California sold CARE Court as a fix that would get the most troubled people into treatment and off the streets. The concept let family members, first responders, doctors, and others petition a court for help, with the option of voluntary care or a judge-ordered plan. The branding sounded serious and compassionate.

The scoreboard tells another story. Nearly $160 million in taxpayer dollars has gone out the door, yet the program has reached fewer than 550 people. Petitions totaled just 2,421, nearly half were dismissed, and only 14 cases ended in court-ordered treatment.

Coverage shows entire counties filing nothing, and San Francisco tossing nearly two-thirds of the petitions it received. Counties even staffed up for demand that never arrived—San Diego hired almost two dozen clinicians and psychologists for a wave that did not materialize. The gap between promise and performance is breathtaking.

Spending kept climbing while outcomes lagged. The state poured tens of millions into CARE Court across consecutive fiscal years. Even the Assembly Judiciary Committee called CARE Court a “very expensive way to direct participants to much-needed services and assistance.”

Families who fought for the program feel betrayed. “I look at it as a total failure,” said Anita Fisher, a mother who once backed the effort because her son suffers from severe mental illness. Her verdict reflects what Californians see on their commutes, at parks, and outside small businesses every day.

The broader homelessness picture is grim. Analysts report California has spent roughly $24 billion on the crisis since Newsom took office, yet the state still hit a record 187,000 homeless individuals, close to a quarter of the nation’s total. The price tag goes up while encampments, overdoses, and violence scar communities.

Newsom’s team insists the critics are wrong. “CalMatters doesn’t get it. Through referrals and diversions as part of CARE Court’s design, thousands of severely mentally ill people are finally getting treatment and care — and getting off our streets,” said Tara Gallegos, the governor’s deputy communications director. “CARE Court is saving lives and making communities safer.”

Those claims clash with the numbers at hand. If thousands are being helped, the program’s own petition counts, dismissals, and court orders don’t show it. Voters aren’t looking for spin; they want proof that dangerous encampments are gone and vulnerable people are stabilized.

Program mechanics also miss the hardest cases. Paper petitions do little when drugs like fentanyl and meth are driving psychosis and crime. Courts cannot order beds that don’t exist, and “voluntary” compliance collapses on the sidewalk when addiction and untreated illness rule daily life.

Conservatives warned precisely about this outcome: vague metrics, heavy bureaucracy, no accountability, and no urgency. California needs real consequences for open-air drug markets, mandatory treatment pathways that actually hold, and the bed capacity to make orders stick. Anything less is theater.

Leadership matters. When Washington, D.C., got a focused surge on crime, carjackings and violent offenses dropped fast. That same willpower—backed by clear authority and relentless follow-through—is what California’s cities need on mental health and homelessness. Results, not press conferences, change streets.

California can fix this, but only if it dumps failure and chooses accountability. Stop paying for programs that don’t deliver. Build treatment capacity, enforce the law, protect neighborhoods, and measure success by people restored and streets made safe. Put families and public safety first—and refuse to spend another dollar on broken promises.