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<p><strong>Tucson, AZ</strong> — On the left side of the courtroom, 60 to 70 short, dark-brown men and a few women are seated, handcuffed and shackled from the wrists, waist and ankles. All are silent. They take up about 20 rows, including the two corresponding to the jury box. The scene is surreal. Their chains, their color and height are very pronounced – yet in this courtroom, are hardly noticed by the lawyers and other court officials, including the judge.</p>

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<strong>Voice of OC</strong></p>
<p>It’s nearly 11 a.m. on a Saturday morning, and a 72-year-old grandmother is saddled up to one of Pechanga Resort &amp; Casino’s high-limit blackjack tables.</p>
<p>The dealer points her way, saying: “She’s a Vietnamese superstar, huh.”</p>

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<strong>New America Media</strong></p>
<p>Like most severely mentally ill patients, 23-year-old Daniel Padilla doesn’t see himself as that.</p>
<p>The insurance companies that cover him – Medi-Cal (California’s name for Medicaid, the federal-state-funded insurance for low-income and disabled people) and United Health Insurance — don’t see the schizophrenia he was diagnosed with at age 19, as deserving the same benefits as someone with a medical condition.</p>