Seeley gained the national spotlight as a real-life superhero on A&E’s gut-wrenching “Intervention,” sweeping in as users spiral into addiction’s dark depths and often, against all odds, helping yank them out. His star power lent a special sheen to Seeley’s addiction treatment facilities — Ken Seeley Communities or KSC, doing business as Intervention911 — and attracts folks seeking similar miracles.

And so it was for Susan Rea of San Juan Capistrano. Despite repeated brushes with death, emergency room ordeals and stints in rehab, her 22-year-old son Dean just couldn’t shake perhaps the most dangerous addiction of all: to fentanyl. As you well know, Gov. Newsom, this synthetic opioid is some 50 times stronger than heroin and 100 times stronger than morphine. Just two milligrams of it — think a dozen or so grains of table salt — can kill.

Dean was more than his addiction. A skateboarder who loved the ocean. A surfer who taught kids to ride waves at Doheny Beach. A jokester with a gift for helping others see their own worth. A young man who had trouble seeing his own. He was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, generalized anxiety, ADHD and depression. It was 2021 and Rea was desperate to save her son’s life.

An acquaintance told Rea about Seeley and his operation in Palm Springs. Intervention911 could treat people with complex issues, routinely drug-tested clients and accepted her medical insurance.

They signed on and Rea drove Dean to Palm Springs herself. “I was looking for professionalism,” she said. “We all wanted Dean to get better.”

Dean entered detox at Intervention911 on March 13. Less than six weeks later, he was dead.

And this, Gov. Newsom, is where you — and California’s insurers and rehab regulators — come in. Dean’s compulsion to keep using despite the risks was very well-established. Therapists opined that he might actually have a death wish. Shocking details in Rea’s wrongful death suit against Seeley and Intervention911 suggest that so very many parts of California’s (tract-home-based, private-pay) addiction treatment system failed here — but as a parent, we get stuck on this:

If only California and its insurers required people like Dean Rea to see an addiction medicine specialist before checking in to non-medical facilities … if only a doctor had prescribed him buprenorphine, the gold-standard for managing opioid addiction, which cuts those compulsive cravings … if only he was encouraged, cajoled, convinced, even bribed to take it and keep taking it … if only, when things went dangerously south, he was taken to a hospital rather than allowed to wander off alone to die behind a gas station.

If only the private-pay piece of California’s addiction treatment system performed more like the public sector.

If only California bolstered oversight and professionalism along the Rehab Riviera.

If only, if only… Dean Rea might still be alive today.

Rea’s wrongful death suit just wrapped up in Riverside Superior Court with a confidential settlement agreement. Seeley and Intervention911 denied the allegations and admitted no wrongdoing. Its attorneys didn’t respond to our requests for comment, but in court documents, Intervention911 argued that Dean’s “own negligence was the sole and proximate cause” of his death.

Hundreds of pages of court documents vividly suggest weakness in the system itself. You can change that, Gov. Newsom. As you lobby us to approve a $6 billion initiative to expand mental health treatment, we implore you: Make sure California expands what works, rather than what doesn’t.  Pay attention to the painful lessons embedded in Dean Rea’s story.

It was a life-or-death story. As all addiction stories are.

Missed opportunities

There are three main steps in the rehab world — detox, residential treatment, then outpatient treatment/sober living. Dean spent much longer than usual in that first, intense, detox phase — about 10 days.

He had “dangerously lethal” substance abuse disorder, bordering on passive suicidality, staffers noted. Without a “contained” treatment environment, he was at the highest risk of relapse and lethal overdose on fentanyl.

“I don’t want to die,” Dean said, according to court documents.

But rather than following the familiar three-step script — sending Dean from detox to residential treatment, where he’d still be watched — Dean skipped from step one to step three, a sober living-type home called The Amado. There, he had far greater freedom to do as he pleased than if he were in that middle step, residential treatment.

At The Amado, he continued using fentanyl, court documents say. But that didn’t show up on his drug tests because, as Susan Rea would later learn, Intervention911 did not test for fentanyl.

Veils drop and souls are bared in these settings. Intense bonds form. Dean fell for Meredith Voelkel, a young nurse who struggled with alcohol, and she fell right back. But Dean continued to “struggle with high-intensity agitated depression” and habitually self-medicated with lethal doses of analgesics, case notes said. More than a month in, “post-acute withdrawal symptoms” — hopelessness, anxiety, recklessness, impulsivity, irritability, mania, worthlessness — continued to plague him. He reported “high craving levels.” He was “easily triggered and reactive” for wanting to use drugs.

Where a more medical rehab model might have gotten him to a doctor or a higher level of care, Dean got a visit with his mother. He felt closest to her because she was always there for him.

It was April 22, 2021, the day before his death. Rea treated him to a fancy dinner at a Japanese restaurant. They ate, they laughed, they talked about his plans for getting a license and a job. “He thanked me,” Rea said. “He said, ‘You’ve been hard on me because you love me.’ “

The next day, Intervention 911 was taking clients to Laguna Beach for sun and sand. Dean wanted to go — but he wanted to spend time with his mother more. After his friends left for the beach, mother and son went to breakfast at the nearby Denny’s, then had a family therapy session. Dean texted Voelkel a photo of him kissing Rea on the head. ““I’m so happy you and your Mom are good and you get to spend time showing how well you are doing,” Voelkel texted back.

Dean had a hankering for some shrimp and a Monster Energy drink, so Rea stopped at a supermarket and arrived with the goods around noon. She called for Dean at his bedroom door.

“He did not answer her, but she heard gurgling noises,” the suit said. “She tried to open the door, but the door was locked.”

Susan pounded on the door. Dean still didn’t respond.

She intercepted a staffer. He didn’t have a key and didn’t know where one was.

The worker broke down the door. Dean was sprawled on the bed. Next to him, tin foil stained with brown marks. Susan called 911 while the worker tried to revive Dean. “Don’t die,” Susan said, squeezing his hand. “Please don’t die. Come back.”

Dean stirred and was conscious by the time paramedics arrived, about 12:30 p.m. Dean needed to go to the hospital, the paramedics said. Dean refused; he didn’t want to pay for an ambulance.

The executive director told emergency workers he’d take Dean to the hospital himself.

Rea was in shock. “I had just seen my son turn gray,” she said. “I never experienced anything like that in a rehab facility. He had never gotten to that point in front of me.”

“What do I do?” she asked the staffers.

Leave, they said. They’re trained to handle these situations. They’d take care of Dean.

And so, at about 12:50 p.m., Rea left. She would never see her son alive again.

‘Loaded gun’

The executive director demanded that Dean hand over whatever drugs remained.

Dean refused. They argued. “I’ve had enough of your (expletive), I’m leaving,” the director said, storming off and leaving the marketing and admissions guy to deal with Dean, according to documents.

You can go to the hospital or you can get kicked out, the marketing guy said. There was no offer to drive Dean to the hospital. No way for Dean to get there safely on his own. No other options presented — such as a return to detox — and no one summoned Rea to help, the suit said.

If only, if only. “I would have turned right around,” she said. “I would have crawled over fire for him.”

The marketing guy told Dean to pack his bags. Dean’s phone buzzed as he obliged; it was his girlfriend, Voelkel, calling from the beach. He had overdosed and was leaving KSC, he told her.

Voelkel was stunned. She asked if anyone was with him, and the marketing guy said he was there. Voelkel assumed Dean was going to the hospital. “She did not believe KSC would kick him out when he was high and unable to make rational decisions,” court documents say.

But that’s what happened, the suit said. KSC “kicked Dean out to the street all alone and with a lethal dose of fentanyl in hand. … KSC essentially gave Dean a loaded gun and told him to shoot himself.”

In Laguna Beach, Voelkel started to cry. A counselor sat her down. “Look at that trash can over there. Do you see that piece of trash? You need to leave the trash in the trash can.”

Dean wound up behind the gas station just around the corner from KSC. He called Jon Wan, a friend on the beach outing. Dean was speaking nonsense, Wan said in court papers, and admitted to smoking fentanyl by the dumpster. Wan assured Dean they’d help as soon as they returned to Palm Springs.

Meanwhile, Rea was calling multiple people, multiple times, for updates. She couldn’t reach anyone.

Dean stopped answering phone calls and texts sometime after 2 p.m. Concerned, a staffer asked the executive director to check on Dean. “I’m no (expletive) babysitter,” the executive director responded, according to the suit. “He’s been kicked out.”

It was after 5:30 p.m. when Dean’s friends returned from the beach. Wan beelined to the gas station and found Dean lying on the ground. Wan rolled Dean over. Blood leaked from Dean’s eyes. His face was gray. Ants crawled on him and flies buzzed around him.

Wan called 911 and raced back to The Amado to grab Narcan, the opioid-overdose antidote. Others came with him to help. But it was too late.

The executive director said Dean was not a client when he died. No one was to contact Rea. They’d let the coroner deliver the devastating news.

‘Breach of duty’

In dry legal language, it’s this:

“KSC breached its duty to Dean by kicking him out of its facility knowing his strong addiction and overdose history with fentanyl; his suicidal ideation; his diagnosis of having several mental health disorders; his prior use of fentanyl that day which resulted in paramedics being called to attend to him; knowing he continued to possess fentanyl; knowing he did not have any safe transport to a safe location; and knowing he was homeless,” the suit said.

“His death was highly foreseeable under the circumstances.”

The lock on his bedroom door. The lack of supervision. The failure to test for fentanyl. “Below the standard of care,” the suit said.

In declarations to the court, more than a dozen people laid the blame for Dean’s death at KSC’s feet. They should have gotten Dean to a higher level or care, or called police, or tried to put him on a 5150 psychiatric hold if he refused to hand over his drugs, they said. You never discharge someone in that condition without referrals.

“Some of the main lessons here are the importance of making sure people are in the appropriate level of care, and the importance of having trained, experienced people in charge,” said Christina Denning, Rea’s attorney, after the case closed.

“There’s so much turnover in these facilities. Important decisions were made by the marketing admissions guy and the executive director — management people, marketing people. They’re not doctors. They’re not therapists.”

We applaud California’s Bridge program, helping emergency departments become primary access points for addiction treatment. We applaud California’s hub-and-spoke system, increasing the availability of medication-assisted addiction treatment to people who need it. But it’s astonishing that close to half the state’s treatment providers  — 41%, according to federal data  — still eschew life-saving medication like buprenorphine. They equate a drug that can save your life with one that can kill you.

Might buprenorphine maintenance have spared Dean’s life? Dr. Randolph Holmes, who deals with government and public policy for the California Society of Addiction Medicine, counsels us not to be naïve.

“Many people resist treatment, even from doctors, and I spend a lot of time every day trying to convince people to start life-saving medications,” Holmes said.

But public providers funded by MediCal must either have medical providers, or be able to refer patients for medication-assisted treatment. There’s no such requirement for the private sector.

“CSAM has been trying for years to get legislation passed and signed to mandate access to medications for all,” Holmes said. “It is paradoxical that a person can get better access to evidence-based care in the public sector than in the private sector.”

If only, if only. Gov. Newsom, raise the bar for this industry in California.

Burly men packed the room, arms folded across their barrel chests. There wasn’t enough space for them all. Hundreds spilled into overflow rooms.

Dangerous. Destined to fail. Deceitful. Horrific mistake. 

One after another, firefighters and their union reps paraded to the microphone, trying to scare the bejeezus out of the mild-mannered councilfolk of little Placentia.

Risky gamble with people’s lives. Half-baked. Untested. Extreme.

It was 2019 and the wee city was contemplating the unthinkable — being the first to pull out of the regional (and very expensive!) Orange County Fire Authority (with its state-of-the-art water-dropping helicopters and bulldozers and hazmat equipment and swift water boats) to form its own “Fire and Life Safety Department.”

But it wasn’t just that. Placentia would do the even more unthinkable: Cleave firefighting duties from emergency medical duties.

No more (very expensive!) firefighters who are also paramedics at every call. No more 25-ton fire trucks arriving beside ambulances for routine medical mishaps. No more fire trucks and their (constant-staffing as per union contract) four-man crews accompanying those ambulances to the hospital and waiting (“wall time”) until the patient is taken by the E.R. before returning to service.

In Placentia’s proposed revolutionary setup (which is really only revolutionary in Orange and Los Angeles counties), firefighters would do the firefighting and a private ambulance company would do the emergency medical/paramedic/lifesaving.

To the old guard in that room that night, this was Armageddon. The crack that could bring down the entire dam. It had to be stopped.

“A Placentia Police Department officer, God forbid, gets shot on these streets — I tell you right now they’ll be the first ones, as they’re bleeding out, wishing OCFA was en route, not a new fire department with volunteers,” Frank Lima of the International Association of Fire Fighters told the city council. “This dangerous decision is going to put somebody standing in front of a church at a funeral and you will own it. This vote’s going to follow you and we’ll make sure of that.”

And so it went. For hours. “Your consultants are selling you snake oil. You can’t get more with less. Your consultants — I’m going to tell you right to your face,” snarled Brian Rice, president of California Professional Firefighters, searching the audience for them. “If one member, whether they’re OCFA or one of these volunteers, gets injured, I’m going to come back and I’m going to sue your ass for everything you’ve got.”

We recall thinking that Placentia was, indeed, a bit crazy at the time. Providing services regionally is, at least theoretically, the more efficient way to go.

But these are fire services we’re talking about. Unions and management have agreed to staff up to handle extreme scenarios, despite their rarity, resulting in some crazy costs.

To wit: A Los Angeles city firefighter made more than $500,000 in overtime alone last year. An Alameda County firefighter made more than $400,000 in overtime alone. An Orange County Fire Authority firefighter made more than $290,000 in overtime alone. Surely, there has to be a better way.

Understand that little Placentia – population of approximately 52,000 – has teetered on the brink of bankruptcy. Its OCFA bill jumped a stunning 47% over a decade, for zero extra personnel or services. Its general fund budget increased only 12% over that time, and its police department budget was sliced 9% to help make way for the increased costs.

Craig Green was a city councilmember that fateful night. He gazed out the giant picture windows of the trendy Golden State Coffee Roasters in the heart of Old Town and grinned. “No dead bodies in the streets,” he said.

Four years later, the results of Placentia’s “half-baked,” “dangerous,” “reckless” experiment are in. And they may be the old guard’s worst nightmare.

Costly and outdated

City Administrator Damien Arrula was the rudder that kept the ship steady through stormy waters. Young, energetic, plain-spoken and well-versed in economic development and management analytics, he fought back at the fear-mongering and intimidation. He laid out painstakingly detailed, data-driven analyses of the city’s actual emergency needs and how they could be met with improved safety for less money.

” ‘Unproven,’ ‘untested,’ ‘half-baked’ — these claims are false, absolutely false,” Arrula told the city councilmembers.

In fact, 56 out of California’s 58 counties already provide 911 advanced life support with private paramedic services providers. That includes nearby Riverside, San Bernardino, Ventura and San Diego counties.

“This is not only the primary model in California, but throughout most of the U.S.,” he said. “Only two counties in California do not currently use private 911 ALS paramedic services – Orange and Los Angeles.”

The city’s consultants did an enlightening “workload analysis” examining OCFA data. They found that:

• Placentia averaged 7.1 emergency medical calls per day, and 2 calls for other emergencies, for a total of 9.1 calls.

• That means nearly 80% of those 911 calls — 4 out of 5  — were for medical, not fire.

• Only 0.8% of calls were for structure fires, and only 8 of those had losses exceeding $20,000.

• 90% of calls were handled with one engine.

• The average call duration was 23.2 minutes, with 6 to 8 minutes of response time.

• The actual workload of an on-duty firefighter was 3.9 hours per 24-hour work period.

And despite all the chatter about how deadly a “volunteer” fire department would be, Arrula said Placentia’s new Fire and Life Safety Department would be a professional operation with professional firefighters and reserves who could help in a pinch. It would have two trucks in the city, just as OCFA did, each staffed with three rather than four firefighters. It would have two Lynch EMS ambulances carrying four trained and licensed paramedics on duty 24/7, an increase in lifesaving personnel.

OCFA’s service and firefighters are great, the city council concluded. But its model is costly and outdated. Despite intimidation and outright threats — mutual aid might be withheld by surrounding fire departments during a big emergency — the council decided that a local department controlled directly by the city would better meet its residents’ needs. Its goals were to reduce response time, improve fire prevention and improve quality of emergency medical care.

Four years down the road, the numbers speak for themselves. According to Placentia:

• Under OCFA, the response time for fire calls was 9 minutes and 30 seconds.

• Under Placentia’s new fire department, that shrank to 6 minutes and 21 seconds.

• Under OCFA, the response time for emergency medical calls was 9 minutes and 30 seconds.

• Under Lynch EMS, that shrank to 4 minutes and 48 seconds.

• Among cardiac arrest patients in Placentia, Lynch paramedics were able to restore a pulse 58.8% of the time in 2021-22 and 54.2% of the time in 2022-23 — more than twice the national averages.

On the fiscal front, this improved performance has saved the city more than $1 million each year over what it would have paid OCFA — savings that’s expected to average out to $3 million a year over the next decade as OCFA costs continue to rise. That’s real money over the long haul: more than $30 million saved by 2032, and close to $60 million saved by 2038, according to Placentia’s projections.

And overtime? The firefighter with the most overtime pay in Placentia earned just shy of $51,000 in OT — a fraction of what the top OT earners rake in at other agencies.

“It’s been an amazing few years,” an almost-astonished Walt Lynch of Lynch EMS told the city council earlier this month. “If you asked me back then if I’d be sharing this with you today, I’m not sure I would have said yes.”

Councilmember Rhonda Shader was mayor that night back in 2019, retaining poise in the onslaught of threats. “The nimbleness of this model, it’s turning out to be more than we hoped for,” she said.

Arrula was vindicated. “This is really amazing work when you talk about fundamentally saving lives,” he said. “Really unprecedented.”

Change

So what do all the purveyors of doom have to say about all this?

We reached out to several unions and union reps who had warned of death and destruction. No one was chatty on the record, but there was suspicion about the veracity of Placentia’s data.

Predictions that Placentia would be so weak it would need constant backup from surrounding agencies? The 2021 data showed 128 mutual aid calls into Placentia under the new department, versus 806 under OCFA in 2019. (It responded to 104 mutual aid calls in 2021 versus 457 in 2019; Placentia is now called upon less by its neighbors. A snub?)

In an emailed statement, OCFA said this:

“The OCFA recognizes that there are a few jurisdictions in the state that utilize non-fire-based EMS delivery systems due to their budgetary constraints. OCFA is fortunate and proud that our leadership supports a robust and proven Fire & EMS system that puts two firefighter/paramedics (along with two additional firefighters) to the side of our patients with speed, efficiency, competence, and care.”

The takeaway here is that there are other, more economical and efficient ways to deliver emergency services, but that the forces working against change are enormous. The old guard tried hard to thwart Placentia, asking surrounding cities not to enter into mutual aid agreements to help in emergencies, asking other agencies not to bid on Placentia’s fire and life safety contracts, threatening the city with lawsuits.

But change arrived nonetheless in Placentia, and it’s coming for everyone else.

“The DNA of fire departments is to respond to EVERYTHING and help EVERY TIME,” says a white paper called “21st Century Fire and Rescue,” co-chaired by retired Anaheim Fire Chief Randy Bruegman.

“While fires may be diminishing due to better engineering, codes and enforcement along with an increased focus on community risk reduction activities, calls for service are up for every department. These calls are for help, and the calls received today are much broader in scope. The services required often fall outside the traditional scope of fire and emergency services.”

Bruegman sees real opportunity here to deploy resources differently and more effectively, as has been done in Anaheim: sending nurse practitioners or behavioral health workers or community paramedics when that makes sense, rather than running four people on a 50,000-pound fire apparatus to everything.

“We need to look at what our statistics and data are telling us: Our demand for fire and rescue calls have gone down over the last 30 years, but call volume has skyrocketed,” he said. “It’s about how we address those calls in the most efficient and effective manner.”

As technology improves, precision will increase: Soon our wearable fitness devices will be able to transmit medical information to dispatch centers. Cars will alert first responders to traffic accidents. Smart buildings will send data instantaneously on emergencies.

“That’s going to change the way we do business in the future,” said Bruegman, president and founder of the Leadership Crucible Foundation. “There’s going to be a need for fire suppression, response and rescue for many, many years to come, maybe forever, but I think it will become a small component of our overall system.”

Many folks in Placentia agree. According to its most recent audit, the city that once teetered on the bankruptcy abyss had a 17% cushion for its general fund (for you numbers types, that’s a $7.2 million unassigned fund balance, compared to expenses of $42.1 million).

Back in 2012, that fund balance was in negative territory.

Green, the former city councilman who was on the dais when the decision was made back in 2019, had served on the OCFA board of directors and has great respect for the agency. “But Placentia doesn’t need helicopters. Placentia doesn’t need bulldozers,” he said. “We wanted our city to be fiscally sustainable, and now it is. We wanted to do this — and lo and behold, it works.”

That’s normal!

As cold, flu and COVID season sets in, we chatted with Chapman University’s Patricia Lopes, an assistant professor of biology, who studies how sick individuals impact those around them. It’s not as clear-cut as it may seem. Turns out that simply observing a sick individual triggers not only that familiar behavioral response — get away! — but a complex biological response as well.

“The really interesting aspect is, it also changes your physiology,” she said.

Her own experiments and reviews of scientific studies find that, when healthy animals interact with animals showing symptoms of illness, molecular pathways related to immune responses activate. Egg composition changes. And all without those animals actually being sick themselves, as if their bodies are prepping for a fight.

Consider one of the experiments that galvanized Lopes’ curiosity: People watched a slideshow. Their blood composition was measured before and after. After folks saw images of sickness — coughing, sneezing, blisters on the skin, etc. — their blood showed an increased level of molecules that could help respond to infection.

The slideshow was repeated with threatening images of a different sort — such as guns pointed at the viewer — and the blood did not show elevated levels of infection-fighting molecules after viewing.

“So I became really interested and I started reading and trying to understand how generalized this is,” Lopes said. “Is it just in humans? Throughout animal kingdom? I did find that, for a lot of species, from fruit flies to birds to other mammals, we see examples of this.”

When female mice were exposed to sick mice during pregnancy, their babies rebounded from the same sickness more quickly down the line.

But the physiological response to nearby sickness might not always be a positive one. Female Japanese quail housed with sickly-looking animals laid eggs containing more stress hormones, which could have an impact on their offspring.

Lopes has a three-year, $600,000 grant from the National Science Foundation to probe this under-studied phenomenon.

“The objective for this proposal is to study how exposure to disease risk affects the physiology and reproductive investment of uninfected animals, as well as their own responses upon infection,” her abstract for the NSF says. “To accomplish this goal, a host-parasite system (canary – Mycoplasma gallisepticum) will be used, where responses to disease risk have already been demonstrated to occur.

“To quantify how observation of infected symptomatic birds … relative to observation of healthy birds affects animals, the project will 1) use a transcriptomic approach (studying all RNA molecules) to address how multiple organs respond to disease risk over time, 2) evaluate whether and how disease risk information modifies the damage and the time course imposed by a subsequent infection, and 3) quantify changes in reproductive behavior and investment imposed by the presence of disease risk.”

Lopes hopes to have some results starting next summer.

“The interesting thing to me is that it really shows the mind-body connection,” Lopes said. “You’re receiving this signal — watching, smelling, hearing sickness symptoms — and then your immune system changes. This nervous system changing the immune system is a very interesting avenue of research — that your nervous system has this power to change your immune cells and immune response.”

It’s not at all clear how long these responses last, so folks shouldn’t count on them to ward off illness. Vaccination is the way to go as we enter peak cold, flu and COVID season, she said.

This makes me recall with agonizing clarity that episode when my eldest was barely 2, feverish, coughing, runny nose, the whole shebang. I was changing her diaper, standing her up on the dressing table to pull up her jammy pants, when she Exorcist-vomited into my face.

I had managed to escape sickness until then, but was certain my luck had finally run out. Miraculously, though, I didn’t get sick. Maybe this helps explain why.

Lopes says her research aims to unveil the hidden ripple effects of infections. When one individual falls ill, it’s not just their problem — it’s a complex story that can impact the health and behavior of many others.

We told you that folks love John Wayne in Orange County, and like LAX more than they used to, and are meh on Hollywood Burbank (though we heard from lots of folks who who are thrilled to have you dismiss it sight unseen so they can keep Hollywood Burbank all to themselves), but we omitted Ontario from our list of local airports because J.D. Power told us that the Ontario in its rankings referred to the airport in Ontario, Canada.

But, alas, it did not.

The Ontario in the J.D. Power airport rankings is, indeed, our very own Ontario, nestled conveniently in San Bernardino County. The J.D. Power folks are mortified about all that, but everyone makes mistakes, even giant consumer data firms. To the meat of it then:

Ontario falls into the medium-sized airport category, like Hollywood Burbank. In 2021, there wasn’t a big enough sample to rank medium airports (pandemic). But in 2022, Ontario ranked eighth among its 18 medium-sized peers (Hollywood Burbank ranked last), while this year, Ontario nabbed the bronze at No. 3 in North America, among 16 peers (Hollywood Burbank ranked second-to-last).

The rankings are based on 1,000 possible points awarded to them by travelers expressing their satisfaction with terminal facilities, arrivals/departures, baggage claim, the security experience, check-in/baggage check and food, beverage and retail choices.

While Ontario came in third in its category (medium), and John Wayne came in second in its category (large), Ontario scored five points higher on overall satisfaction.

Generally, the smaller the airport, the smaller the hassle and the higher the ranking. Indianapolis was No. 1 for medium airports, scoring 843; Tampa was No. 1 for large airports, scoring 832; Detroit Metropolitan was No. 1 for mega airports, scoring 800.

Ontario thinks it’s best.

“Ontario International was the fastest growing U.S. airport before the pandemic shutdown nearly all air travel and has been among the quickest to recover from it,” Atif Elkadi, CEO of Ontario International Airport Authority, said by email. “During the first nine months of this year, our passenger volume increased by nearly 12% over last year.”

For related story, see: Which Southern California airport do travelers love most?

Long Beach and Palm Springs were too small to make the rankings — there must a large enough sample, an expensive undertaking — but they remain beloved by many.

Long Beach is expecting a 23% increase in passenger traffic over the holidays, with more than 88,000 passengers passing through the airport over Thanksgiving week (Nov. 20-26) and more than 83,000 over the Christmas holiday, officials there said.

Overall, Price Waterhouse Cooper predicts that the summer travel boom will continue into winter, with travel-related spending increasing a healthy 12% over last year.

So, as folks make travel plans for the holidays and decide which airport to use, the consumer advice holds true: shop early, aim for off-peak days and prepare to pay more. But comfort yourself with the knowledge that the airport experience can be a pleasant part of the trip, rather than a torture.

It happened in the wee hours of the morning on a warm August night in 2021, when a delirious 23-year-old (who should have been in something more like a hospital) bolted from a licensed Newport Beach detox — which sounds fancy, but is just a tract home in a residential neighborhood —  and forced his way into a neighbor’s home, trying to evade the demons that plagued him. The terrified homeowner inside had a gun. In minutes, Henry Lehr was dead.

The company that runs that detox — Gratitude Lodge — has three licensed addiction treatment facilities in that little neighborhood. There’s one licensed care home for seniors. There’s a sober living home — those don’t have to be licensed by anyone — and now, a “social rehabilitation facility” has an application pending with the state to open there as well.

How much is too much? Who makes the rules? Who’s really protecting vulnerable people?

These questions arise in the latest skirmish between local governments and the state of California over the quantity and quality of mental health care — a front that may vastly expand as the state asks voters to approve $6 billion to expand treatment.

That treatment will happen in local neighborhoods. As things stand, local neighborhoods will have precious little input.

Too much?

This skirmish involves Newport Beach and the California Department of Social Services. The pending application at issue is from Pacific Coast Mental Health LLC, which seeks to operate a “social rehabilitation facility.”

Social rehabs are a new front here on the Rehab Riviera. In 2013, there were just 96 in the entire state, and only two of them were in Orange County. A decade later — after Orange County was declared the nation’s center of addiction industry fraud, and after new laws were passed to improve treatment quality — the number of addiction treatment facilities dropped and the number of social rehabs tripled, to 286, with another 34 licenses pending.

Social rehabs are expressly non-medical, just like licensed addiction treatment homes. They operate largely in tract houses, just like licensed addiction treatment homes. They can bill private insurers, just like licensed addiction treatment homes.

They say they can treat the very serious behaviors that often accompany addiction — depression, anxiety, trauma, grief, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, suicidal ideation, psychotic disorder, personality disorder, “dual diagnosis and co-occurring disorders,” etc. — just like many licensed addiction treatment homes. But they’re not bound by the toothier laws that govern addiction treatment homes.

Why? They’re, technically at least, a different beast, licensed by different state departments. Addiction treatment facilities are licensed by the Department of Health Care Services. Social rehabs are licensed by the Department of Social Services. Their missions are, again technically, somewhat different.

Newport Beach has asked the DSS to deny a social rehab license to Pacific Coast Mental Health. Pacific Coast’s facility is within 300 feet of a Gratitude Lodge home, the city argues: Because they’re so close, the state cannot issue Pacific Coast a license without Newport Beach’s consent.

“(I)ssuance of a license to Pacific at this location violates the overall intent of the laws that prevent overconcentration,” Seimone Jurjis, Newport’s assistant city manager, wrote to DSS on Oct. 5. “When the legislature adopted Health and Safety Code Section 1502(a), the legislature specifically declared that it is ‘the policy of the state to prevent over-concentrations of residential facilities that impair the integrity of residential neighborhoods.’

“Here, there are already four existing licensed facilities in the neighborhood. Approval of another facility … will only contribute to the institutionalization of this neighborhood, negatively impacting the recovery of the residents of these facilities. … Ensuring proper spacing between similar facilities is crucial for the welfare of the individuals receiving services and for maintaining the integrity and effectiveness of the services provided.”

Incorrect, the state said.

“Thank you for relaying your agency’s concerns regarding potential overconcentration of licensed residential care facilities in Santa Ana Heights,” wrote Hao Nguyen, a bureau chief with DSS, that same day.

“While we understand the concern and support overconcentration protections afforded in statute, we also are charged with protecting the rights afforded to each community member to live in their home communities. The individuals to be served at (Pacific Coast) need care and supervision due to their disabilities and are protected from discrimination under the Americans with Disabilities Act and their housing choices are additionally protected under the Fair Housing Act.”

There’s no overconcentration problem, Nguyen continued. Gratitude Lodge is licensed by DHCS, not DSS. And DHCS facilities don’t count toward the overconcentration protections spelled out in Health and Safety Code 1520.5 are not applicable.” Neither does the elderly care home, which is licensed via a different pathway.

Doesn’t count

The “They’re licensed by different state departments so it doesn’t count” argument strikes folks living in these neighborhoods as absurd. These are businesses, they argue — businesses that often charge by the bed and have highly transient residents who can change within days or weeks.

Those neighbors don’t give a rat’s patootie which branch of state government licenses a facility. All these facilities mean more deliveries, more cars, more trash, more ambulances, more noise, more people.

Newport is trying not to take no for an answer.

“We acknowledge the distinction made between community care facilities and DHCS facilities,” Newport’s Jurjis wrote back to Nguyen on Oct. 9. “However, the overarching goal of the legislation is aimed at preventing overconcentration and to maintain the integrity of residential neighborhoods. It’s vital to consider the spirit of the law in making determinations related thereto.

“As we previously mentioned, there are already four licensed facilities in the neighborhood. This raises not only concerns about overconcentration, but also about the impact on the residents’ recovery process, neighborhood infrastructure, and resources…. (I)t is our opinion that the broad definition of ‘residential facility’ … encompasses DHCS facilities and is not limited to CDSS facilities. While not directly under the purview of the CDSS, the implications of such facilities in residential areas remain similar, warranting a comprehensive evaluation and reconsideration.”

Given Newport’s “strong disagreement and the potential implications for our community,” the city asked to appeal the DSS’s determination and forward the dispute to its legal counsel, “as we believe our interpretation of this legislation is correct.”

Seems like, by DSS’s logic, there could be several more DSS facilities in this neighborhood, several more senior homes, several more DHCS-licensed addiction treatment facilities, and it wouldn’t be considered over-concentration because they’re licensed by different state departments and pathways.

That can’t be right, can it?

Apparently, yes.

The California Health & Safety Code section that the city invokes refers specifically to residential facilities licensed by DSS, and only those licensed by DSS, spokesman Jason Montiel said by email.

“The City of Newport Beach appears to apply the term ‘residential facilities’ broadly and that it should be used for all types of facilities, including those licensed by DHCS, in determining the overall potential overconcentration of facilities in a given neighborhood. This interpretation … does not align with the statutory definition of ‘residential facility.’”

The Legislature specifically defined residential facilities as “any family home, group care facility, or similar facility determined by the department, for 24-hour nonmedical care of persons in need of personal services, supervision, or assistance essential for sustaining the activities of daily living or for the protection of the individual.”

DSS may not license DSS facilities within 300 feet of one another. But they apparently can set up right next door to an addiction treatment facility licensed by DHCS, no problem.

The law does allow local governments to request license denials, Montiel said. DSS “will be examining the facts to see if there is an overconcentration violation of HSC §1520.5.”

Is a lawsuit brewing?

“Los Angeles area airports,” we type into myriad search engines, staring blankly at the choices.

SoCal residents have many more choices than most. There’s the gargantuan LAX, where you can nab direct flights all over the world. The large John Wayne Airport, with those thrillingly steep ascents but often steeper prices. There’s the medium-sized Hollywood Burbank and Ontario and little Palm Springs and Long Beach, a charming time machine back to 1955.

Spoiler alert: No SoCal airport emerged as No. 1 in its category on the annual North America Airport Satisfaction Study by consumer data firm J.D. Power. But they’re doing better.

For related story, see: Favorite Southern California airport? Ontario makes its case

The survey measures overall traveler satisfaction with terminal facilities, arrivals/departures, baggage claim, the security experience, check-in/baggage check and food, beverage and retail choices. It slices them into mega (including LAX), large (John Wayne) and medium (Hollywood/Burbank) categories.

So how’d they do? Drum roll, please:

• In 2021, LAX ranked 15th among North America’s 20 mega airports. In 2022, it dropped to 18th. This year, it climbed up to 14th. So it’s getting better, even as construction erupts all around.

• In 2021, with the pandemic raging, there wasn’t enough sample to rank John Wayne. But Orange County’s airport won the silver medal in 2022 and 2023, holding on to second place among all 27 large airports. Nearby San Diego International trailed way behind at No. 23.

• In 2021, there wasn’t enough sample for Ontario either. But in 2022, Ontario ranked eighth among its 18 medium-sized peers, while this year, it nabbed the bronze at No. 3 in North America, among 16 peers.

• In 2021, there also wasn’t enough sample to rank Hollywood Burbank. But in 2022, it ranked last among North America’s medium-sized airports, climbing to second-to-last place this year.

Passenger loads at Palm Springs and Long Beach are too small to make the survey, officials at J.D. Power said.

Who were the big winners? No. 1 spots went to Detroit Metropolitan in the mega category; Tampa International in the large category; and Indianapolis International in the medium category.

When it comes to on-time performance among SoCal airports, LAX was tops for on-time arrivals and second only to wee Palm Springs International for on-time departures (which isn’t really a fair fight), according to federal data we crunched in the spring.

Stars, works-in-progress

We caught up with Michael Taylor, managing director of travel, hospitality and retail at J.D. Power, while he was sitting aboard a plane at San Diego International.

Mega LAX saw improvements across the board this year. Some of that is because some construction is getting closer to completion, but there may be backsliding as other construction projects get underway.

“LAX is just about the biggest construction project in the history of Los Angeles, including building the 405 and the 101,” Taylor said as flight announcements blared. “The way LAX is laid out, in a giant horseshoe, was great when it had 40 million passengers. It’s not so great with 80 million passengers. They’re building that people mover — but you have to look at the natural tendencies of Southern Californians to get in the car and drive where they want to go.”

Though LAX’s overall rank was toward the bottom half for mega airports, it ranked in the upper half for food and beverage offerings, the survey found.

Hollywood Burbank did not fare well among its medium-sized brethren. It’s one of the more difficult airports to access, it’s in desperate need of upgraded food and beverage offerings and the terminal also needs upgrading, travelers said.

Meanwhile, John Wayne is a star in the large airport category.

It’s got solid food, beverage and retail offerings, is relatively easy to navigate, has decent parking right beside the airport — and it’s had a serenity makeover. Extraneous TV screens have been removed. The volume of announcements has dropped. It’s decorated in a calming taupe pallet. It has one of the smoothest TSA experiences, does well in the baggage claim department and can lay claim to having seized the No. 1 spot in years past.

“Compared to LAX, it looks fantastic,” Taylor said.

John Wayne Airport Director Charlene Reynolds was delighted with the feedback.

“We are pleased that our efforts to elevate the guest experience are reflected in the customer satisfaction survey,” she said in a prepared statement. “The positive recognition we have received from guests and travel industry experts is a testament to our attention to detail.”

LAX hopes to compete in that category.

The airport is in the midst of a $30 billion “guest-centric modernization” that will be the catalyst for increased passenger satisfaction, said Tomi Brent, a manager with Los Angeles World Airports, in a prepared statement.

“Through thoughtfully designed infrastructure, curated concessions, advanced baggage technology, smart parking and other industry-leading advancements, LAX is creating world-class travel experiences that leave a lasting, positive impression on our guests,” Brent said.

But not everyone much loves the rankings.

“Hollywood Burbank Airport does not currently subscribe to the J.D. Power Airport Satisfaction report. A paid subscription includes detailed information about results and methodology — where, when and how passengers are surveyed, and how many passengers take part. Since we don’t have access to that data, we aren’t in a position to accurately comment on BUR’s ranking,” said spokeswoman Nerissa Sugars by email.

For the record, Taylor said some 28,000 people are queried for the survey.

Busy season

The airline industry continues to heal pandemic-inflicted wounds and pent-up demand continues to drive traffic ever higher. The wise advice is, as always, to shop early, aim for off-peak days and, unfortunately, prepare to pay more.

The good news is that you’re likely to have a better airport experience than before.

Despite the stresses of travel’s resurgence and the crush of passengers and bags, airport satisfaction is on the upswing just about everywhere, the survey found. Even New York’s LaGuardia, long one of the most miserable hellholes in the nation, has invested heavily in modernization and is reaping big praise. We hope some of that pixie dust spills onto Newark International.

Happy passengers spend a lot more money at the airport, Taylor said.

The most recent data from the U.S. Bureau of Transportation Statistics reports that the number of flights rose 2.5% in July over the same month last year, and that U.S. airlines carried 87.8 million passengers. When adjusted for seasonality, July enplanements are up 0.3% from June and down 6.0% from the all-time high reached in January 2020, it said.

Price Waterhouse Cooper predicts that the summer travel boom will continue into winter, with travel-related spending increasing a healthy 12% over last year.

Earlier this month, LAX hit a milestone: 111,017 passengers screened, about 3% more than were screened pre-pandemic in 2019 (107,675).

“The fall travel season is already taking off at the highest levels since 2019, and LAX looks forward to more record-setting days as we welcome passengers into the Thanksgiving and winter holidays,” Bea Hsu, interim CEO of Los Angeles World Airports, said in a prepared statement.

Oy! We’ve been warned. I need to get the kid home from college for Thanksgiving. And back to school again. And then home again for the winter holidays. And then the whole family to Florida to see my 96-year-old father. And then the kid back to college. …

I’ll be lucky if I only spend 12% more than last year. Fire up the credit cards, and happy holidays!

Updated 10/20 with comment from LAX

Editor’s note: Because of incorrect information supplied by J.D. Power, rankings for Ontario International initially were not included. They were added Oct. 23, 2023.

Outside, major changes are underway.

Southern California Edison’s Doug Bauder, a San Clemente resident who has overseen the teardown of the plant since 2018, will retire at the end of October, and Fred Bailly will take the helm. Bailly was vice president of decommissioning for Westinghouse, overseeing its worldwide commercial decommissioning business. He’ll bring an international perspective to the major issue remaining at San Onofre: the safe storage of spent nuclear fuel until the federal government pulls itself together and finds the waste a permanent home.

A changing-of-the-guard is underway at San Onofre’s volunteer Community Engagement Panel — meant to give locals a voice in the teardown and answer their questions — as well. CEP Chair David Victor, professor at UC San Diego’s School of Global Policy and Strategy and long the public face of the CEP, has left the panel. He’s replaced by Daniel Stetson, a longtime member who heads The Nicholas Endowment, created by Broadcom co-founder Henry Nicholas III and his wife to support the advancement of science, education and the arts.

The CEP’s next meeting is a virtual affair, from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. Oct. 26. Bauder and Bailly will both be there, and there will be updates on spent fuel transportation plans and the dismantlement process itself (which we’ll preview in just a moment, thank you Nuclear Regulatory Commission). The CEP meeting will be on Microsoft Teams, and details on how to join are at https://bit.ly/3tzW3K3.

Public comment sessions have been known to devolve into personal attacks and misinformation, but a worker used one to reveal a serious issue with a stuck canister that Edison hadn’t publicly reported. Meetings have calmed down now that all the spent fuel is entombed in dry storage, but controversy remains about how long the waste will remain on the bluff, the coming dismantlement of spent fuel pools and the eventual release of the filtered water that once cooled the super-hot fuel rods into the ocean.

Greater radiation

A lot has happened since the reactors were powered down in 2012 after a radioactive leak in its new steam generators that were supposed to give it decades more life.

Forty of the plant’s 62 buildings are gone.

Some 285 million pounds of low-level waste and debris have been transported off-site.

Some 70 canisters filled with spent fuel rods are encased in the “concrete monolith” dry storage system, awaiting that new federal home. Two more canisters are slated to join them, filled with radioactive material from the reactors’ guts.

The NRC’s most recent inspection report details how that’s going.

“The contractor was actively segmenting the reactor vessel internals in both containments (domes),” the NRC said. “The vessel internals were being segmented, in part, to separate the different classes of wastes for disposal. In Unit 2, the contractor was actively cutting the lower core shroud core plate and lower core support columns….In Unit 3, the contractor was cutting the lower support cylinder, part of the lower support assembly.”

That work, however, was behind schedule, because the components located in the lower levels were more radioactive than originally anticipated, the NRC said. That means the lower components must be cut into smaller pieces for packaging and disposal.

Workers were preparing to remove the reactor coolant pump motors, pressurizers, steam system piping and steam generator insulation, the NRC report said. They’re also constructing temporary ventilation systems, removing trash and debris, and preparing to drain and decontaminate spent fuel pools.

Future work will include construction of a material handling facility — to provide a controlled environment for future loading of radioactive waste into shipping containers — and cleanup of an oily waste sump.

“The inspectors concluded that the contractors were conducting the work in accordance with approved site procedures,” the NRC said.

Edison spokeswoman Liese Mosher likened decommissioning to the intricacies of conducting an orchestra. “We’re making progress,” she said.

‘SOS’

Deep distrust remains among some of Edison’s most ardent critics, and the documentary “SOS – THE SAN ONOFRE SYNDROME: Nuclear Power’s Legacy” gives it full voice.

Reaching back into San Onofre’s troubled past — a workplace environment that had some workers reluctant to report safety concerns to their bosses in 2010, the $671 million steam generator debacle that led to the plant’s shutdown in 2013, the “near miss” that left a 50-ton canister filled with nuclear waste resting on a metal guide ring near the top of the 18-foot-deep vault for nearly an hour in 2018 — it follows a squad of activists who paint terrifying portraits of what might happen as nuclear waste remains on the bluff over the blue Pacific.

The specters of Fukushima and Chernobyl are raised on a backdrop of tense music, but the comparison is off. Both nuclear plants were actively splitting atoms when their tragedies occurred; San Onofre hasn’t split atoms for more than a decade.

The issue here is the waste. San Onofre’s isn’t cooling in fuel pools that require power and water to keep things under control, but rather in dry storage, in the “concrete monolith,” where it waits in steel canisters inside steel silos inside rebar-reinforced concrete 3 to 4 feet thick all around for a permanent burial place.

Everyone wants the waste removed from San Onofre — an earthquake zone within 50 miles of some 8 million people — as quickly as possible. That, however, is something that Congress must make happen. The feds promised to accept commercial nuclear waste for permanent disposal by 1998; they have accepted exactly none.

Mosher said that Edison has addressed the issues raised in the film and is focused on ensuring the safe storage of the fuel and working for a long-term federal solution.

We caught up with Victor, former chair of the CEP, in Dubai, where he was working on energy transformation and the global economy with the World Economic Forum. As head of the CEP, the was often the target of suspicion and frustration.

“People are upset with the company and the larger situation, and the place they get to vent that concern is at the Community Engagement Panel,” said Victor, who mostly kept his cool. “It’s a volunteer job that comes with a lot of visibility, and when people are upset, it often gets focused on you. But you can help steer the process. I’d say we mostly did that.”

An academic, Victor said he learned more about politics through the CEP than anything he has done. He saw, at a granular level, people’s distrust of institutions and how it impacts those institutions. He also gained an enormous amount of respect for local politicians.

“From them, especially early on, I learned how to take incoming fire, how to sit people down and have a conversation and listen,” Victor said. “I am really in awe of them. Washington might not be functioning, but we’re doing well on the local front.”

Victor will continue to engage on the policy side, organizing communities around the country to push for a long-term federal solution to the waste storage problem.

Stetson, the new chair, is glad for that. He spent decades at the Ocean Institute in Dana Point and was hopeful when a call from Edison’s president came in nearly a decade ago — to donate more money for the Ocean Institute’s adopt-a-class program, he thought.

Instead, he was offered a spot on the CEP. His wife said he was crazy, but he accepted. When he was offered the chair, she said he was crazy again, but he accepted. “I have a problem saying no,” he said.

The tenor has calmed down at the CEP meetings now that spent fuel is in dry storage and the risk profile has greatly diminished. But there are still important topics to cover — including next week, when officials from the U.S. Department of Energy update folks on rail cars that will be used (someday) to transport waste to an interim or final resting place.

Stetson hopes to have more in-person meetings, so folks can have more detailed discussions before and after official proceedings.

“One thing I’ve really tried to do is to introduce elected officials to the situation, make them aware of the need to move forward with legislation and get this problem solved,” Stetson said.

Good luck to us all.

There’s a scandal rocking the animal rescue world a wee bit south of here. Seems the San Diego County Humane Society transferred hundreds of small furries to the Humane Society of Southern Arizona in August — which then transferred them to “a single, unaccredited, anonymous organization.”

Oops. Now no one knows what ultimately happened to 250 of those animals, which include guinea pigs, rats, hamsters and rabbits. What they do know is that a relative of the man who runs that “single, unaccredited, anonymous organization” owns a reptile farm that sells frozen and live animals for snake food.

“Our leading theory, and most people’s leading theory, is that these animals ended up as food for reptiles,” said Gary Weitzman, the president of the San Diego Humane Society, on Fox5.  “We hope it’s not the case, but it’s impossible to think otherwise.”

There are lawyers involved. Investigations underway. The Southern Arizona Humane Society’s CEO and its chief programs officer lost their jobs. San Diego officials are demanding a detailed accounting of the names and contact information for everyone who took custody of those animals, along with “an answer to the question we all are asking — how could a ‘small family run’ rescue group do what virtually no other shelter or rescue group would be able to do: adopt out 250 small animals in a matter of weeks?”

There’s a situation in Orange County that’s not exactly parallel, but has similar story elements.

A small herpetology rescue has taken possession of more than 830 animals from Orange County Animal Control since last year. More than 700 of them were rodents, rabbits and fowl, county data shows.

Those animals did not wind up as snake food, the rescue and Orange County Animal Control told us. But once the rescue — Southern California Herpetology Association & Rescue — hands off the animals to schools, programs, re-habbers, etc., it is no longer involved, “as these animals are not our ‘specialty,’” SoCal Herpetology told us.

The lack of detail on what happens down the line makes some local animal activists uncomfortable. They can’t quite figure out how a small group has managed to place so many small animals, especially without an onslaught of social media pleading for adopters.

We were able to find just a couple of online postings of adoptable bunnies, rats, hamsters, etc. from SoCal Herpetology this year. OCAC spokeswoman Jackie Tran found a couple as well.

It was the dearth of online “please adopt!” activity that prompted San Diego officials to look further into the fate of the animals it sent to Arizona, which resulted in the scandal it’s dealing with today. That doesn’t seem to be the case here.

“OC Animal Care takes all reports of animal cruelty seriously and considers using adoptable pets as a feed source to be cruel,” Tran said by email. “If specific allegations are raised against any of the adoption partners affiliated with OC Animal Care, they would undergo an investigation, and if the claims were substantiated, appropriate legal action would be pursued.”

Before forming partnerships with rescue groups, “we thoroughly conduct due diligence, allowing us to be well-informed,” Tran said. “Specifically with SCHA&R, the rescue underwent thorough research, leading us to see their active involvement in the community and their expertise.”

Though there are no specific legal mandates for partners to provide documentation on what happens to animals down the line, “we maintain ongoing conversations with our adoption partners and regularly receive updates on animal placements from many,” Tran said.

Folks are encouraged to immediately report suspected animal cruelty or neglect to 714-935-6848, she said.

We asked the county supervisors, who oversee OCAC, if looking into what happens after a rescue hands off animals to third parties might be worthwhile, but heard a lot of crickets.

Kim Murrell, president of Save SomeBunny rescue, has some ideas.

“Most rescues in OC (including SoCal Herp) are 501(c)(3) non-profits. When we get shelter pull rights, we have to prove to OCAC that we are legit, and the paperwork filed with the state says what our mission is,” she said by email. “In order to prevent misuse of pull rights, and even the appearance of impropriety, the shelter could only allow a rescue to pull (i.e. take without paying a fee) the type of animal they are officially organized to rescue.”

OCAC could allow a rescue to pull another type of animal — if it pays the regular adoption fee, she suggested.

“In my view, the shelter has a responsibility to vet a rescue before releasing animals to them,” Murrell said. “If the herp society is just pulling for other rescues, those rescues should be vetted.”

Students at Chapman University’s Dale E. Fowler Law School started planning a symposium back in the spring — an annual project of the student-run Diversity and Social Justice Forum, which seeks to avoid the echo chamber of ideas and provide a forum for a wide range of voices.

All this planning was to culminate on Thursday, Oct. 12, with a keynote speech on “Islamaphobia and Intersectionality in the Law in the United States” by Khaled Beydoun, a law professor at Arizona State University. Beydoun is also the author of “The New Crusades: Islamophobia and the Global War on Muslims” and “American Islamophobia: Understanding the Roots and Rise of Fear.”

Last weekend, Hamas attacked Israel. Israel responded. “They want you to believe that: Arab = Muslim = Palestinian = Hamas,” Beydoun posted on X (formerly Twitter). “This enables the mass bigotry and racism we’re witnessing now. Orwell would be proud.”

Also: “Children dying on either side is abhorrent. It’s that simple.”

Officials at Chapman worried. Having Beydoun speak in the current climate could be seen as insensitive and could even be unsafe, students were told on Tuesday, Oct. 10. Beydoun’s speech would be dropped, but the event would move forward with panel discussions.

Some students were aghast. They mounted their best case to have the symposium continue as planned, with Beydoun. On Wednesday, Oct. 11, Fowler Law School Dean Paul Paton sent an email to students saying the entire symposium would be postponed until the spring, when the situation in the Middle East will have hopefully calmed down and Beydoun’s speech might be better received.

This outraged some students even more. It sends a troubling message that critical conversations and diverse perspectives can be set aside in the face of adversity, and that meaningful discourse is expendable in the face of challenging circumstances, one of them told us.

Yes, they understand the sensitivity of what’s unfolding in Israel and Gaza. But times like this are precisely when we need to have difficult conversations and consider different viewpoints, they said.

Chapman’s Paton said the decision was made after “extensive and thoughtful consultation.”

“As a community of law students, law professors and alumni committed to the rule of law, our members — whatever their political perspective — have been outraged and saddened by the violent attack by Hamas on Israel last weekend and its aftermath,” he wrote to the law students.

“We understand Professor Beydoun’s disappointment at the postponed opportunity to promote his work and the short notice of this decision. … We are deeply concerned about the significant potential for Professor Beydoun’s message and the related panel discussion not to be received appropriately; interpreted solely through a lens of current events; or worse, to be actively disrupted at this student-run, student-led event.”

Paton personally extended the offer to reschedule to Beydoun “at a time when there is a climate more favorable to civil discourse.”

“Our primary concern remains squarely on the physical and mental welfare and safety of our students, and want to ensure that the time, energy and effort of the Diversity and Social Justice Forum Symposium student leaders have put into organizing this academic symposium will be realized as the success they originally envisioned. Chapman remains committed to academic freedom and free speech and to student conduct policies, which stipulate that harassment, discrimination and the promotion of violence have no place in our community.”

It’s unclear if Beydoun will agree to come in the spring. His spokesman said he’s inundated with requests right now.

Meantime, Beydoun is passionately trying to counter the notion that all Gazans, all Palestinians, are terrorists. “There would be no Hamas without the occupation,” he posted. “There would be no ISIS without the illegal war in Iraq. Vile actors are born from even more vile acts and the contexts they sow.”

His voice certainly provides food for thought. What do you think? Did Chapman do the right thing?

It was the first day of California’s “paradigm shift” on how it treats severely mentally ill people, many of whom are homeless. The CARE Act — for Community Assistance, Recovery, and Empowerment — kicked off in Orange, Riverside and five other counties, allowing doctors, licensed therapists, first responders and family members to file petitions with the court, asking for housing and services for people who are gravely mentally ill.

It appears folks are proceeding cautiously. Orange County Superior Court’s CARE court received four petitions as of mid-day Friday, said spokesman Kostas Kalaitzidis. Riverside County Superior Court received two petitions, but has gotten eight referrals to its Behavioral Health CARES line, said spokeswoman Brooke Federico.

Details on who filed the petitions — medical professionals? social workers? parents? — were not yet available, and CARE court proceedings are not matters of public record.

The counties will, however, compile detailed reporting for the state, which will guide the program as it rolls out in Los Angeles County in December, and in the rest of the state next year.

Orange County expects some 1,400 petitions to be filed the first year — about 27 a week —  while Riverside anticipates some 450 to 800 petitions the first year, or some eight to 14 a week.

The program has been deeply controversial. Opponents argue that people should be free to chart their own course without government intervention. Supporters argue that civilized societies don’t allow mentally ill people to live and die on public streets.

Officials insist that no one will be treated against their will.

What happens now that petitions have been filed? They’ll be reviewed by a judge, and an evaluation by mental health experts may be ordered.

To qualify, the ill person must be at least 18 years old, experiencing severe untreated mental illness (diagnosed as a schizophrenia spectrum disorder or other psychotic disorder), not clinically stabilized or in ongoing voluntary treatment, and in deteriorating condition, unlikely to survive safely without supervision.

What happens if the ill person qualifies? A CARE plan will be drafted and must be approved by the court. It would furnish medical treatment, stabilizing drugs, counseling, psychotherapies, peer support and, crucially, a housing plan, or whatever pieces of that are needed.

CARE plans can last up to 12 months, and be extended for another 12 months if necessary. The idea is to head off stints in jails and psychiatric hospitals, loss of legal rights through conservatorship and, ultimately, death. The goal is recovery and independence, officials have said.

There are some 7,000 to 12,000 people in California who have severe psychosis, officials said.