How a Mother Jones Exposé Sparked Stronger Protections for Alaska Kids

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How Investigative Journalism and Youth Advocates Just Changed Foster Care in Alaska

When we talk about “safe spaces” for kids, we usually mean something warm, supportive, and nurturing. But for years in Alaska, some of the state’s most vulnerable children—especially foster youth—were being sent to locked psychiatric facilities where safety was anything but guaranteed. They were kept for months at a time in highly restrictive environments, often far from home, with little oversight and even less transparency.

Now, a new Alaska law, HB 36, is aiming to change that. And it didn’t happen by accident. This reform was pushed forward by a coalition of youth advocates, lawmakers, and a powerful Mother Jones investigation that exposed what was happening behind closed doors.

For progressive communities—and for anyone who cares about trauma-informed care, youth rights, and accountability—this story matters. It shows how policy can shift when we center the voices and experiences of young people, and it’s a reminder that systems we assume are “protecting” kids can sometimes be the ones harming them.

Read the full article: A Mother Jones Investigation Helped Spur a New Alaska Law Protecting Vulnerable Kids (Mother Jones)

What Mother Jones Exposed in Alaska’s Foster System

Locked Facilities as a Default, Not a Last Resort

Mother Jones’ 2023 investigation uncovered a disturbing pattern: Alaska’s Office of Children’s Services (OCS), which is responsible for foster care, was routinely placing children in a private psychiatric facility called North Star Behavioral Health. These weren’t always kids in acute psychiatric crisis. Many were there because the system didn’t have anywhere else to put them—no appropriate foster homes, no community-based support, no step-down programs.

The reporting described children who:

Spent months in locked units with limited access to the outside world
Were subjected to harsh conditions and, in some cases, questionable treatment practices
Had little say in their placements and few advocates with the power to challenge decisions
Were separated from their communities, cultures, and support systems

Instead of being treated as young people needing care and stability, many of these kids were effectively warehoused in institutions designed for short-term psychiatric crises. The investigation raised serious questions about whether medical necessity—or bureaucratic convenience—was driving these placements.

Systemic Failures, Not Isolated Incidents

The story wasn’t about a single “bad facility” or a handful of mishandled cases. It pointed to systemic issues:

Lack of oversight: Once kids were placed in facilities like North Star, there were limited mechanisms to challenge or review those decisions.
Overreliance on institutionalization: Locked facilities were treated as a default solution when community-based options weren’t available.
Structural underinvestment: Alaska’s foster care system, like many across the country, had not invested enough in preventive, family-based, and culturally grounded care.

For Indigenous youth, who are dramatically overrepresented in Alaska’s foster system, these practices were especially harmful. The investigation highlighted how institutional placements can deepen historical trauma and sever ties to culture and community.

What HB 36 Actually Does

In the wake of the Mother Jones investigation and mounting pressure from advocates, Alaska lawmakers moved to reform how the state handles psychiatric placements for foster youth. HB 36 is the result—a legislative attempt to rein in the most harmful practices and create real safeguards for kids.

While the details are specific to Alaska, the key pillars of HB 36 reflect broader progressive priorities in child welfare and mental health:

1. Tightening Standards for Locked Psychiatric Placements

HB 36 aims to ensure that locked psychiatric facilities are truly a last resort. The law:

Requires that placements in locked facilities be based on clear clinical criteria, not just a lack of foster homes or administrative convenience.
Demands documented evidence that less restrictive alternatives—like therapeutic foster care, community-based treatment, or in-home supports—have been considered or tried.
Limits how long children can be kept in such facilities without meaningful review.

This shifts the default away from institutionalization and toward community and family-based care, which research consistently shows leads to better outcomes.

2. Increasing Oversight and Transparency

Another core feature of HB 36 is oversight. The law strengthens accountability by:

Requiring regular, independent review of placements in locked psychiatric settings.
Mandating clearer reporting and data collection on how and why foster youth are institutionalized.
Creating more opportunities for courts, guardians ad litem, and advocates to challenge inappropriate placements.

For progressives, this is crucial. Transparency and data are what make it possible to identify patterns of harm—and to prevent facilities from becoming black boxes where abuse or neglect can go unchecked.

3. Centering Youth Rights and Voice

HB 36 also reflects a growing recognition that young people in state custody are not just passive recipients of care; they are rights-holders. The law moves toward:

Ensuring that youth have a say in their treatment and placement decisions when possible.
Improving access to legal representation or advocacy for foster youth in locked settings.
Requiring clearer communication with youth about why they are placed in a facility and what their rights are.

This is a step toward a youth-centered model of care that respects autonomy and dignity instead of defaulting to control and containment.

Why This Matters for Progressive Values

From Punitive to Trauma-Informed Systems

Progressive movements have long pushed to shift systems—from criminal justice to education—from punishment to care. Foster youth in locked psychiatric facilities sit at the intersection of these debates. They are often treated as problems to be managed rather than young people carrying trauma from abuse, neglect, systemic racism, or family separation.

HB 36 is part of a broader rethinking of how we respond to trauma. Instead of locking kids away because they’re “too difficult,” the law nudges the system toward asking: What happened to this young person, and what supports do they need to heal?

Challenging Carceral Logic in Child Welfare

Many progressives have pointed out that child welfare and juvenile justice can operate as parallel carceral systems. Both rely heavily on confinement, surveillance, and control—especially for Black, Indigenous, and other youth of color.

By limiting the use of locked psychiatric facilities and requiring less restrictive options to be considered first, HB 36 pushes back against the logic that institutionalization is an acceptable default. It aligns with efforts nationwide to:

Close youth prisons and detention centers
End the pipeline from child welfare to incarceration
Invest in community-based, culturally grounded support instead of confinement

Centering Indigenous and Rural Realities

Alaska’s context matters. Indigenous communities have long experienced state systems—child welfare, mental health, the courts—as tools of dispossession and cultural erasure. The overrepresentation of Alaska Native children in foster care is not accidental; it’s the legacy of boarding schools, forced removals, and ongoing structural racism.

Reducing unnecessary institutionalization can help keep Indigenous youth closer to their home communities and cultural practices. But progressives should also be clear: HB 36 is a step, not a solution. Real justice requires investing in tribal child welfare systems, respecting tribal sovereignty, and funding community-led healing and care.

The Power of Investigative Journalism and Community Pressure

Media as a Catalyst for Change

One of the most striking aspects of this story is the role of investigative journalism. Mother Jones’ reporting didn’t just describe a problem; it helped catalyze reform. By documenting the experiences of foster youth, exposing systemic patterns, and naming specific institutions and practices, the investigation made it harder for officials to look away.

This is a reminder that:

Progressive media can be a powerful tool for accountability, especially for people with little political power—like kids in state custody.
Stories matter. When the experiences of marginalized youth are made visible, it becomes harder for systems to maintain the status quo.
Policy change often follows sustained attention. It wasn’t just one article; it was the combination of reporting, advocacy, and legislative work that made HB 36 possible.

Coalitions That Make Reform Possible

Behind every bill like HB 36, there are coalitions: youth advocates, social workers, attorneys, tribal leaders, mental health professionals, and sometimes even former foster youth themselves. While the headlines focus on lawmakers and legislation, the groundwork is often laid by people who have been pushing for years.

For progressives, this is a blueprint:

Support independent, investigative journalism that centers marginalized communities.
Build alliances between policy experts and people directly affected—foster youth, families, and community organizations.
Use moments of media attention to demand structural change, not just surface-level fixes.

Different Perspectives—and Ongoing Tensions

What Supporters Say

Supporters of HB 36 argue that the law is:

Long overdue: Foster youth have been sounding the alarm about harmful institutional placements for years.
Evidence-based: Research shows that kids do better in family-like, community-based settings whenever possible.
Aligned with best practices: National child welfare standards increasingly emphasize least restrictive, trauma-informed care.

They see HB 36 as a step toward a system that treats foster youth as whole people, not as cases to be managed.

Concerns and Cautions

There are also more cautious voices, including some practitioners, who worry about implementation:

Capacity issues: If the state reduces the use of locked facilities but doesn’t invest enough in alternatives, kids could end up in even more unstable placements—or in unsafe homes.
Workforce strain: Social workers, therapists, and foster parents are already stretched thin. Without new resources, mandates can feel like pressure without support.
Edge cases: Some youth do need short-term, intensive psychiatric care. The challenge is ensuring that HB 36 doesn’t inadvertently make it harder to access appropriate treatment when truly needed.

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Photo by Kalea Morgan on Unsplash