Last year, David Lee was living on Atlanta’s streets, sleeping on a cardboard box and begging for change outside of a QuikTrip. That was until one day when a police officer approached him as Lee laid on the ground in the rain.
The officer asked what he was doing to which the Atlantan — who was struggling with substance abuse issues — responded: “I’m trying to get clean.”
Instead of taking Lee to jail, the officer called the Policing Alternatives and Diversion Initiative, also known as PAD, Atlanta’s original pre-arrest diversion program that helps vulnerable residents get back on their feet.
“Can you imagine what it’s like to navigate an addict (or) an alcoholic, back into society?” Lee said recently at the podium in the City Hall chamber. “To this day, I live a good life. God placed PAD in my life. I’ve been blessed now with 17 months clean and sober.”
Lee is one of dozens of people who have descended on Atlanta City Hall for the past two months advocating for the city to renew its contract with the PAD, which was founded in 2017 as part of an effort to reduce arrests.
PAD steps in to help residents experiencing extreme poverty, substance abuse or mental health problems through Atlanta’s non-emergency 3-1-1 line, or at the request of the police department. From January to September of this year, according its monthly reports, the program helped divert more than 230 individuals away from the justice system.
Despite its long-standing work with the city, PAD appears to be on the chopping block.
After previously approving a new contract with the diversion program in July, the partnership has yet to move forward as Mayor Andre Dickens administration weighs other options behind closed doors.
Just a few weeks ago, the city issued a request for proposal for the same services already awarded to PAD, but excluded the organization from bidding through a closed, special procurement process.
Moki Macías, PAD’s executive director, told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution that the future of their services is uncertain.
“At this point, the community response services that are provided to the city of Atlanta are funded by the city of Atlanta,” she said. “So if the city chooses to no longer fund these services, our teams are looking at no longer having jobs.”
A spokesperson for the mayor’s office declined to comment on the special procurement saying “it would be inappropriate to comment further during the blackout period.” But, he added that the city has invested $4.4 million annually into PAD, “doubling previous investments.”
Emails obtained by the AJC show city officials in September inquiring about other avenues Atlanta can use to provide the community-based services — even floating the idea of using Grady Hospital System for pre-arrest diversions.
Credit: Ben Gray for the AJC
Credit: Ben Gray for the AJC
Late last month, Dickens and Macías stood side-by-side as local elected officials celebrated the opening of the new Center for Diversion and Services located within the city detention center that Grady will operate.
In a Sept. 18 email to Atlanta’s Chief Operating Officer LaChandra Burks, a senior policy adviser recommended against the city expanding Grady’s diversion role beyond managing the new center.
“Grady’s purpose is provision of clinical services, as we see with their mobile crisis response unit and their co-response partnership with APD,” the email said. “They’re not a pre-arrest diversion provider and don’t respond to concerns beyond behavioral and/or mental health.”
The staff member also noted that Grady did not bid on the contract that was awarded to PAD in the spring, indicating the hospital is likely at its capacity for new programs.
At a council finance committee meeting Oct. 30, Councilman Alex Wan said he had expected to move PAD’s contract forward to be voted on by the full council, but was then notified about the special procurement by the Dickens administration, which the mayor’s office said was necessary because of the diversion center opening.
That left the PAD contract in limbo again.
“I wish I could speak more intelligently or more completely on this but again we are in a procurement and I have to be really careful about what I say or what the administration says. I do hope that PAD is participating in that special procurement opportunity,” Wan said.
Credit: Miguel Martinez
Credit: Miguel Martinez
PAD was not invited to apply for the special procurement, despite it mirroring the terms of services in the contract already awarded to the organization, according to Macías.
“That was a surprise to us, given that we are a core operational partner in the diversion center,” she said. “And we are working almost daily with the other partners to prepare for opening — we have had no indication that the scope has changed.”
The request for proposal in the special procurement asks for bids “to continue providing citywide mobile ATL311 civilian response and pre-arrest diversion beginning on or around January 1, 2025.” The documents were first obtained by the Southern Center for Human Rights through the Georgia Open Records Act.
As the debate over PAD’s future with the city continues in the mayor’s office, other advocacy and nonprofit organizations have urged City Council members to move forward with the original contract.
“PAD is well known (throughout) this country — it has been an exemplary program,” said Eve Byrd, director of the mental health program at The Carter Center. “Do not let down or let services lapse with people that have gained trust and the service that they need through PAD.”
The ACLU of Georgia also wrote a letter to city officials, urging them to approve PAD’s contract.
Atlanta resident Tanesha Door entered the City Council chamber at the Nov. 4 meeting pushing a stroller
Door, a single mother, said she was first helped by PAD when she was homeless during the pandemic, but was supported again by the program years later as she struggled to leave an abusive relationship.
“Today, I stand before you not just as a survivor, but as a mother who can now provide a safe, loving home for her children,” she said. “PAD’s support was more than just meeting basic needs. It restored my dignity and empowered me to thrive.”
“They gave me a chance,” Door said. “And I’m living proof of the difference they make.”
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