BEMIDJI, Minn. - The man was on a rampage — naked, 300 pounds, tearing a door off its hinges and screaming deliriously into the night. When Beltrami County sheriff's deputies and Bemidji police finally cornered him, he refused their commands, and it took multiple Taser shots to finally jolt him into a snowdrift.
Working in near-zero temperatures to stabilize the man, they knew there would be no good outcome for another person suffering a mental breakdown in a community where emergency psychiatric care is scarce. After doctors assessed him at a hospital emergency room, he was booked into the Beltrami County jail.
"Another case of criminalizing the mentally ill," said Sheriff Phil Hodapp. "And we have to put that man in the jail because there's no other place for him to recover."
Today, Hodapp finds himself among a group of judges, prosecutors, public defenders and social workers supporting a plan at the state Legislature to transform the way Minnesota treats the mentally ill on the front-end of the criminal justice system.
The bipartisan bill would create four regional "jail diversion hubs" — short-term, quick treatment centers for mentally ill adults arrested for relatively minor crimes.
The $8 million proposal, sponsored by Sen. Barb Goodwin, DFL-Columbia Heights, is modeled on a nationally recognized program in Orlando. It diverts mentally ill people to a 100-bed hub where they receive diagnosis and immediate treatment rather than languishing in jail — a drive-through facility that immediately frees law enforcement officers to return to work on major crimes.
If the bill passes, one of the 16-bed hubs is likely to be located in Bemidji, seat of one of Minnesota's poorest counties, where daunting issues of homelessness and chronic drug abuse plague the city's mentally ill. The Beltrami County jail can hold up to 120 inmates, and it is nearly full every day. On any day, about 80 percent of those inmates have a history of mental health problems, Hodapp said.
"If that man suffered a heart attack, he'd be in the hospital, and we'd spend tens of thousands to save his life," Hodapp said, referring to the 300-pound man sitting in a cell, a block from his office. "But because he's mentally ill, you can see how he's treated and where he ended up. I hate to use the word, but I call that 'crazy.' "