Policy Change Leader Celebrates Brother's Life
Part One
By Luke Schmaltz, VOICES Newsletter Editor
Caprice Palumbo is on a mission to honor and celebrate the life of her brother, Salvy. In her work, she advocates for policy change so that families of people struggling with substance use don’t suffer from preventable tragedies.
On January 7, 2026, Salvatore “Salvy” Colella died by overdose, an outcome Palumbo is convinced was avoidable. She maintains that gaps in the behavioral health system are responsible for putting people who are struggling with substance use in danger, and that the system lacks transparency, integrity, and effective communication.
Palumbo has embarked on a campaign of outreach and legislative advocacy just a few months after her brother’s death – a rarity of proactive engagement for someone who is profoundly impacted by grief and loss.
Thus far, Palumbo has founded FACT (Families for Accountability, Change, and Transparency) and is lobbying to pass the Family Informed Care Act, aka Salvy’s Law. The purpose of the proposed legislation is, “To improve patient safety by ensuring that credible family reports of overdose risk, substance use, suicidal behavior, or other serious safety concerns are documented and considered before discharge from emergency departments, psychiatric facilities, and other behavioral health settings.”
Grief and Trouble
“My brother was amazing," Palumbo begins. “He lit up the room, he was a beautiful soul, and he had a beautiful life. He was gay and was married to his partner, who died of COVID, and that is when Salvy took a turn. He was the General Manager of The Paradise in Boston, which was a gay nightclub that is now closed. Regardless, that is when the gateway drug use started, marijuana and cocaine. This was when we lost him because the grief had nowhere to go.”
“Living in the gay community is already difficult as it is because you always have some sort of mental demons to battle. As we know, mental health issues and substance use go hand in hand. When he started using heroin, it was like a snowball effect. Our family was not naive. We did the Section 35s, the hospitals, the police interventions, begging for Section 12s – we did everything you are told to do as a family member who loves an addict.”
A Crisis Escalates
“On December 19 of 2025, at 3:00 AM, he went to Melrose Wakefield Hospital because he was hallucinating and ‘tweaking’ as they call it,” Palumbo says. “I obtained his medical records which said that he was seeing killer animals coming after him, so he was trying to jump out of his own body. They did not help him, instead, they called the police and had him removed because he was so erratic. Two hours later, my mom called me and said, ‘Caprice, I need you to tell me what to do. Your brother is trying to jump out the window…trying to get away from something.’”
“I called 911 and they brought him CHA Everett. While he was in the ambulance, I called the facility and told them, ‘My brother was on the way to you, and this month alone he was hit by a car twice, he was stabbed, he had been walking into traffic, getting into a lot of trouble, and that he was going to hurt himself or others. I need somebody to intervene. I understand how HIPPA laws work and how you guys are protected, but he needs to be held on a Section 12 because something is not right.’ They put him in a medically induced coma because he was so erratic. They calmed him down and finally agreed to the Section 12.”
“A Section 12 is a 72-hour hold, but this event fell on a weekend, and weekends don’t count. On December 24, they let him out because they deemed that he was not a threat to himself or anyone else. I contested that, if five days prior he was seeing things that weren’t there and behaving in such an erratic way, how was he not a threat to himself at that time? He died shortly thereafter of an overdose.”
Family Matters
“That was the biggest loss of my life,” Palumbo attests. “As the oldest, I have always protected my siblings. Salvy always knew that I was going to save him from trouble. My number one promise to him was that I was never going to bury him. Now that I have, I am pissed off because he was struggling with addiction and mental health and there are not enough people who care about addicts.”
“I am the oldest of four, then it goes Salvy, Vincent, and Debora and then of course, there is my mom, Donna. My dad died when we were younger and after that, we all became very close. Everyone thought we were weird because when we weren’t together, we were always Facetiming and in constant contact. When Salvy was struggling, my mom, my brother, and my sister were also very active in trying to help and find solutions. Now we are navigating this loss together. Salvy has already missed so many family events and it has only been six months.”
Gaps in Care
“To medical workers,” Palumbo continues, “People like Salvy are just another addict. They are not given the same respect as you or I or somebody with only mental health problems. They don’t want to take the time to learn what is actually wrong. All they do is release addicts with nicotine patches and Narcan. There is never a clear discharge protocol that gives the person options; people to call if they have further issues.”
“After all of this happened, I called CHA to have an internal investigation done. They were nice, but they just kept sending me letters that said my brother voluntarily admitted himself – which was not true – he was admitted under a Section 12. So, I emailed the CFO and they called me back two hours later and explained that they hadn’t received any of my communications and then they finally agreed to set up an in-person meeting.”
“My brother didn’t need to die. We tried to get him help. Families that know their loved one is in danger need to have their voices heard before their person is discharged into a life-threatening situation. We told the medical professionals he was in trouble; we requested that he be sectioned 22 times. They only took him in twice, and both times, he was let out. As an addict, you become a really good liar. The first time, he told them our uncle died, which wasn’t true, and they let him out without any intervention. The second time, he was going through withdrawal and having seizures, so they took him to the hospital which ended the section because he was medically discharged.”
Love in Action
“I was never angry at my brother for being an addict,” Palumbo continues. “I loved him through the tough times – I could never give him too much love. I loved him when he was hurting, I loved him when he was high, I loved him more than anything. I needed to do something for his legacy because his life meant something. I started reaching out to legislators, state representatives, and the mayor of the town I live in. I just needed somebody to take a chance on me because I had so much to say. I am not an addict, I don’t even drink alcohol, but I loved an addict. People who use drugs are somebody to someone, and he was my someone.”
In her work to lobby for legislation consistent with the proposals in Salvy’s Law, Palumbo has met with several legislators who confirm that thus far, there is nothing in the law which reflects her proposal. “It is my job to find coalitions and advocacy groups to help me with the language of the law and to find where it would fit in the law,” she says. “That’s why I created FACT – to collect stories of other people who have encountered these oversights and experienced unnecessary tragedies. We have over 200 members and many share the same story ranging from Massachusetts to California.”
“Even if this law doesn’t pass, thousands of people will know my brother’s story and can advocate for their loved ones by telling hospital staff to record, in writing, that their person currently poses a threat to themselves. This way, there is a written record of the event, which can increase accountability and the principles of Salvy’s Law will be working for them even if the legislation doesn’t pass. All families of people who are struggling with substance use should be able to have a voice for the vulnerable.”
“I want to be that voice for the vulnerable. If I could say one thing to lawmakers, treatment providers, and hospital staff, it would be to listen to families. We are the people who know our loved ones are in crisis. We may not have medical degrees, but we know their histories, their patterns, their risks, and their fears. We should be partners in care and not voices that are dismissed. I feel that from the bottom of my heart.”
“There are a lot of misconceptions about families who deal with a member who has substance use issues,” Palumbo concludes. “The biggest one is that people think we don’t care or are not involved. But most of us have been fighting for years – making phone calls, showing up, begging for help, and trying to keep our loved ones alive – which is truer than you could possibly imagine.”
In Part Two, Caprice Palumbo takes readers further into her grief journey while navigating the legislative system and searching for support from lawmakers and advocacy organizations. Stay tuned to the August issue of VOICES for the rest of the story…