I honestly feel awful using this 2023 screen grab as the petition’s header image—I don’t want to trigger anyone. But I do hope it makes people think twice before brushing this off, including those I’ve reached out to who probably think I’m crazy for still pushing this years later.

So what am I actually asking for? It’s a lot. But for today, don’t focus on me. Just read the logs. Look at the sheer volume of emergencies this one place had to outsource because they couldn’t keep people safe. And then consider the outcome: a mother who will never see her son again.

That alone should make you pause. It should make you grateful—grateful that you’re even here to read this, maybe with your own family nearby. Some people, because of this place, won’t ever have that chance again.

And to the people like me who are still pushing this? It’s because I could’ve been one of those stories too. I was kicked out and had to somehow make things work with barely $100 to my name. I ended up doing last-minute beach photoshoots just to get by—hearing surprised reactions from people who knew me when I reached out asking for help, who, let’s be honest, probably assumed I was just asking for money to gasp buy drugs. The stigma of being SOL when you didn't have to be in the first place, and then some. 

I was wandering neighborhoods where serious crimes had occurred, completely unaware at the time. I later learned—from an attorney at Maney Gordon—that others had been victims of violent crimes in those very areas. There I was: a rural, small-town person unfamiliar with big-city danger, dragging my luggage around, still dazed from medication, and definitely not in great shape emotionally or mentally.

That alone is negligence. And frankly, I’m lucky to be alive. Thank God I had some street smarts, was in decent shape, and—let’s be real—intentionally looked a little intimidating. That probably saved me.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SPz3T680AjEz6lwk54QLviuY2n_XgoIg/view?usp=sharing

I just found the Hillsborough log of all the 911 calls I paid for back in 2023. That might not sound huge to some, but trust me—it is. Every dollar counts these days. It always did, but now more than ever, the price of even small efforts toward advocacy is being fully felt. So I’m really relieved and happy that I found the old records instead of having to pay for new ones.

I’ll be attaching all of them here so people can see just how many calls were made during a specific period of time. If you look through the rest of this petition, you’ll notice this is a concern that’s come up before. These records are from when I inquired, and while I can’t say for sure if the same conditions exist today, the people who were there when I was—and even before me—deserve acknowledgment. They lived through it. They saw and felt the danger every day on campus.

It feels like this doesn’t really concern people because of the odds. Maybe it’s easy to say, “Well, 60 attendees did fine,” and ignore the 25–40 who relapsed and didn’t. Or the 2 or 3 who died—possibly every year—for over a decade.   Possibly more that are swept under the proverbial rug.  

What about the people who were kicked out, left early, and immediately relapsed? That cycle isn’t talked about nearly enough. Many treatment centers label individuals as “high risk” when they first arrive—yet still end up discharging them for reasons that, in many cases, could have been worked through. So which is it? Are they high-risk and in need of support, or just too much trouble to keep around?

Maybe the real issue is inadequate resources and support systems from the start. It makes you wonder whether going at all was ever the right decision. Once you walk through those doors, something shifts—the power dynamic changes. You're placing your body, your health, and your life into the hands of people who claim to be professionals. That care costs thousands of dollars, often isn’t fully covered by insurance, and is only free to those in absolute crisis. Meanwhile, many people are suffering just below that threshold—still in need, still struggling—but forced to pay amounts they can barely afford.

Since when did loss of human life become so seemingly nonchalant? Shouldn’t people be outraged that this happened under their watch—especially when you realize they present themselves as a treatment or medical center, yet use corporate structures to shield themselves from accountability?

Of course, you’re not really allowed to know the full details of each call, but I guarantee that in this era, the majority of these were people responding to fentanyl overdoses and other life-threatening emergencies, or individuals in severe episodes being rushed to real hospitals—sometimes, unfortunately, not in time. Some might say, “So what? You don’t want them to call 911?” That’s not the point. The point is this clearly isn’t a safe environment if they have to rely on 911 for all serious emergencies—something that happens all the time, and often too late.