A Fine Fiddle with Opioid Funds

Nevada’s Latest Budgetary Jamboree

Nevada, ever a pioneer in getting the short end of the stick, has found itself awash in a mighty heap of cash—some $870 million, to be precise—courtesy of the opioid reckoning. The windfall–wrung from the trembling hands of big drug companies after their enthusiastic peddling of despair, was meant to mend the broken, patch the wounded, and, one supposes, buy a mountain or two of Narcan.

But if history has taught us anything, it’s that when politicians get their paws on a pile of money, their sense of direction becomes as reliable as a drunkard in a dust storm. With its unerring instincts, the legacy media is pounding the governor’s door with accusations of fiscal mischief as Attorney General Aaron Ford’s handling of the money remains a mystery wrapped in an enigma and stashed in a government office somewhere.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, that great oracle of doom and statistics, has reported that while opioid deaths fell nationally by nearly 24 percent between 2023 and 2024, Nevada boldly bucked the trend with an 11.3 percent increase. That makes it one of only five states determined to prove that misery loves company, as nearly 1,500 souls perished from overdoses in the 12 months leading up to October, and a solid 969 of them were due to opioids.

Despite this bleak landscape, the state’s two-year budget proposal has raised the hackles of opioid advocates, who claim that $10 million of the settlement funds are getting used in a way that defies the very agreements designed to keep the money from being frittered away on the general slush of government spending. It’s not the first time a financial windfall got into the darkened depths of government.

One need only look back at the tobacco settlement funds, which, rather than fighting the very industry that sickened millions, found their way into a college scholarship program and a grab bag of general healthcare spending. Lessons learned? Perhaps not.

Under the 2021 law governing Nevada’s opioid funds, the money is supposed to be strictly devoted to abating the opioid crisis—no exceptions, no diversions, no cleverly worded budgetary sleight-of-hand. Yet, advocates have flagged some eyebrow-raising expenditures: $5 million tucked into Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF), $2.5 million for extended foster care, and even $85,000 for minority health office staffing. Worthy causes, no doubt, but precisely how these expenditures abate an opioid crisis remains a riddle for the ages.

However, the bespoken $10 million could buy about 700,000 doses of Narcan, the life-saving drug that reverses overdoses. Instead, some of that money is going to upgrade a maximum-security youth facility–because nothing says opioid relief quite like sturdier prison walls.

During a recent budget committee hearing, Assembly Speaker Steve Yeager grilled officials on how moving the opioid money into TANF squares with the spirit of the law. The answer, given with the usual bureaucratic aplomb, boiled down to a vague assertion that the funds would support families affected by substance abuse—how, exactly, was left to the imagination.

Chief Deputy Attorney General Mark Krueger, tasked with ensuring these funds get properly used, did his best to assuage fears but acknowledged that if the money strays too far afield, there could be repercussions. And yet, if history is any indication, consequences for misappropriating such windfalls tend to be as rare as a politician declining a campaign donation.

As lawmakers trudge forward, poring over budget sheets and legal agreements, one thing remains certain: the $870 million meant to heal a wounded state is slipping through the cracks. Whether it will be spent on addiction recovery or swallowed whole by the endless hunger of government bureaucracy remains to be seen.

If the past is any guide, we may look back on the settlement, wondering not where the money went but why we even expected it to get properly used.