BROOKLYN PUTS NEW TWIST ON DRUG COURT

DTAP Shows 'We Should Not Write Off Repeat ... Offenders'

Everyone wanted Kristopher R. Collins to get drug treatment.

The judge, the defense attorney and the prosecutor agreed that Collins, who
stole $9,000 from eight elderly or middle-aged Monroe County residents
after gaining their confidence, desperately needed help for an addiction
that began at age 12, when a grandmother introduced him to crack cocaine.

But extensive in-patient drug treatment wasn't a realistic option because
Collins' addiction was so fierce and his crimes were considered so serious
that he faced a mandatory state prison term. In April, the 20-year-old
Collins was sent to prison for five years by a judge who called him
''probably one of the most tragic cases I have had.''

Collins' case points to the difficulty in securing treatment -- other than
the limited treatment available in prison -- for offenders who commit
felony crimes. Rochester's Drug Treatment Court is now handling some felony
offenses, but they are a small portion of the overall caseload.

''It's a very, very small percentage of people who do get the opportunity
to participate in drug treatment court,'' said county Public Defender
Edward J. Nowak. ''What happens to the others?''

Nowak and others say upstate localities such as Monroe County should pay
attention to the success of a Brooklyn program called the Drug Treatment
Alternative-to-Prison, or DTAP. Similar in its model to Rochester's Drug
Treatment Court, Brooklyn's DTAP often takes felons whom the local drug
court wouldn't.

''DTAP demonstrates that we should not write off repeat, drug-involved
offenders,'' the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse at
Columbia University wrote in a March evaluation.

How DTAP works

Offenders who enter DTAP plead guilty to a felony before they begin
treatment. They then enter the treatment program before their sentencing,
allowing them to defer the time for a mandatory prison sentence.

If they complete treatment, the charges can be dismissed or reduced to a
misdemeanor. Otherwise, they still face mandatory prison time.

The program doesn't accept those who commit acts of physical violence.

DTAP relies on three months or more of treatment in a residential
rehabilitation facility, followed by continued treatment, employment
assistance and monitoring.

If offenders fail, they'll likely be sent to prison to serve their terms.

''Having a hammer over somebody's head that keeps them in treatment is
key,'' said Robert Lebman, vice president of DePaul Huther-Doyle, a
Rochester-area treatment organization.

DTAP takes steps to ensure that offenders will stick with the program, said
Anne Swern, counsel to Brooklyn District Attorney Charles Hynes. DTAP has
its own warrant squad to track down offenders who skip out of treatment.

A total of 97 percent of absconders are returned to court within 10 days.

About 40 percent of those accepted into DTAP drop out. Three-quarters of
those are then sentenced to prison time. (Most others have their charges
reduced, are routed into other treatment, or are awaiting a disposition of
their case.)

District Attorney Howard R. Relin said different communities craft programs
and solutions best for them. The drug scourge in Brooklyn perhaps requires
programs with a greater reach than in Monroe County, he said.

For instance, he said, he doesn't favor opening the local program to drug
dealers, as DTAP does. Many local dealers peddle drugs solely for money,
not to feed a drug habit, he said.

Had Collins committed his crimes in Brooklyn, he could have been a
candidate for DTAP. In cases like that, Swern said, the prosecutors would
reach out to the criminal victims to see whether they agreed that treatment
was better than incarceration.

Collins, who didn't respond to a request to be interviewed for this story,
was arrested in November while trying to cash a check forged in the name of
an elderly Irondequoit woman.

In a statement to investigators, Collins said that he had ripped off people
since October in Rochester, Greece and Irondequoit. After charming his way
into their homes by claiming that his car had broken down, he slipped into
bedrooms and stole cash, jewelry and checks that he forged and cashed to
get money to feed his $100-a-day addiction to heroin.

In one case, he returned to a Rochester home and broke a window to get in
and steal money.

There was no doubt that Collins needed intensive help to end his addiction
and stop committing crimes.

''It's very sad and very tragic that his family got him into drugs,'' said
Assistant District Attorney Julie M. Finocchio.

The question: How to get Collins into treatment?

Set up to fail

Sam Crabb, a worker in the Alternatives to Incarceration program at the
Public Defender's Office, tried to find an intensive in-patient drug
program that would accept Collins. But under reimbursement rules set by
health care insurers, Collins would have to fail first in an out-patient
treatment program before being accepted for in-patient treatment.

Collins, who had never been in a treatment program, didn't qualify. And
Crabb said he couldn't recommend an out-patient program because, in all
likelihood, Collins would backslide without intensive supervision.

Collins' road to rehabilitation also was stymied by the charges against
him. He was charged with eight counts of second-degree burglary for
entering homes to steal property. Although he didn't physically injure
anyone, the state's Penal Law defines that offense as a violent felony,
exposing Collins to a mandatory prison sentence of at least five years.

Prosecutors could have reduced the charges to third-degree burglary, which
didn't require incarceration, if Collins had been eligible for an
in-patient treatment program such as DTAP. But prosecutors said they
wouldn't have lowered the charges even if Collins had been eligible.

''Considering the number of victims and their ages, it would have been a
mockery to allow him to plead guilty to a lesser charge,'' Relin said.

Although prosecutors wanted Collins to receive 12 years behind bars, County
Court Judge Frank P. Geraci Jr. offered him five years if he pleaded guilty
to all the charges against him. Collins accepted and on April 9 was sent to
prison.

Citing Collins' wretched childhood, Geraci said Collins was the kind of
offender who would have benefited from Drug Treatment Court, which pushes
low-level offenders into treatment ''before they get to the point where you
are, where you have been, where there's no turning back and the only answer
is state prison.''

But the judge also said Collins made his own choices and had to take
responsibility. He urged Collins to take advantage of the limited
drug-treatment programs offered in prison.

''I don't think we need to throw you away by giving you 10 or 20 years in
prison when we know why you engage in all of these activities; every single
one to support a drug habit that was ingrained in you through your family
that you were never able to get removed from,'' Geraci said. ''That's the
real tragedy here.''