DRUG COURT: PUNISHMENT WITHOUT PRISON

A STATE that sends four new people to the slammer each day, while worrying
about how to pay the bill, should be thankful for drug courts. Without
them, Missouri's prison rate would be much higher.

The St. Louis Drug Court is a model of how justice can be served without a
jail sentence. This court diverts certain defendants from criminal
prosecution by giving them the option of enrolling in a program that can
help them become drug-free, productive citizens. Naturally, most of those
eligible for the program jump at the chance. It beats prison.

But it beats a lot of other things in the eyes of the no-nonsense
commissioner who runs the St. Louis Drug Court. Jane B. Geiler, a
transplanted Oklahoman, has seen this city's drug problem from both ends of
the law. She has been a social worker, public defender and prosecutor. In
that last job, she remembers putting adults behind bars for drug offenses
and later jailing the offenders' children for similar offenses. The
offenders were in a revolving door because no program addressed their
addictions and other social problems.

In drug court, participants get treatment for their drug problems under
strict supervision from a drug court team that includes the prosecutor, the
participant's defense attorney, a drug treatment specialist, the court
administrator, and a diversion manager whose duties are similar to that of
a probation and parole officer.

Participants are expected to work. Those who don't must take part in a job
training or placement program, submit to random drug testing and attend
self-help meetings, such as those run by Narcotics Anonymous. The
prosecutor drops charges of enrollees who complete the program, which lasts
a minimum of 11 months. The drug court graduated its 30th class this month.

The city's Drug Court administrator, Jeff Kushner, says about 50 percent of
participants stick with the program. Even that rate is a bonus, he says,
because the cost of sending an enrollee through the program is about
$2,500. Compare that to about $13,000 needed to feed and house a state
prisoner.

State lawmakers need to think about how this alternative model to prison
can be expanded to cover other nonviolent felonies. Rehabilitation not only
saves money but turns out productive citizens.