How I reported on the rocky rollout of California’s latest ‘tough-on-crime’ ballot measure

When California voters overwhelmingly approved a tough-on-crime measure that promised to usher in an “era of mass treatment,” experts and advocates were skeptical that the law would alleviate mounting frustrations over homelessness and public drug use.

One of the main concerns was a shortage of mental health and addiction programs for drug defendants. Some critics, including Gov. Gavin Newsom, condemned Proposition 36 as a regression to punitive drug policies of the past. The measure’s backers, meanwhile, blamed the governor and state lawmakers for failing to set aside money to implement the new law. 

With my project for the 2025 California Health Equity Fellowship, I aimed to conduct an early analysis of how well the measure was fulfilling its treatment promises in the Bay Area during its first six months. In doing so, I hoped to provide policymakers, providers, judges, prosecutors and local communities insight into how to help ensure the new law is successful while minimizing unintended harms.  

The findings of my project called into question whether stricter felony drug possession penalties imposed under the law are effective tools for propelling users into care, and if the region’s already overburdened treatment centers had capacity for even the limited number of people agreeing to programs.

I found that in the six months after the measure took effect in mid-December, Bay Area prosecutors filed roughly 600 felony drug possession cases. But only about 60 homeless people and others in the region had agreed to treatment under the law, in part because judges had allowed many defendants to go on probation rather than wait — sometimes for weeks — in custody for a scarcely available treatment bed. At the same time, prosecutors in some counties brought only a handful of Prop 36 drug cases, highlighting the discretion local district attorneys have in charging decisions.

The first challenge I faced in reporting my project was requesting charging and treatment data from 16 counties across California. (I sought to gather data for the nine-county Bay Area, as well as seven other large counties in Southern California and elsewhere in the state, for comparison.)

That meant filing dozens of public records requests to county superior courts, district attorneys' offices and public health departments. I maintained a spreadsheet detailing which agencies I submitted requests to and how far along officials were in fulfilling them. I logged the data into a master spreadsheet while cataloging the raw data files in folders for reference.

Maintaining an organized data system was crucial for identifying which agencies had missed deadlines for producing records or needed to provide clarification about their data. It also allowed me to quickly understand how different counties were implementing the law, informing the focus of my project.

Just as important as gathering that data was finding a homeless person charged under Prop 36 to humanize my project by illustrating the specific ways the law was impacting someone who had lived on the street with addiction.

This turned out to be my greatest reporting challenge. At first, I contacted advocates to connect me with a source, but it soon became clear they were unable or unwilling to help. Next, I asked superior courts to provide specific case numbers for Prop 36 charges, but was told that would violate state privacy laws.

That left me with two remaining paths: manually searching through court records for a personal phone number or email address, or showing up in court in hopes of identifying a defendant during a hearing. I began pursuing both approaches, spending hours at courthouse computers copying contact information in police reports attached to Prop 36 case files, and attending dozens of arraignments and preliminary hearings.

But most of my phone calls and emails went unanswered. And when I approached Prop 36 defendants in court, they were often still in custody, and I was unable to speak with them from where I sat in the public gallery. Defendants out of custody declined to talk to me on the record, and sometimes public defenders appeared to eye my presence in the courtroom with suspicion. 

Finally, one of the phone numbers I identified led me to Rebekah Jessen, whose boyfriend, Craig McClarnon, was being held on Prop 36 charges in Santa Clara County after being arrested for possessing methamphetamine. She told me McClarnon was interested in speaking with me for the story, and I soon visited him in the county jail. 

From behind a thick plexiglass window at the jail, McClarnon described what led him to use drugs, and how he ended up behind bars again after years living on the street. In a series of collect calls, McClarnon proceeded to tell me how he had agreed to enroll in an addiction program, but shared his frustration over waiting weeks in custody for a treatment bed to become available. He said he was considering serving out his sentence and returning to homelessness. 

Reporting McClarnon’s story and gathering the charging and treatment data were essential to ensuring my project had a real impact on local communities. Securing both required the time, planning and support that wouldn’t have been possible without the USC fellowship. 

In addition to laying the groundwork for my continued coverage of Prop 36 and other criminal justice issues, my fellowship experience has helped me understand exactly what goes into reporting a successful long-term project – and given me new confidence to pursue high-impact pieces in the future.