Drug courts up for judgment
Alex Coolman
Jennifer was a fresh-faced 17-year-old the first time she tried
heroin.
A decade later, her body and soul had been ravaged by a habit she
couldn’t control. Her addiction grew until it destroyed her life, pulling
her down into a grim world of homelessness, prostitution and prison time.
“My whole day was spent getting more,” the forceful, dark-haired
32-year-old recalled recently. Being arrested on drug possession or
prostitution charges and going to jail were simple facts of life.
“I would do my 90 days and get back out and go back on Harbor
Boulevard,” she said. “Nothing was different.”
Today, something about her is different.
Jennifer works as a waitress in Santa Ana. She’s sober, she seems
collected and she’s going to school to become a counselor for other
people dealing with addiction.
And it wasn’t the prison time that made her change her way of living.
It was a program called drug court, which emphasizes treatment and
counseling for nonviolent drug offenders.
Drug courts are the subject of some debate this fall because of
Proposition 36, an initiative that would modify the way the courts deal
with drug offenders.
According to backers of the initiative, Prop. 36 is necessary because
drug courts fail to reach a large percentage of drug offenders.
But as the politics swirl around the Harbor Justice Center in Newport
Beach, which started its drug court this summer, the program is slowly
helping people, advocates say.
Superior Court Judge Geoffrey Glass, who presides over the Harbor drug
court, says the program is already starting to recover some lives that
first looked like they would be lost.
The difference between a drug court-style approach to drug offenses
and an ordinary courtroom is the emphasis placed on encouraging drug
users to take responsibility for changing their lives.
“In a regular court, if somebody came in with a possession, they may
get some jail time and then probation. But there’s not a whole lot of
treatment involved,” Glass said.
Drug court participants, on the other hand, are immediately plunged
into a monthlong detoxification program, taken to group counseling
meetings and are ultimately expected to take steps to address their
addictions. They are required to take regular drug tests, and if they
flunk a single one, they serve time.
For many addicts -- those who lack the skills to live an ordinary
life, much less one without chemical dependency -- the expectations of
drug court are difficult to meet.
“A lot of people would rather do jail time than to have this much
structure in their lives,” Glass said. “A lot of them just can’t cope
with it.”
For some people, however, the change from the punishment-oriented
method of traditional drug sentencing can make a life-altering
difference.
“It’s just a whole different set of tools,” said Jennifer, who asked
to remain anonymous. “I’ve developed a support group. I’ve kind of gotten
a little more hope.”
Drug courts have been around since the late 1980s; there are more than
400 such programs operating across the nation. Advocates of the programs
claim that between 65% and 80% of people who participate in drug courts
manage to stay clean.
Critics of the courts argue that they don’t meet the needs of most
drug offenders.
“Depending on the county, the drug court system reaches between 2% and
5% of the people who are potentially eligible,” said Dave Fratello,
campaign manager for Prop. 36.
Fratello also criticized the drug court system for the demands it
places on judicial system workers.
“It’s so dependent on a judge who is really motivated and really
willing to get involved in the lives of individual defendants, so it can
only grow so big,” he said.
But Glass said the importance of the individual judge is one of drug
court’s greatest strengths. He believes the fact that addicts are forced
to appear before him encourages them to work harder toward sobriety; they
realize that somebody takes a personal interest in their condition.
“[The judge] is the one the people want to please,” he said. “Those
appearances [in court] are critical” to the program’s success.”
For Jennifer, it was more than a desire to please the judge that made
her come around.
It was finally understanding -- as she heard her options of four years
in jail on a possession charge, or a chance to try drug court -- that
addiction would sweep away the few remaining fragments of her life.
“It’s your own realization of when you’ve become powerless,” she said.
“There was no amount of drugs that could help.”
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