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Kentucky father takes son to court: ‘It had to be done or we would have lost our son’
Paul Peterson, a Southern Baptist minister, stood in front of a bedroom closet and picked out burial clothes for his 25-year-old son. Black slacks, black-on-black striped shirt, black tie.
Matt Peterson, a professional cook who was battling a heroin addiction, wasn't dead. But his dad, who hadn't heard from him in two months, had a nightmare and feared the worst.
"We constantly worried," Paul Peterson said. "We had no idea where he was."
Matt was homeless, sleeping in his car and living off a daily supply of heroin and stolen peanut M&Ms.
In 2011, Paul and his wife used a Kentucky state law called "Casey's Law" to convince a judge to order their adult son into addiction treatment.
Ultimately, it's what saved Matt's life.
"I knew it had to be done or we would have lost our son for good," Paul Peterson said.
These cases are confidential, heard in closed courtrooms. But the Peterson family agreed to share their story to help others.
Matt's journey to sobriety wasn't quick. It included jail stints and a yearlong relapse, but Matt, now 32, is doing well — a turnaround he credits to the state law he once opposed.
"I was completely broken, hopeless, no direction," he said. "Just empty."
Even some addiction specialists still insist that forced treatment won't work. But Matt and others who credit Casey's Law with saving their lives say their journeys show that sobriety through court intervention is possible.
Now, Matt is helping spread the word through a video promoting Casey's Law.
By the end of September, court data shows, judges signed more than 440 orders for involuntary treatment.
"Because my parents filed Casey's Law, I'm alive," Matt said. "I think it should be used more often."
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Matt's drug use began early. He and his buddy were struck by a van crossing the street when he was in the seventh-grade, injuring Matt's back. A doctor prescribed the 11-year-old the pain medicine Vicodin at a time when doctors didn't fully understand the addiction risks of opioids. Matt got more Vicodin a few years later when his wisdom teeth were pulled.
Matt liked the way he felt on the narcotic, so he and his friends began to crush and snort pain pills while drinking in high school. Initially, they did this once a month. Eventually, Matt did it every day.
"I didn't know opioids could basically take over your life," Matt said.
When Matt couldn't afford the price of illegal pain pills, he switched to cheaper heroin. Throughout Kentucky and the nation, that became a familiar progression that fueled the worst addiction crisis in America's history. More than 70,000 died from overdoses across the country in 2017.
Matt said he was nearly another overdose statistic: "I was willing to die before going through withdrawal and facing my family and everything I had done."
His parents now say they didn't understand the warning signs of a festering drug problem.
They began doing research on addiction and worked to stop their enabling. One time, Matt wanted gas money, but his father offered to go fill up the tank instead of handing over cash. Matt, who wanted the money for drugs, became incensed.
"Oh my goodness," his father recalled, "did he curse me out at the top of his voice right out here in the street in front of the neighbors."
A police officer in Erlanger, Kentucky, told Matt's parents about Casey's Law, named after a Kentuckian who died from a heroin overdose in 2002. Casey Wethington, 23, didn't want to go to long-term residential treatment, and his parents were told that Casey had the right to refuse.
Casey's mother, Charlotte Wethington, a retired educator, became a "mom on a mission" and pushed state legislators to create an involuntary addiction treatment law in 2004, enabling other parents to get their adult children help before its too late.
Matt's father, then a hospice chaplain, and his mother, an office manager at an animal hospital, filed a Casey's Law petition in 2011 to force their son to face a judge. The judge's order for Matt to enter involuntary treatment was one of 36 Casey's Law orders that year, according to data from the state Administrative Office of the Courts.
Matt remembers cursing and shouting. "I didn't understand how they had the right to do that. 'Who are you to intrude on my life?'"
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The law requires two independent health evaluations that find that the patient is addicted to drugs or alcohol. Matt knew he couldn't win over his family physician, who was familiar with Matt's struggles. But Matt hoped to fool the second doctor, a mental health professional.
He told the doctor, "My parents are overreacting."
"I did my best to lie about my drug use."
That doctor wasn't fooled either. And the judge agreed to order drug treatment, or jail.
Matt's father said it was a difficult but essential step to save his son's life: "I don't think any parent wants to see their child in leg irons and handcuffs and in an orange suit."
Matt agreed to get help, completing 10 months in a residential recovery program. But when he walked out of the center, he was worried.
"All of my sobriety had been spent in jail or in rehab," he said. "And rehab was a bubble, very structured and safe."
He remembers thinking, "OK, there's life. I haven't been sober since I was 12. Now what?"
He worked as a cook at a restaurant, where he estimates that half the staff abused drugs. He relapsed after a series of challenges, including learning of his grandfather's death and his young son's heart problem.
Matt drove to Cincinnati to find heroin, stopping in a Kroger parking lot to shoot up. An officer saw him and took him to jail. He ended up detoxing in jail. When he was released, he sought a sponsor and AA meetings, knowing his parents were ready to file another Casey's Law petition.
Matt has learned healthy ways to cope with stress and physical pain. He leans on his "sober friends," his family and his renewed Christian faith. He also exercises daily and said he is pain free due to exercises to strengthen his back muscles and regular stretching. He started a meal prep business and authored a book about his recovery, "BACK ON TRACKmarks: A Journey from Dope to Hope," which references Casey's Law.
"We are so proud of him, so grateful," Paul Peterson said.
Matt has remained drug free for more than six years.
He said he now appreciates even small moments with his four children, his new bride and his parents, whom he once viewed as adversaries.
Reporter Beth Warren: bwarren@courier-journal.com; 502-582-7164; Twitter @BethWarrenCJ. Support strong local journalism by subscribing today: courier-journal.com/bethw.
HOW TO GET HELP THROUGH CASEY'S LAW
Loved ones who want to petition a judge to order drug or alcohol addiction treatment can get more information at caseyslaw.org. It also includes a link to an informative video. Guidance and encouragement can be found from the more than 1,600 members of the Casey's Law Facebook group, but you must request to join as it's closed.
A video featuring Matt Peterson and others who credit Casey's Law with saving their lives can be found on YouTube. It's called "Casey's Law Speaking Hope for Recovery."
A very detailed online step-by-step guide has been created by the office of Jefferson County Attorney Mike O'Connell, who lost his son Matt — a war veteran — to heroin, cocaine and alcohol. Google "Jefferson County" and "Casey's Law" to go to the website.
For those concerned that a loved one needs help, a key guide to treatment can be found at findhelpnowky.org.
