Pete Earley

(12-10-21) Instead of watching a movie on Netflix or HBO this weekend grab a bowl of popcorn and learn how communities can and should take steps to stop police shootings, arrests and the jailing of individuals with mental illnesses and substance abuses.

I’m offering you two choices. Both feature the documentary, The Definition of Insanity, which shows how Miami has become a model in dealing with residents with mental illnesses and/or substance abuses who become tangled up in the criminal justice system.

You can watch the documentary without comment. [above]

Or you can watch it as part of a longer program. [below.]

The longer program features two of my favorite advocates, nationally-known political commentator, Norman Ornstein, who lost his son, Matthew, to mental illness, and Miami Dade Judge Steve Leifman. The program starts by showing viewers The Definition of Insanity and then features Ornstein, Leifman and Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison in a panel discussion hosted by the Humphrey School of Public Affairs at the University of Minnesota, one of the top schools in teaching and debating public policy.

Either way, you will get to see The Definition of Insanity, which was Ornstein’s brainchild. If you already have seen the documentary, you can skip to minute 1:05:19 to hear the panel discussion. [below] Think of this as an old-fashion double feature, offering you both a documentary and both men’s sage advice.

Best to bring two bowls of popcorn.

Risdon Slate. Photo courtesy of Florida Southern College

(12-7-21) Shortly after I published CRAZY: A Father’s Search Through America’s Mental Health Madness in 2007, I met Risdon Slate at a NAMI event in Florida and was struck by his advocacy on behalf of individuals with mental illnesses stuck in our jails and prisons. But I didn’t learn about his personal struggles until I read this excellent article by Kimberly C. Moore published in The Ledger  based in Lakeland Florida.  Thank you both for helping educate the public through this poignant story.

Mental Health: After personal struggles, criminology professor advocates for decriminalizing mental illness

LAKELAND — Risdon Slate is, by all accounts, a pillar of the Polk County community, a college professor who advocates for the decriminalization of the mentally ill and helps to train law enforcement officers in how to deal with someone having a mental health crisis.

He also has a serious mental illness — bipolar disorder.

In addition to being a criminology professor at Florida Southern College, Slate, 62, has testified before the United States Congress and Florida Legislature about the poor job society does in taking care of the mentally ill.

“The mental health system is more than happy for the criminal justice system to have to deal with all of society’s ills regarding mental illness and mental health,” Slate said. “I think we need a better mental health system and I think we need better linkage to mental health treatment — somebody should not have to commit a crime to get adequate and appropriate mental health treatment.”

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Judge Tina Snee of the Fairfax County General District Court. “Graduation” for defendants who successfully completed requirements on the Fairfax County Mental Health Docket.

(12-1-21) I am delighted that the Fairfax County Board of Supervisors is continuing to focus on decriminalizing mental illnesses and treating substance abuse.

Earlier this month, General District Court Judge Tina L. Snee held yet another graduation ceremony for individuals who’d completed requirements set through her mental health docket. (In Virginia, there are no mental health courts, only dockets.) Judge Snee has been a champion in overseeing this important tool in our county’s jail diversion efforts. Circuit Court Chief Justice Penney S. Azcarate first opened the door by establishing a veterans’ docket. Both should be commended.

Jeffrey C. McKay, chair of the Board of Supervisors, recently highlighted other steps the country is taking to improve mental health and substance abuse services. (See below) McKay has done a masterful job in building on a foundation that his predecessors, Chair Sharon Bulova and Supervisor John C. Cook, established.

Not surprisingly, Sheriff Stacey A. Kincaid continues to be a driving force in pushing the county forward. She was a crucial in launching the county’s Diversion First program, is nationally recognized as a proponent of the Stepping Up Initiative, and has implemented dozens of meaningful changes at the adult detention center, such as offering tele-psychiatry services in the jail. She changed the jail’s long standing policy of releasing inmates at 12:01 a.m., shifting discharge to 8 a.m., a time when transportation, shelter, medical care and other community resources are more readily available. Since 2016, she has invited NAMI support groups into the jail six times a year. She routinely talks to parents and spouses who are concerned about an incarcerated loved one with a mental illness and/or substance abuse problem.

Those of us who live in Fairfax County should be grateful for Chair McKay, the board, Judges Snee and Azcarate, the CSB’s Daryl Washington, and especially Sheriff Kincaid.

Now, if we can only do something about securing affordable housing and increasing access to treatment beds.

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Pictured Front row, L to R: James K. Tudhope, DNP, Wendy Umberger PhD, PMHCNS-BC, Barbara Drew, PhD, Kent State University College of Nursing Back row: Nelson Freed; David D. Baker, PhD; Mia Klinger, Ballet Excel Ohio; and Pete Earley

(11-23-21) News Release From Peg’s Foundation. For immediate release.

On November 11, 2021, Peg’s Foundation recognized individuals and organizations bringing remarkable value to the community.

During the awards presentation in Rootstown, Ohio, Rick Kellar, Peg’s Foundation President, stated “Tonight’s recipients are not only our partners, but our family.” He emphasized that the work of these remarkable individuals and organizations is changing lives every day. “It is the power of partnerships advancing the foundation’s mission and vision and creating lasting impact!”

2021 Compass Award winner Pete Earley spent his career dedicated to helping people with serious mental illness and improving the systems that serve them. A former reporter for The Washington Post, he is best-known for his nonfiction book, CRAZY: A Father’s Search Through America’s Mental Health Madness, one of two finalists for the 2007 Pulitzer Prize, and winner of awards from the American Psychiatric Association, the National Alliance on Mental Illness, and Mental Health America. Earley said his work promotes, “fixing a system that can be fixed and realizing that it costs more to jail people or institutionalize them, and that it costs more to let people throw their lives away than it does to help them.”

As a journalist he holds people accountable, elevates our national dialogue to what “should be,” and lifts mental illness out of the shadows, creating a vision on how to best support individuals and families impacted by mental illness. Earley stated, “The biggest thing we have to do for someone who has mental illness, I believe, is give them hope.”

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Jerri sat down with Washington Gov. Jay Inslee in 2018 to talk about gaps in the mental health care system. Courtesy Jerri Niebaum Clark

(11-17-21) This is part two of Advocate Jerri Niebaum Clark’s story about her struggles to help her son, Calvin, and how his death led to her advocacy.

Becoming A Parent Advocate: Part Two

By Jerri Niebaum Clark

First published in Kansas Alumni Magazine. Used by permission.

I remember a time when happiness and health felt normal. I left Lawrence, Kansas, and my position as an assistant editor for Kansas Alumni in 1995, newly married and five months pregnant. My husband, Matthew Clark, settled into a career with Hewlett-Packard. I became mother to baby Calvin and Michelle, 10 years older than he. I taught yoga and children’s ballet, work that blended well with parenting. We loved our Pacific Northwest home in Vancouver, Washington, where through the years we surfed off the Oregon coast and skied down Mount Hood.

Calvin became a state-champion debater and earned a scholarship to Willamette University in Salem, Oregon. Midway through his freshman year, he called in a rambling, tearful rant about being abandoned by fellow debaters. The details did not make sense. We brought Calvin home. Well past midnight, on February 16, 2015, I realized my baby boy had lost his mind.

Calvin’s speech was alarmingly disorganized and frantic. He did not sleep and was convinced a bathroom in our house was possessed and should never be entered again. A family doctor prescribed lithium. Calvin was at first relieved to have a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, like his paternal grandfather. This explained some of his confusion, so he agreed to take the medication. He got a job at the local farmer’s market selling cookies. He bought a Cookie Monster T-shirt. We were rearranged, but we were a family and happy to be together. There was even a magical day of surfing that spring when we all successfully caught overhead rides.

We came up for air, but the dangerous waves we would try to ride were just setting up. Events in the years to come tossed me around enough to reorder my understanding about what it means to be a parent, a compassionate person and an activist.

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Happier Times. Photo courtesy of Jerri Niebaum Clark

(11-16-21) Jerri Niebaum Clark embodies the famous Margaret Meade quote: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” 

My Son’s Journey: Part One

A Mom’s Journey Through Mental Illness, Suicide and Advocacy

By Jerri Niebaum Clark

First published in Kansas Alumni Magazine, University of Kansas.

I studied journalism with no idea that the most important story I would ever tell would be the tragedy of my own family.

My son, Calvin, was a happy baby, a solid student, a successful athlete. He grew into a clever, curious, compassionate person. He also developed a serious mental illness in his teen years that devolved into psychotic episodes. A mental health care system in disarray meant that instead of helpful care, our family met heartbreak.

In disbelief, I watched my son’s world tilt away from a bright future punctuated by academic accolades and toward incarcerations, suicide attempts and hospitalizations in locked wards that didn’t make him better. Along the way, the everyday bad news cycle got personal. I’m not at all surprised that homelessness and suicide rates are rapidly rising or that so many police encounters end tragically. These are preventable social ills, but our service systems are not built to prevent them.

Families like mine strive to keep loved ones from hitting rock bottom, discovering that there really is no bottom and that help doesn’t prevent but instead requires a radical free-fall. I watched my son delivered into society’s underbelly by design. He spent months homeless, met law enforcement again and again, and tried multiple times to die. These traumas are part of a tragic inventory of the requirements for public assistance when someone has a serious mental illness. Calvin was 23 when he died from suicide March 18, 2019.

As I try to reconcile what happened to my son and our family, I have been compelled to dust off my journalism skills to write and holler my way into public view.

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