Milwaukee's King Park surrounded by yellow tape after Sam Sharpe, a resident of a temporary encampment there, was shot by Ohio police officers during the 2024 Republican National Convention. (Henry Redman | Wisconsin Examiner)

The Wisconsin Assembly Committee on Criminal Justice and Public Safety on Tuesday held a public hearing on a pair of bills that would require homeless people on the state’s sex offender registry to wear ankle monitors and increase the penalty for selling drugs close to homeless shelters. 

Under the first bill, authored by Rep. Dave Maxey (R-New Berlin), people required to sign up for the sex offender registry and unable to provide a permanent address must be placed under GPS monitoring. An estimated 16% of Wisconsin’s homeless population is on the sex offender registry, according to Maxey, who said he wanted to make sure this population was not a blind spot for Department of Corrections monitoring of people on the list. 

“This bill is a clear and common-sense public safety measure that applies one uniform standard so every registrant is monitored at the same level, regardless of housing status,” Maxey said. “This is a straightforward way to protect every member of our society.”

A number of Democrats on the committee had concerns about putting the proposal into practice. 

Rep. Jodi Emerson (D-Eau Claire) wondered if the cost of the monitoring would end up being paid for by the state. 

“Most times, the GPS monitoring is paid for by the person who needs to wear it eventually,” Emerson said. “And if they don’t have the resources to afford a home, I don’t know if they’re going to have the resources to pay the state back for this. And is this something that we’re just going to end up incurring extra costs on? I’m trying to balance the cost versus safety factor.”

Rep. Sequanna Taylor (D-Milwaukee) noted that the ankle monitors need to be regularly charged, which might pose a challenge for people without a home. 

“When we talk about the GPS, I know even the people that are not in this situation, who may be on it, there are sometimes tweaks or glitches with them, and also the everyday charging, if we’re talking about someone who’s homeless, is not staying anywhere, I guess I’m just trying to see, how can we encompass or ensure that it will be charged, because once it’s not able to be charged and it’s off, are they meant to go report somewhere or is that a process we haven’t thought about yet?”

Another bill heard by the committee Tuesday, authored by Rep. Bob Donovan (R-Greenfield), would add homeless shelters to the list of places including schools, government buildings and public parks that are considered drug-free zones. Convictions for selling drugs within these zones carry harsher penalties. 

“Drug-related crimes pose a severe threat to community safety, particularly in areas where at-risk populations are located, current law wisely imposes enhanced penalties for distributing illegal drugs within 1,000 feet of sensitive locations like schools and parks, adding up to five years to the maximum sentence,” Donovan said. “These Drug Free Zones deter illegal activity and safeguard those who are most vulnerable. However, homeless shelters are not included in these protections. Many, many homeless individuals face profound challenges, including addiction and mental health issues. Extending these zones is about punishing malicious drug dealers who prey upon the homeless while providing basic security for them as they attempt to reenter society.”

But advocates for addiction treatment and criminal justice reform questioned the wisdom of the proposal. 

Dr. Charles Schauberger, an Onalaska resident and president of the Wisconsin Society of Addiction Medicine, said making homeless shelters a drug-free zone could increase police presence around a shelter, which might push homeless drug users away from the area and into more dangerous situations. 

“This legislation is not only ineffective in helping homeless people, but potentially worsens the situation,” Schauberger said. “Increasing criminal penalties for substance-related offenses near shelters may lead to increased law enforcement presence around these facilities for people who use substances they may carry, or may even carry a small amount for personal use, which creates a great deal of fear, fear of harassment, fear of incarceration, fear of losing the only safe place they have yet to go.”

He added that when people are afraid to use shelters, “they don’t disappear. They move further into unsafe spaces. They sleep outside. They use substances alone. They disengage from services. They increase risk of overdose. Medical emergencies, deaths make it much harder for clinicians like me to reach them.”

Amanda Merkwae, advocacy director of the ACLU of Wisconsin, said that while the proposal has an “admirable goal” it comes with unintended consequences. She said that in the state’s larger, denser cities, so much of the land is covered by various drug-free zones that lots of drug-related activity is punished there more harshly than in rural parts of the state. 

“In densely populated urban areas, that radius around each of these integrated locations overlaps to the point where sometimes an entire city can become functionally a drug-free zone,” she said, noting that the city of Milwaukee contains 156 public schools, 101 private schools, 12 multi-unit public housing facilities, four public swimming pools, dozens of youth and community centers, hundreds of child care facilities, six correctional facilities and more than 130 public parks. 

“So studies have shown that these zones don’t necessarily track where drug activity is most prevalent, but rather where certain populations are concentrated,” she said. “So we create this kind of two-tiered justice system based on geography rather than the nature of the crime. So residents in cities can face greater exposure to enhanced maximum penalties than those in rural or suburban areas for the exact same conduct.”

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Laurie Doxtator starts each morning with affirmations.

“It’s OK to say no,” she thinks to herself while breathing in and breathing out, slowly grounding herself. 

“I’m proud of me waking up sober today.” 

“It’s a good day to start a new day.” 

The exercise plays an important role in keeping Doxtator clean from the drugs and alcohol that long controlled her life. She has built the routine through hard work, perseverance and the support of people around her — helping her stay alive. All the while she practices what she preaches to others seeking recovery: “Do this for you.” 

Doxtator, 61, grew up on the Oneida Reservation and spent time in California before returning to Wisconsin, enduring trauma along the way, including losing multiple family members. 

Three years ago, Doxtator realized she’d been using substances for 50 years, including drinking since age 8. “I realized it ain’t giving me nothing in life,” Doxtator said. “It ain’t gonna bring my children back, it ain’t gonna bring my mom back.”

She moved into a 30-day rehabilitation program but knew she needed more structure and time to heal. That led her to Amanda’s House, a sober living home in Green Bay for women and their children that allows them to stay as long as they need.

Doxtator spent most mornings at Amanda’s House in the craft room with her friend and fellow resident Ashley Bryan, carefully creating Diamond Dotz art pieces. 

Doxtator saw many people come and go during more than three years at the home, and she’s grateful to have felt their support. Bryan jokingly calls her “the OG” — a nod to Doxtator’s long tenure there.

Others call her “grandma” while asking how she’s doing. Doxtator enjoys the nickname, which prompts her to wonder what life would have looked like as a grandmother had her late sons raised children.

Jewelry on Doxtator’s hands and the tattoos spanning her arms tell pieces of her life’s story.

One ring belonged to her late mother, whose birth date is tattooed below a red rose on her upper right arm, which she calls her “memorial arm.” Doxtator still deals with the grief from losing her parents and regrets that she hadn’t sobered up when her mom was still living.

Another ring belonged to her older brother, Duane, who died this year on Mother’s Day. Below the rose of their mother, the tattooed words ROCK & ROLL memorialize Duane’s love of music.  

More scripted names and dates honor the children Doxtator lost — one in an accidental drowning and one to alcoholism. 

The turtle tattoos on Doxtator’s arm nod to her Oneida Nation membership and her family’s Turtle Clan history. 

Her newest tattoo, a hummingbird, represents the community she’s found at the Recovery Nest, part of the Oneida Comprehensive Health Division, which offers holistic healing and growth for those seeking recovery. Six other women joined her in getting that tattoo.

Even in sobriety, Doxtator struggles with the weight of her past trauma. 

She planned to die by suicide in July. But Bryan found out about it and intervened, prompting Amanda’s House Executive Director Paula Jolly to send Doxtator to Iris Place, the National Alliance on Mental Illness Fox Valley’s peer-run crisis center in Appleton, where she recovered. 

“I came out and they could tell the whole difference in me,” Doxtator said. “I needed that break.”

Trauma that unfolds early in someone’s life can affect them decades later — even when they don’t vividly remember, Jolly explained, citing research by psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk.  

Doxtator’s visit to Iris Place reinforced the importance of daily routines and surrounding herself with supportive people.

She keeps a list of everybody in her life who might help her in different ways, organizing them by categories, such as “emotional support.” She keeps the numbers for a crisis center and her recovery coaches saved in her phone. At Bryan’s suggestion, Doxtator downloaded Snapchat, where women from Amanda’s House send funny selfies to each other. 

When other Amanda’s House residents leave for work, Doxtator spends time with her brother, Earl “Nuck” Elm, or visits the Recovery Nest. 

Doxtator spent much of last summer sewing a ribboned vest and beading a turtle pendant for this year’s KUNHI-YO’ “I’m Healthy” conference, sponsored by Oneida Behavioral Health’s Tribal Opioid Response Team. There, Doxtator was invited to walk in an August fashion show featuring people who attend the Recovery Nest. 

Ahead of the show, Doxtator was up at 4 a.m. due to her nerves. Bryan, who works as a hair stylist, was curling Doxtator’s hair in the Amanda’s House craft room. 

“Oh, you look so pretty,” Bryan exclaimed after finishing. 

“Oh no, Ashley no,” Doxtator said apprehensively. 

“You’re gonna be OK.”

“You sure?”

“You’re brave. You’ve done a lot harder things in your life. This is gonna be fun and you’re gonna enjoy yourself,” Bryan said before the pair hugged and said goodbye. 

Surrounded by friends and family, Doxtator heard cheering, clapping and a whistle as she walked into the show. Wearing her handmade outfit and her biggest smile, she waved to the crowd. 

Stephanie Skenandore, Doxtator’s lifelong friend and recovery coach, recorded a video on her phone from the side of the room after walking in the show herself. Skenandore, who has been in recovery for 33 years and shares the same recovery date with Doxtator, said she was proud of Doxtator for seeking her support when Duane died earlier this year. 

People in recovery often unhealthily dwell on their past mistakes — flaws that others can’t see, Skenandore said, connecting that process to the fashion show. It’s like focusing on a sewing imperfection that only the sewer will see.  

Recovery takes practice and creativity, she added. “There is no one specific way, and there is no perfect way.” 

When people like Doxtator first show up to Recovery Nest, Skenandore helps them set goals by asking them questions like, “How do you see a life looking into the future without the drugs and the alcohol? How do you want that to look for yourself?” 

She discourages people from viewing themselves as failures and helps them navigate life differently. 

Skenandore said Doxtator’s handmade vest and pendant illustrated her creativity. 

After the fashion show, event organizers played a prerecorded video in which Doxtator shared her life story. Doxtator watched at a conference room table with her brother. When Doxtator appeared on screen, she picked up a napkin to wipe away her tears. A woman clapped at the mention of Doxtator’s years of sobriety before walking over to give her a hug.

“I came from nothing and built a community,” Doxtator said after the video ended. “It wasn’t easy.” 

Doxtator moved out of Amanda’s House on Oct. 17. Nuck and her cousin helped take her boxes to a storage unit. 

Doxtator’s long hair was now cut shorter than it had ever been. “I’m going on a new journey out in the world, so I want to have a new style look,” Doxtator said. 

“When you start looking at it from the time she came to the time now, she’s grown so much,” Jolly said. “I don’t want her to leave but it’s time. We’re technically holding her back. It’s time for her to move on.” 

Doxtator said she’s in awe of her own progress but knows that leaving won’t be easy. The old forces of addiction lurk outside of the support of Amanda’s House and will try to draw her back in. 

She said she’s determined to avoid returning to drugs and alcohol — and becoming the “same old Laurie: stealing, lying.”  

“If I go back out, I know I’m gonna die, there’s no choice in the matter,” she said.

As she approached her back-to-back dates of her move and her three-year sobriety anniversary, Doxtator started researching Gamblers Anonymous meetings. 

“It’s hard for me right now, that’s one of my downfalls right now, gambling,” Doxtator said. “I used to be real bad before, but I know that I can (get through) it again.” 

As her recovery progresses, Doxtator has grown more comfortable in sharing her story, with the hope of helping others, including during a recent Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. When a newcomer visited, “we told her to keep coming back,” Doxtator said. “It works if you work it. We said we’re proud of you for coming in.” 

Jolly offered Doxtator a standing invitation to return to Amanda’s House to share her story with the next group of residents.  

In the meantime, saying goodbye was hard, Doxtator said. She has yet to unpack a pile of boxes at her brother’s house, where she hasn’t yet slept much. 

There’s so much to get used to. She knows it will take time. But she tells herself she’ll succeed as long as she keeps working on herself, remembering that every day is a new day. 

Need help for yourself or a loved one? 

If you are looking for local information on substance use, call 211 or reach the Wisconsin Addiction Recovery Helpline at 833-944-4673. Additional information is available at 211’s addiction helplife or findtreatment.gov.

If you or someone you know is experiencing a mental health crisis: call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 988 or contact a Wisconsin county crisis line.

‘I came from nothing and built a community’: After years of healing, woman takes next step in sobriety is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.