Sitting slumped against the back door of a tiny Lemmon Avenue home, it appears the man is simply napping in the afternoon sun.

But patrol officer Joshua Twedt of the Rapid City Police Department suspects it's more than that. After a call from the home's resident, a dispatcher notified Twedt there was a disturbance at the house. Pulling on a pair of gloves, Twedt approaches.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"Nothin'," the man, Steve Hall, responds, squinting at the officer.

Twedt asks Hall to stand up. He stands up, listing slightly to one side.

"How much did you have to drink today?"

"A half-gallon of vodka."

Explaining that the home's resident doesn't want him there, Twedt guides the man towards his patrol car.

As they walk, Twedt asks Hall where he lives and reaches out a hand to steady Hall on the rough ground.

"I'm cool," Hall says, shrugging off Twedt's help. He says home is in Rapid Valley.

Explaining that he needs a breathalyzer test, Twedt sits Hall on the car's plastic back seat.

"I should be 'hot,'" Hall tells Twedt, obviously familiar with a preliminary breath test, commonly referred to as a PBT, used to estimate blood-alcohol levels.

A second officer arrives on the scene to support Twedt. A drunken person struck an officer in the face recently, heightening everyone's awareness of the unpredictability of some intoxicated people.

After Hall blows into the PBT's disposable tube, Twedt looks at the reading before calling dispatch to learn if there's room at the City/County Alcohol and Drug Program. The program houses Rapid City's only certified detoxification center.

Two hours into the afternoon shift, Hall was the second detox admission by police. Only a few empty beds remained, the attendant told Twedt.

Hall's breathalyzer reading was .324, four times the level at which there is a legal presumption of intoxication, when he arrived at detox and took a second PBT. His estimated blood alcohol level had climbed in the brief ride from Lemmon Avenue to the detox center on La Crosse Street, an indication that Hall would need supervision while the alcohol cleared his system, Twedt said.

After only 18 months on the job, Twedt, 24, finds himself dealing with intoxicated people more frequently than he ever imagined he would.

No one understands that better than Rapid City Police Chief Steve Allender. Allender vividly recalls his field training officer in 1985 warning him about homeless people, intoxicated people and beggars on the bike path because Mayor Art LaCroix was concerned.

Things haven't changed much in 24 years, Allender admits, but that doesn't mean the problem is ignored. It's an ongoing dilemma with no simple solutions, he said.

"This is a complicated issue," Allender said. "There will be no magic pill."

Hall was picked up in a residential neighborhood, but he was treated like any other intoxicated person law enforcement officers encounter. If someone is so intoxicated that they could be a danger to themselves or others, the preferred place to take them is detox, Allender said.

Hall's condition was assessed in the field. In the absence of someone sober to take responsibility for him, he was taken to detox because of the high breath test reading.

"I'm a piece of --," Hall muttered on the ride. "You don't understand man. You don't understand. I know I'm a piece of --."

Hall was cooperative with Twedt, but there was an instant of concern as they walked towards the admitting area. As they squeezed past a parked delivery truck, Hall slammed his hand into the truck.

Twedt grabbed Hall's arm, looked him sternly in the eye and warned him that this could be easy or hard. It was up to him - jail or detox. It's not against the law to be intoxicated in public, but it is against the law to cause a public disturbance, assault someone or aggressively panhandle.

Because public intoxication is not a crime, the options for caring for an intoxicated person are limited, according to Pennington County Sheriff Don Holloway. Jail is too expensive of a resource for housing people who are intoxicated and in most cases is not a legal option, he said.

Jail is a last resort, used only if the individual becomes combative or is arrested for a secondary offense, Holloway said.

"We don't take in people for being intoxicated," Holloway said. "If they are full at detox, the officers have to figure out another place to go with them."

In addition to detox services, the City/County Alcohol and Drug Program offers residential and outpatient services for Pennington County.

Many intoxicated individuals may appear capable of functioning, but many alcoholics, especially aging alcoholics, can have other health problems such as diabetes, cirrhosis, pancreatitis and dementia, according to Brenda Boetel, director of the program.

A basic physical and mental evaluation is part of the admission procedure.

The higher the level of intoxication, the greater the likelihood a client will suffer some kind of a withdrawal as his or her system sheds the alcohol, she said.

"We watch them, making sure there are no complications," Boetel said.

During withdrawal, some clients become depressed or suicidal.

The detox staff includes nurses and emergency medical technicians, but occasionally, a client needs more medical attention.

When necessary, a client is taken to Rapid City Regional Hospital for treatment. Some may end up at the Regional Behavioral Health Center.

Like Twedt and his fellow officers, Boetel and her staff deal with a constant ebb and flow of regulars. There are familiar faces, men and women they know by name, who will continually make the trip to detox.

"If someone doesn't want to stop drinking, it's a little difficult," Boetel said. "Some will show up four to five times a month."

Title: Public intoxication Date: May 18th, 2009 The Rapid City Journal takes a closer look at the issue of public intoxication - what causes it, how does it affect the community and what can be done? VIEW PRESENTATION »