BECOMING WHOLE AGAIN

The woman dragged her hand across her eyes, then let her head drop to
the side like a lead weight swiveling at the end of her neck.

"I'm worried about you," the judge said to her. "I think you're
avoiding things. Are we dealing with relapse?"

"No," the woman said. Her eyes searched the ceiling of the courtroom.
"I'm just tired."

But the woman had missed a scheduled drug test. She'd missed meetings
with therapists.

"I think you're relapsing," the judge said.

If this were a regular juvenile court docket for parents of deprived
children, the judge's concern would be noted, caseworkers would
continue to follow up and there would be another hearing in some 30 or
60 days.

But this was the Tulsa County Juvenile Bureau's drug treatment court.
Representatives from nearly a dozen social service agencies were all
in the room together, rather than scattered at the end of phone lines
with answering machines, pagers and phone mail.

They're here to share resources and act quickly.

Looking for Family and Children's Services? They're represented.
Indian Health Resources? They're here.

Intervention Services, 12 and 12 counseling, Metropolitan Tulsa
Substance Abuse Services, and the Parent Child Center.

Both the child welfare division and the family support division of the
Department of Human Services are here, together, in addition to court
personnel, such as the judge, the prosecutor, the court appointed
attorneys for the children and the parents, and the Tulsa County
Juvenile Bureau case managers.

All of them work on cases and reconvene weekly.

The intensive schedule helps court officials see patterns of behavior
and anticipate problems with these parents whose children are in
protective state custody, said Catie Holzer, the court's case manager.

Under other circumstances, the woman may have persisted in her denial.
But instead, Holzer said, she confessed outside the courtroom that she
had relapsed and tearfully regretted lying to the judge.

"You have a relationship (between the counselor and the parent) and
they will tell you," Holzer said. "You get that sick feeling in your
stomach; you ask them, and they tell you."

They know when someone relapses. The question follows: What now? Not
next week, not next month, but today. What now?

The juvenile bureau started the special court in November test a new,
intensive program to try and rehabilitate parents of deprived
children, or to determine more quickly when children should be placed
for adoption.

The federal Adoption and Safe Families Act of 1997 mandated that
juvenile courts and child welfare agencies move more quickly to place
children in permanent homes, whether back with family or with adoptive
parents.

The court must be ready to plan permanent placement of a child within
12 months after he has been removed from his home, or if the child has
been in foster care for 15 months over a 22-month span.

The mandate has merit, Special District Judge Doris Fransein said,
because "12 months in a child's development is like six years for an
adult."

What's best for a child may be reunification with his natural parents
- -- if they can beat addictions, or learn parenting skills, or learn to
manage anger.

But this is where workable time frames clash, Fransein said, and the
myriad social-service agencies have to be held to an intense
accountability.

When the only hope of reunifying a family rests in comprehensive
treatment of a parent, Fransein told an audience of juvenile court
officials and child welfare workers, "it is an inexcusable and cruel
Catch-22 not to make such treatment available to the parent."

But addictions can be brutal, capable of corrupting parenting
instincts, she said. Treatment is ar duous and relapses are more
likely to happen than not.

How many relapses can the court allow before terminating parental
rights? There are no sure formulas.

Relapsing is devastating, said a 25-year-old mother. She knew she
could lose her parental rights to her 2-year-old son. When she was
offered the chance to go into treatment court, she took it because "my
son means everything to me."

In court recently, the judge lauded the woman for her progress, with a
continuing note of caution.

"If you are brave and you work through this, I'd expect consistent
nurturing of your child. I'd expect successful relationships with
adults," the judge said. "Without intensive counseling, I worry about
relapse."

For her, the mother said later, the constant supervision and support
is working.

"I'm grateful these people are here for me," she said. "I don't want
the wreckage from the past to come up and cause me to relapse. I love
my boy more than anything."

Holzer daily teams up with DHS caseworker Sean O'Guin, checking up on
parents then reporting with all the agencies present in court every
week. Parents in need of help are not left in limbo because of false
statements or misunderstandings.

"Addicts are masters at dividing and conquering agencies," Holzer
said. "Here they can't do that."

The program isn't for everyone. It's for parents who have severe
addictions and want to get clean and who are willing to take on the
full and hectic schedule of treatment court.

So far, 14 parents have joined the program. Nine still remain, hoping
to be reunited with their children. One couple dropped out, and in
three cases, the parents decided to give their children to adoption or
guardianship.

A $75,000 federal grant, added to $25,000 in matching funds from the
county, has gotten the program this far, said treatment court
coordinator Conley Tunnell.

The cost savings could be wide-ranging, he said.

If treatment court is successful, Tunnell said, parents escape the
grip of addictions that can ruin their homes and jobs and even doom
them to shelters or prison. And, most importantly, their children gain
new hope to grow up free of the same destructive path.

"We're trying to break the intergenerational chain, that cycle that
perpetuates itself," Tunnell said. "Every deprived case should be
handled this way."

It's hard to know if the parents are making real progress, with
relapses being so hard to predict. But Holzer believes their work is
taking hold.

"We're planting seeds," she said. "Planting seeds."