TOUGH MINUS LOVE

Juvenile System On The Brink Of Failure

Guards breaking inmates' arms. Suicide attempts, sometimes successful.
Sexual abuse, rampant drug use, violence. Three inmate deaths in as many years.

This isn't Attica or Alcatraz. The "inmates" aren't really even inmates.
They're children, some as young as 10. And they're in the hands of a state
juvenile justice system that is on the brink of imploding.

In 10 years, Florida's juvenile justice system has become, for many
children, a horrifying place. Gradually, the emphasis has shifted from
therapeutic to "tough love." Now, the love is gone, and not much is left
but the tough.

That isn't the case for every child who enters the juvenile justice system.
But there are clear patterns. As penalties grow harsher, funding for
diversion programs gets tighter. Programs that are proven to work -- such
as the PACE School for Girls in Daytona Beach -- are left scrambling for
funds while lock-em-up and beat-em-down facilities flourish or become mired
in scandal.

Bill Bankhead, secretary of the Florida Department of Juvenile Justice,
asked Gov. Jeb Bush last month for an extended leave of absence, only a few
days before the latest storm broke with the release of a scathing grand
jury investigation into a South Florida maximum-security detention center
for girls. The grand jury reviewed reports of serious staff misconduct --
including two separate incidents where girls' arms were broken, and several
supported cases of sexual contact between male guards and girls -- as well
as evidence that the center's management team worked to cover the problems up .

The report ripped into Premier Behavior Solutions, the private corporation
that had been running the center, finding that most of the problems stemmed
from inadequate staffing and broken equipment -- both of which the company
could have afforded to repair while still turning a profit. Premier's
contract to operate the center has since been terminated -- but it still
has other contracts, as do 40 other providers across the state at 163
juvenile facilities.

If Bankhead doesn't return, this situation will be a serious concern for
his successor. The grand jury report lays out the difficulties involved in
overseeing the private providers, and the potential for disaster when the
state's attention slips.

But it doesn't address the increasing trend toward incarceration for
children who demonstrably won't benefit from it. And it doesn't examine the
extent to which legislative tinkering under the guise of getting tough on
crime has interfered with the department's supposed mission of rehabilitation.

It will take a strong leader to stand up to lawmakers and tell them they're
on the wrong track -- to insist that programs be fully funded and held
fully accountable, to turn the tide back toward programs that identify
troubled kids and turn them around before they become dangerous adults.
That doesn't mean treating children with kid gloves, but it does mean using
the latest research to craft programs that work.

Maybe this time the message will get through. If not, the price will be
heavy -- both for the unfortunate children caught in the system, and the
families, schools and communities to which they will eventally return.