Scammers prey on families of drug addicts
Gina’s adult son is an addict who needs treatment and, at times, wants it. She’ll do anything to help him, which is how she ended up paying $3,500 to a scammer who promised to help.
“I’ve been fooled by a desperate willingness to find a different approach to help my son,” she told me. “These people are preying on parents’ vulnerability and are opportunistic in this miserable epidemic affecting our society.”
Her story is not unique. As British Columbia’s overdose crisis deepens, the number of vulnerable families being taken for thousands of dollars by unregulated “interventionists” and addiction “therapists” is rising.
Gina requested anonymity in order to preserve her tenuous relationship with her son, who has only sporadic contact with his parents.
He lives in his car and drifts in and out of their house with his girlfriend, who is also an addict.
Twice, they have turned up dirty, broke and strung out at his parents’ home. Once, his parents took both of them to emergency. They were treated and discharged without an addictions treatment plan.
Sometimes, the son has asked for help getting treatment. Gina says they usually aren’t able to find it in time, even though they are willing to pay for his care.
Through a friend, Gina heard about “interventionists.” For a price, they will help find and try to cajole substance abusers into treatment. Some will even meet families in the United States and take their children and youths into secure care in states where that is legal.
How do you find an interventionist? By using Google, because there is no provincial or national registry. Interventionists, as well as addictions counsellors and therapists, are not regulated in British Columbia. Essentially, anybody can set up a website and get to work.
Gina’s interventionist promised to try to find their son, counsel him, assess his care needs, and even get the family a reduced rate of $10,000 to $12,000 a month at a specific residential treatment centre.
He even said he might “throw in a freebie to get the girlfriend in care to get our son in,” said Gina.
If their son showed up, they were to call. Regardless of the time, the interventionist promised he would be able to come.
Gina and her husband signed a contract and gave him a cheque for $3,500 in April. The interventionist has never found or even met their son. When the son went to his parents’ home in July, they called the interventionist. He was in another province. A month later, when the son was back again, the interventionist sent someone else. The son refused to talk to him.
In the fall, the interventionist suggested a meeting to “regroup.” Gina didn’t respond to his text. She was too angry, until last week when she texted him and asked for $3,000 back. He refused.
She told him she was going to file a complaint to the Canadian Addictions Counsellors Certification Federation, of which he is a member. He threatened to sue her for defamation.
Meantime, Gina fears the worst for her son. She hasn’t heard from him in weeks.
“Scammers are out there, for sure,” says Giuseppe Ganci, Last Door Recovery Society’s community development director.
Finding an interventionist, he says “is almost like going to a fortuneteller. You don’t know if any of it is real.”
Last Door does recommend several on its website, warning that it does not endorse them, and that hiring them does not guarantee placement in its facilities.
“The one rule I have is that if the interventionist is partnered with one centre, run,” Ganci said.
The interventionist model originated in the United States. There, some interventionists have trademarked their methods. Some companies now operate nationwide. There is an Association of Interventionist Specialists. Full membership requires being certified in Pennsylvania, but associates don’t need to have any special training.
Here, the Canadian Addictions Counsellors Certification Federation does set standards and qualifications for its members. And it has a code of ethics. But without government regulations, it can’t enforce any of that.
“Something has to change. People are being hurt,” says Crystal Smalldon, the CACCF’s executive director.
Even if the CACCF finds that a member has done something wrong, unethical or even dangerous, it has no power to fine them or stop them.
“I’ve conducted these reviews numerous times and no matter how many times we discipline members, they go right back out and carry on doing what they’re doing,” says Smalldon. “We need the government to pass regulations, because with no regulation, (the disciplinary action) means nothing.”
When asked about regulating interventionists, a spokesman for B.C.’s ministry of mental health and addictions sent this emailed response:
“Regulation of a health profession is not always government’s preferred option for every occupation, nor is it appropriate in every instance where risk exists.
“In many cases, risks of harm to the public can be best addressed and managed through other means.”
What those means are isn’t clear. Meanwhile, the scammers carry on.