25 STRIKES AND NARY A HARSH SENTENCE

Man's Rap Sheet Illustrates System's Revolving Door

When city police caught Ronald Wilson running in a back alley last
month shortly after a burglary at a West Street liquor store, they
knew very well who they were cuffing.

The 46-year-old Parole Street resident has been arrested at least 40
times and has 25 convictions on his record for crimes ranging from
theft to drug possession to resisting arrest. But police say no matter
what they arrest him for, judges give him lenient sentences or order
him to drug treatment - ultimately putting him back on the streets in
a few months.

Officer Hal Dalton, a city police spokesman, said the state's judicial
system is ill-equipped to handle nonviolent criminals like Wilson.

"They've been in and out of the system, and nothing seems to work. I
think we'd be better served if these people were just removed from
society," Officer Dalton said.

At the time of his arrest Jan. 22, his fourth charge in three months,
Wilson was enrolled in the Circuit Court's Adult Drug Treatment Court
Program - a closely supervised form of probation for people addicted
to drugs and convicted of nonviolent crimes. Wilson was last released
from prison in February 2006 and admitted into rehab, but he washed
out by the end of the year.

Circuit Court Judge Michael E. Loney, who supervises the drug court,
declined to comment about Wilson directly, noting that the man is
scheduled to appear in front of him Feb. 15 regarding possible
expulsion from the program.

If convicted of violating his probation, Wilson faces more than eight
years in prison.

Speaking in general terms, Judge Loney said drug court and
court-ordered drug rehabilitation are better at stemming crime than
long prison sentences since they address the root of the problem: drugs.

"They are basically coerced into doing what is right for them," he
said, explaining that drug court involves a lot of supervision and
counselling under threat of prison.

Judge Loney added he and his staff try to screen applicants to make
sure only defendants truly interested in cleaning up their lives are
admitted to drug court, but he admitted some slip through the cracks.

"We won't know unless we try," he said. "We can't give up on
everyone."

Non-Violent History

Wilson currently is behind bars at the Jennifer Road Detention Center,
charged with the attempted burglary at Gritz's Liquor and three other
thefts in the city. He is being held without bond.

Those charges, however, are just the latest in a string of arrests and
convictions dating back to the 1980s and part of a lengthy criminal
history broken up by almost annual stints in the county jail.

Wilson is not a violent criminal, or even a particularly good one.
Like thousands of other drug addicts determined to feed their
addictions any way they can, Wilson would walk into a store or break
into a building, grab something he could easily carry and run away.

Despite all of the convictions, Wilson has never spent more than two
years behind bars.

State's Attorney Frank R. Weathersbee explained misdemeanor crimes
carry light sentences. Misdemeanor theft, for example, has a maximum
sentence of 18 months.

Sentences are weakened when judges order repeat offenders to serve
multiple sentences for separate convictions concurrently - at the same
time - rather than consecutively - one after another.

For example, Wilson was convicted of five crimes in three months in
1997: two misdemeanor thefts, one misdemeanor burglary, one drug
possession and one false statement to a police officer. Each
conviction resulted in jail sentences ranging from 6 months to two
years, but the judges allowed Wilson to serve all five sentences at
the same time. He was back on the streets and in trouble with the law
in January 1999, charged with a burglary at a muffler shop on West
Street.

District Court Judge Robert C. Wilcox said he doesn't like concurrent
sentences, but said they sometimes are necessary. He explained that
anyone sentenced to more than 18 months behind bars goes to a state
prison.

But when the state runs short on beds for murderers and rapists, he
said, the Department of Corrections is allowed to place some inmates
on house arrest. Judge Wilcox said that means a petty thief sentenced
to 18 months at the county jail might actually spend more time behind
bars than one sentenced to 10 years at a prison.

"He's the first candidate they are going to set loose," he
said.

Still, Mr. Weatherbee said judges should put defendants with long
criminal histories away for as long as possible.

"The only way to stop the guy is to give him the maximum allowed under
the law," he said.

The burglary of a shed and theft of a $150 mitre saw in January 2004
netted Wilson his harshest sentence. As part of a negotiated plea
agreement, Circuit Court Judge Paul A. Hackner sentenced Wilson in
April of that year to 10 years in prison. He suspended all but five
years.

But Wilson's own drug addiction proved to be his "get out of jail
free" card less than two years later.

"Recently my addiction has escillated (sic) to a level where I stole
from my family and close friends..." he wrote in one letter, dated
Jan. 13, 2005. It was one of dozens of letters he wrote the court over
the years, asking judges for leniency, work release and shortened sentences.

In Feb. 2006, just 21 months after sending him to prison, Judge
Hackner suspended the balance of the sentence and let Wilson go to
rehab. Circuit Court Judge Michele D. Jaklitsch also suspended a
consecutive 15-month sentence she handed down in Aug. 2004 so Mr.
Wilson could enroll in the Second Genesis program in
Crownsville.

Wilson washed out of rehab within the year, testing positive for
cocaine during his final days in the program.

Trials, Rehabilitation

Lucy Lowenthal, director of development for Second Genesis, said
Wilson's case exemplifies a key weakness in court-ordered drug
treatment: the person has to want to do it.

"You have to work. You have to be committed," she said, acknowledging
some people just choose rehab because it involves nicer rooms and
better food than prison.

But, Ms. Lowenthal said, few drug addicts want to live that life and
most are eager to kick the habit if they get some help.

"It's a gift for them to come to us," she said, claiming only 10 to 15
percent of the people who come to Second Genesis wash out. "I'd say it
works for 85 percent of the people in our program."

Officer Dalton said Annapolis has 10 to 12 people that are in and out
of jail like Mr. Wilson.

"They've been in programs. It's not for lack of trying...," he said.
"I don't know what the answer is, some individuals don't take to
treatment, or maybe they just don't want the treatment."

Russell Butler, executive director of Maryland Crime Victims Resource
Center, said his group thinks treatment and rehabilitation is
important but "at some point, you need to protect society."

"We shouldn't give up on people, but we do have to realize that there
are some people not amenable to treatment," he said.

'No more excuses'

Even judges admit the system isn't perfect and that some defendants
get too many second chances.

"I get sick when I see these guys coming through again and again,"
said Judge Robert Wilcox, noting one bail review Thursday where the
man had 47 prior convictions. "Everybody deserves a chance, ... (but)
it gets to a point where enough is enough. You are costing society too
much money."

Judge Hackner himself expressed those same concerns to Wilson in March
2007.

While he had just washed out of rehab, Wilson told the judge he wanted
to put crime and drugs behind him.

"It's not going to be behind you. You're going to get back out and you
are going to get back into drugs," Judge Hackner said during the
hearing. "I'm not a magician. There is a point where I should get
myself a big red stamp that says 'No more excuses.'... If I had that
stamp I'd put it on your file.'"