Pronounced HELL-in-uh, like “Damn, that girl can write a HELL of a good speech.” I’m a speaker coach & speechwriter based in Los Angeles, California. Want to crush your next talk? You're in the right place.
TEDxMileHigh 2020
I call me weird, but I love a good ride-along. Like LOVE them. I’ve been on ride-alongs in Amsterdam, Canada, Boston, and of course, countless right here in Denver. And if there is one thing I learned, it’s that people call the cops for a number of reasons. Reasons ranging from a lost cat, to new neighbors, to a friend, loved one, or stranger having a mental health crisis. But even in those wide range of reasons people choose to pick up the phone and dial 911, it is because people are simply scared and don’t know what else to do.
Unfortunately, calling 911 can sometimes make a bad situation worse. A loved one is arrested, they’re placed on a 72-hour hold, there are fines, or criminal charges. As we’ve seen so viscerally on the news, dialing 911 can be the beginning of the end of someone’s life.
You might think I’m here to talk about abolishing the police. Not exactly. Instead, I’m here to talk about another option. A solution that better supports people in crisis, makes our communities safer, and keeps police work focused on enforcing laws.
For me, it all started with a visit to Eugene, Oregon. As a state representative in Colorado, I recently passed a ballot measure called Caring for Denver to increase access to mental health and substance misuse services to the people of Denver when a friend tipped me off to their innovative experiment.
Normally when you call 911, an operator connects you to police, firefighters or paramedics depending on your situation. Well, in Eugene, there’s a fourth option: a team of responders, including someone trained to deal with mental health and substance misuse crises whether that’s a panic attack or a suicide attempt.
Studies show that nearly 50 percent of victims of police brutality are living with a disability, predominantly a mental health disability (aclu.org).
We have a HUGE problem with mental health in this country. And the fact of the matter is that police simply don’t have the training or bandwidth to deal with it. We’ve seen that when we don’t adequately fund mental health and substance misuse and instead rely on the criminal justice system to operate as our defacto mental health care system, we not only pay more for it, but, more alarmingly, it can lead to deadly encounters for those in a mental health or substance misuse emergency.
So, I went up to Oregon to learn more. YAY! ANOTHER RIDE ALONG!. 20 minutes into our shift, we got a call about an attempted suicide. So we got in the car, drove over there, and immediately I was surprised by how nice it is. A middle-income community, kids playing outside. Just a normal day. Outside the house, we meet up with the wife to try to get a sense of the situation — she said her husband was locked in the bathroom with box cutters & threatening to kill himself.
We went inside to talk to him and he explained through the door that he couldn’t afford his medical expenses anymore & that he was a burden to his family. He wouldn’t take his medicine, he wouldn’t put his clothes on, he wouldn’t come out. I could see into his office from where we were standing — medical bills were piled up on his desk, some had spilled onto the ground.
Sadly this situation was all too familiar to me. My sister was in & out of the criminal justice system for 30 years. At first, we thought she was “just” addiction. Later we realized she had untreated trauma from sexual assault. She was arrested again & again. No one knew how to help her.
That’s what was so intriguing to me about Eugene – the police & the mental health crisis team worked together, an elite team of specialists. (Later I found out that they trained together too). The police convinced him to surrender the box cutters. Then, the mental health team took over & the police stood down. We went down to the living room, he sat on the couch with his wife and he took his medication and a sandwich. We sat there together for three hours — talking about his financial hardships, coming up with options & resources, making a plan to get him to the doctor the next morning. When we left, he was a different person.
And so was I.
When I got on the plane & flew back to Denver & I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this could work.
I’ve been fighting for criminal justice reform my entire career. And sometimes, it feels impossible. There are more than 7,000 jails & prisons in the U.S. holding more than 2.3 million inmates. For millions of Americans — judges, attorneys, parole officers, wardens, corrections officers, and police — mass incarceration is a livelihood or a way of life.
To fix the criminal justice system, we need to look critically at every piece of the puzzle, decide what’s working, and figure out how to fix what’s not.
If there’s one thing that’s clearly NOT working, it’s taking a one-size-fits-all approach. Outside of Eugene, Oregon, this man would’ve likely been placed under a 72-hour hold, he would’ve accrued even MORE fees & penalties in that time, he would’ve been under MORE financial stress, and worst of all — his mental health wouldn’t have improved . 2 million people with mental illnesses are booked into jail each year, and the National Alliance for Mental Health found that 83% of them did not have access to mental health treatment.
A well-functioning criminal justice system is one that uses the right tool at the right time in the right way. Why are we asking police & prisons to fix our mental health problem? That’s not what they do.
Eugene uses a standard system to triage – “what’s happening & what does this person need right now?” But THEN, they had the right tools to back it up. People who are trained, who had the time, resources, energy, and connections to sit with this man and take the steps towards improving his mental health.
Denver launched its co-responder program in 2016 and we launched our alternative response program, STAR, in June and today we have 22 co-responders who ride along with police & handle the mental health side of things with 11 case managers. In addition, we can dispatch the STAR team, a paramedic and a mental health professional in a mobile crisis unit to respond to someone in a mental health emergency, stabilize them, de-escalate the situation and divert them from the criminal justice system by connecting them with the appropriate community resource for ongoing care.
So far the results have been nothing short of miraculous.
We call the foundation Caring for Denver because caring is at the heart of it. We care enough to listen to people, to understand their struggles, and to help them — instead of just throwing them in jail. It’s a kind approach to criminal justice, but it’s also logical.
Not every problem can be solved by the police, not every person should go to prison.
When we talk about the criminal justice system, what we’re really talking about is people. Our people. We deserve a more nuanced solution — the empathy, dignity, and humanity of a new approach.
Let’s be smart about criminal justice & use the right tool at the right time.
Thank you.
Pronounced HELL-in-uh, like “Damn, that girl can write a HELL of a good speech.” I’m a speaker coach & speechwriter based in Los Angeles, California. Want to crush your next talk? You're in the right place.
Copyright 2019-2023 Helena Bowen
Site by Amber Secrest at Brand Alchemy
Photography by Paige Ray
Headline Copy by Justin Blackman
Terms of Use • Disclaimer • Privacy Policy
Helena Bowen is not an employee, representative, or spokesperson for TED or TEDx.
Pronounced HELL-in-uh, like “Damn, that girl can write a HELL of a good speech.” I’m a speaker coach & speechwriter based in Los Angeles, California. Want to crush your next talk? You're in the right place.