DRUGS SPIN JAIL'S REVOLVING DOOR

FRANKLIN - Judges Tim Easter and Donald Harris sit in polished quiet
courtrooms and peer down at drug abusers who have dressed up for their
few minutes of unfortunate fame.

More often than not, the person has been before one of them before and
to tried explain why they were caught with drugs in their car, in
their pockets, or hidden in their bra.

It is such a revolving door that the judges are looking for
alternatives, and looking for support for a new approach to drug crime.

In another part of Franklin, a young-looking bald man with piercing
blue eyes sits in an office that has a secret address. No one can know
where Joey Kimble, head of the Drug Task Force, is. He moves his team
from time to time, hauling dingy gray file cabinets filled with pot
and bongs and bags of pills, hundreds of guns and knives. Kimble has
seen it all, usually from behind a tinted van window, watching money
being changed for a high.

"Right now we're seeing OcyContin," said Kimble. It is a
prescription drug used to treat moderate to severe chronic pain and
giving Kentucky authorities, among other states, fits because it has
spread like kudzu and killed dozens who overdosed.

In this county, pristine pastures touch subdivisions filled with
big-box houses. Life is good and most residents are never touched by
crime or drug abuse - at least that's the mistaken assumption many
county residents make, according to Easter and Harris, who want to
shake that notion.

They want residents to know that more than anything else, drugs are a
big issue in their courtrooms and the way users are clocked through
the judicial system now does nothing but delay a problem that has to
be addressed: get users off drugs and make them want to lead a clean
life.

Harris told a story of a woman in nice clothes who would head out on
Sunday to open houses, not to buy a new home, but to shut the bathroom
door and rifle through the seller's medicine cabinet looking for
prescription pain killers. Or the kindly woman who spent much of her
time tending to the elderly, freshening their water, fluffing their
blankets, then stealing their pain pills.

"By far, prescription drugs are one of our biggest problems in this
county," Easter said. That would surprise most people who think drug
abusers here prefer weed or cocaine, that they look haggard and worn
down from their addiction. Not true.

Easter and Harris have seen so many drug abusers from so many
different economic levels of life, that they're ready to try a new
approach, a separate court that relies on peer pressure, counseling
and the chance to turn a life of pills and pot into something better.

Both went to California to learn more about Drug Court. They hope to
bring the court's success to the 21st Judicial District (Williamson,
Perry, Lewis and Hickman counties), but the old adage, "begun is half
done" does not apply.

First, the obstacles: They need money, a place to house drug court
participants, and the support of a community of citizens who've never
walked through the metal detector at the courthouse, nor sat in a tiny
holding cell with a dozen other malcontents.

"We are putting people in jail over and over again and it takes all
our resources to deal with them. If we can't stop them, then Drug
Court is at least an effective a tool as putting them in jail. If we
can identify the ones who commit the crimes, because they are drug
addicts, then hopefully they won't create any more crimes," the judge
said.

Criminal drug use has its own high price.

"The cost of this problem is greater than you think. We want to take
that cost that may be spread out over a few years, and put it in the
front end, in rehabilitation," Easter said.

As envisioned, Drug Court would be an intensive court-supervised
program for non-violent offenders. The team of professionals met last
year and will make an application for a federal grant. Treatment
programs and a place to house repeat offenders, though a break-even
proposition in Harris' and Easter's opinion, still has an inherent
expense. One jurist observed recently that he clearly understood why
crime and the institutions that deal with it are not lavished with
money in this county.

"These are the people we don't want to deal with or think about. We
don't want to spend money on them," he said.

Drug Court's major difference with its counterpart - criminal or
general sessions court - is that it is non-adversarial. No lawyers for
the defendant, no district attorneys wanting to prosecute, just the
judge and the inmate, one-on-one, with some hard and fast rules that
have to be obeyed.

"It is predetermined what will happen. To be successful you have to
be strong and encouraging. You also have to hold them accountable,"
Easter said.

In California, Harris was impressed with one judge's firm but guiding
manner.

"She sent man to jail for seven days and told him to think about
something. The judge said she would not give up, but when he got back,
she wanted to know how he could have avoided the trouble he was in,"
Harris recalled.

Easter remembered it too.

"That particular guy had gotten with some evil cousins over the
holiday. When they're in Drug Court, they have to find a whole new
group of friends, even if it means giving up your family. The Drug
Court becomes your new family, your new set of friends. It is all
about severing those bad ties, those patterns to addiction," Easter
said.

So, if a man commits to Drug Court but his wife is still popping pills
and repeating her bad behavior, what happens?

"You are going to have to leave them," Harris said.

Both know that the obstacles they face turning people with bad
behaviors into contributing members of society could defeat their Drug
Court dream.

But it doesn't matter to either one of them. Given the chance to see
the first Drug Court graduation, where a diploma and the promise of a
new life may be the biggest reward.

"Even if we don't get the grant, we might be able to start something.
We are ready and willing to find local funding," Easter said. He
hopes to pair up with other social service agencies and is even
willing to unabashedly ask for funds from individuals.

And they both want residents to be aware of the cost of drug problems
in the 21st District.

Drug agent Joey Kimble knows too well.

"We're going to start working the pharmacies to find prescriptions
that are changed or altered. We've got an unusual number of them,"
Kimble said. And when Kimble gets his man or woman, the next face-off
is down at the courthouse going through a process that focuses on
punishment, not prevention.

Over the next few months, Kimble and his agents will arrest dozens of
county residents caught being bad.

Kimble always gets them in the end.

But Easter and Harris want the repeat drug offender next. And then,
they don't ever want to want to see them again.

Janet Lethgo covers breaking news, county crime and Brentwood for
Williamson A.M. and The Tennessean.