Stark to tackle drug abuse, mental illness in Snohomish County Human Services post

Ken Stark wasn't the most popular man in Snohomish County six years ago.

As director of the state's Division of Alcohol and Substance Abuse, Stark openly and repeatedly criticized elected county officials for refusing — for a decade — to open methadone-treatment centers for the county's estimated 3,000 heroin addicts.

This month, he takes over Snohomish County's Human Services department, a role in which he will oversee programs for substance abuse, mental health and homelessness, as well as a $35 million budget.

Longtime colleagues of the 58-year-old Stark say he brings to the job a focus on the cost and efficiency of services more associated with the private sector than with government. And he's willing to speak out when he sees a need.

"He's not afraid to stand up for what he knows is right. He's tough," said Ron Jemelka, who succeeded Stark as director of a state program charged with revamping mental-health care.

Stark also inherits a potential political minefield. He replaces Janelle Sgrignoli, who was fired by Snohomish County Executive Aaron Reardon a week before Christmas. Reardon said he wanted a new direction for the department of nearly 200 employees.

In June, the County Council, in a clear rebuke to Reardon, hired Sgrignoli to develop a plan to improve mental-health and chemical-dependency services, a plan Stark may ultimately have to implement in his new role.

It's also a plan that could come with a price tag for taxpayers. A blue-ribbon commission in January recommended that the county adopt a one-tenth of one percent sales-tax increase to fund expanded mental-health and drug- and alcohol-treatment services.

Stark has built a successful career in part by taking a conservative fiscal approach to treatment programs and by using data and research to identify need and show results.

Stark says there are cascading consequences when there is a lack of treatment options: loss of jobs, loss of housing, the breakup of families, acute medical conditions treated in expensive hospital emergency rooms, and crime, arrests and incarceration.

He said an investment of $2,500 in treatment can pay off in almost $1 million in savings in health-care and criminal-justice costs.

"Because the current system focuses on those most in need, we don't have the resources for others and we never get ahead of the game," he said.

As director of the county's Division of Alcohol and Substance Abuse (DASA), Stark hired a researcher to document how people in the system were served and what the outcome of their treatment was. He argued that better organized services could provide more effective treatment for less money, which in turn meant helping more people.

"He operates like a person in the private sector," said Toni Krupski, a researcher who worked with Stark at DASA. "He wants to know how much it costs, how much is being saved and to be able to document the results. A lot of people have vision, but that vision can cost millions."

Stark knows firsthand the devastation addiction can cause families. A native of Saskatchewan, Canada, his parents divorced when he was 11 because of his father's alcoholism. He and his sister moved with their mother to Seattle's Holly Park housing project, where almost overnight, Stark said, he was thrust from a rural environment to one charged with racial tension, drug use and violence.

He still bears a fading blue tattoo on his wrist that was administered by a gang member using a sewing needle and India ink; it's a reminder of what he was willing to do to belong. A former straight-A student, Stark dropped out of school in the ninth grade.

The spark that helped him transform his life — as evidenced by his 33-year marriage, custody of his first child and two master's degrees — came as it does to many in trouble, he said.

"I got sick and tired of being sick and tired."

Stark spent 16 years running DASA, a position that made him an advocate for methadone-treatment facilities that substitute a synthetic opiate administered in a medical setting for heroin.

He led public hearings in Snohomish County in 2002 on the need for treatment services and told county officials it was time to "step up to the plate" and serve their drug-addicted population.

It was a stance that put him at odds with many elected officials, who responded to public concerns about the potential for crime and deteriorating neighborhoods around methadone clinics. Ultimately, clinics were opened in Everett, Lynnwood and Arlington, but not without angry public meetings and protracted legal fights.

In retrospect, Stark said, the state should have provided more timely notice to cities that treatment providers were considering their jurisdictions. And, he said, he understood that city officials were representing their constituents.

Asked several times during an interview why treatment matters, Stark demurred. Yes, he said, it can save lives, save families and avert years of misery and self-destruction. But, he said, plenty of people don't care about drug addicts, and they don't want to spend public money fixing others' bad choices.

"You don't have to care about the person, just make a business decision," Stark said. "Let's pay for the treatment and not the impacts."

Lynn Thompson: 206-464-8305 or lthompson@seattletimes.com