SPECIAL COURT IN S.F. OFFERS HOPE AND HELP TO THOSE SHORT ON BOTH

As debate rages over how to solve San Francisco's seemingly
intractable homeless problem, city leaders, academic researchers and
even some formerly homeless people themselves say progress is being
made every Thursday afternoon inside Department 15 at the city's
gloomy Hall of Justice.

For a couple of hours each week, the courtroom fills with dozens of
defendants with serious mental illnesses who have been charged with
or convicted of crimes ranging from misdemeanor theft to felony
assault and robbery. Almost all were homeless or on the brink of
living on the streets at the time of their arrests, and many of them
struggle with drug or alcohol abuse.

It sounds like a scary scene, like many city residents' worst fears
gathered together in one room. But it's surprisingly touching - and
according to Superior Court Judge Mary Morgan, who presides over the
court, it's "the most hopeful thing happening in the criminal justice system."

On one Thursday not long ago, a bipolar man arrested in March for
battery against a BART agent brought his trumpet to court on Morgan's
orders and stunned the packed courtroom into silence with his
rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

It's not unusual for defendants to approach the bench to present
Morgan with a poem, greeting card or artwork they have crafted just
for her or to show her the most recent photograph of their children.

Working with a host of city agencies, the court gives the defendants
specially designed treatment plans that include case managers to help
them get into psychiatric rehabilitation and supportive housing
programs, obtain proper medications and find assistance to overcome
drug and alcohol abuse. If the defendants successfully complete the
program, which usually takes a year or two, their criminal charges
often are reduced or wiped from their record.

But maybe more importantly for the defendants, Morgan and others say,
these Thursday sessions could be the first time in a long time
anybody's paid attention to them - other than spotting them on the
streets and quickly scurrying away.

"We have a lot of cases in here. We're busy making sure they're in
compliance with their treatment plan and doing well," said Jennifer
Johnson, a lawyer with the public defender's office who represents
many of the defendants at the court. "It's nice sometimes to stop and
listen to what they're interested in - what moves them."

Lisa Lightman, who directs this and other special courts within the
San Francisco Superior Court, said defendants often say the best
thing about the court is simply getting noticed.

"That moment makes all the difference for them staying in the
program," she said. "Sometimes it's the first time they've been heard
by an authority figure - they feel recognized." Recidivism curtailed

Behavioral Health Court works, according to a UC San Francisco study
published in September in the American Journal of Psychiatry. The
study found that participants in the program, marking its fifth
anniversary this month, are far less likely to commit future crimes
than mentally ill criminals processed through the traditional justice system.

Data indicate that by 18 months after completion, participants, who
at first are required to make weekly court appearances, are 39
percent less likely to be charged with a new offense than mentally
ill people in the regular court system. The risk of being charged
with a new violent crime was 54 percent lower, the study found.

"The participation appears to enhance public safety - not compromise
it," said Dale McNeil, one of the authors of the study.

But not everyone is convinced the court is an answer to San
Francisco's homelessness problem.

Jennifer Friedenbach, director of the Coalition on Homelessness, said
it's one more example of the city offering services to homeless
people and the mentally ill only after they become part of the
criminal justice system. She and other advocates wonder why these
well-regarded services aren't as readily available to mentally ill
homeless people outside the courts.

"We just don't have enough treatment for everyone who needs it," she said.

One person who has benefited from the Behavioral Health Court is
Maurice Chambers Wilson. On one recent Thursday, the 37-year-old
approached the bench and told Morgan about his new room in a
single-room-occupancy hotel.

"I have the key right here to open the door to my happiness," he told
her, waving the little gold-colored key as proof.

"I want you to stay on track and remember how important having a
place to live is," Morgan told him before, as she often does,
ordering a round of applause for Wilson from the entire courtroom -
the burly bailiffs included. (The bailiffs are specially trained to
put up with more yelling and other behavior than would be tolerated
in traditional courts.) A challenging clientele

Wilson was a homeless alcoholic struggling with manic depression,
schizophrenia and bipolar disorder when he said he heard voices one
night telling him to hurt someone. He hit a stranger walking across
Market Street in the Castro and was arrested for felony assault.

He spent several months in jail before being selected for the
Behavioral Health Court seven months ago.

When he's not in court on Thursdays, he's likely to pass his days in
a dingy building on Market near Fifth Street, which houses Citywide
Case Management Forensic Program, the unwieldy name given to the
social services component of the court, which is run by UC San Francisco.

There, those participating in the court meet with social workers,
join support groups, take classes in art and cooking, play board
games and just hang out. If the threat of jail is the stick, this
building, which Wilson calls a sanctuary, is the carrot that keeps
him and others determined to make it.

"The model of connecting the services to the court does work," said
Kathleen Connolly Lacey, program director of Citywide. "There has to
be a benefit to people to participate. They work harder than they
would if they got straight probation."

She added that the center gives some structure to people who often
don't have jobs, aren't in school and aren't raising families.

"They're so highly structured in jail and when they get out, they
have nothing to do and that leads to, um, interesting activities," she said.

Wilson's days now consist of working a part-time job running errands
for the owner of an art gallery.

"I've made a real turnaround," he said. "I want to be a more
productive citizen in society."

The court handles more than 200 cases a year like Wilson's. Many city
agencies collaborate with the Superior Court to make it work,
including the district attorney and public defender's offices, the
departments of Public Health and Adult Probation, the Sheriff's
Department and Jail Psychiatric Services.

Judges, attorneys or staff with Jail Psychiatric Services can refer a
defendant to the mental health court, though participation is
voluntary. Those who qualify are in jail and have serious mental
health problems, such as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder, which
directly contributed to the person committing the crime in the first
place. Defendants charged with sex offenses, homicide, domestic
violence or weapons offenses aren't eligible.

"These are people who are ill and who need treatment for their sake,
for the sake of their families, for society at large," Morgan said.
Goal is graduation

Once they become part of the court, the defendants are never
homeless. They stay in jail until they can be provided housing, often
in SRO hotels in the Tenderloin.

As they progress through the program, they are required to go to
Morgan's Thursday court session less and less often until they
"graduate." A graduation ceremony is planned for Wednesday, and Mayor
Gavin Newsom is scheduled to be the guest speaker.

The Thursday sessions usually last a couple of hours and consist of
each defendant coming to the podium with a public defender or private
lawyer to speak with Morgan for a minute or two about their progress.

"Hello, your honor," one man said on a recent Thursday. "I'm a clean
and sober person for three months and four days now. And my place is
so clean. I go on cleaning spurts!"

"I learned how to make sushi," another told her.

Another showed off his brand-new jacket.

Morgan remains patient and calm with each one, giving many of them a
little piece of advice or a compliment.

"You're doing well, so well. ... Just be patient, OK? Don't give up.
.. Your hair's different! You look great ... . I hear you have a job
at Safeway .... You look much better in those clothes than you do in
orange ... Eat fruits and vegetables - they're the best thing for you
. ... You're the most important person in the world to you, got that?"

But she's also firm when defendants aren't doing well, telling them
they risk being booted from the program and returned to the
traditional court system if they don't shape up. Often, that means
heading straight to state prison.

"You're out of control," she told one recently. "You're doing too
much in the way of drinking and doing too much in the way of drugs.
You've got one week to get it together."

One who has gotten it together is Sherry Erlandson. The 28-year-old
high-school dropout struggled with bipolar disorder and a drug
addiction and was arrested in late 2004 for felony assault after
slamming her then-girlfriend's finger in a door. She used to cry to
Morgan every Thursday afternoon.

Now, she lives on her own, takes her medications, speaks about mental
illness to the sheriff's department and community groups, started a
pet therapy group for the other defendants and holds a job serving
food at the social service center's Jitterbug Cafe. She's due to graduate soon.

"I've never graduated from anything - I'm so close now," she said, a
huge smile spreading across her face. "I would recommend it to
anybody - it's changed my life tremendously. This is my first job
ever in my whole entire life - I'm just so happy." Special courts aim
for rehabilitation

The Behavioral Health Court is just one of several "problem-solving
courts" within the San Francisco Superior Court.

The model, which is catching on around the nation and in several
other countries, aims to go beyond punishing defendants for their
crimes by focusing instead on rehabilitation of problems that
contributed to the crimes being committed in the first place.

While the Behavioral Health Court focuses on healing defendants'
mental illnesses, San Francisco's 12-year-old Drug Court aims to rein
in their drug addictions. Youth with mental illness or substance
abuse problems can access services through the Youth Treatment and
Education Center, also part of the Superior Court, which includes a
special high school for juveniles on probation.

A new problem-solving court - and pet project of Mayor Gavin Newsom -
is due to open in April and tackle misdemeanors and nonviolent
felonies including car break-ins and shoplifting that plague the
Tenderloin and South of Market neighborhoods.

Called the Community Justice Center, it is modeled on Manhattan's
Midtown Community Court. A Superior Court judge will preside over the
new court, handing down sentences mixing community service and social services.

Originally, Newsom wanted the court to concentrate on smaller
quality-of-life crimes such as public urination and public drunkenness.

But the Superior Court decided to use the court to focus on somewhat
more serious crimes, in part because under state law, people issued
infractions for quality-of-life crimes cannot be taken into custody
and brought straight to court, which is what happens in the New York
model. In California, they are issued citations and told to come to
traffic court within 45 days.

Supervisor Bevan Dufty, one of City Hall's biggest champions of
problem-solving courts, has asked the city controller to prepare a
report on how the various courts are working and how the new
Community Justice Center will fit in with them. Dufty said he is a
huge fan of the Behavioral Health Court and has referred many people
from his district to it.

"My experience referring individuals to the Behavioral Health Court
has been extremely positive, both for individuals and the
neighborhood," Dufty said. "It's a holistic approach that recognizes
that much of the state's mental health system has been dismantled
over the past generation."