When Gordon House drove the wrong way on I-40, killing four people, the incident changed New Mexico’s attitude toward drunk driving.
The crash, you may remember, was Christmas Eve 1992. The victims were the Cravens family. Mom Melanie and three little daughters were killed; dad Paul survived with severe injuries. New Mexico started toughening its drunk driving laws. While we still have not ended drunk driving accidents and, tragically, have had a few more wrong-way freeway crashes, much progress has been made.
Nothing like that followed the John Hyde tragedy. John Hyde got the wrong medication and shot five people to death in 2005. The story unfolded that Hyde, a diagnosed schizophrenic, had been functioning fine for years, taking medication, interacting socially and taking care of his mother. He had a supportive family. Nobody was afraid of him. Then there was a change of doctor, a different diagnosis, and new medication that didn’t work. His condition deteriorated for months. He asked for medical help, and so did family members, many times, before something snapped and five people lost their lives.
After the Cravens tragedy, the catalyst for changing drunk driving was Nadine Milford, the grandma who lost her babies. Dignified, articulate and photogenic, she stalked the halls of the Roudhouse, followed by the media like a rock star, creating the momentum that led to tougher laws. Nothing comparable happened after the Hyde case.
Today an unknown number of walking time bombs are roaming New Mexico streets, some showing up in emergencfy rooms. This is one aftermath of the state’s takeover of behavioral health services. Reports are coming in: treatment disrupted, medications unavailable, mentally unbalanced people with nowhere to go. Sudden withdrawal from psychotropic medication can have drastic effects.
The mess was predictable. It was not possible that out-of-state companies could set up shop from scratch and implement a smooth transition in services. Though they inherited the bare bones of the nonprofits they replaced, the logistics were too complicated. Employees did not automatically transition; they had to be hired, if willing. Reportedly, many were not. Licenses and permits had to be obtained. Clients in shaky mental states had to fill out new paperwork. Because of HIPAA, the federal medical privacy law, files could not simply be transferred.
The mess was avoidable. The allegations of fraud and mismanagement (still mostly secret) reportedly involve only a few managers in each organization. Human Services Department spokespersons said they intended to keep the clinical staffs. So why was it necessary to dismantle the companies? HSD could have contacted the boards of directors, demanded suspension of the alleged miscreants, and installed temporary managers. That less disruptive approach would have preserved continuity for the clients.
We have to keep asking, why did the state do this? The explanations offered by HSD don’t make sense.
We have to ask because as a former district attorney, our governor surely understands the dangers posed by mentally unstable people who aren’t getting treatment. Indeed, behavioral health programs exist not just to help those with mental problems, but to protect their families, their communities, and the rest of us from what they might do.
We have to ask because treating behavioral health patients as outpatients is a lot less expensive than sending them to prison and repairing the damage.
A social worker I know, who has seen firsthand the influx of behavioral health patients at a local emergency room, predicted there will be suicides. I asked whether there might be murders as well.
Will we need another Nadine Milford, another bereaved grandmother with natural media presence and dead children, to lead a crusade to put our behavioral health system back together? I imagine Mrs. Milford would say the price she paid was too high.
Triple Spaced Again, © New Mexico News Services 2013