Author: A. Ant, CADC-II, Licensing & Accreditation Expert
Photo: A counselor leads a group therapy session in a licensed treatment program.
TRIGGER WARNING: The following article contains detailed depictions of drug abuse, human trafficking and overdose deaths. Please engage with care.
Rich Strickling kept the text messages. His son Alex was 22, in a treatment center in Florida, when a man he had met inside started texting him about a better deal out in California. CBS News published them in 2018. “I’ll send you like $200 to get you established out there.” Cigarettes. Haircuts. The gym.
Alex went. He died of an overdose in a motel room a few miles from his rehab.
His father told CBS what he came to understand the pitch had really been, once he read everything on the phone: that you have to fail your urine test in order for them to justify getting you into treatment. Then he said the thing that has stayed with me since I first read it. “There was somebody whispering in his ear.”
That’s body brokering. Not a billing irregularity, not sharp marketing. A kid in the worst year of his life was told that relapsing was the price of admission, and somebody collected on it.
How the Machine Actually Works
Start with the insurance, because the insurance is the only thing in this transaction anybody actually wants.
A broker finds someone with a substance use disorder who has no coverage, or junk coverage, and gets them onto a generous commercial PPO plan. Sometimes the broker pays the premium out of pocket. Sometimes a facility runs it through a third party or a nonprofit that exists mostly on paper. And either way, the person is worth money the day that policy goes active, and worth nothing the day it lapses.
But who gets picked is not random. Brokers work a profile: desperation plus good paper. The person sleeping in a car. The person four days out of a detox unit with nowhere to go. The person who used last weekend and hasn’t told his mother yet. California’s AB 2614 fact sheet puts the same profile in legislative language, describing people who are unhoused, recently discharged from treatment or insured by private plans, recruited “not on medical necessity, but by the value of their insurance coverage,” then “shuffled between facilities to maximize billing.”
So where do they find people? Wherever anyone in early recovery ends up. AA and NA meetings. Detox units. Hospital discharge areas. Sober houses, recovery groups on Facebook, the coffee shop across from the treatment center. Delray Beach, Costa Mesa, Phoenix. Plenty of the recruiters are in recovery themselves, or were, and that’s precisely why it works on people: the guy making the offer sounds like somebody who has been where you are. In South Florida they picked up the names junkie hunters and body snatchers somewhere along the way, and nobody in the industry pretends the names are unfair. Keep in mind where Alex met his. Not a parking lot. Inside a licensed treatment facility.
Then the money moves toward the patient, which is the part that should stop you cold. Cash. A phone. A plane ticket. Rent, gift cards, sometimes drugs. The facility bills the policy at the highest level of care it can justify, usually detox or residential, plus urine testing that can run into four figures per specimen. The broker takes a cut per head. A mother writing as “Alice” for the Partnership to End Addiction put that cut at “$500 to $5,000” when she described what happened to her own son. She watched brokers “troll AA meetings, coffee shops in popular rehab towns,” and watched them “offer to share these kickbacks with patients or entice them with substances to leave an existing facility.” Her son, she wrote, became “a highly sought-after commodity.”
Alan Johnson prosecuted these cases as chief assistant state attorney in Palm Beach County, and he reduced the whole economy to two sentences that people in this field have been quoting ever since. “The business model is not recovery. The business model is relapse.”
And none of this is fringe. The Department of Justice folded a Sober Homes Initiative into its national takedown on September 30, 2020: more than a dozen defendants, more than $845 million in allegedly false and fraudulent claims, with physicians, facility owners and the recruiters the government itself calls body brokers. Read the conduct the department described. Kickbacks for referrals. Drug tests sometimes billed at thousands of dollars apiece. Therapy sessions billed but never delivered. Controlled substances prescribed, in some cases, to keep patients in the building. Then discharge, readmission somewhere else, another kickback.
The single cases look the same from underneath. Federal prosecutors in Los Angeles indicted Scott Raffa, a Newport Beach sober living operator, on twelve counts in April 2024, alleging he paid $174,600 to body brokers between April 2020 and October 2021. He allegedly haggled over encrypted messaging, priced each patient by insurer and expected length of stay, papered it all with sham consulting contracts, and would not pay out unless the patient stayed at least 21 days. Twenty-one days. Somebody sat down and calculated the minimum shelf life of a human being. (Raffa is presumed innocent. Those are allegations in an indictment, nothing more.)
Why I Call This Trafficking
People get uncomfortable with the word. I understand why. And the word does bring up a shipping container or a massage parlor. Set the picture aside and look at the conduct.
A person is recruited. Transported, often across state lines, usually on a ticket somebody else bought. Harbored in a bed somebody else arranged. All of it through fraud and coercion, aimed at a person whose disease makes refusal close to impossible, for the financial benefit of a third party. What changes hands is the person. Their blood, their urine, their policy number, their body in a bed overnight for the census count. And when the commodity stops producing, the commodity is made to relapse so it can produce again.
But prosecutors usually charge these cases as patient brokering, kickbacks, wire fraud or money laundering, because those elements are easier to prove and the sentences are real. That’s a charging decision. It is not a verdict on what the conduct actually is.
Arizona is where you can see the whole thing at scale. Recruiters brought Native people to Phoenix from reservations in Arizona, New Mexico and Utah on the promise of help with drinking or drug use, and delivered them into sober living homes the state had no real authority over. Clinics then billed the American Indian Health Program, which carried no rate cap, for treatment that was inflated, thin or entirely invented. Some providers billed $60,000 for one session.

The Arizona Center for Investigative Reporting and ProPublica went looking for the human cost in January 2025 and found it in county records. Reviewing files from the Maricopa County Office of the Medical Examiner, they tied at least 40 deaths of Native American residents of Phoenix-area sober living homes and treatment facilities to those facilities between the spring of 2022 and the summer of 2024, almost all from drug and alcohol use. The state’s Medicaid agency has acknowledged the fraud may have cost taxpayers as much as $2.5 billion. It has never publicly accounted for the deaths.
One of the 40 was Jeffrey Hustito, 43, from Zuni Pueblo in New Mexico. His family was glad when he went for help with his drinking. “We were really thrilled when he decided to get treatment,” his father Anders told the reporters. Jeffrey got moved from place to place instead, and he died on December 27, 2022, in a Glendale sober living home after smoking fentanyl. His sister Katherine had asked him directly whether he was somewhere safe. What she said afterward was this: “I thought everything would be OK.” Anders put it plainer. “He just got worse over there.” When Anders asked a man at the door of one of those homes how the residents were getting alcohol, he remembers the answer: since they have an alcohol problem, they let them drink a little bit to calm down.
When the money finally stopped, the people were dumped. Arizona’s Medicaid agency reports 266 providers under payment suspension for credible allegations of fraud as of its last posted update, and a humanitarian response that had served 11,557 members, including 4,147 hotel placements and 125 out-of-state transports. That is what the end of a supply chain looks like when somebody shuts it off mid-shipment.
Nobody Counts the Bodies
How many people has this killed? Nobody knows. That is not me dodging the question. There is no count anywhere, and the absence is itself part of the story.
A death certificate records fentanyl, or acute combined drug toxicity, and stops there. It does not record the man who bought the plane ticket. No federal agency tracks deaths that happen inside or just after a brokered placement, which is why reporters in Arizona had to build their list of 40 by hand out of medical examiner files while the state was not building one at all.
Here is what can be said with real numbers. CDC provisional data put U.S. overdose deaths at an estimated 69,973 in 2025, down almost 14 percent from 81,313 in 2024. Against that background, engineering a relapse is not a paperwork problem. It is the most dangerous single thing you can do to a person with opioid use disorder, because tolerance drops during abstinence and the old dose becomes a lethal dose.
The research on that window is unsparing. Walley and colleagues followed 61,819 detoxification episodes among 30,681 people in Massachusetts and published the mortality numbers in Addiction in 2020. Over the following year, opioid-related deaths ran at 1.42 per 100 person-years for people who got no treatment after withdrawal management, 1.06 for people who went to residential treatment without medication, and 0.52 for people who got medication. Zoom into the first month after residential treatment ended and the protection disappears: 1.26 per 100 person-years for residential without medication against 1.35 for no treatment at all. Medication was the only thing that moved that month’s number, down to 0.75.
So lay the brokering cycle over that finding. The scheme runs people through the highest-risk transition in addiction medicine on purpose, repeatedly, for a fee, and it keeps them off the one medication that lowers the death rate, because a stable patient on buprenorphine stays put and a patient who stays put generates no new admission.
Two numbers cut the other way, and an honest article has to print them. In Palm Beach County, which gave the country the phrase sober home fraud, State Attorney Alexcia Cox told WPTV in October 2025 that her office had made more than 120 arrests and secured over 110 convictions, and that overdose deaths in the county had fallen roughly 60 percent from three years earlier. Jim Tichy, who runs a recovery facility in Delray Beach, remembers the years before that. “When this first erupted, there was nothing but body bags coming out of this area.”
Arizona’s enforcement arithmetic is just as blunt. The Attorney General’s Office reported on May 14, 2026 that 140 individuals and entities have been indicted since 2023 and that billing to the targeted programs has dropped 92 percent, from roughly $3.11 billion across 2021 through 2023 to roughly $229.9 million across 2024 through 2026. Attorney General Kris Mayes called the drop “astonishing.” Three billion dollars of billing evaporated the moment somebody started prosecuting, which tells you what the billing was.
How to Spot It From the Outside
If you are a parent, a spouse, a sponsor or a discharge planner, the signs are not subtle once somebody points them out. Almost all of them involve money moving toward the patient, which never happens in legitimate care.
Before admission: someone offers to pay for the insurance policy of a person about to go to treatment, or arranges coverage in a state the person doesn’t live in. A recruiter offers cash, a phone, rent, cigarettes or drugs in exchange for going. A program waives the deductible and copay entirely and puts nothing in writing. Travel is free, arranged within a day, usually to Florida, Southern California or Arizona, on a ticket bought by somebody the family has never spoken to. Benefits get verified before anyone does a clinical assessment, and the level of care recommended happens to match what the policy pays rather than what the person needs.
After admission the pattern changes. Daily urine testing, enormous bills. No step-down through levels of care, just sideways moves to a new facility every few weeks. Relapses that land on a schedule, always right around the end of an authorization. One new friend arranging every move. A sober home that requires residents to attend one particular outpatient program, both owned by people who are somehow always together. And nobody will tell you the name of the counselor.
But one rule covers most of it. In real treatment the money runs from the patient or the insurer to the provider. Anything flowing backward is a problem.
How to Spot It From Inside a Program
If you run a program or sit in compliance, this arrives on your desk dressed as marketing. I have read a lot of referral agreements over the years and the illegal ones almost never look illegal. They look like consulting contracts with a scope of work attached.
So the first thing I check is how outreach gets paid. A business development contractor earning per admission, or on a percentage of collections instead of a salary, is the arrangement that puts owners in handcuffs. After that: round-number consulting invoices that rise and fall with census, lead purchasing from call centers where nobody can tell you who actually spoke to the patient, one referral source whose patients all somehow carry the same unusually rich out-of-network policy, admissions where a third party paid the premium, urine testing at a frequency nobody can tie to a written clinical protocol, and any pressure from ownership to hold people at a level of care the ASAM Criteria don’t support.
The penalties are not symbolic. Under the federal Eliminating Kickbacks in Recovery Act, 18 U.S.C. § 220, it is a crime to solicit, receive, pay or offer remuneration for referring a patient to a recovery home, clinical treatment facility or laboratory. EKRA reaches private insurance, not only federal programs, which is what makes it different from the Anti-Kickback Statute. The penalty clause reads “fined not more than $200,000, imprisoned not more than 10 years, or both, for each occurrence.” Each occurrence. Count your admissions.
And the states pile on from there. Florida Statute 817.505 makes patient brokering a third-degree felony with a mandatory $50,000 fine, a second-degree felony with a $100,000 fine where the conduct involves 10 or more patients but fewer than 20, and a first-degree felony with a $500,000 fine at 20 or more.
North Carolina went the same direction with the Stop Addiction Fraud Ethics Act, Session Law 2023-141. Under G.S. 90-113.152, offering, paying, soliciting or receiving anything of value for a patient referral is a Class G felony, each violation counting as a separate offense, and the statute reaches recovery residences and third parties, not only licensed providers. But California has been slower. AB 2614, the Body Brokering and Patient Referral Integrity Act, was referred to the Assembly Health Committee on March 16, 2026 and has not moved since. It is not law, and nobody should plan around it as though it were.
Trade associations have their own line on this. The NAATP Code of Ethics, binding on members as a condition of membership, says “Patient brokering is prohibited,” and separately that a member “may not engage in the buying and selling of patient leads including phone calls.” That second clause catches a lot of marketing arrangements that owners genuinely believe are clean.
Who to Tell, and What Each One Can Actually Do
Tell more than one. No single agency covers the whole problem. Law enforcement brings charges, regulators close doors, accreditors pull the credential the billing depends on, and the insurer turns off the money, which is often the fastest of the four.
| Who | What they handle | How to reach them |
|---|---|---|
| FBI | Interstate schemes, organized rings, health care fraud, trafficking | tips.fbi.gov, or your local field office |
| HHS Office of Inspector General | Fraud touching Medicare, Medicaid and other federal programs | 1-800-HHS-TIPS (1-800-447-8477), tips.oig.hhs.gov |
| State Attorney General or Medicaid Fraud Control Unit | State kickback and patient brokering statutes, Medicaid fraud | Your state AG’s fraud division. In Arizona, AHCCCS at 602-417-4045 |
| Local State Attorney or District Attorney | Brokering charges, sober home task forces where they exist | County prosecutor’s office |
| State licensing authority | License revocation, unlicensed operation, complaint investigations | The agency that licenses SUD treatment in that state |
| The Joint Commission | Accredited organizations: quality and safety complaints | patientsafetyreport@jointcommission.org, 800-994-6610, fax 630-792-5636, One Renaissance Blvd, Oakbrook Terrace, IL 60181 |
| CARF International | Accredited providers: complaints against conditions of accreditation | (866) 510-2273 and the public feedback form at carf.org |
| The insurer | Billing fraud, premium payment by third parties, lab abuse | The special investigations unit listed on the back of the card |
| National Human Trafficking Hotline | Recruitment, transport and coercion of a person for someone else’s profit | 1-888-373-7888, or text 233733, 24 hours |
Don’t write off the accreditors. The Joint Commission and CARF can’t arrest anybody. What they can do is open a review, arrive, and withdraw the accreditation that most payers require before they will contract with a facility. For an operation whose whole model depends on billing out-of-network at high rates, that is often faster and more fatal than a criminal case that takes three years to reach a courtroom. Both accept complaints from patients, families and staff, and from people who have never worked at the organization.
Gather your material first. Screenshot the texts. Export the Venmo or Cash App history. Write down names, dates, the street addresses of the homes, and every facility and lab that appears on the explanation of benefits. Keep the EOBs above all. One EOB showing $8,000 of urine testing in a single week is the kind of document that makes an investigator return a phone call.
If You Are the Person Being Sold
Read this part slowly, because the shame attached to it is most of what keeps the scheme alive.
You are not the criminal here. You were the product. If somebody bought your insurance, paid you to admit, told you to use so you would test dirty, then handed you to the next place, you were used by people who knew exactly what they were doing and knew your disease made saying no nearly impossible. That is coercion. Taking the money doesn’t make it yours to answer for, and neither does the relapse. Prosecutors go after brokers and operators. Patients are witnesses, and their testimony is usually what makes the case.
Here is what helps, roughly in order of urgency. Get out physically, and do not get in the car with whoever has been arranging your moves. Carry naloxone. Tell one person you trust where you are. If somebody is holding you, moving you or threatening you, call 911. The National Human Trafficking Hotline, 1-888-373-7888, is staffed around the clock and will talk to you confidentially.
For treatment that isn’t part of the racket, SAMHSA’s National Helpline is 1-800-662-HELP (4357). Free, confidential, 24 hours, English and Spanish, and it takes referral fees from nobody. If you are in crisis, 988 is the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. Three questions will tell you most of what you need to know about any program you’re considering: who is paying my premium, does anyone get paid for bringing me here, and do you offer buprenorphine or methadone.
But save everything before you leave. The texts, the payment records, the recruiter’s name, every facility they sent you to. You may not be ready to report this today, and that’s fine. Keep it anyway. A year from now you might be ready, and what you kept may be the thing that lets an investigator connect the facility that used you to the twenty other people it used.
And if you’re reading this because of someone you love, here’s the hardest and most useful thing I can tell you. Those relapses may not be a failure of willpower. They may be scheduled, a line item in someone’s revenue plan. That changes what you do next. You stop arguing them into willingness and start writing down who is moving them, then you call the people in the table above.
What Legitimate Programs Owe the Rest of Us
Every ethical operator in this field pays a tax levied by the ones who do this. It shows up as payer skepticism, as prior authorization hell, as legislators writing rules for the worst actor they read about last year, as families who arrive at your admissions desk already sure you are running a scam. Whoever did this to Alex Strickling and Jeffrey Hustito took something from your program too, though obviously not the thing they took from those families.
The compliance posture that protects you isn’t complicated. It just has to be real, and most of it is boring. Pay marketing and outreach on a W-2 salary with nothing tied to admissions or collections. Put every referral relationship in writing and run it against EKRA before you sign it rather than after. Do the clinical assessment and document medical necessity before anybody verifies benefits, and hold the level of care to the ASAM determination even when the authorization would have paid for more. Tie urine testing frequency to a written protocol with a clinical rationale behind it, then audit the volume every month. Find out who actually owns the sober homes sending you patients. Give your staff a way to raise a concern that doesn’t route through the person they’re worried about, and when the first one comes in, take it seriously. There is always a first one. In my experience it is usually right.
Both major accreditors look at business ethics, marketing practices and admissions criteria during survey, and your state licensing agency will ask about all three the first time a complaint lands on your file.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is body brokering in addiction treatment?
Body brokering, also called patient brokering, means paying someone a fee for delivering a person with a substance use disorder into a treatment facility or sober living home. The broker is paid per admission, and the fee usually tracks how much the person’s insurance will pay. Brokers often arrange or pay for the policy, hand the person cash or other inducements to go, then pay them again to relapse so they can be admitted somewhere else.
Is body brokering illegal?
Yes. The federal Eliminating Kickbacks in Recovery Act, 18 U.S.C. section 220, prohibits paying or receiving anything of value for referring a patient to a recovery home, clinical treatment facility or laboratory, and it applies to private insurance as well as federal programs. The penalty is a fine of up to 200,000 dollars and up to ten years in prison, for each occurrence. Most states with a sizable treatment industry have their own statutes too. Florida makes brokering involving 20 or more patients a first-degree felony carrying a 500,000 dollar fine, and North Carolina makes any violation a Class G felony.
How do I know if a rehab is paying for referrals?
Money moving toward the patient is the clearest sign. Watch for cash or gift cards offered for admitting, free airfare arranged by someone the family has never spoken to, a third party paying the insurance premium, a blanket promise to waive the deductible and copay with nothing in writing, benefits verified before any clinical assessment, daily urine testing with very large bills, and a pattern of sideways moves to new facilities every few weeks instead of stepping down through levels of care.
Who do I report patient brokering to?
More than one authority, since each has different powers. The FBI at tips.fbi.gov takes interstate schemes. The HHS Office of Inspector General takes complaints at 1-800-HHS-TIPS. Your state attorney general, Medicaid Fraud Control Unit and county prosecutor handle state brokering statutes. The state licensing agency can act against the license. The Joint Commission and CARF take complaints about organizations they accredit and can withdraw accreditation. The insurer’s special investigations unit can stop the payments. If a person is being recruited, transported or coerced, the National Human Trafficking Hotline is 1-888-373-7888.
Can a patient get in trouble for taking money from a broker?
In practice, no. Investigators and prosecutors go after the brokers, facility owners, physicians and labs who profited. People who were recruited are treated as victims and witnesses, and their testimony is often what makes a case. Someone paid to relapse was coerced by people exploiting a medical condition. Keeping the text messages and payment records is far more useful than staying quiet out of embarrassment.
How many people die because of body brokering?
Nobody keeps that count, which is part of the problem. Death certificates record the drug, not the scheme that arranged the relapse. What has been counted is local and assembled by hand. Reporters at the Arizona Center for Investigative Reporting and ProPublica reviewed Maricopa County medical examiner records and tied at least 40 deaths of Native American residents of Phoenix-area sober living homes and treatment facilities to those facilities between spring 2022 and summer 2024, almost all from drug and alcohol use. Research also shows the weeks after leaving residential treatment without medication carry a high risk of fatal overdose, which is exactly the moment a broker engineers a relapse.
What should a treatment program do to stay compliant?
Pay marketing and outreach staff a salary rather than a fee per admission, run every referral agreement against EKRA before signing, complete a clinical assessment and document medical necessity before benefits are verified, hold the level of care to the ASAM determination rather than the authorization, tie urine drug testing frequency to a written clinical protocol and audit the volume monthly, find out who owns the sober homes that refer to you, and give staff an internal reporting channel that doesn’t run through the person they may need to report.
Rich Strickling said there was somebody whispering in his son’s ear. Seven words, and they hold the whole thing. Somewhere between a family putting a kid on a plane and an invoice getting paid, a person decided that a human being in the worst year of his life was inventory. Palm Beach County and Arizona have both now shown that prosecuting these people moves the numbers, including the one that matters. The rest of us settle this one referral agreement and one complaint at a time. If you run a program and want a second set of eyes on your referral relationships, marketing agreements or admissions documentation before a regulator provides them for free, talk to a qualified consultant, or reach us through our contact page.









