Lee County could get $161K from national opioid settlement

Six regional distributors agreed to pay more than $97.6 million to local governments across the country, including a one-time cash payment to Lee County. A Lee County spokesperson said it's unclear how much money the county will get, but estimates put it around $161,000.

Opioid overdoses rose 800% in Lee County between 2013 and 2017, according to Lee Health. The state adopted legislation regulating pain clinics and created a prescription drug-monitoring program. Meanwhile, local governments spent millions of dollars on treatment and prevention programs.

The county is part of other opioid settlements, according to a spokesperson. It's used other settlement funds to support the Human & Veteran Services program, which helps people who are homeless, or at-risk of becoming homeless.  

"[Addiction] always starts with a root cause issue that being typically trauma in someone's past, where they find relief from this emotional pain that they're feeling inside," said Daniel Regan, CEO of Calusa Recovery, a Fort Myers treatment center.

"It's like this slow snowball effect that someone falls into the realm of addiction, and then before they know it, their life has become completely unmanageable."

Regan said the settlement money should go towards grassroots organizations like Kimmie's Recovery Zone that provide transitional housing and job training. That includes the peer program, which connects people with resources like transitional housing and job training. It’s staffed by people who once struggled with addiction, like U.S. Army veteran Pedro Nunez. 

"Once I left the military, I needed I needed chaos that I could control," Nunez said. "You know, I missed being overseas. I missed that identity, so opiates was my thing." 

Nunez said he overdosed multiple times and wound up in jail before he got help. A hospital connected Nunez with Kimmie's Recovery Zone and St. Matthew's House, where he became a case manager.

Nunez, now sober, said that experience helps him connect with people who walk through the door. 

"He doesn't want to hear your certifications or your credentials. He wants to know if you ever been hungry, angry, lonely, tired. He wants to know if you've ever been sick from withdrawing from opiates," Nunez said. He wants to know if you've eaten out of a dumpster, you know? So when, when a peer can see that I did it, it gives them hope that they can do it."