CHERTSEY, QUE.–When recovering drug addicts arrived at their 8:30 morning class at the Clear Haven Center north of Montreal as usual last Thursday, they were told of its imminent closure.

Less than 90 minutes later, they were on a bus headed to the airport, some with no plans or means to get home, the Star has learned.

The fragile rehabilitation of some of those addicts began to unravel that day. One 26-year-old man, a heroin user, relapsed the day after returning home and overdosed on the drug, his family says.

Elijah Peabbles is now brain dead and will probably be taken off life support Wednesday.

"None of this would have happened if they hadn't kicked him out like that," said Elijah's 18-year-old brother Preston, reached at Maine Medical Center in Portland, Me.

"He got far in rehab in only a month and was supposed to be there for three months."

The 20 addicts, some crying, were left to fend for themselves as they were dropped off at Montreal's international airport last Thursday morning. Some were in a bad state. Those with no cash were given $100, which clients noted is not enough for a plane ticket, but enough to buy drugs.

Two clients interviewed by the Star say a few began using cocaine on the bus on the way to the airport.

They say another client, an American who didn't find a flight home, started using again at an area motel. He was found "blasted," said Kevin, a U.S. marine veteran from Chino Hills, Calif., who asked that his last name not be used.

Clear Haven, which uses counsellors and educators in a "cognitive therapy" program to keep users from relapsing, has welcomed clients from across North America for years. It is owned by an Alberta dentist, Terry Orsten.

Orsten would say only that the centre was "going into receivership," when reached in Fort McMurray, Alta.

Some clients arrived at the Clear Haven Center, a private residential treatment facility near Chertsey, about 100 kilometres north of Montreal, just days prior, completely unaware of its imminent shutdown. Former employees, too, were kept in the dark.

"I was shocked," said Carol Young, one of the centre's educators, who taught cognitive therapy classes. "First, I thought, 'Oh my God, what are these poor people going to do?'

"How could he do this to them?" she added, referring to Orsten.

It's not clear how much money clients and their families have lost. Three months of treatment costs more than $15,000, not including transportation or detox.

One client, a 27-year-old Toronto woman named Marilyn, who also asked that her surname not be used, arrived on New Year's Eve. "At first I thought it was a joke, like they were testing us."

She had received none of the counselling sessions her parents paid for.

Young said she recognized that some of the more fragile clients might have problems.

"Some were in such shock you knew they'd have problems. They could relapse."

Former employees say they were asked to attend a 7 a.m. meeting Thursday, when the announcement was made. At 8:30, the start of the first class of the day, the director and a staff counsellor told clients the news.

"All they said was the owner was filing for bankruptcy," Young said.

Two prearranged provincial police squad cars were parked nearby in case of trouble.

Some scrambled to try to contact their families on the three payphones. The Internet was also cut off before the clients left the building so travel arrangements couldn't be made, Marilyn and Kevin said.

One client left a message for Orsten on a blackboard. "F--- you, owner," said Michel Paquette, one of the security personnel.

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Clients who had no cash whatsoever were given $100 for incidentals. Marilyn and Kevin viewed this as ironic. "You can't buy a plane ticket with $100 but you can definitely buy drugs," said Marilyn.

While the counsellor rode on the bus with the clients, Young drove behind. At the back of the bus, one client retrieved a baggie of cocaine from his wallet and passed it to some friends.

Young said when they reached the airport, the clients "were left to their own devices."

Some had no passports because their families took them away to prevent them from leaving the program.

"It was horrible," she said.

Paquette's wife, Danielle Fontaine, said the whole event was "immoral." Fontaine, who worked in the office, and Paquette said they were aware of cash flow problems at the centre, which began more than a year ago.

The only problem was that bills were being paid late, but they were eventually paid.

Fontaine confirmed clients were being accepted into the centre's final days. One person arrived last Tuesday.

You have to take the narrow roads that carve through forest around Chertsey to get to the Clear Haven Center. Set on a hill and blanketed in snow, the grounds look peaceful.

There are signs people left in a hurry: Yoga mats next to the garbage pile, kitchen waste strewn about, a thermos with a tea bag still inside, forgotten on the veranda.

Orsten's sister Irene Clarkson, a former executive director of mental health and addictions for B.C.'s Ministry of Health Services, designed Clear Haven's cognitive therapy treatment program, which seeks to modify clients' thinking patterns and behaviour.

In a 2007 profile of Clear Haven in Treatment Magazine, Orsten says he spent "millions" on program development.

The former clients say it was a well- organized and structured program.

Elijah Peabbles' family says he was making progress. His mother, Jewel, drove from Maine after he called her from a fellow client's cellphone at the airport.

They arrived home on Friday. Saturday morning, she found him unconscious and not breathing. Needles were found in his clothing.

Jewel didn't want to be interviewed, but she wrote an email to the Star. "My son had a new lease on life and was so excited, and it was ripped away from him."