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In California, opioid settlement money helps fund lifesaving drugs and police projects

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In California, opioid settlement money helps fund lifesaving drugs and police projects

Sonja Verdugo lost her husband to an opioid overdose last year. She regularly delivers medical supplies to people using drugs who are living — and dying — on the streets of Los Angeles. And she advocates at Los Angeles City Hall for policies to address addiction and homelessness.

Yet Verdugo didn’t know that hundreds of millions of dollars annually are flowing to California communities to combat the opioid crisis, a payout that began in 2022 and continues through 2038.

The money comes from pharmaceutical companies that made, distributed or sold prescription opioid painkillers and which agreed to pay about $50 billion nationwide to settle lawsuits over their role in the overdose epidemic. Even though a recent Supreme Court decision upended a settlement with OxyContin maker Purdue Pharma, many other companies have already begun paying out and will continue doing so for years.

California, the most populous state, is in line for more than $4 billion.

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“You can walk down the street and you see someone addicted on every corner — I mean it’s just everywhere,” Verdugo said. “And I’ve never even heard of the funds. And to me, that’s crazy.”

Across the nation, much of this windfall has been shrouded in secrecy, with many jurisdictions offering little transparency on how they’re spending the money, despite repeated queries from people in recovery and families who lost loved ones to addiction.

Meanwhile, there’s plenty of jockeying over how the money should be used. Companies are lobbying for spending on products that range from medication bottles that lock to full-body scanners to screen people entering jails. Local officials are often advocating for the fields they represent, whether it’s treatment, prevention, or harm reduction. And some governments are using it to plug budget gaps.

In California, local governments must report how they spend settlement funds to the state’s Department of Health Care Services, but there’s no requirement that the reports be made public.

KFF Health News obtained copies of the documents via a public records request and is now making available for the first time 265 spending reports from local governments for fiscal year 2022-23, the most recent reports filed.

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The reports provide a snapshot of the early spending priorities, and tensions.

Naloxone an early winner

As of June 2023, the bulk of opioid settlement funds controlled by California cities and counties — more than $200 million — had yet to be spent, the reports show. It’s a theme echoed nationwide as officials take time to deliberate.

The city and county of Los Angeles accounted for nearly one-fifth of that unspent total, nearly $39 million, though officials say that since the report was filed they’ve begun allocating the money to recovery housing and programs to connect people who are homeless with residential addiction treatment.

Among local governments that did use the cash in the first fiscal year, the most popular object of spending was naloxone, a medication that reverses opioid overdoses and is often known by the brand name Narcan. The medication accounted for more than $2 million in spending across 19 projects.

One of those projects was in Union City, in the San Francisco Bay Area. The community of about 72,000 residents had five suspected fentanyl overdoses, two of them fatal, within 24 hours in September.

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The opioid settlement money “was invaluable,” Corina Hahn, the city’s director of community and recreation services, said in her report. “Having these resources available helped educate, train and distribute the Narcan kits to parents, youth and school staff.”

Union City bought 500 kits, each containing two doses of naloxone. The kits cost about $13,500, with an additional $56,000 set aside for similar projects, including backpacks containing Narcan kits and training materials for high school students.

Union City also plans to expand its outreach to homeless people to fund drug education and recovery services, including addiction counseling.

Those are the sorts of lifesaving services that Verdugo, the Los Angeles advocate, said are desperately needed as deaths of people living on the streets pile up.

She lost her 46-year-old husband, Jesse Baumgartner, in June 2023 to an addiction that started after he was prescribed pain medications for a high school wrestling injury. He tried kicking his habit for six years using methadone, but each time prescribers lowered his dosage the cravings drove him back to illicit drugs.

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“It was just this horrible roller coaster of him not being able to get off of it,” Verdugo said.

A woman holds a framed photograph of a man and a woman

Sonja Verdugo lost her 46-year-old husband, Jesse Baumgartner, in June 2023 to complications from an opioid addiction. She’s now a community organizer for Ground Game LA.

(Arlene Mejorado / For KFF Health News)

By then the couple had survived 4½ years of being homeless and had been in stable housing for about two years.

Fentanyl use, particularly among homeless people, “is just rampant,” she said. People sometimes are initially exposed to the cheap, highly addictive substance unknowingly when it is mixed with something else.

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“Once they start using it, it’s like they just can’t backtrack,” said Verdugo, who works as a community organizer for Ground Game LA.

So she leaves boxes of naloxone at homeless encampments in the hope of saving lives.

“They definitely use it, because it’s needed right then — they can’t wait for an ambulance to come out,” she said.

Cities backtrack on spending for law enforcement

By contrast, the cities of Irvine and Riverside listed plans to prioritize law enforcement by buying portable drug analyzers, though neither city did so in the first fiscal year, 2022-23. Their inclination mirrored patterns elsewhere in the country, with millions in settlement funds flowing to police departments and jails.

But such uses of the money have stirred controversy, and both cities backed away from the drug analyzer purchase after the Department of Health Care Services issued rules that opioid settlement funds may not be used for certain law enforcement efforts. The rules specifically excluded “equipment for the purpose of evidence gathering for prosecution, such as the TruNarc Handheld Narcotics Analyzer.”

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In Hawthorne the police department had already spent about $25,000 of settlement funds on an initial installment to buy 80 BolaWraps, devices that shoot Kevlar tethers to wrap around a person’s limbs or torso.

After the state said BolaWraps were not an allowable expense, the city said it would find other funding sources to pay the remaining installments.

Santa Rosa, in California’s wine country, spent nearly $30,000 on police officer wellness and support.

The funds allowed the police department to boost its contracted wellness coordinator from a part-time to a full-time position, and to buy a mobile machine to measure electrical activity in the brain, said Sgt. Patricia Seffens, a spokesperson.

The goal is to use the technology on police officers to help “assess the traumatic impact of responding to the increasing overdose calls,” Seffens said in an email.

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In Dublin, east of San Francisco, officials are using part of their $62,000 settlement for a DARE program.

DARE, which stands for Drug Abuse Resistance Education, is a series of classes taught by police officers in schools to encourage students to avoid drugs. It was initially developed during the “Just Say No” campaign in the 1980s.

Studies have found inconsistent results from the program and no long-term effects on drug use, leading many researchers to dismiss it as “ineffective.”

But on its website, DARE cites studies since the program was updated in 2009, which found “a positive effect” on fifth- graders and “statistically significant reductions” in drinking and smoking about four months after completing the program.

“The DARE program when it first came out looks a lot, lot different than what it looks like right now,” said Nate Schmidt, the Dublin police chief.

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Schmidt said that additional settlement money will be used to distribute naloxone to residents and to stock it at schools and city facilities.

Other local governments in California spent modest sums on a wide range of addiction-related measures. Ukiah, in Mendocino County, north of San Francisco, spent $11,000 for a new heating and air conditioning system for a local drug treatment center. Orange and San Mateo counties spent settlement funds in part on medication-assisted treatment for people incarcerated in their jails. The city of Oceanside spent $16,000 to showcase drug prevention art and videos made by middle school students in local movie theaters, public spaces, and on buses and taxis.

The Department of Health Care Services said it plans to release a statewide report on how the funds were spent, as well as the individual city and county reports, by year’s end.

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What’s in a Name? For These Snails, Legal Protection

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What’s in a Name? For These Snails, Legal Protection

The sun had barely risen over the Pacific Ocean when a small motorboat carrying a team of Indigenous artisans and Mexican biologists dropped anchor in a rocky cove near Bahías de Huatulco.

Mauro Habacuc Avendaño Luis, one of the craftsmen, was the first to wade to shore. With an agility belying his age, he struck out over the boulders exposed by low tide. Crouching on a slippery ledge pounded by surf, he reached inside a crevice between two rocks. There, lodged among the urchins, was a snail with a knobby gray shell the size of a walnut. The sight might not dazzle tourists who travel here to see humpback whales, but for Mr. Avendaño, 85, these drab little mollusks represent a way of life.

Marine snails in the genus Plicopurpura are sacred to the Mixtec people of Pinotepa de Don Luis, a small town in southwestern Oaxaca. Men like Mr. Avendaño have been sustainably “milking” them for radiant purple dye for at least 1,500 years. The color suffuses Mixtec textiles and spiritual beliefs. Called tixinda, it symbolizes fertility and death, as well as mythic ties between lunar cycles, women and the sea.

The future of these traditions — and the fate of the snails — are uncertain. The mollusks are subject to intense poaching pressure despite federal protections intended to protect them. Fishermen break them (and the other mollusks they eat) open and sell the meat to local restaurants. Tourists who comb the beaches pluck snails off the rocks and toss them aside.

A severe earthquake in 2020 thrust formerly submerged parts of their habitat above sea level, fatally tossing other mollusks in the snail’s food web to the air, and making once inaccessible places more available to poachers.

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Decades ago, dense clusters of snails the size of doorknobs were easy to find, according to Mr. Avendaño. “Full of snails,” he said, sweeping a calloused, violet-stained hand across the coves. Now, most of the snails he finds are small, just over an inch, and yield only a few milliliters of dye.

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Video: This Parrot Has No Beak, But Is at the Top of the Pecking Order

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Video: This Parrot Has No Beak, But Is at the Top of the Pecking Order

new video loaded: This Parrot Has No Beak, But Is at the Top of the Pecking Order

Bruce, a disabled kea parrot, is missing his top beak. The bird uses tools to keep himself healthy and developed a jousting technique that has made him the alpha male of his group.

By Meg Felling and Carl Zimmer

April 20, 2026

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Contributor: Focus on the real causes of the shortage in hormone treatments

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Contributor: Focus on the real causes of the shortage in hormone treatments

For months now, menopausal women across the U.S. have been unable to fill prescriptions for the estradiol patch, a long-established and safe hormone treatment. The news media has whipped up a frenzy over this scarcity, warning of a long-lasting nationwide shortage. The problem is real — but the explanations in the media coverage miss the mark. Real solutions depend on an accurate understanding of the causes.

Reporters, pharmaceutical companies and even some doctors have blamed women for causing the shortage, saying they were inspired by a “menopause moment” that has driven unprecedented demand. Such framing does a dangerous disservice to essential health advocacy.

In this narrative, there has been unprecedented demand, and it is explained in part by the Food and Drug Administration’s recent removal of the “black-box warning” from estradiol patches’ packaging. That inaccurate (and, quite frankly, terrifying) label had been required since a 2002 announcement overstated the link between certain menopause hormone treatments and breast cancer. Right-sizing and rewording the warning was long overdue. But the trouble with this narrative is that even after the black-box warning was removed, there has not been unprecedented demand.

Around 40% of menopausal women were prescribed hormone treatments in some form before the 2002 announcement. Use plummeted in its aftermath, dipping to less than 5% in 2020 and just 1.8% in 2024. According to the most recent data, the number has now settled back at the 5% mark. Unprecedented? Hardly. Modest at best.

Nor is estradiol a new or complex drug; the patch formulation has existed for decades, and generic versions are widely manufactured. There is no exotic ingredient, no rare supply chain dependency, no fluke that explains why women are suddenly being told their pharmacy is out of stock month after month.

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The story is far more an indictment of the broken insurance industry: market concentration, perverse incentives and the consequences of allowing insurance companies to own the pharmacy benefit managers that effectively control drug access for the majority of users. Three companies — CVS Caremark, Express Scripts and OptumRx — manage 79% of all prescription drug claims in the United States. Those companies are wholly owned subsidiaries of three insurance behemoths: CVS Health, Cigna and UnitedHealth Group, respectively. This means that the same corporation that sells you your insurance plan also decides which drugs get covered, at what price, and whether your pharmacy can stock them. This is called vertical integration. In another era, we might have called it a cartel. The resulting problems are not unique to hormone treatments; they have affected widely used medications including blood thinners, inhalers and antibiotics. When a low-cost generic such as estradiol — a medication with no blockbuster profit margins and no patent protection — runs into friction in this system, the friction is not random. It is structural. Every decision in that chain is filtered through the same corporate profit motive. And when the drug in question is an off-patent estradiol patch that has negligible profit margins because of generic competition but requires logistical investment to keep consistently in stock? The math on “how much does this company care about ensuring access” is not complicated.

Unfortunately, there is little financial incentive to ensure smooth, consistent access. There is, however, significant financial incentive to steer patients toward branded alternatives, or simply to let supply tighten — because the companies aren’t losing much profit if sales of that product dwindle. This is not a conspiracy theory: The Federal Trade Commission noted this dynamic in a report that documented how pharmacy benefit managers’ practices inflate costs, reduce competition and harm patient access, particularly for independent pharmacies and for generic drugs.

Any claim that the estradiol patch shortage is meaningfully caused by more women now demanding hormone treatments is a distraction. It is also misogyny, pure and simple, to imply that the solution to the shortage is for women’s health advocates to dial it down and for women to temper their expectations. The scarcity of estradiol patches is the outcome of a broken system refusing to provide adequate supply.

Meanwhile, there are a few strategies to cope.

  • Ask your prescriber about alternatives. Estradiol is available in multiple formulations, including gel, spray, cream, oral tablet, vaginal ring and weekly transdermal patch, which is a different product from the twice-weekly patch and may be more consistently available depending on manufacturer and region.
  • Consider an online pharmacy. Many are doing a good job locating and filling these prescriptions from outside the pharmacy benefit manager system.
  • Call ahead. Patch shortages are inconsistent across regions and distributors. A call to pharmacies in your area, or a broader geographic radius if you’re able, can locate stock that your regular pharmacy doesn’t have.
  • Consider a compounding pharmacy. These sources can sometimes meet needs when commercially manufactured products are inaccessible. The hormones used are the same FDA-regulated bulk ingredients.

Beyond those Band-Aid solutions, more Americans need to fight for systemic change. The FTC report exists because Congress asked for it and committed to legislation that will address at least some of the problems. The FDA took action to change the labeling on estrogen in the face of citizen and medical experts’ pressure; it should do more now to demand transparency from patch manufacturers.

Most importantly, it is on all of us to call out the cracks in the current system. Instead of repeating “there’s a patch shortage” or a “surge in demand,” say that a shockingly small minority of menopausal women still even get hormonal treatments prescribed at all, and three drug companies control the vast majority of claims in this country. Those are the real problems that need real solutions.

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Jennifer Weiss-Wolf, the executive director of the Birnbaum Women’s Leadership Center at New York University School of Law, is the author of the forthcoming book When in Menopause: A User’s Manual & Citizen’s Guide. Suzanne Gilberg, an obstetrician and gynecologist in Los Angeles, is the author of “Menopause Bootcamp.”

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