'SOMETIMES SHE IS NOT MY DAUGHTER, SHE IS A MONSTER'

Parents Put 400 Kids Into Rehab Under Year-Old Law

EDMONTON - Last month, Mary Jones went to court and begged a judge to
lock up her 16-year-old daughter.

She trembled as she told of finding drugs like marijuana and crack
cocaine in her home. She explained the crystal meth addiction, and
told of the bad grades and the stealing and the lying and the
outbursts of violence.

"She is Jekyll and Hyde," says Jones, who asked to use a pseudonym to
protect her daughter.

"Sometimes she is not my daughter, she is a monster."

Before she started using four years ago, Jones's daughter was an
honour student so bright she skipped a grade, a soccer player and a
swimmer.

Now, she has been kicked out of school and can't hold down a job. Most
of her friends are users.

She doesn't think she has a problem.

For years, Jones tried everything: school counsellors, treatment
programs, tough love. Nothing worked.

Last month, she made a painful decision. She asked a judge to send her
daughter to one of Alberta's groundbreaking mandatory detox centres
for addicted teens.

One year ago this month, the controversial Protection of Children
Abusing Drugs Act became law in Alberta.

Under the act, called PChAD, parents like Jones can apply to a judge
to have their child forced into a five-day detox and assessment program.

In the first year, Alberta judges granted more than 510 apprehension
and confinement orders, which sent nearly 400 kids between the ages of
12 and 17 to do time in safe houses across Alberta.

Advocates and program workers say the program is a success: nearly 60
per cent of the kids forced into it stay on for voluntary treatment.

"The numbers speak to the success," says Susan Foster, who works for
Alberta Alcohol and Drug Awareness Commission as provincial
co-ordinator of the PChAD program.

"We are catching the kids we wanted to catch," she says. "These are
families we would not have seen before PChAD."

The safe houses are tucked in discreet corners of Edmonton, Calgary,
Red Deer, Grande Prairie and Pitcher Butte. The windows and doors are
alarmed, so the young addicts can't leave. They are given a dorm-style
room to sleep in, regular meals and around-the-clock access to a counsellor.

When they arrive, most are overwhelmed, afraid and angry with their
parents. Almost all are in denial. The goal of the five-day program is
to get them to see that they have a problem.

"They have no choice but to sit in the safe house and think," says
Diann Tansem, supervisor of the PChAD safe house in Edmonton.

AADAC staff work with the youths to help them see the impact drug use
is having on their lives. They talk about relapse prevention and help
kids identify triggers and coping techniques. Family time is included
in treatment.

"For many families it is the first time they have had a real
conversation with their child in months," Tansem says.

The youths also receive a treatment recommendation. More than half
pursue it.

But there are problems. More than 80 kids have been through the
program more than once. Some have returned as many as four times.

"We need longer," Tansem says, a call loudly echoed by parents and
advocates. "We need more time to engage them."

Sometimes the kids sleep for three straight days after they arrive, so
counsellors have only two days to work with them. Others stay angry,
and some, like Jones's daughter, stay in denial.

"We need to keep these kids longer when they need it," says Audrey
Holliday, whose son has struggled with drug addiction for more than
four years.

In 2004, Holliday co-founded Parents Empowering Parents, a support
group that was instrumental in getting the PChAD legislation passed in
2005.

Originally, the group lobbied for a 90-day confinement and treatment
period. The stay was reduced to five days due to fears that longer
periods of forced confinement would violate the child's rights under
the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. That is still a concern.

She says lawmakers are considering the possibility of reassessing a
child after five days in treatment and allowing parents to apply for a
second confinement order if the child needs it.

In effect, the child could get 10 days of continuous, mandatory
treatment.

"It is not what we want, but it is the next step," Holliday
says.

Advocates note the program only works when parents can act to help
their children. Parents who aren't invested in their kids' lives don't
use the system, and those kids still fall through the cracks, says Red
Deer MLA Mary Anne Jablonski, who tabled the private member's bill
that led to the PChAD legislation.

Jablonski says teachers have expressed an interest in applying for
confinement orders when parents cannot or will not. That concept is
being explored.

Even if parents get their children into a safe house, the child can
appeal the order. At least 112 children have done so, and judges
overturned 58 orders.

The price tag is also big. In its first year, the program budget was
$13.9 million.

"There is a huge cost to this," Jablonski says, "but if these kids end
up on the streets, in mental health units or on AISH, we pay. If we
put the money up front, we keep them from ending up in jail, in the
hospitals or in the grave."

For Mary Jones, the goal is much simpler: she just wants her daughter
back, and she believes PChAD can help. When the young woman emerged
from detox, she saw a glimmer of the daughter she once knew. She even
got a hug.

"It is like you get these little flashes of what your child used to
be," she says.