Related Links

• Police Blame Some Deaths on ‘Excited Delirium.’ ER Docs Consider Pulling the Plug on the Term. Oct 2, 2023
• California Bans Controversial ‘Excited Delirium’ Diagnosis Oct 12, 2023
• Doctors Abandon a Diagnosis Used to Justify Police Custody Deaths. It Might Live On, Anyway. Oct 16, 2023

Quinto, 30, had been pinned on the ground for at least 90 seconds by police in California and stopped breathing. He died three days later.

Now his relatives are asking a federal judge to exclude any testimony about “excited delirium” in their wrongful death case against the city of Antioch. Their case may be stronger than ever.

Their push comes at the end of a pivotal year for the long-standing, nationwide effort to discard the use of excited delirium in official proceedings. Over the past 40 years, the discredited, racially biased theory has been used to explain away police culpability for many in-custody deaths. But in October, the American College of Emergency Physicians disavowed a key paper that seemingly gave it scientific legitimacy, and the College of American Pathologists said it should no longer be cited as a cause of death.

That same month, California’s Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom signed the nation’s first law to ban the term “excited delirium” as a diagnosis and cause of death on death certificates, autopsy reports, and police reports. Legislators in other states are expected to consider similar bills next year, and some law enforcement agencies and training organizations have dropped references to excited delirium from their policy manuals and pulled back from training police on the debunked theory.

Despite all that momentum, families, attorneys, policing experts, and doctors say much remains to be done to correct the mistakes of the past, to ensure justice in ongoing trials, and to prevent avoidable deaths in the future. But after years of fighting, they’re heartened to see any movement at all.

“This entire thing, it’s a nightmare,” said Bella Collins, Angelo’s sister. “But there are silver linings everywhere, and I feel so fortunate to be able to see change happening.”

Ultimately, the campaign against excited delirium seeks to transform the way police deal with people undergoing mental health crises.

“This is really about saving lives,” said Joanna Naples-Mitchell, an attorney who worked on an influential Physicians for Human Rights review of excited delirium.

Changing Law Enforcement Training

The use of the term “excited delirium syndrome” became pervasive after the American College of Emergency Physicians published a white paper on it in 2009. It proposed that individuals in a mental health crisis, often under the influence of drugs or alcohol, can exhibit superhuman strength as police try to control them, and then die suddenly from the condition, not the police response.

The ACEP white paper was significant in catalyzing police training and policy, said Marc Krupanski, director of criminal justice and policing at Arnold Ventures, one of the largest nonprofit funders of criminal justice policy. The theory contributed to deaths, he said, because it encouraged officers to apply greater force rather than call medical professionals when they saw people in aggressive states.

After George Floyd’s 2020 death, which officers blamed on excited delirium, the American Medical Association and the American Psychiatric Association formally rejected it as a medical condition. Then came disavowals from the National Association of Medical Examiners and the emergency physicians’ and pathologists’ groups this year.

The moves by medical societies to renounce the term have already had tangible, albeit limited, effects. In November, Lexipol, a training organization used by thousands of public safety agencies in the U.S., reiterated its earlier move away from excited delirium, citing the California law and ACEP’s retraction of the 2009 white paper.

Lexipol now guides officers to rely on what they can observe, and not to guess at a person’s mental status or medical condition, said Mike Ranalli, a lawyer and police trainer with the Texas-based group. “If somebody appears to be in distress, just get the EMS,” he said, referring to emergency medical services.

Patrick Caceres, a senior investigator at the Bay Area Rapid Transit’s Office of the Independent Police Auditor, successfully pushed to remove excited delirium from the BART Police Department’s policy manual after learning about Quinto’s death in 2020 and seeing the American Medical Association’s rejection of it the following year.

Caceres fears that rooting out the concept — not just the term — more broadly will take time in a country where law enforcement is spread across roughly 18,000 agencies governed by independent police chiefs or sheriffs.

“The kinds of training and the kinds of conversations that need to happen, we’re still a long way away from that,” said Caceres.

In Tacoma, Washington, where three police officers have been charged with the 2020 death of Manuel Ellis, The Seattle Times reported that local first responders testified as recently as October that they still “embrace” the concept.

But in Colorado, the state’s Peace Officer Standards and Training board ruled on Dec. 1 to drop excited delirium training for new law enforcement officers, KUSA-TV reported.

And two Colorado lawmakers, Democratic state Reps. Judy Amabile and Leslie Herod, have drafted a bill for the 2024 legislative session banning excited delirium from other police and EMS training and prohibiting coroners from citing it as a cause of death.

“This idea that it gives you superhuman strength causes the police to think they should respond in a way that is often completely inappropriate for what’s actually happening,” Amabile said. “It just seems obvious that we should stop doing that.”

She would like police to focus more on de-escalation tactics, and make sure 911 calls for people in mental health crisis are routed to behavioral health professionals who are part of crisis intervention teams.

Taking ‘Excited Delirium’ Out of the Equation

As the Quinto family seeks justice in the death of the 30-year-old Navy veteran, they are hopeful the new refutations of excited delirium will bolster their wrongful death lawsuit against the city of Antioch. On the other side, defense lawyers have argued that jurors should hear testimony about the theory.

On Oct. 26, the family cited both the new California law and the ACEP rebuke of the diagnosis when it asked a U.S. District Court judge in California to exclude witness testimony and evidence related to excited delirium, saying it “cannot be accepted as a scientifically valid diagnosis having anything to do with Quinto’s death.”

“A defense based on BS can succeed,” family attorney Ben Nisenbaum said. “It can succeed by giving jurors an excuse to give the cops a way out of this.”

Meanwhile, advocates are calling for a reexamination of autopsies of those who died in law enforcement custody, and families are fighting to change death certificates that blame excited delirium.

The Maryland attorney general’s office is conducting an audit of autopsies under the tenure of former chief medical examiner David Fowler, who has attributed various deaths to excited delirium. But that’s just one state reviewing a subset of its in-custody deaths.

The family of Alexander Rios, 28, reached a $4 million settlement with Richland County, Ohio, in 2021 after jail officers piled on Rios and shocked him until he turned blue and limp in September 2019. During a criminal trial against one of the officers that ended in a mistrial this November, the pathologist who helped conduct Rios’ autopsy testified that her supervisor pressured her to list “excited delirium” as the cause of death even though she didn’t agree. Still, excited delirium remains his official cause of death.

The county refused to update the record, so his relatives are suing to force a change to his official cause of death. A trial is set for May.

Changing the death certificate will be a form of justice, but it won’t undo the damage his death has caused, said Don Mould, Rios’ stepfather, who is now helping to raise one of Rios’ three children.

“Here is a kid that’s life is upside down,” he said. “No one should go to jail and walk in and not be able to walk out.”

In some cases, death certificates may be hard to refile. Quinto’s family has asked a state judge to throw out the coroner’s findings about his 2020 death. But the California law, which takes effect in January and bans excited delirium on death certificates, cannot be applied retroactively, said Contra Costa County Counsel Thomas Geiger in a court filing.

And, despite the 2023 disavowals by the main medical examiners’ and pathologists’ groups, excited delirium — or a similar explanation — could still show up on future autopsy reports outside California. No single group has authority over the thousands of individual medical examiners and coroners, some of whom work closely with law enforcement officials. The system for determining a cause of death is deeply disjointed and chronically underfunded.

“One of the unfortunate things, at least within forensic pathology, is that many things are very piecemeal,” said Anna Tart, a member of the Forensic Pathology Committee of the College of American Pathologists. She said that CAP plans to educate members through conferences and webinars but won’t discipline members who continue to use the term.

Justin Feldman, principal research scientist with the Center for Policing Equity, said that medical examiners need even more pressure and oversight to ensure that they don’t find other ways to attribute deaths caused by police restraint to something else.

Only a minority of deaths in police custody now cite excited delirium, he said. Instead, many deaths are being blamed on stimulants, even though fatal cocaine or methamphetamine overdoses are rare in the absence of opioids.

Yet advocates are hopeful that this year marks enough of a turning point that alternative terms will have less traction.

The California law and ACEP decision take “a huge piece of junk science out of the equation,” said Julia Sherwin, a California civil rights attorney who co-authored the Physicians for Human Rights report.

Sherwin is representing the family of Mario Gonzalez, who died in police custody in 2021, in a lawsuit against the city of Alameda, California. Excited delirium doesn’t appear on Gonzalez’s death certificate, but medical experts testifying for the officers who restrained him cited the theory in depositions. 

She said she plans to file a motion excluding the testimony about excited delirium in that upcoming case and similar motions in all the restraint-asphyxia cases she handles.

“And, in every case, lawyers around the country should be doing that,” Sherwin said.

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

An infusion of reliable funding, their advocates say, could allow these nonprofits to expand their reach to more residents most at risk of being shot — or of shooting someone. That’s the plan in Chicago, where Arne Duncan, the former U.S. education secretary, leads the violence prevention group Chicago CRED.

The Health 202 is a coproduction of The Washington Post and KFF Health News.

• “We’re trying to build a public health infrastructure to combat gun violence,” Duncan told me. “Having Medicaid start to be a player in this space and create those opportunities could be a game changer.”

In 2020, many cities around the country confronted a rise in shootings and homicides after officials responding to the pandemic shut down schools, businesses and critical social services. That same year, police murdered George Floyd, a Black man in Minneapolis, sparking nationwide protests and calls to cut police funding. Americans, already armed to the hilt, rushed to buy more guns.

While the pandemic has receded, gun violence has surged in some cities. Gun ownership is at a historic high in the United States, which is estimated to have more guns than people. Programs that worked a few years ago in places like Oakland, Calif. — which had won acclaim for slashing its gun violence —  can’t keep up.

Gun violence also brings a hefty price tag. Studies from the Government Accountability Office and Harvard Medical School have shown that the cost of caring for gunshot survivors ranges from $1 billion in initial treatments to $2.5 billion over 12 months. And it’s not only gunshot victims who need medical help. 

“The patients that we see, there’s a lot of grief. Parents losing their children, grandparents losing their grandchildren. That impacts people’s health tremendously,” said Noha Aboelata, founding CEO of Roots Community Health Center in Oakland. “Entire neighborhoods have ongoing stress and trauma.” 

Exactly how taxpayer dollars should be spent is up for debate, as I discovered in Oakland. Although there’s a growing call to spend money on violence prevention programs, some believe the answer is more police. 

With gun-control legislation stalled in Congress, the Biden administration has opened up federal Medicaid dollars to violence prevention. President Biden announced the novel approach in April 2021, and now the money is starting to flow to interested states.

“These are concrete things that we can do that avoid the debates around the Second Amendment,” said Kyle Fischer, policy and advocacy director for The Health Alliance for Violence Intervention, which lobbied for the policy change.

But the process to unlock the funding has been lengthy, and it’s unclear how much money will ultimately be spent on these programs. Because Medicaid is a state-federal program intended to provide health care for low-income residents, states must also approve spending the money on violence prevention. So far, only California, Colorado, Connecticut, Illinois, Maryland, New York and Oregon have passed laws, Fischer said.

In Illinois, which two years ago became the first state to approve Medicaid reimbursement for violence prevention, Chicago CRED hopes to get approval for its program next spring.

Despite the long and often bureaucratic process, Medicaid dollars are incredibly attractive for community organizations that have historically relied on philanthropic donations and grants, which can vary year to year.  

“Medicaid is reliable,” Fischer said. “If you’re doing the work, you’re qualified for it, and you are taking care of patients. You get reimbursed for the work that you do.”

This article is not available for syndication due to republishing restrictions. If you have questions about the availability of this or other content for republication, please contact NewsWeb@kff.org.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Impulsado por los planes Medi-Cal del condado —que proporcionan seguro médico a los residentes con bajos ingresos— en colaboración con su Oficina de Educación y el Departamento de Salud Mental, el programa se basa en servicios de teleterapia proporcionados por Hazel Health, una de las empresas que han surgido para hacer frente a la escasez nacional de servicios de salud mental, algo que se agravó durante la pandemia de covid-19.

La teleterapia es uno de los cuatro proyectos del condado de Los Angeles que recibirán en conjunto hasta $83 millones del Programa de Incentivos de Salud Mental para Estudiantes del estado, uno de los componentes del “plan maestro” del gobernador demócrata para subsanar las deficiencias en el acceso de los jóvenes a los servicios de salud mental.

El contrato de Hazel Health en Los Angeles tiene como meta ayudar a las escuelas sobrecargadas a hacer frente al aumento de la demanda de estos servicios. Promete ser una iniciativa piloto para demostrar tanto la eficacia de la terapia virtual para los alumnos, como la capacidad de educadores y administradores para gestionar eficazmente un programa extenso y delicado en colaboración con una empresa con fines de lucro.

Para algunos educadores y familias los resultados iniciales son prometedores.

Anjelah Salazar, de 10 años, dijo que el especialista de Hazel la ha ayudado a sentirse mucho mejor. La estudiante de quinto grado empezó a sufrir ataques de pánico diarios al cambiar de escuela este año a la primaria Stanton de Glendora.

Su madre, Rosanna Chavira, contó que no sabía qué hacer —aunque es coordinadora clínica de una empresa que trata enfermedades mentales— y le preocupaba no poder pagar un terapeuta que aceptara su seguro. Cuando Chavira supo de Hazel, no lo dudó.

“El hecho de que sea gratis y de que un profesional le enseñe estrategias para sobrellevar distintas situaciones significa mucho”, dijo Chavira. “Ya se notan los resultados”.

Salazar dijo que hasta ahora tuvo cinco citas virtuales con su terapeuta. Una técnica de afrontamiento que aprecia especialmente es un ejercicio de tapping: todas las noches, antes de acostarse, se presiona con el dedo un poquito los ojos, las mejillas, el pecho y las rodillas. Con cada toque, dice: “Soy valiente”.

Christine Crone, madre de Brady, alumno de séptimo grado, afirmó que aún no ha comprobado si las sesiones son eficaces para su hijo, que estudia en Arroyo Seco Junior High en Santa Clarita, pero sí sabe que las disfruta.

“Normalmente le cuesta llegar a tiempo y estar preparado, pero con estas sesiones siempre deja lo que está haciendo y es puntual”, dijo Crone. “Dice que su terapeuta es agradable, divertido y que es fácil hablar con él”.

Jennifer Moya, consejera de salud mental en la escuela primaria Martha Baldwin de Alhambra, una ciudad al este de Los Angeles, dijo que a sus alumnos les gusta la flexibilidad de la teleterapia, que les permite reunirse con los terapeutas en cualquier momento entre las 7 de la mañana y las 7 de la tarde.

“Esta generación de niños ha crecido en la era digital”, señaló Moya, que se encarga de remitir a los alumnos a Hazel en su centro. “Les encanta que esto sea fácil”.

Pablo Isais, consejero de salud mental en la escuela primaria Granada’s Alhambra, dijo que los servicios también pueden ser una solución provisional mientras un estudiante espera una cita en persona, que puede tomar de seis a ocho semanas.

“Ser capaz de comunicarles que hay servicios disponibles a los que pueden acceder en la próxima semana es increíble”, dijo Moya.

Hasta ahora, sólo 607 estudiantes del condado de Los Angeles han participado en las sesiones desde que se ofrecieron por primera vez, en Compton, en diciembre de 2022, explicó Alicia Garoupa, jefa de servicios de bienestar y apoyo de la Oficina de Educación. Ella reconoció algunos problemas iniciales, pero aseguró que Hazel es “otra herramienta en nuestra caja de herramientas”.

El estado confía en las empresas con fines de lucro

La teleterapia desempeña un papel cada vez más importante en las escuelas del país, a medida que educadores y trabajadores sociales se enfrentan a la presión de abordar los crecientes problemas de salud mental. Según un informe de abril de Chalkbeat, 13 de los 20 distritos escolares más grandes del país, incluido Los Angeles Unified, la han incorporado desde que comenzó la pandemia.

El acuerdo del condado de Los Angeles con Hazel prevé el pago a la empresa de hasta $20 millones hasta finales de 2024. Además, Hazel puede facturar a los seguros de los estudiantes.

La empresa con sede en San Francisco, fundada en 2015, ha recaudado $112,5 millones de inversores y tiene contratos en 15 estados. Entre las empresas que buscan los dólares destinados para la salud mental de los jóvenes están otra startup de San Francisco, Daybreak Health, graduada de la prestigiosa incubadora tecnológica Y Combinator, junto con BeMe, Brightline y Kooth.

California eligió a Brightline y Kooth para una iniciativa estatal de $532 millones, en 2024, sobre servicios virtuales de comportamiento juvenil, otro componente importante del plan maestro de Newsom. Algunos programas estatales y locales se superponen, reconoció Naomi Allen, cofundadora y CEO de Brightline, pero dijo que la oferta de Brightline es más amplia que lo que Hazel hace en las escuelas, con servicios que incluyen desde sesiones de coaching para cuidadores hasta recursos de meditación.

“El estado financia el acceso gratuito a los servicios para todos los niños del estado, lo cual es un programa extraordinariamente ambicioso”, afirmó Allen.

Aún así, quedan muchos interrogantes sobre la eficacia de la teleterapia para estudiantes. Tampoco ha resultado ser una fuente de ingresos segura para las empresas: Brightline despidió al 20% de su plantilla la primavera pasada, la segunda ronda de despidos en seis meses.

Complemento, no solución

Chelsy Duffer-Dunbar, que en aquel momento trabajaba para Los Angeles Unified como trabajadora social psiquiátrica, declaró a KFF Health News en octubre que aún no había trabajado con Hazel, pero señaló que el condado exige que un miembro del personal permanezca a la vista del estudiante durante sus citas y le ayude si surgen problemas técnicos.

“Le sigue quitando tiempo al personal”, aseguró Duffer-Dunbar. “Mi día ya es muy estresante. No puedo imaginar tener una evaluación por amenaza y otra por suicidio en el trabajo y luego tener que buscar a alguien para que se siente en esta sesión de terapia con el niño o la niña y su iPad”.

Duffer-Dunbar añadió que quiere que el distrito dé prioridad a los terapeutas en persona que trabajan con la comunidad local, especialmente para los niños más pequeños que tienen problemas con la teleterapia.

Duffer-Dunbar ha dejado el distrito por recortes presupuestarios que la obligaban a desempeñar un trabajo más agobiante.

Hazel insistió en que la teleterapia no es una solución para todas las situaciones.

“Es una oportunidad para ampliar el acceso”, apuntó Andrew Post, jefe de innovación de la empresa.

Colaboración entre educación y salud

Fue necesaria una complicada colaboración entre los distritos escolares, las agencias del condado y los dos planes de Medi-Cal, L.A. Care Health Plan y Health Net, para poner en marcha el programa de terapia escolar. Las normas de financiación estatales se diseñaron para ayudar a las entidades a trabajar juntas.

“Este programa nos ha ayudado a acercarnos a los distritos escolares”, comentó Michael Brodsky, director de salud comunitaria de L.A. Care Health Plan. “Si podemos tratar a los niños cuando van a la escuela y derivarlos para que reciban tratamiento mientras están en la escuela, eso es bueno”.

Hazel ofrece principalmente sesiones de terapia individual de corta duración con trabajadores sociales clínicos u otros consejeros, el 40% de los cuales son bilingües. Son los más indicados para prestar apoyo temporal a quienes tienen necesidades leves o moderadas, como los estudiantes que luchan contra el estrés académico o empiezan en una escuela nueva, pero también pueden derivar a pacientes para que reciban atención a largo plazo.

El mayor distrito inscrito en el programa, Los Angeles Unified, cuenta con el 41% de los alumnos del condado, pero no todos los distritos están preparados para dar el salto. Cuatro de cada 10 distritos han optado por no ofrecer los servicios de Hazel, lo que Garoupa atribuye en parte a la preocupación por el intercambio de información sobre los estudiantes.

El contrato con Hazel termina en diciembre de 2024, pero Garoupa dijo que la Oficina de Educación y sus socios tienen la intención de mantener los servicios hasta junio de 2025. Cualquier prórroga posterior dependerá de los resultados.

Sonya Smith, colega de Garoupa, indicó que la Oficina de Educación evaluará la eficacia de Hazel a través de una encuesta anual, informes mensuales de impacto y reuniones semanales.

“El número de estudiantes que utilizan Hazel va a ser, obviamente, una medida clave”, añadió Smith. “La tasa de utilización de Hazel es del 3% al 8%. Evaluaremos si esas cifras se mantienen, si los estudiantes acceden a la atención en el momento oportuno y si alivia la carga del personal escolar y los proveedores comunitarios”.

Esta historia fue producida por KFF Health News, que publica California Healthline, un servicio editorialmente independiente de la California Health Care Foundation. 

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Spearheaded by the county’s Medi-Cal plans — which provide health insurance to low-income residents — in collaboration with its Office of Education and Department of Mental Health, the LA school program relies on teletherapy services provided by Hazel Health, one of a clutch of companies that have sprung up to address a nationwide shortage of mental health services that grew much worse during the covid-19 pandemic.

The teletherapy effort is one of four LA County projects that will collectively receive up to $83 million from the state’s Student Behavioral Health Incentive Program, one component of the Democratic governor’s “master plan” to address gaps in youth mental health care access.

LA’s Hazel Health contract is aimed at helping overburdened schools cope with a surge in demand for mental health services. It promises to be a telling case study in both the efficacy of virtual therapy for students and the ability of educators and administrators to effectively manage a sprawling and sensitive program in partnership with a for-profit company.

For some Los Angeles County educators and families, the initial results are promising.

Anjelah Salazar, 10, said her Hazel clinician has helped her feel a lot better. After the fifth grader switched to a new school this year, Stanton Elementary in Glendora, she started having panic attacks every day.

Her mom, Rosanna Chavira, said she didn’t know what to do — even though she’s a clinical coordinator for a company that treats mental health conditions — and worried she wouldn’t be able to find an affordable therapist who accepted their insurance. Once Chavira learned about Hazel, she jumped at the opportunity.

“This being free and having a licensed professional teaching her coping skills, it just means the world,” Chavira said. “You can already see changes.”

Salazar said she’s met with her virtual therapist five times so far. One coping technique that she especially appreciates is a tapping exercise: Every night before bed, she taps her eyes, her cheeks, her chest, and her knees. With each tap, she recites the same affirmation: “I am brave.”

Christine Crone, parent of seventh grader Brady, said she has yet to see if the sessions have been effective for her son, who attends Arroyo Seco Junior High in Santa Clarita, but she knows he enjoys them.

“He struggles normally with being on time and prepared, but with these sessions, he always stops what he is doing and makes sure he is logged in on time,” Crone said. “He says that his therapist is nice, fun, and easy to talk to.”

Jennifer Moya, a mental health counselor at Martha Baldwin Elementary in Alhambra, a city east of Los Angeles, said her students like the flexibility of teletherapy, which allows them to meet with clinicians anytime between 7 a.m. and 7 p.m.

“This generation of kids has grown up digital,” said Moya, who is in charge of referring students to Hazel at her school. “They love that this is easy.”

Pablo Isais, a mental health counselor at Alhambra’s Granada Elementary School, said the services can also be a stopgap while a student waits for an in-person appointment, which can take six to eight weeks.

“To be able to let them know that there are services available that they can access within the next week is amazing,” Moya said.

Thus far, early in the rollout, only 607 Los Angeles County students have participated in Hazel sessions since they were first offered, in Compton, in December 2022, said Alicia Garoupa, chief of well-being and support services for the Office of Education. She acknowledged some bumps in the rollout but said Hazel is “another tool in our toolbox.”

State Relies on For-Profit Ventures

Teletherapy is playing an increasingly important role in schools across the nation as educators and social workers face pressure to address growing mental health issues. According to an April Chalkbeat report, 13 of the nation’s 20 largest school districts, including Los Angeles Unified, have added teletherapy since the pandemic began.

LA County’s deal with Hazel calls for the company to be paid up to $20 million through the end of 2024. In addition, Hazel can bill students’ insurance.

The San Francisco-based company, founded in 2015, has raised $112.5 million from investors and has contracts in 15 different states. Other companies chasing youth mental health dollars include another San Francisco startup, Daybreak Health, a graduate of the prestigious Y Combinator tech incubator, along with BeMe, Brightline, and Kooth.

California chose Brightline and Kooth for a 2024 $532 million statewide initiative on virtual youth behavioral services, another important component of Newsom’s master plan. There is some overlap between the state and local programs, Brightline co-founder and CEO Naomi Allen acknowledged, but she said the Brightline offering is broader than what Hazel is doing in schools, with services including everything from coaching sessions for caregivers to meditation resources.

“The state is funding free access to services for every child in the state, which is just a remarkably ambitious program,” said Allen.

Still, many questions remain about the efficacy of teletherapy for students. It’s also proving to be no surefire moneymaker for the companies thus far: Brightline laid off 20% of its staff last spring, the second round of layoffs in six months.

Supplement, Not Solution

Chelsy Duffer-Dunbar, who at the time worked for Los Angeles Unified as a psychiatric social worker, told KFF Health News in October that she hadn’t yet worked with Hazel, but noted that the county requires that a member of staff stay within eyesight of the student during their appointments and assist if tech issues arise.

“It is still taking up staff time,” Duffer-Dunbar said. “My day is already so stressful. I can’t imagine having a threat assessment and a suicide assessment at work and then trying to scramble around to find someone to sit in on this therapy session with the kiddo and their iPad.”

Duffer-Dunbar said she wants the district to prioritize in-person clinicians who are immersed in the local community, especially for younger kids who have trouble engaging with teletherapy.

Duffer-Dunbar has since left the district in response to budget cuts that forced her into a more burdensome role.

Hazel emphasized that teletherapy is not a one-size-fits-all solution.

“It’s an opportunity to expand access,” said Andrew Post, chief of innovation at the company.

Education and Health Care Working Together

It took a complicated collaboration between school districts, county agencies, and the two Medi-Cal plans, L.A. Care Health Plan and Health Net, to set up the school therapy program. The state funding rules were designed to push the entities to work together.

“This program has helped us get closer to school districts,” said Michael Brodsky, senior medical director for community health at L.A. Care Health Plan. “If we can catch kids while they’re at school and refer them to get treatment while they’re in school, that’s good.”

Hazel provides primarily short-term one-to-one therapy sessions with clinical social workers or other licensed counselors, 40% of whom are bilingual. They are best suited to provide temporary support to those with mild to moderate needs, such as students struggling with academic stress or starting at a new school, but they can also make referrals for long-term care.

The largest district enrolled in the program, Los Angeles Unified, accounts for 41% of the county’s students, but not all districts are ready to take the leap. Four in 10 districts have opted to not offer Hazel’s services, which Garoupa attributes partially to data-sharing concerns.

The contract with Hazel ends in December 2024, but Garoupa said the Office of Education and its partners intend to maintain services through June 2025. Any extension beyond that will depend on the results.

Sonya Smith, a colleague of Garoupa’s, said the Office of Education will be continuously evaluating Hazel’s effectiveness through an annual survey, monthly impact reports, and weekly meetings.

“The number of students that are using Hazel is obviously going to be a key metric,” Smith said. “Hazel’s historic utilization rate is 3% to 8%. We’ll be evaluating if those numbers hold up, if students are accessing care in a timely manner, and if it’s lightening the burden for school staff and community-based providers.”

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

As part of the ambitious five-year initiative, called CalAIM, the state is supposed to offer the sickest and costliest patients a personal care manager and new services ranging from home-delivered healthy meals to help paying rental security deposits.

But a quarter of the health care insurers, nonprofit organizations, and others responsible for implementing the program don’t know enough about it to serve those in need, and many are not equipped to refer and enroll vulnerable patients, according to research by the California Health Care Foundation. (KFF Health News publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation.)

The survey found that only about half of primary care providers and hospital discharge planners are very or somewhat familiar with the initiative, even though they are essential to identifying patients and referring them for services.

“These workers are on the front lines and if they don’t know about it, that’s a pretty easy win to educate them so they can help more people,” said Melora Simon, an associate director at the foundation, which conducted the survey between July 21 and Sept. 12. The initiative debuted in January 2022.

“These workers are most likely to see people in the hospital, in crisis,” she added, and “have the opportunity to do something about it.”

The roughly two dozen managed care insurance companies serving patients in Medi-Cal, California’s Medicaid program for low-income people, are responsible for identifying and enrolling patients into the program, and providing the new services. To make this happen, they contract with local government agencies, community nonprofit groups, social service organizations, hospitals, community clinics, and more. Those organizations can also make referrals and link patients to new services. The foundation surveyed 1,196 of these so-called implementers.

Most of the respondents said state payment rates do not cover the cost of providing expensive social services, and half say the workforce they need to deliver them is “tapped out and overwhelmed.”

About 44% also cited inconsistencies and different rules imposed by managed care plans, making participation very or somewhat challenging. For example, some insurers provide on-the-spot Uber rides for doctor appointments while others offer only a bus pass. Plus, not all plans offer the same services.

The survey did pinpoint some early successes. For instance, about half of respondents said the initiative has enabled them to serve more people, and that their ability to manage the comprehensive needs of patients has gotten better.

Tony Cava, a spokesperson for the state Department of Health Care Services, which administers Medi-Cal, acknowledged that the survey findings “resonate” and said the state is working to streamline and standardize patient referrals and authorizations.

“Implementers are on board with the core goals, and we are seeing improvements. But there is room to increase familiarity with CalAIM and broaden and deepen networks,” Cava said.

He said CalAIM represents a major shift in how Medi-Cal delivers care, and that the “kind of seismic system change that we are undergoing takes time.”

“Rather than reactive, we are moving toward a system that is proactive and considers all factors affecting health — the social drivers of health — and not simply what may happen inside of a medical facility,” he added.

The department provides financial and technical assistance to implementers, though only about one-third of survey respondents have found the training, technical guidance, and other resources adequate.

Van Do-Reynoso, chief healthy equity officer for CenCal Health, the Medi-Cal health insurer serving Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo counties, acknowledged that it has been difficult to provide a full complement of CalAIM services. She cited a variety of obstacles such as inadequate reimbursement, lack of housing, and working with social services agencies unfamiliar with the health care system.

Nearly 3,000 CenCal enrollees are receiving CalAIM services, she said, many of them housing- and homelessness-related.

“We are working hard to better engage with hospital CEOs, community providers, and medical providers,” Do-Reynoso said. “People are getting housed. They’re practicing sobriety. It has only whetted our appetite to continue doing this work.”

When Newsom launched CalAIM, the Democratic governor promised it would transform Medi-Cal. The goal, his administration said, is to improve health and prevent people from winding up in costly institutions like the emergency room and jail, and to help move homeless people into housing.

It’s unclear how many of the 15.2 million Californians enrolled in Medi-Cal are eligible for new services and benefits, but several large populations qualify, including homeless Californians, people leaving jail or prison, foster children, people with severe mental illness or addiction, and older nursing home residents who want to transition home.

So far, about 141,000 Medi-Cal patients have a personal care manager through CalAIM, according to Cava, though hundreds of thousands more likely qualify. About 76,000 patients are receiving other social services, which are optional for plans to offer, he said.

In some cases, qualified Medi-Cal enrollees are turning down new services because they are being offered at the wrong time or by the wrong person, Simon said. For instance, a homeless person might not accept services from a police or code enforcement officer.

Insurers say they want to do more but need more help from the state.

“I am very hopeful that a year from now, we are going to be able to demonstrate even greater strides,” Do-Reynoso said. “What we hear often is what is reflected in the survey. We need higher rates, more communication, a more streamlined approval process.”

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

The event was held in Alpharetta, Georgia, aired on Fox News, and moderated by Sean Hannity. Our PolitiFact partners examined the two state officials’ wide-ranging statements. You can read the full coverage here.

Newsom has relished taunting DeSantis on social media and Fox News and, earlier this year, he invited DeSantis to debate — arguing that the red-state policies DeSantis has passed are stripping Americans of their freedoms. DeSantis counters that he is the stronger defender of freedom, and has blasted California as “the petri dish for American leftism” and argues that “everything [President Joe] Biden is doing, they would accelerate.”

True to the event’s billing, the nation’s culture wars were front and center on the debate stage. DeSantis portrayed California as a failed state with rampant crime and homelessness led by an “elite” politician too liberal for the rest of the country. “They have failed because of his leftist ideology,” DeSantis said.

Newsom shot back, playing up California’s immense economy and describing his state as one without peer. He expressed his commitment to Biden’s reelection. He also called out DeSantis for his covid-19 policies, saying more Floridians died of covid due to his more relaxed public health rules: “Tens of thousands of people lost their lives and for what, Ron?”

Abortion was a clear flashpoint. Newsom defended California’s strong abortion protections and attacked DeSantis, alleging he “criminalizes” women and doctors. He also suggested that if DeSantis became president, he would further roll back abortion rights nationwide. Newsom, asked by Hannity if he would sign a law banning abortion later in pregnancy, argued that such cases are extremely rare.

“I trust the mother and her doctor to make that decision,” he said.

The two also sparred over book bans, parental rights, and policies regarding the LGBTQ+ community.

DeSantis criticized Newsom on California’s growing homelessness, which he said contributed to the “destruction of qualify of life” in the state.

Newsom pointed out that the crisis has been brewing for decades. He noted, though, that under his leadership, billions of dollars in taxpayer money has been directed toward countering homelessness. He also boasted about the state’s investments in mental health and addiction programs.

“The difference is I’m the first governor in California history to take this head-on,” Newsom said, arguing that under his policies 68,000 people have been moved off the streets and into shelter or housing.

Here are the health-related claims PolitiFact examined:

Covid-19 Lockdowns

Newsom borrowed a page from Trump’s playbook by misleadingly portraying DeSantis as a lockdown leader. Newsom’s comments focused on DeSantis’ actions in the pandemic’s first few weeks, when nearly all governors operated in lockstep. Newsom omits that DeSantis reopened earlier than most governors in spring 2020.

“You passed an emergency declaration before the state of California did,” Newsom said. “You closed down your beaches, your bars, your restaurants. It is a fact.”

Many local governments closed beaches for a limited time, but DeSantis did not close them statewide.

DeSantis issued an executive order on March 17, 2020, directing Floridians to “limit their gatherings” at beaches to no more than 10 people and to “support beach closures at the discretion of local authorities.”

He also ordered beaches in Broward and Palm Beach counties to close for 11 days, following recommendations from local officials and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The governor’s refusal to close most beaches to spring break crowds drew heavy criticism and litigation.

Newsom was on firmer ground in his claim about closing bars. DeSantis ordered all bars and nightclubs closed for 30 days. Restaurants did not close. His March 17 order said restaurants were limited to 50% customer capacity and had to separate seating by 6 feet.

Governors nationwide issued multiple orders in March 2020 in response to the pandemic. DeSantis issued an order March 1 to establish covid response protocol and direct a public health emergency. On March 4, Newsom declared a state of emergency to help California prepare for the pandemic.

Florida’s Abortion Limits and DeSantis’ Abortion Survivor Story

As Hannity pressed Newsom on whether he supported any abortion restrictions, Newsom attacked Florida’s abortion laws.

“He signed a bill banning any exceptions for rape and incest,” Newsom said of DeSantis. “And then he said it didn’t go far enough and decided to sign a six-week ban … that criminalizes women and criminalizes doctors.”

DeSantis signed legislation in 2022 that outlawed abortions after 15 weeks of pregnancy. It does not make exceptions for cases of incest, rape or human trafficking but includes an exception for a mother’s life.

DeSantis signed a stricter bill in April that bans abortions after six weeks of pregnancy. Whether the law takes effect hinges on how the Florida Supreme Court rules in a lawsuit against the current 15-week ban. The 2023 law does contain exceptions, including to save a pregnant woman’s life or in cases of fatal fetal anomalies. Abortions for pregnancies involving rape, incest, or human trafficking would be allowed until 15 weeks of pregnancy if a woman has documentation such as a restraining order, police report, or medical record.

The law penalizes physicians, but whether it also criminalizes women is less clear, so we have rated a similar claim Half True. The law says that anyone who “actively participates in” an abortion commits a third-degree felony, which opens the door to prosecutors charging women, but we don’t yet know whether they will or how courts would respond to such charges. DeSantis has also said that he doesn’t want women prosecuted, only doctors.

Defending the law, DeSantis repeated an anecdote from the first GOP presidential debate about a Floridian named Penny Hopper. Miriam “Penny” Hopper is a real person, and an anti-abortion activist. Some of the details about her birth story have been called into question.

Hopper said she survived an abortion attempt in Florida in 1955. Her claim has been featured by anti-abortion groups and used to support what abortion opponents call “born alive” bills in state legislatures, which aim to protect infants who survive abortions, even though there are federal laws for that purpose.

In interviews, Hopper has said she had been delivered around 23 weeks of gestation after her mother went to a hospital in Wauchula, Florida, while experiencing bleeding. Hopper said the doctor induced labor, and she was born at 1 pound, 11 ounces, and that the doctor told staff to discard her “dead or alive.” She said her grandmother found her the next day on the hospital porch in a bedpan. Then, Hopper said, a nurse volunteered to take her to a larger hospital that was about 40 miles away.

That a baby born at 23 weeks could survive overnight without medical attention in 1955 is medically dubious, experts said. From the 1950s through 1980, “newborn death was virtually ensured” for infants born at or before 24 weeks of gestation, the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology says on its website.

The Washington Post also reported that contemporaneous newspaper accounts offer a different scenario at the hospital, and said the staff spent days keeping her alive before arranging a police escort to rush her to another hospital.

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

“Growing up, we ate whatever we caught — catfish, carp, freshwater drum,” he said. “That was the only real source of fish in our diet as a family, and we ate a lot of it.”

Today, a branch of the Rouge River runs through Eisenman’s property in a suburb north of Detroit. But in recent years, he has been wary about a group of chemicals known as PFAS, also referred to as “forever chemicals,” which don’t break down quickly in the environment and accumulate in soil, water, fish, and our bodies.

The chemicals have spewed from manufacturing plants and landfills into local ecosystems, polluting surface water and groundwater, and the wildlife living there. And hundreds of military bases have been pinpointed as sources of PFAS chemicals leaching into nearby communities.

Researchers, anglers, and environmental activists nationwide worry about the staggering amount of PFAS found in freshwater fish. At least 17 states have issued PFAS-related fish consumption advisories, KFF Health News found, with some warning residents not to eat any fish caught in particular lakes or rivers because of dangerous levels of forever chemicals.

With no federal guidance, what is considered safe to eat varies significantly among states, most of which provide no regulation.

Eating a single serving of freshwater fish can be the equivalent of drinking water contaminated with high levels of PFAS for a month, according to a recent study from the Environmental Working Group, a research and advocacy organization that tracks PFAS. It’s an unsettling revelation, especially for rural, Indigenous, and low-income communities that depend on subsistence fishing. Fish remain a large part of cultural dishes, as well as an otherwise healthy source of protein and omega-3s.

“PFAS in freshwater fish is at such a concentration that for anyone consuming, even infrequently, it would likely be their major source of exposure over the course of the year,” said David Andrews, a co-author of the study and researcher at EWG. “We’re talking thousands of times higher than what’s typically seen in drinking water.”

Dianne Kopec, a researcher and faculty fellow at the University of Maine who studies PFAS and mercury in wildlife, warned that eating fish with high concentrations of PFAS may be more harmful than mercury, which long ago was found to be a neurotoxin most damaging to a developing fetus. The minimal risk level — an estimate of how much a person can eat, drink, or breathe daily without “detectable risk” to health — for PFOS, a common PFAS chemical, is 50 times as low as for methylmercury, the form of mercury that accumulates in fish, according to the federal Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry. But she emphasized, “They’re both really nasty.”

Just like mercury, PFAS bioaccumulate up the food chain, so bigger fish, like largemouth bass, generally contain more chemicals than smaller fish. Mercury is more widespread in Maine, but Kopec said PFAS levels near contamination sources are concerningly high.

‘Fishing Is a Way of Life’

The Ecology Center, an environmental group in Michigan, educates anglers about consumption advisories and related health impacts. But Erica Bloom, its toxics campaign director, noted that for many people out on the river, “fishing is a way of life.”

Eisenman participated in an Ecology Center community-based study published this year, which tested fish from Michigan’s Huron and Rouge rivers for PFAS that poured out from auto and other industry contamination. Across 15 sites, anglers caught 100 fish samples from a dozen species, and what they found scared him.

“There were no sites that registered zero,” said Eisenman, noting that some had significantly higher levels of chemicals than others. “You need to make a value judgment. I’m going to still eat fish, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

Last year, the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine published a sweeping federally funded report that associated PFAS exposure with health effects like decreased response to vaccines, cancer, and low birth weight.

There are thousands of PFAS, or perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances, many of them used to make both household and industrial products stain-resistant or nonstick. They’re in fire-retardant foam used for decades by fire departments and the military, as well as in cookware, water-repellent clothing, carpets, food wrappers, and other consumer goods.

In late October, the EPA added hundreds of PFAS compounds to its list of “chemicals of special concern.” This will require manufacturers to report the presence of those PFAS chemicals in their products — even in small amounts or in mixtures — starting Jan. 1.

Sparse Testing Leaves Blind Spots

About 200 miles north of Detroit, in rural Oscoda, Michigan, state officials have warned against eating fish or deer caught or killed near the former Wurtsmith Air Force Base because of PFAS contamination.

“We have a 9-mile stretch of river system in which the state determined way back in 2012 that it wasn’t safe to even eat a single fish,” said Tony Spaniola, an advocate for communities affected by PFAS. He owns a home across a lake from the shuttered military site.

In Alaska, several lakes are designated catch and release only because of PFAS contamination from firefighting foam. A study by the U.S. Geological Survey and Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection released in August led to a warning to avoid eating fish from the Neshaminy Creek watershed.

Nationwide, use of firefighting foam and other PFAS-loaded products by the Department of Defense alone has led to the contamination of at least 359 military bases and communities that need to be cleaned up, with an additional 248 still under investigation as of June.

But many lakes and streams haven’t been tested for PFAS contamination, and researchers worry far more sites hold fish laced with high levels of PFAS.

Federal efforts to curb PFAS exposure have focused mostly on drinking water. Earlier this year, the EPA proposed the nation’s first PFAS drinking water standards, which would limit contamination from six types of chemicals, with levels for the two most common compounds, PFOA and PFOS, set at 4 parts per trillion.

But the EWG researchers found that one serving of fish can be equivalent to a month's worth of drinking water contaminated with 48 parts per trillion of PFOS.

Store-bought fish caught in the ocean, like imported Atlantic salmon and canned chunk tuna, appear to have lower PFAS levels, according to FDA research.

A biomonitoring project focused on the San Francisco Bay Area’s Asian and Pacific Islander community measured PFAS levels in the blood and found higher amounts of the compounds compared with national levels. The researchers also surveyed participants about their fish consumption and found that 56% of those who ate locally caught fish did so at least once a month.

Eating a fish’s fillet is often recommended, as it accumulates fewer chemicals than organs or eggs, but many participants reported eating other parts of the fish, too.

California is one of many states with no fish consumption advisories in place for PFAS. Jay Davis, senior scientist at the San Francisco Estuary Institute, said that’s in part because of “limited monitoring dollars” and a priority on legacy chemicals like PCBs as well as mercury left over in particularly high concentrations from gold and mercury mining.

Wesley Smith, a senior toxicologist with California’s Office of Environmental Health Hazard Assessment, said the state is reviewing the latest scientific literature but needs more data to develop an advisory that is “neither too restrictive nor too permissive.”

States like New Hampshire, Washington, Maine, and New Jersey have some of the most protective guidance, while other states, such as Maryland and Michigan, lag when it comes to designating fish unsafe to eat.

Advisory levels for at-risk groups — such as children and women of childbearing age — are usually lower, while “do not eat” thresholds for the general population range from 25.7 parts per billion in New Hampshire to 300 ppb in Michigan, 408 ppb in Maryland, and 800 ppb in Alabama.

“That’s wicked outdated to have levels that high and consider that safe for folks to eat,” said Kopec, the University of Maine researcher.

Though it is no longer made in the U.S., PFOS remains the most commonly found — and tested for — PFAS chemical in fish today.

The primary maker of PFOS, 3M, announced it would begin phasing the chemical out in 2000. This year, the company said it would pay at least $10.3 billion to settle a class-action lawsuit brought by public water system operators. But in July, attorneys general from 22 states asked the court to reject the settlement, saying it was insufficient to cover the damages.

The military first documented health concerns surrounding PFAS chemicals in the 1970s yet continued to use firefighting foam made with them. Mandated by Congress, the Defense Department was required to stop buying retardant containing PFAS by Oct. 1 and phase it out altogether by 2024. A recently published study linked testicular cancer among military personnel to PFOS.

Tackling Pollution at the Source

Pat Elder, an activist and director of the environmental advocacy group Military Poisons, has tested water for PFAS up and down the East Coast, including in Piscataway Creek, which drains from Joint Base Andrews, the home of Air Force One.

In 2021, after testing fish from Piscataway Creek, Maryland officials released the state’s sole PFAS fish consumption advisory to date. But Elder worries Maryland has not gone far enough to protect its residents.

“People eat the fish from this creek, and it creates an acute health hazard that no one seems to be paying attention to,” Elder said.

Since then, Maryland’s Department of the Environment has conducted more fish monitoring in water bodies near potential PFAS sources, as well as at spots regularly used by subsistence anglers, said spokesperson Jay Apperson. He added that the state plans to put out more advisories based on the results, though declined to give a timeline or share the locations.

Part of the challenge of getting the word out and setting location-specific consumption advisories is that contamination levels vary significantly from lake to lake, as well as species to species, said Brandon Reid, a toxicologist and the manager of Michigan’s Eat Safe Fish program.

Michigan set its screening values for fish consumption advisories in 2014, and the state is in the process of updating them within the next year, Reid said.

But to see the chemicals dip to healthier levels, the pollution needs to stop, too. There is hope: Andrews, the EWG researcher, compared EPA fish sample data from five years apart and found about a 30% drop on average in PFAS contamination.

Bloom has watched this cycle happen in the Huron River in southeastern Michigan, where PFAS chemicals upstream seeped into the water from a chrome plating facility. While the levels of PFAS in the water have slowly gone down, the chemicals remain, she said.

“It's very, very hard to completely clean up the entire river,” Bloom said. “If we don't tackle it at the source, we're going to just keep having to spend taxpayer money to clean it up and deal with fish advisories.”

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Both men have led their respective states since 2019, and they’ve lately been engaged in an escalating feud. While Newsom isn’t running for president himself — yet — he’s a key surrogate for President Biden. Fox News is playing up the faceoff, which it’ll host, as “The Great Red Vs. Blue State Debate.” 

The Health 202 is a coproduction of The Washington Post and KFF Health News.

The debate promises to put America’s culture wars front-and-center. Abortion. Homelessness. Transgender health care. The coronavirus pandemic response. Health coverage for undocumented immigrants. Even drag shows, DEI and Disney’s First Amendment rights.

Though conservative TV host Sean Hannity is moderating the 90-minute showdown in Alpharetta, Ga., seemingly a home-field advantage for DeSantis, Newsom is relishing the confrontation after goading Florida’s governor into going head-to-head. 

Both men use each other’s states as punching bags. DeSantis portrays Newsom as too liberal for America, presiding over a failed state where homelessness and crime are rampant, citizens are forced to mask up and get vaccinated, and access to abortion and public assistance like Medicaid is too easy, breaking society morally and financially.

In a fundraising video for his presidential campaign, DeSantis called California “the petri dish for American leftism,” adding that “everything Biden is doing — they would accelerate and they would cause this country to collapse. That is not the future that we need. Florida shows a model for revival, a model based on freedom.”

Newsom has blasted DeSantis as a “small pathetic man” and argues that small-d democracy itself is at stake in the presidential election. His political operation paid for an ad on Florida’s airwaves this year in which Newsom told Sunshine State residents: “Freedom — it’s under attack in your state.”

He has knocked DeSantis’s education policies that restrict teaching gender and sexuality to schoolchildren as well as laws the Florida governor pushed through the legislature banning abortion after six weeks and limiting gender transition-related health care. 

“Your Republican leaders, they’re banning books, making it harder to vote, restricting speech in classrooms,” Newsom said in his ad. “Even criminalizing women and doctors. Join us in California, where we still believe in freedom.”

Newsom’s health and education policies are largely the opposite of DeSantis’s. He’s expanded access to gender-affirming care for children and adults, and is expanding Medicaid beginning Jan. 1 to cover lower-income undocumented immigrants. Backed by the Democratic-controlled state legislature, Newsom led an effort in 2022 to enshrine the right to abortion in the state constitution, and he’s fought to block local school districts from restricting access to certain books.

While DeSantis directs resources to the presidential campaign, where he’s struggling to maintain his second-place standing in the GOP primary behind front-runner Donald Trump, Newsom struck again this month with another Florida ad buy, this time centered on reproductive health and abortion access. 

The ad alleges that DeSantis has criminalized doctors and women seeking an abortion after six weeks and argues that they could be arrested “by order of Governor Ron DeSantis.”

Both men face a monumental test in their debate. Newsom must demonstrate his loyalty to Biden, the Democratic Party leader and the actual candidate next November, while scoring points against DeSantis.

DeSantis, a wooden public speaker who struggles to connect with his audiences, has faced some criticism in Republican circles for a lackluster campaign. He’s got to persuade GOP voters that he’s a formidable option to Trump, without any major gaffes. 

The proxy battle could shape not only next year’s presidential contest, but the 2028 field of White House contenders as well.

One other hot-button issue we’re watching for is homelessness, considering nearly one-third of all homeless Americans live in California. Expect DeSantis to hammer Newsom over Californians fleeing for cheaper living elsewhere — including to Florida. Newsom, meanwhile, will play up the unprecedented investment he’s spearheaded to combat the humanitarian crisis (without clear results as of yet).

This article is not available for syndication due to republishing restrictions. If you have questions about the availability of this or other content for republication, please contact NewsWeb@kff.org.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Being able to make a living off that degree? That’s a different question — and the answer is affecting the supply of physical therapists across the nation: The cost of getting trained is out of proportion to the pay.

“There’s definitely a shortage of PTs. The jobs are there,” said Lee, a student at California State University-Sacramento who is on track to receive his degree in May. “But you may be starting out at $80,000 while carrying up to $200,000 in student debt. It’s a lot to consider.”

As many patients seeking an appointment can attest, the nationwide shortage of PTs is real. According to survey data collected by the American Physical Therapy Association, the job vacancy rate for therapists in outpatient settings last year was 17%.

Wait times are generally long across the nation, as patients tell of waiting weeks or even months for appointments while dealing with ongoing pain or post-surgical rehab. But the crunch is particularly acute in rural areas and places with a high cost of living, like California, which has a lower ratio of therapists to residents — just 57 per 100,000, compared with the national ratio of 72 per 100,000, according to the association.

The reasons are multifold. The industry hasn’t recovered from the mass defection of physical therapists who fled as practices closed during the pandemic. In 2021 alone, more than 22,000 PTs — almost a tenth of the workforce — left their jobs, according to a report by the health data analytics firm Definitive Healthcare.

And just as baby boomers age into a period of heavy use of physical therapy, and covid-delayed procedures like knee and hip replacements are finally scheduled, the economics of physical therapy are shifting. Medicare, whose members make up a significant percentage of many PT practices’ clients, has cut reimbursement rates for four years straight, and the encroachment of private equity firms — with their bottom-line orientation — means many practices aren’t staffing adequately.

According to APTA, 10 companies, including publicly held and private equity-backed firms, now control 20% of the physical therapy market. “What used to be small practices are often being bought up by larger corporate entities, and those corporate entities push productivity and become less satisfying places to work,” said James Gordon, chair of the Division of Biokinesiology and Physical Therapy at the University of Southern California.

There’s a shortage of physical therapists in all settings, including hospitals, clinics, and nursing homes, and it’s likely to continue for the foreseeable future, said Justin Moore, chief executive of the physical therapy association. “Not only do we have to catch up on those shortages, but there are great indicators of increasing demand for physical therapy,” he said.

The association is trying to reduce turnover among therapists, and is lobbying Congress to stop cutting Medicare reimbursement rates. The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services plans a 3.4% reduction for 2024 to a key metric that governs pay for physical therapy and other health care services. According to the association, that would bring the cuts to a total of 9% over four years.

Several universities, meanwhile, have ramped up their programs — some by offering virtual classes, a new approach for such a hands-on field — to boost the number of graduates in the coming years.

“But programs can’t just grow overnight,” said Sharon Gorman, interim chair of the physical therapy program at Oakland-based Samuel Merritt University, which focuses on training health care professionals. “Our doctoral accreditation process is very thorough. I have to prove I have the space, the equipment, the clinical sites, the faculty to show that I’m not just trying to take in more tuition dollars.”

All of this also comes at a time when the cost of obtaining a physical therapy doctorate, which typically takes three years of graduate work and is required to practice, is skyrocketing. Student debt has become a major issue, and salaries often aren’t enough to keep therapists in the field.

According to the APTA’s most recent published data, median annual wages range from $88,000 to $101,500. The association said wages either met or fell behind the rate of inflation between 2016 and 2021 in most regions.

A project underway at the University of Iowa aims to give PT students more transparency about tuition and other costs across programs. According to an association report from 2020, at least 80% of recent physical therapy graduates carried educational debt averaging roughly $142,000.

Gordon said USC, in Los Angeles’ urban core, has three PT clinics and 66 therapists on campus, several of whom graduated from the school’s program. “But even with that, it’s a challenge,” he said. “It’s not just hard to find people, but people don’t stay, and the most obvious reason is that they don’t get paid enough relative to the cost of living in this area.”

Fewer therapists plus growing demand equals long waits. When Susan Jones, a Davis, California, resident, experienced pain in her back and neck after slipping on a wet floor in early 2020, she went to her doctor and was referred for physical therapy. About two months later, she said, she finally got an appointment at an outpatient clinic.

“It was almost like the referral got lost. I was going back and forth, asking, ‘What’s going on?’” said Jones, 57. Once scheduled, her first appointment felt rushed, she said, with the therapist saying he could not identify an issue despite her ongoing pain. After one more session, Jones paid out-of-pocket to see a chiropractor. She said she’d be hesitant to try for a physical therapy referral in the future, in part because of the wait.

Universities and PT programs graduate about 12,000 therapists a year, Moore said, and representatives of several schools told KFF Health News they’re studying whether and how to expand. In 2018, USC added a hybrid model in which students learn mostly online, then travel to campus twice a semester for about a week at a time for hands-on instruction and practice.

That bumped USC’s capacity from 100 students a year to 150, and Gordon said many of the hybrid students’ professional skills are indistinguishable from those of students on campus full time.

Natalia Barajas received her PT doctorate from USC last year and was recently hired at a clinic in nearby Norwalk, with a salary of $95,000, a signing bonus, and the opportunity to earn more in incentives.

She’s also managing a lot of debt. Three years of tuition for the USC physical therapy program comes to more than $211,000, and Barajas said she owes $170,000 in student loans.

“If it were about money alone, I probably would have shifted to something else a while ago,” Barajas said. “I’m OK with my salary. I chose to do this. But it might not be the perfect situation for everybody.”

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

At 19, Velasquez Lopez knows a lot about ammunition because many of his friends own guns, he said. They carry to defend themselves in East Oakland, where metal bars protect shop windows and churches stand behind tall, chain-link fences.

Some people even hide AR-15-style assault weapons down their pants legs, he said.

“It doesn’t feel safe. Wherever you’re at, you’re always anxious,” said Velasquez Lopez, who dreams of leaving the city where he was born. “You’re always wondering what’s going to happen.”

Last year, two gunmen in ski masks stormed his high school, killing a school district carpenter and injuring five other adults, including two students.

Oakland won acclaim just a few years ago as a national model for gun violence prevention, in part by bringing police and community groups together to target the small number of people suspected of driving the gun violence.

Then, in 2020, the covid-19 pandemic shut down schools, businesses, and critical social services nationwide, leaving many low-income people isolated and desperate — facing the loss of their jobs, homes, or both. The same year, police murdered George Floyd, a Black man in Minneapolis, which released pent-up fury over racial discrimination by law enforcement, education, and other institutions — sparking nationwide protests and calls to cut police funding.

In the midst of this racial reckoning and facing the threats of an unknown and deadly virus, Americans bought even more guns, forcing some cities, such as Raleigh, North Carolina; Chicago; New York City; and Oakland, to confront a new wave of violent crime.

“There was emotional damage. There was physical damage,” said James Jackson, CEO of Alameda Health System, whose Wilma Chan Highland Hospital Campus, a regional trauma center in Oakland, treated 502 gunshot victims last year, compared with 283 in 2019. “And I think some of this violence that we’re seeing is a manifestation of the damage that people experienced.”

Jackson is among a growing chorus of health experts who describe gun violence as a public health crisis that disproportionately affects Black and Hispanic residents in poor neighborhoods, the very people who disproportionately struggle with Type 2 diabetes and other preventable health conditions. Covid further eviscerated these communities, Jackson added.

While the pandemic has retreated, gun violence has not. Oaklanders, many of whom take pride in the ethnic diversity of their city, are overwhelmingly upset about the rise in violent crime — the shootings, thefts, and other street crimes. At town halls, City Council meetings, and protests, a broad cross-section of residents say they no longer feel safe.

Programs that worked a few years ago don’t seem to be making a dent now. City leaders are spending millions to hire more police officers and fund dozens of community initiatives, such as placing violence prevention teams at high schools to steer kids away from guns and crime.

Yet gun ownership in America is at a historic high, even in California, which gun control advocates say has the strictest gun laws in the country. More than 1 million Californians bought a gun during the first year of the pandemic, according to the latest data from the state attorney general.

As Alameda County District Attorney Pamela Price told an audience at a September town hall in East Oakland: “We are in a unique, crazy time where everybody in this community has a gun.”

The Streets of Oakland

Oakland’s flatlands southeast of downtown are the backdrop of most of the city’s shootings and murders.

The area stands in stark contrast to the extreme wealth of the millionaire homes that dot the Oakland Hills and the immaculate, flower-lined streets of downtown. The city’s revived waterfront, named after famed author and local hero Jack London, draws tourists to trendy restaurants.

On a Saturday night in August, Shawn Upshaw drove through the flatlands along International Boulevard, past the prostitutes who gather on nearly every corner for at least a mile, and into “hot spots,” where someone is shot nearly every weekend, he said.

“When I grew up, women and kids would get a pass. They wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire,” said Upshaw, 52, who was born and raised in Oakland. “But now women and kids get it, too.”

Upshaw works as a violence interrupter for the city’s Department of Violence Prevention, which coordinates with the police department and community organizations in a program called Ceasefire.

When there’s a shooting, the police department alerts Upshaw on his phone and he heads to the scene. He doesn’t wear a police uniform. He’s a civilian in street clothes: jeans and a black zip-up jacket. It makes him more approachable, he said, and he’s not there to place blame, but rather to offer help and services to survivors and bystanders.

The goal, he said, is to stop a retaliatory shooting by a rival gang or grieving family member.

Police also use crime data to approach people with gang affiliations or long criminal records who are likely to use a gun in a crime — or be shot. Community groups follow up with offers of job training, education, meals, and more.

“We tell them they’re on our radar and try to get them to recognize there are alternatives to street violence,” said Oakland Police Department Capt. Trevelyon Jones, head of Ceasefire. “We give them a safe way of backing out of a conflict while maintaining their street honor.”

Every Thursday at police headquarters, officers convene a “shooting review.” They team up with representatives from community groups to make house calls to victims and their relatives.

After the program launched in 2012, Oakland’s homicides plummeted and were down 39% in 2019, according to a report commissioned by the Oakland Police Department.

Then covid hit.

“You had primary care that became an issue. You had housing that became an issue. You had employment that became an issue,” said Maury Nation, an associate professor at Vanderbilt University. “It created a surplus of the people who fit that highest risk group, and that overwhelms something like Ceasefire.”

With ever-rising housing prices in Oakland and across California, homeless encampments have multiplied on sidewalks and under freeway bypasses. The city is also bracing for the loss of jobs and civic pride if the Oakland Athletics baseball team relocates after April 2024, following departures by the NBA’s Golden State Warriors in 2019 and the NFL’s Raiders in 2020.

“Housing, food insecurity, not having jobs that pay wages for folks, all can lead to violence and mental health issues,” said Sabrina Valadez-Rios, who works at the Freedom Community Clinic in Oakland and teaches a high school class for students who have experienced gun violence. Her father was fatally shot outside their Oakland home when she was a child. “We need to teach kids how to deal with trauma. Violence is not going to stop in Oakland.”

Shared with permission from The Trace.

Homicides in Oakland climbed to 123 people in 2021, police reports show, dipping slightly to 120 last year. Police have tallied 108 homicides as of Nov. 12 this year. Neither the police department nor the city provided statistics on how many of those killings involved firearms, despite repeated requests from KFF Health News.

Experts also blame the rise in killings in Oakland and other American cities on the prevalence of gun ownership in the U.S., which has more guns than people. For all the pandemic disruption worldwide, homicide rates didn’t go up in countries with strict gun laws, said Thomas Abt, director of the Center for the Study and Practice of Violence Reduction at the University of Maryland.

“We saw gun violence, homicides, shootings spike up all around the country. And interestingly, it did not happen internationally,” Abt said. “The pandemic did not lead to more violence in other nations.”

Unrest in Oakland

Oakland residents are angry. One by one, business owners, community organizers, church leaders, and teenagers have stood at town halls and City Council meetings this year with an alarming message: They no longer feel safe anywhere in their city — at any time.

“It’s not just a small number of people in the evening or nighttime. This is all hours, day and night,” said Noha Aboelata, founder of the Roots Community Health Center in Oakland. “Someone’s over here pushing a stroller and someone’s getting shot right next to them.”

One morning in early April, automatic gunfire erupted outside a Roots clinic. Patients and staff members dropped to the ground and took cover. After the shooting stopped, medical assistants and a doctor gave first aid to a man in his 20s who had been shot six times.

Everyone is blaming someone or something else for the bloodshed.

Business owners have had enough. In September, Target announced it would close nine stores in four states, including in Oakland because of organized retail theft; the famed Vietnamese restaurant Le Cheval shut its doors after 38 years, partly blaming car break-ins and other criminal activity for depressing its business; and more than 200 business owners staged an hours-long strike to protest the rise in crime.

The leadership of the local NAACP, the nation’s oldest civil rights organization, made headlines this summer when it said Oakland was seeing a “heyday” for criminals, and pointed to the area’s “failed leadership” and “movement to defund the police.”

“It feels like there’s a dark cloud over Oakland,” said Cynthia Adams, head of the local chapter, which has called on the city to hire 250 more police officers.

Price, a progressive elected last year, already faces a recall effort, in part because she rejects blanket enhanced sentences for gangs and weapons charges, and has declined to charge youths as adults.

The new mayor, Sheng Thao, was criticized for firing the police chief for misconduct and breaking a campaign promise to double funding at the city’s Department of Violence Prevention. In her first State of the City address last month, Thao described the surge in crime as “totally and completely unacceptable,” and acknowledged that Oaklanders are hurting and scared. She said the city has expanded police foot patrols and funded six new police academies, as well as boosted funding for violence prevention and affordable housing.

“Not a day goes by where I don’t wish I could just wave a magic wand and silence the gunfire,” Thao said.

Many in the community, including Valadez-Rios, advocate for broader investment in Oakland’s poorest neighborhoods over more law enforcement.

City councils, states, and the federal government are putting their faith in violence prevention programs, in some cases bankrolling them from nontraditional sources, such as the state-federal Medicaid health insurance program for low-income people.

Last month, California’s Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom approved an 11% state tax on guns and ammunition, and $75 million of the revenue annually is expected to go to violence prevention programs.

Although these programs are growing in popularity, it is unclear how successful they are. In some cases, proven programs that involve law enforcement, such as Ceasefire, were cut back or shelved after George Floyd was murdered, said Abt, the Maryland researcher.

“The intense opposition to law enforcement means that the city was unwilling to use a portion of the tools that have been proven,” Abt said. “It’s good to work on preventing youth violence, but the vast majority of serious violence is perpetrated by adults.”

Not a day goes by where I don’t wish I could just wave a magic wand and silence the gunfire.

Oakland Mayor Sheng Thao

A Focus on Schools

Kentrell Killens, interim chief at the Oakland Department of Violence Prevention, acknowledges that young adults drive Oakland’s gun violence, not high school kids. But, he said, shootings on the streets affect children. Of the 171 homicides in 2019 and 2020, 4% of victims were 17 or under, while 59% were ages 18 to 34, according to the Oakland Police Department.

The number of children injured in nonfatal shootings is also worrisome, he said. Roughly 6% of victims and 14% of suspects in nonfatal shootings were 17 or younger in 2019 and 2020.

“We’ve seen the impact of violence on young people and how they have to make decisions around what roles they want to play,” said Killens, who spent a decade as a case manager working with schoolkids.

By being in the schools, “we can deal with the conflicts” that could spill into the community, he added.

At Fremont High School, Principal Nidya Baez has welcomed a three-person team to her campus to confront gun violence. One caseworker focuses on gun violence and another on sexual assaults and healthy relationships. The third is a social worker who connects students and their families to services.

They are part of a $2 million city pilot program created after the Oakland School Board eliminated school-based police in 2020 — about one month after George Floyd was killed and after a nine-year push by community activists to kick police out of schools.

“We’ve been at a lot of funerals, unfortunately, for gang-related stuff or targeting of kids, wrong-place-wrong-time kind of thing,” said Baez, whose father was shot and injured on his ice cream truck when she was a child.

When Francisco “Cisco” Cisneros, a violence interrupter from the nonprofit group Communities United for Restorative Youth Justice, arrived at Fremont in January, students were wary, he said. Many still are. Students are hard-wired not to share information — not to be a “snitch” — or open up about themselves or their home life, especially to an adult, Cisneros said. And they don’t want to talk to fellow students from another network, group, or gang.

“If we catch them at an early age, right now, we can change that mindset,” said Cisneros, who was born and raised in Oakland.

Cisneros pulls from his past to build a rapport with students. This summer, for example, when he overheard a student chatting on the phone to an uncle in jail, Cisneros asked about him. It turns out Cisneros and the boy’s uncle had grown up in the same neighborhood.

That was enough to begin a relationship between Cisneros and the student, “J,” who declined to be identified by his full name for fear of retribution. The 16-year-old credits Cisneros, whom he describes as “like a dad,” with keeping him engaged in school and employed with summer jobs — away from trouble. Still, he regularly worries about making a wrong move.

“You could do one thing and you could end up in a situation where your life is at risk,” J said in Cisneros’ office. “You go from being in school one day to being in a very bad, sticky situation.”

The program is underway in seven high schools, and Cisneros believes he has helped prevent a handful of conflicts from escalating into gun violence.

A Better Life

After his school counselor was shot at Rudsdale High School in September 2022, Velasquez Lopez heard that the man and other victims were treated at nearby Highland Hospital.

“Seeing him get hurt, he obviously needed medical attention,” Velasquez Lopez said. “That made it obvious I could help my community if I were to be a nurse to help people that live around my area.”

When a recruiter from the Alameda Health System came to campus to promote a six-week internship at Highland Hospital, Velasquez Lopez applied. It was, he said, a dramatic step for a student who had never cared about school or sought vocational training.

Over the summer, he volunteered in the emergency room, learned how to take a patient’s vitals, watched blood transfusions, and translated for Spanish-speaking patients.

Velasquez Lopez, who graduated this year, is now looking for ways to get a nursing degree. The cost of college is out of reach at the moment, but he knows he doesn’t want to stay in a city where you can easily buy a gun for $1,000 — or half that, if it’s been used in a crime.

Velasquez Lopez said he has bigger goals for himself.

Young people in East Oakland “always feel like we’re trapped in that community, and we can’t get out,” he said. “But I feel like we still have a chance to change our lives.”

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).