 1510 W. Keefe Ave., between 20 and
30 men meet with Dethrow to pray, receive counseling and "vent."

He also holds sessions at Reformation Lutheran Church, 2201 N. 35th St.,
and Cross Lutheran Church, 1821 N. 16th St., and usually finds himself at
other times helping other addicts who have reached the point of desperation.

For Dethrow, the sessions reaffirm a reality he sees on the streets every
day: Drug treatment in Milwaukee is very often difficult to find for the
poor. The sign on Dethrow's office, at Reformation, says "recovery." But it
doesn't always lead there, he said.

Lack of Beds a Problem

There is a shortage of beds at drug treatment centers in Milwaukee, most of
it the result of funding cuts over the last 10 years for drug and alcohol
treatment.

During any given week, Dethrow says, dozens are left to fend for
themselves. Of the 3,000 to 4,000 people in the county seeking treatment
each year, 300 to 400 won't find help, experts estimate.

The numbers can vary depending on the time of year.

But waiting lists for available beds at residential treatment centers are
typically long, said Duncan Shrout, director of governmental affairs for
IMPACT, the treatment and prevention organization that assesses people who
seek help.

For men, Shrout says, there is a 30-day wait for an available bed; for
women, a 60-day wait.

The endgame? Experts such as Dethrow and others say that, out of
desperation, some addicts commit petty crimes that land them either in jail
or the Milwaukee County Mental Health Complex.

Many others continue to wander the streets and get high, Dethrow said. Some
end up dead, he said.

Milwaukee County is still in the lean years of finding money for drug and
alcohol treatment. Since 1992, the county has gone from receiving nearly
$13.7 million from the state and federal government for drug treatment for
the poor to roughly less than half of that amount today.

Dethrow gets to see the difference every week in people such as Eric Smith.

Smith is a participant in the Tuesday counseling session at Incarnation
Lutheran Church. He has been to prison, been addicted to heroin and
cocaine, and been homeless.

"You put yourself in all those categories and then realize one day that
you've drunk up the rent money or your old lady has kicked you out. That
sometimes kills the want - the want to stop using drugs," Smith said.

"But when it's time to get help - when you've hit rock bottom and you're
all raggedy and your feet are dragging on the ground - there is none for
you because of all of the things you've been through. The people who could
help you now won't because you've been through those places so many times.
There is no program for a person like me. You're kidding yourself."

Situations Are Similar

The Rev. Dennis Jacobsen, pastor of Incarnation Lutheran, says it is not
uncommon to find men and women like Smith.

"Part of what I'm hearing from Easter is that when men get out of treatment
- - assuming they're able to get in, which is a long shot - 80 percent of
them are just going to blow off the treatment," Jacobsen said.

"So I think the need is not only for residential treatment, which I agree
seems a lot harder to find, but also for drug-free stable living
environments for the people who have been through treatment and who want to
sustain it.

"That's a real issue for a lot of the men who have no money, no job and are
homeless."

Dethrow thinks the number of residential programs would have to increase
threefold to enable the county to treat the number of people needing help
today.

Until legislators decide to put more emphasis on treatment rather than
prison, says Dethrow, it's the small counseling sessions that he runs that
offer the only lifeline to those seeking help but unable to find it.

The sessions are typically crowded, and the answer to those seeking
treatment, he said, is almost always the same - to find an open slot at a
residential center, he said, is rare.

"There's very little treatment right now," said Dethrow. "This kind of
stuff has got to change.

"Without this program, I don't know what would happen. Some of these guys
would have no place to go but jail."