In a courtroom in Oregon City, Ron Ross moves with purpose and compassion. He greets each person with a fist bump or a hug, hands out his cell phone number freely, and tells people facing their darkest moments: “I got you. I believe in you.”
This courtroom behavior stands out from the norm. Ross brings a different perspective as a recovery mentor, someone who has walked the same difficult path as those he now helps and emerged on the other side with something precious to offer: hope born from experience.
A New Approach to an Old Problem
When Oregon’s Legislature reversed course on drug decriminalization last year, making minor drug possession a misdemeanor again, it allocated over $20 million to create deflection programs. These innovative approaches guide people away from jail and toward housing and treatment rather than simply reverting to the old system of punishment.
Clackamas County’s program represents one of the most promising models emerging from this shift. The specialty court focuses on redirecting people struggling with addiction into support services rather than incarceration. At the heart of this program are people like Ross: peers who have lived through addiction and recovery themselves.
The results speak for themselves. According to Deputy District Attorney Bill Stewart, recovery mentors like Ross have proven “absolutely critical” to the program’s success, far exceeding initial expectations.
The Power of Lived Experience
Ross knows the chaos of addiction intimately. His own story includes a litany of consequences from alcohol abuse: police encounters, DUI arrests, wrecked cars, assaults, broken relationships, and lost jobs. He moved from Connecticut to Oregon in 2014, hoping distance would help him escape his addiction. The hope alone wasn’t enough at first.
But on August 29, 2016—a date he calls his “clean date”—something shifted. With the support of other peers in recovery, Ross found his way out of alcoholism. Now, nearly a decade later, he channels that transformation into helping others find their own path.
Tony Vezina, executive director of 4D Recovery who mentored Ross during his own recovery, describes Ross as possessing something rare and unteachable. “He has that special X factor, where he naturally can just engage people, make them feel supported, inspire them to change, and then he’s able to just get people into all these services so quickly.”
How the Program Works
Ross’s role extends beyond traditional peer support. As a program navigator for OneLove, a nonprofit serving people experiencing homelessness, he acts as a bridge between the court system and treatment services. While court is in session, he circulates among participants, triaging needs, making phone calls, and tapping into his extensive network across the Portland area to find housing, treatment slots, and ongoing support.
The county’s investment of roughly $261,000 in contract funding with OneLove represents about 60% spending on actual treatment and housing, with the remainder going to administration and training. For that investment, they get someone who understands both the system and the struggle.
When Calvin Harding, a 26-year-old battling opiate addiction, landed back in court on new drug possession charges, Ross greeted him with a hug rather than judgment. Harding credits Ross with always having his back: “Anytime I ever ask him for help, no matter what shape I’m in, he never judges me for being on drugs. He always answers the phone.”
An Emerging Workforce
Ross is part of a growing movement. Oregon now has approximately 4,000 state-certified recovery mentors, each required to complete 40 hours of training and maintain at least two years of recovery. These positions represent both a support system and a career pathway for people in long-term recovery.
Janie Gullickson, executive director of The Peer Company (one of the Portland area’s largest organizations providing peer support), sees these navigator roles as an important evolution. She notes that while the position differs from traditional peer support due to its reporting requirements to the court, it demonstrates how lived experience with addiction can inform a wide variety of professional roles.
The Peer Company exemplifies this potential. Most of its workforce consists of people in long-term recovery, including Gullickson herself. She points to peers who have gone on to medical school, carrying their peer support experience into new professional contexts.
The Philosophy of Hope
Ross’s approach is built on an unwavering belief in human potential. No matter how many times someone relapses or fails to show up, he maintains hope. His philosophy is simple but profound: “There’s a light that’s in everybody. Sometimes we dim that light with just the nonsense that we put ourselves through, and sometimes it just takes the work of the individual and somebody else who cares to clean that light up so they can shine again.”
This isn’t naive optimism. It’s faith grounded in personal experience. Ross describes his former self as “a lost cause,” someone people gave up on. He knows what it means to be on the receiving end of judgment versus compassion—and he’s chosen to offer the latter.
In practical terms, this means asking questions that matter: “Is Oregon City dangerous for you? Can you stay sober there?” It means understanding that returning to old neighborhoods might trigger relapse. It means telling people, “If there’s any time you feel like you want to use, you’re getting squirrely, you need help with something, just reach out to me”—and actually answering when they call.
A Model for the Future
As counties across Oregon implement their deflection programs, models vary widely. Multnomah County operates entirely outside the court system, with police able to take people to a standalone center for screening and voluntary services. Clackamas County’s hybrid approach combines specialty court with community-based support and offers another path forward.
What’s becoming clear is that peer support serves as essential infrastructure for these programs. People facing addiction need more than services; they need someone who understands the journey, who has walked through the fire and emerged with wisdom to share.
The traditional justice system often treats addiction as a moral failing requiring punishment. Programs like Clackamas County’s specialty court, powered by recovery mentors like Ross, recognize addiction as a human struggle requiring compassion, support, and genuine belief in people’s capacity to change.
(Source: WRD News)
