How one Denton County judge is fighting the fentanyl crisis

DENTON COUNTY, Texas — In a third-floor court docket in the Denton County Courthouse, Judge Steve Burgess is in price. 

But one Wednesday every month, he stocks his court docket with a couple of hundred faces. 

Burgess decorates his court docket with posters that includes the names and faces of native women and men who died from medication. 

“Last year, I had over 25 cases in this court that I closed because of suicide and overdoses,” Burgess advised WFAA with a tear streaming down his face. “All directly related to drugs.”

In truth, the crisis is worsening such a lot, Burgess mentioned, he now helps to keep naloxone at his bench.

“I’ve got two doses here, two needles, um, rubber gloves and all that,” he mentioned as he confirmed WFAA his Narcan package.

“The bailiff and the different workforce are skilled right here. We wheel folks out of this court docket…on a gurney,” he mentioned.

That’s why Burgess continues to guide a program for first-time drug offenders. If they whole the program effectively, first time offenders can get their fees got rid of from their report.

To prevail, Burgess defined, they will have to move a variety of random drug checks over a six-month duration, attend a category, and are available to court docket when it’s embellished with the posters. The first-time offenders, he defined, take a look at the sufferers’ faces and concentrate to their family members talk. 

“I have four children, and this is my baby, Abigail,” Adolph Alvarez advised the workforce of first-time offenders, status subsequent to a poster of his daughter.

“Take this program,” he implored them. “And make a change. Make a reset.”

Burgess advised WFAA he and the family members communicate to those first-time offenders, “because we don’t want to be talking to a gravestone,” he cried.

In an effort to succeed in them, Judge Burgess even talks about his personal loss.

“That…was my baby sister…” he advised the court docket throughout the program March twenty second. “She died at 50, wearing fentanyl patches.”

“It cost me something to be here,” Alvarez added. “The loss of my daughter.”

Sharon Roland’s son, Randy, died of an overdose too.

“[This program] does make me feel closer to him,” she advised WFAA as she sat subsequent to her son’s poster.

“It gives a great purpose. It’s an opportunity for [first time offenders] to make a change…an opportunity for them to take a different path, and not end up here with a poster in a court like this.” 

The program is for members 17 and older, however the moderate age, Burgess’ workforce mentioned, is between 17 and 30 years outdated. 

Burgess mentioned about 500 folks have participated in the seven years since the program started.

The program additionally provides first-time offenders sources about rehabilitation facilities and nonprofits they are able to move to for assist.