DRUG COURT BELIEVES IN REDEMPTION

I'm at a graduation ceremony and the featured speaker enters the room
dressed in orange stripes, bound by handcuffs. This is Drug Court. Like a
lot of folks in Courtroom C, the man is an addict. As one of the program's
failures, he had some knowledge to impart to the Drug Court enrollees and
the program's two graduates. The kind that comes from the belly of defeat.

"Drugs are evil to the soul and (they) rape your consciousness. ... And if
I don't get this thing right, I will die."

He, like the two men who were graduating from Drug Court that day, had been
given the tools to shake his habit. He talked about how it signaled a new
day in his life. It renewed hope for his family. But a single lapse in
judgment put him there before a packed courtroom, chained, contrite and
pitiful. All he'd worked to reclaim was gone. His second chance, wasted.
Still, I left Drug Court that night convinced this state and this community
needs more of this. More restorative justice where we rebuild people. More
emphasis on treating addiction, which is the root cause of so much crime in
our community. More second chances where we divert people away from a
lifetime of crime and give them the chance at sobriety and citizenship.

One would think a devout community like Greenville would be heavily
invested in redemption. But we're not.

Like many of our public policy failures, politics is to blame. This kind of
justice isn't and will never be popular with voters. So at both the state
and local levels, government has been reluctant to invest in drug
treatment. And when we have, it's been viewed as expendable. We've cut drug
treatment in our state's prison system. Here in Greenville, our County
Council's support of drug treatment has declined and is best characterized
as symbolic. A study by the county's Alcohol and Drug Abuse Center
estimates 30,000 of our neighbors are in need of treatment. Yet the county
provides just 1 percent of the county-run Phoenix Center's budget and its
16-bed detoxification center.

Without more generous public help, detox is out of the reach of the folks
who need it most. And when we don't treat people, we're simply asking for
more crime. And more victims.

That's why 13th Circuit Court Solicitor Bob Ariail and Judge Charles
Simmons the two men who run Drug Court are invested so heavily in it. They
see the error in the lock-'em-up approach that only makes for crowded jails
and crammed court dockets. Why doesn't our County Council? Why doesn't our
state Legislature? Why don't more solicitors and judges in this state
muster the same courage as Ariail and Simmons and acknowledge the obvious
despite its unpopularity: Jail alone can't heal people. It is not a
rehabilitation program.

But Drug Court can turn around a few. It's 18 months of discipline and
tough love. Enrollees are held accountable for their actions. They're told
failure is a reflection on the program that won't be tolerated. It's a hard
line to toe, and only a few make it to the end.

But when they do, it's worth it. Taxpayers spend about $2,500 on a Drug
Court graduate and save about $13,000 annually to house, clothe and feed an
inmate. So for some the choice is either $2,500 for treatment or $130,000
for a 10-year stretch in prison. That alone argues for the need to identify
those receptive to treatment and treat them.

I pray that Anthony and Warren, the men who were graduating that day, make
it. Warren's story is typical. He turned to crime to feed his drug habit.
It put him in front of a judge facing more than 15 years of prison for
shoplifting, autobreaking and possession of crack cocaine. But during his
time in Drug Court he passed 110 drug screenings. He completed the classes
and counseling. He reconnected with his family, mending the strained
relationships that will now serve as the foundation for maintaining his
hard-won sobriety. He has about a 4 in 10 chance of staying clean. Those
are odds we need to take more often.