CRIME & PUNISHMENT: BREAKING THE CYCLE OF ADDICTION

Local Legal Experts Say Belief Systems Must Be Changed

More than three out of every four inmates entering the state's
prisons likely have problems with addiction and yet just one-third
of them receive treatment for it.

"Substance abuse, in my opinion, is our No. 1 enemy," said Jimmie
LeBlanc, who is heading up the Louisiana Department of Corrections
while Secretary Richard Stalder is out on medical leave.

Yet the state, largely because of the public's belief that treatment
is expensive, ineffective or unnecessary, has been hesitant to fully
fund efforts aimed at addressing addiction, be it inside or outside
of prisons. As a result, untreated addictions are helping to fuel a
vicious cycle that puts addicts in jail and then returns them to the
streets where they in turn commit more crimes - often to fuel or as
a direct result of those addictions.

And statistics show that about half will eventually return to
prison, helping to sustain the state's incarceration rate, which
leads the world with 791 per 100,000 residents.

"The knee-jerk lock-'em-all-up approach is mindless, expensive,
dehumanizing and horribly shortsighted," said 15th Judicial District
Judge Jules Edwards III, who helped start the local drug court.

Edwards said that criminals who have not participated in any
virtuous developmental activity likely have not altered their belief
system and therefore cannot be expected to alter their future
behavior once released on parole.

On a local level, Carolyn Stevens is a prime example.

Stevens was among eight repeat offenders highlighted by The Daily
Advertiser's Crime & Punishment series.

Her record includes a variety of drug-related offenses, from
possession of crack cocaine to theft, for a total of 37 bookings at
the Lafayette Parish Correctional Center. But despite her record,
only once was she ordered to undergo treatment, something that
officials say is just as effective as voluntary treatment, and that
was nearly a decade ago.

At 28, Stevens already has cost taxpayers at least $88,000 in
incarceration rates alone. On the other hand, intensive treatment
would have cost about $5,000.

An army of Stevenses

A survey by the Louisiana Office for Addictive Disorders found that
more than 77 percent of inmates entering state prisons were in need
of treatment and of those, 82 percent were sentenced on nonviolent
drug offenses.

As of September, 6,334 inmates, or about one third of those housed
in state facilities, were in some type of substance abuse education
or treatment, according to LeBlanc.

DOC recently was awarded an additional $2 million to increase
substance abuse education and treatment outside of what exists
within the prison system. In 2006, about $5 million was spent on
rehabilitation, of which treatment would have been included.

DOC's budget for 2007-08 was $657 million.

LeBlanc said despite a desire to provide more treatment, it always
has come down to finding funding to do it.

"It's easier for politicians to be tough on crime because it's
easier and that's what the public expects from them," he said.

Also, while significant strides have been made to raise awareness
about addiction, many still view it as a personal flaw rather than a
disease. Likewise, many politicians may shy away from funding
treatment programs for fear of being labeled soft on crime.

But Edwards said in order for the state to evolve beyond its current
predicament, citizens must demand that their elected officials both
develop and employ policies that are both tough and smart on crime.

"Ultimately, the citizens of the great state of Louisiana are
responsible for the fact that Louisiana has such a high rate of
incarceration," he said.

To continue under the current plan only perpetuates the costs and
problems. For the next fiscal year, Louisiana's adult institutions
will cost taxpayers more than $403 million to operate with another
$152 million going toward local parish jails, which house about
17,000 state inmates.

According to DOC's own statistics, about 48 percent of all inmates
will return to the system. Others put that number higher, at up to 66 percent.

And when you consider that about 7,500 of the 15,000 inmates who are
scheduled to be released next year will come back within five years,
taxpayers can look forward to spending another $13,000 per year per
inmate for a grand total of $97.5 million. That's nearly equivalent
to the state's Office for Addictive Disorders' entire 2007-08 budget.

"We are perpetuating crime," said Carmen Roebuck, executive director
of the St. Francis Foundation, a halfway house in Lafayette.

It is a crisis that can be found on both sides of the prison fence.

Addictive disorders

On average, it can take up to a month and a half for a person with a
substance abuse problem to be admitted into one of the state's
treatment centers.

Last year, the Louisiana Office for Addictive Disorders served
59,000 people. But there are about 300,000 people in need of help,
which means the state is able to meet only 6 percent of the demand,
according to Michael Duffy, secretary of OAD.

About 1,700 people are waiting to be treated daily. The state has
966 beds, which include detox, in-patient and halfway house beds.

That is of little help since it is likely that those who commit the
majority of the crimes are the ones who cannot afford private
treatment, which can costs thousands of dollars, compared to state
services, which work on a sliding scale.

"If you don't help your fellow man, your fellow man is going to help
himself to your property," Roebuck said.

The lack of available treatment statewide means many likely will
succumb to their addictions before their name is called.

"If you understand addiction, that is unconscionable," Duffy said.
"When people reach out and finally admit that they need help, for us
not to be able to take them, in my mind, it dooms them to continue
using and hopefully not die. Because this disease does kill people,
both directly and indirectly."

And while addiction may not make criminals of all 300,000 of those
in need, it will do so with untold thousands of them - many finding
themselves in prison orange with nonviolent possession offenses and
some falling into a life of more violent crime to feed the addiction.

The Office for Addictive Disorder's 2007-08 recommended budget was
about $104 million, which is nearly $20 million less than that of
Angola's, just one of the state's 13 prisons.

To offset this, Duffy said the department has learned to rely on
federal grants, one of which will tie into the Department of
Corrections and the Office of Youth Development.

The $13.5 million grant seeks to serve about 6,000 people over the
next three years and will bring the services to them once they leave
the prison system.

It will provide recovery support services, safe housing,
transportation, job training and child care while allowing the
recipient to choose where they receive treatment through the use of vouchers.

"It's still woefully inadequate, but it's a beginning," Duffy said.

Of those who had a criminal record who were treated on the outside,
OAD reports that 60 percent do not become reinvolved with crime
during their treatment.

And of those who enroll with OAD, 56 percent successfully complete
their treatment.

And then there's the long-term savings associated with treatment.

According to OAD's Web site, some studies show that $1,583 per
person can save nearly $11,487 per person in the form of workplace
productivity, medical costs and incarceration costs.

Solution: Drug courts?

If you ask Edwards what the solution is, he'll point to programs
like the 15th Judicial District's Drug Court, Focused Intervention
Through Sanctions and Treatment, or FIST.

It was the result of a lot of frustration that "what we've been
doing has not been working and there has to be some other way," he said.

Recent statistics show that recidivism rates after one year of
graduation from FIST are 7 percent, meaning there is a 93 percent
success rate. After two years, recidivism rates climb slightly to 11
percent, according to Lori Guidry, program manager.

In drug court, each participant works with staff to hammer out a
suitable plan, which is followed by drug tests, weekly court
appearances, counseling, group meetings and a requirement to hold down a job.

Edwards said that drug courts were created to direct recently
arrested nonviolent offenders with substance abuse issues into a
rehabilitation process that leads to a reduction or elimination of
their addiction while encouraging the development of a productive life.

"Once the crisis (of addiction) is resolved, the addict's ability to
perceive the problem is drastically reduced," Edwards said.

It is a way to get people off what Edwards called the "criminal
justice escalator" where offenders find themselves marching their
way up to "ever more significant sentences and people who are
serving life sentences on the installment plan."

Drug court now has about 120 clients and is overseen by District
Judge Edward Rubin. The program is funded by the Louisiana Supreme
Court at a cost of $4,500 per client per year along with weekly fees
paid by the client.

"We've learned, I think, that good people can make bad choices,"
said Chief District Judge Glennon Everett during a recent drug court
graduation. "So, if we can improve their lives, then that's a noble thing."

Edwards now has a mandatory drug court, an effort to get those who
opt out or refuse to participate in FIST, which he estimated at
about 370 or out of 500. This court oversees probation revocation
hearings and seeks to provide probationers with the tools and,
if necessary, the sanctions they need to keep out of trouble.

If participants graduate from drug court, it means they are afforded
a second chance at life, District Attorney Mike Harson said.

And in the end, he said, "If you can get a few to succeed, then you
have a few less coming back in."

Surrender

For Rozell Ewing, drug court was a two-and-a-half-year battle with
himself. Ewing had used cocaine for about six years before being
arrested for an unauthorized use of a vehicle.

"I didn't know I was sick till got here. ... I found out the problem
wasn't drugs, it was me. I was determined to find out about me."

He's been sober for eight months following a relapse while in the program.

"I had to get caught to surrender. You have to surrender yourself."

But while Ewing has realized his problem and has received help for
it, for Carolyn Stevens, and the thousands like her costing
taxpayers hundreds of millions of dollars a year, the cycle continues.

Harson was unaware of Stevens' situation before The Advertiser
brought it to his attention.

He had no explanation as to how she had managed to slip through the
system, avoiding both a long prison sentence as a habitual offender
and at the very least treatment that could have motivated her to change.

He says that likely will change when she comes to court for a pending case.

Time will tell if it was too late.