Let’s start with the good news on a bad bill under consideration at the Legislature: Gov. Jared Polis is adamantly opposed to it. So, while HB24-1028 is still on the calendar for a vote by the Colorado House of Representatives, the word around the Capitol is it won’t go very far.

The bill attempts to resurrect a preposterous proposal that keeps resurfacing year after year — authorizing so-called “overdose prevention centers.” The centers, sometimes sugar-coated as “safe-use sites,” would allow drug addicts to get their fix with the blessing of local authorities and the oversight and assistance of medical professionals.

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The bill’s absurd premise — courtesy of the “harm reduction” movement and its legalize-everything agenda — is that addicts are less likely to overdose if properly supervised when they shoot up or pop a pill.

Of course, they’re a lot more likely to stay hooked as a result and, ultimately, to OD anyway.

Local communities still would have to authorize the centers if the proposal were to become law, but Denver already has done so and some other municipalities might buy into the upside-down thinking behind the policy. They just need the state’s OK, first.

Polis sees the big picture, which is why he brought down the hammer on the notion last fall. He made his displeasure known to an interim legislative committee at work on the issue, and it backed off of endorsing the bill. Which means the bill’s introduction in January by members of the Democratic fringe — despite the opposition of a Democratic governor and at least some of the Democratic legislative leadership — makes it a rogue effort. Meanwhile, its lead sponsor who introduced it in the state House, radical Rep. Elisabeth Epps, D-Denver, has made a lot of enemies within her own party’s caucus through her antics on assorted issues.

Why bother addressing it, then, if it’s likely doomed? Because it enjoys a lot of support in some policymaking circles, especially in drug-friendly states like Colorado. Also, because it reflects the core tenets of the “justice reform” movement, which has taken hold of the Legislature and helped usher in an epic crime wave with wide-ranging criminal-coddling policies. Put another way, HB 1028 is so reckless, it warrants debunking yet another time.

The overdose-prevention centers really ought to be called assisted-suicide centers. They lure addicts deeper into their addictions with sterile needles and expert guidance, prolonging their agony. And if users don’t overdose at one of the centers, they eventually will do so under a bridge; in a tent in a homeless camp; maybe in a public library’s restroom.

There’s no doubt Colorado has been experiencing an addiction crisis. It’s a cause of crime and is the root of much of the chronic homelessness on our streets. Addiction tears apart families, renders addicts unemployable and ruins lives. It undermines our youth at school. And it kills.

Тhat’s all the more why the response must be to move addicts into rehab — not to aid and abet their addictions. To help perpetuate in any way one of the most crippling and destructive maladies in our society is cynical and cruel.

How about offering addicts a new lease on life, instead? Some tough love might be in order, perhaps using criminal charges for possession to leverage court-ordered diversion to rehab.

In other words, instead of feeding their habit, help them kick it — and rebuild their lives.

Denver Gazette Editorial Board