Mothers Against Drug Addiction & Deaths

09/24/2026

This week, my son reached 17 months sober.

17 months of daily miracles.

17 months of showing up, doing the hard work, and choosing—again and again—to keep finding his way forward.

And now he’s helping other people find their way, too. There’s something beautiful about watching the person who once needed a hand become someone who can offer one.

Son, I am so proud of you—not because every day has been easy, but because you kept fighting your way back to yourself and to the family who loves you endlessly. We are here, cheering you on, grateful for every day, and so glad you’re home with us.

Seventeen months. One day at a time. And so much love.

09/21/2026

Presley Ge**er was only 27 years old.

He was Cindy Crawford and Rande Ge**er’s son and Kaia Ge**er’s big brother. He was also a young man who struggled with his mental health and addiction—and who made the brave decision not to pretend otherwise.

Addiction loves secrecy. It convinces people to hide, and families to keep smiling for the photograph while everything behind the photograph is falling apart. Presley could have kept his struggles private. He had every reason to protect the polished version of his life. Instead, he talked about treatment, recovery, fear, and what it was like to keep trying when trying had already worn him out.

When someone speaks honestly about addiction, another person hears it and thinks, Maybe I’m not the only one. A mother hears it and realizes this is happening in other families, too. Shame loosens its grip, even if only for a moment.

As Executive Director of Mothers Against Drug Addiction and Deaths, I wish I could say love is always enough. It should be. But families who have walked this road know the terrible truth: you can love someone with your whole heart and still be unable to save them.

Presley’s official cause of death has not been released, and an autopsy remains pending. We will not speculate. His life deserves more care than that.

Today, I am thinking about his family and the grief they are waking up inside. And I am thinking about the people Presley may have helped simply because he was willing to tell the truth about what he was going through.

That was a gift.

Rest in peace and rise in glory, Presley.

09/14/2026

💔one pill can kill you 💔

09/12/2026

Last night at Bimbo’s 365 Club was one of those rare San Francisco evenings—velvet curtains, chandeliers, a little glamour, and conversations about the very unglamorous work of saving lives.

I was grateful to spend the evening with recovery advocate Tom Wolf, Exec Director Steve Adami, Mayor Daniel Lurie, Senator Scott Wiener, Sheriff Miyamoto, Director Kunal Modi, and Supervisor Matt Dorsey, who generously invited me. Matt speaks openly about his own recovery and continues to advocate for meaningful changes that can give people struggling with addiction a genuine chance to recover.

There will always be political disagreements. That is democracy, and occasionally indigestion. But addiction does not ask how someone voted before it takes hold of a life. Fentanyl does not check party registration. And grieving mothers do not bury Democrats or Republicans. We bury our children.

MADAAD is proudly nonpartisan because this crisis requires all of us: elected leaders, families, people in recovery, healthcare professionals, law enforcement, service providers, and ordinary citizens willing to care about someone they may never meet.

I will work with anyone who is serious about reducing suffering, restoring accountability, expanding effective treatment, and helping people find their way back to health and dignity. We may not agree on every road, but surely we can agree that leaving people sick, suffering, and dying on our streets is not compassion—and it is not a plan.

Last night reminded me that progress often begins this way: people with different experiences and perspectives gathering in the same room, listening to one another, and deciding that the loss of another human life is not inevitable.

Thank you, Supervisor Matt Dorsey, for including me—and for continuing to bring the hard-won wisdom of recovery into San Francisco’s public conversation.

The work continues. And so does hope.

09/01/2026

09/01/2026

Last night, MADAAD held our 5th annual A Light for Every Life vigil at San Francisco City Hall for International Overdose Awareness Day.

We gathered to remember the nearly 800 people who have died from overdose in San Francisco since the beginning of 2025.

They weren’t a number.

They were sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors. They were loved. So we made a light 🕯️ for every life.

And something beautiful happened along the way. College students passing City Hall stopped and asked if they could help make luminaries. Our dear friend baked dozens of homemade cookies for grieving families and volunteers. Small acts of kindness that didn’t feel small at all.

We heard from people in recovery, grieving parents, law enforcement, public health officials and city leaders. We may not always agree on every solution, but we can agree on this: we cannot accept people suffering and dying on our streets as normal.

MADAAD was also deeply honored to receive a Certificate of Honor from the San Francisco Board of Supervisors recognizing our work. We never began this work hoping to be recognized. We began because something terrible was happening to our children and our city, and somebody had to stand up and say, this cannot become normal.

Looking at these photographs, we see grief. But we also see hope.

We see strangers making luminaries. Families carrying the memory of their children. People in recovery standing beside them. City leaders listening. A community showing up. And hundreds of little lights glowing on the steps of City Hall.

Maybe that’s what hope looks like.

We remember those we’ve lost, and we keep working for those who are still here. 💜

A light for every life. Always.

08/23/2026

I’m grateful to KRON 4 for giving us the opportunity to talk about A Light for Every Life and why this night matters so deeply.

Behind every overdose statistic is a name. A face. A family. Someone who was loved, and someone who is still missed.

That is why we gather. Not to remember how they died, but to honor how they lived—and to remind our city that no life should disappear into a number.

On August 30, we will light San Francisco City Hall with a light for every life. 💜

If addiction or overdose has touched your family, please come stand with us. Bring their name. Bring their memory. We will remember them together.

As International Overdose Awareness Day approaches, 'A Light for Every Life' event honors those lost to overdose.

08/22/2026

Tonight in San Francisco, MADAAD had the privilege of attending the world premiere of “Building Home” — a documentary about author Jared Klickstein’s journey through addiction, homelessness, and recovery.

It asks a question we think about all the time: What does it really take to help someone choose recovery, choose life?

It takes more than a roof. It takes treatment It takes people who refuse to give up on you. Mix that in with Accountability, Community, and the stubborn belief that a human being is still in there, even when addiction has done its very best to convince everyone otherwise.

Dr. Drew Pinsky moderated the conversation afterward, alongside people doing the difficult work of moving people from the streets toward recovery and a life worth living.

And we got to spend the evening with some of our favorite fellow travelers in this work — people who understand that compassion isn’t simply making suffering more comfortable. It’s believing people are capable of something better, and then helping them get there.

MADAAD is grateful to Jared, Beyond Homeless, the Independent Institute, and everyone who helped tell Jared’s story.

Recovery is possible. People can come home. ❤️

04/30/2026

Today MADAAD toured San Francisco’s new RESET Center at 444 6th Street.

This is the city’s newest attempt to respond to the fentanyl crisis—an alternative to jail or the ER for people arrested for public intoxication, designed to stabilize them, monitor them, and ideally connect them to treatment. It’s a 24/7 facility, overseen by the Sheriff’s Office with health staff onsite, and run by Connections Health Solutions as part of the Mayor’s “Breaking the Cycle” initiative.

Walking through it, you can see the intention.

It’s clean. Structured. Calm.
Chairs for observation. Intake rooms. Staff presence.
A space that is trying to say: “You matter enough to be cared for.”

And that matters.

For too long, we’ve had people cycling between sidewalks, ERs, and jail cells with no real interruption in the pattern. This is an attempt—finally—to insert something different.

And we are hopeful.

But we would be failing our community if we didn’t say this clearly:

It is not enough.

This is a pilot program, focused only on SOMA—one of the hardest-hit areas in the entire country. It has limited capacity (around two dozen beds), and it is designed primarily as a short-term sobering and stabilization site—not long-term treatment.

What we saw today is a system that can pause the crisis for a few hours…
but not yet one that can break it.

Because the real gap isn’t just getting people off the street for a night.
It’s what happens next.

* Where do they go when they leave?
* How quickly can they access real treatment?
* What happens to those with severe fentanyl addiction who need more than observation?
* And how do we scale something like this when the need is citywide—not just one neighborhood?

We’ve seen versions of this before. Some helped. Some didn’t.
And the difference always comes down to one thing:

Do people actually get connected to meaningful, ongoing care?

That’s the measure. Not intake. Not appearances. Outcomes.

There’s also a harder truth here that people don’t want to talk about:

This model starts with arrest.

People are brought in involuntarily, held until they are sober, then released—hopefully with a connection to services.

That’s a significant shift in San Francisco’s approach. And whether you agree with it or not, we need to be honest about what it is—and whether it truly leads to recovery, or just another version of the same cycle.

So here’s where we land tonight:

We are encouraged.
We are watching closely.
And we are not lowering the bar.

Because our goal is fewer funerals.
Fewer mothers burying their children.
More people actually making it to recovery—and staying there.

RESET is a start.

But if we stop here, we will fall short of the very people this was built to serve.

— MADAAD