DRUG COURT OFFERS SECOND CHANCE

They've Been Described As Both
Theater And Therapeutic Justice

Everybody says you really have to see one. Bailiffs hugging
defendants. Tears, jeers and cheers from the gallery.

Urged, even egged on -- by a judge.

The first one was set up in 1989 in Miami by a then little-known
prosecutor named Janet Reno.

By 1995 Utah had its first and as of last month so did Ogden: drug
courts.

They've been described as theater, therapeutic justice, even a tent
revival, turning the judge into a cheerleader with a club as the
courtroom audience reacts like a pep rally to the goings on.

"You really need to go sit in on one," said Rich Schwermer, Utah
deputy state court administrator overseeing implementing of drug courts.

"Going to drug court itself is a therapeutic experience. It's almost
like theater.

"A judge will be questioning a guy in denial on his urinalysis
results, denying he had used. The judge will turn to the audience of
fellow drug offenders and ask "What do you think?' and they'll hoot at
the guy. So you get peer pressure involved."

Schwermer said the proceedings are emotional and honest. "I've never
seen anything quite like it in a courtroom.

"The thesis is you're looking at outcomes instead of process. It's not
about whichever side of the facts the attorneys are more persuasive
on."

Schwermer said Gov. Mike Leavitt sat in on a Salt Lake drug court
session for 90 minutes and left so impressed he tried to pry $5
million out of the last legislative session for more of them. He got
$1.5 million.

Currently eight such courts operate in the state, including three in
Salt Lake's 3rd District Court, two in the 4th District in Utah
County, and one in Vernal, which is the 8th District.

Second District Judge Jon Memmott has operated one more than a year
now in Davis County and fellow 2nd District Judge Roger Dutson started
up one just last month in Ogden.

The format is fairly simple. Prosecutors screen drug arrests for
non-violent offenders and those nailed for their second felony drug
offense.

"The majority of those who commit one drug felony, don't do another,"
Schwermer said. "So a second drug felony is pretty serious."

Once in the program, a plea in abeyance is taken. That is, the
offender pleads guilty, but if the offender then completes the next
year of intensive supervision, the charge will be dismissed.

But if they fall off the intensive treatment track, since the drug
offender has pleaded guilty, they can still be sent to prison or jail
at the drop of a hat by the judge who they will be seeing on an almost
weekly basis.

"We're in a therapeutic mode, but I can still put them in jail,"
Dutson said. "No trial. No hearing. They've already had their due process."

But if they complete the program, they become "graduates" and lose the
defendant tag.

With jail as the club, the emphasis is on treatment as each eligible
defendant gets a program designed specifically for them by a drug
counselor, probation officer and the judge.

Schwermer said the cost per defendant has been about $3,000 per year,
with $2,500 going to treatment, including urinalysis testing up to
three times a week.

The results nationwide have been impressive, Schwermer
said:

Recidivism rates for graduates in 600 drug courts nationwide range
from 4-17 percent.

That compares to 70-80 percent for drug criminals in the mainstream
courts.

But so far, only one or two percent of the nation's drug offenders are
funneling through drug courts, Schwermer said.

Dutson's drug court is still fledgling, having only its second session
April 11.

He's waiting on funding before letting it grow. He's applied for a
federal grant and asked for some of the $1.5 million allocated by the
Legislature. He's expecting word on both sources by July.

Once the funding comes, he expects he may need to hire another court
clerk for the drug court caseload. And Kevin Koopmans, a counselor at
Weber Human Services who will coordinate the treatment aspect, will
likely have to hire several new counselors.

"We're changing the whole concept of this revolving door situation
with drug offenders, especially facing this epidemic of meth use,"
Dutson said.

As it is in traditional courtroom setting, he said, "We see the same
people coming through all the time, over and over. I would estimate 85
percent of our probation violations are from failed urinalysis tests."

Schwermer's boss, State Court Administrator Dan Becker, describes
therapeutic justice as "using the court as part of the treatment
process, part of a team concerned about the individual. It's a
slightly different role for the judge."

Becker is co-chairman along with the chief justice of the Florida
Supreme Court of a national Task Force on Therapeutic Justice.

The task force is looking at opening the throttle on therapeutic
justice, which is mostly drug courts, but has been applied to domestic
violence cases, so-called family courts which group offenders by
family ties, even mental health cases, Becker said.

"The task force is taking stock in how it's working," he said. "The
growth of the past 10 years shows it's definitely catching on."

"But it's still an appendage, not mainstream. We want to apply the
concepts to mainstream courts.

"If you haven't had a chance to go to a drug court, I would encourage
it. (It's) a very interesting few hours."