A Special Editorial Page Report

COURTING SUCCESS

Broward County's Drug Court is more about treatment than prosecution, but
drug abusers under its jurisdiction soon learn there's nothing soft about
it. To get their charges dropped, not only must abusers undergo rigorous
treatment and stay clean for a year, there's also Judge Melanie May to face
if they break the rules.

Judge May has neither a booming voice nor a fiery temper, and she's willing
to bend a little if a drug user misses a treatment session or otherwise
slides backward, briefly, into dubious behavior.

Don't lie to her, though, and don't push her too far, or she'll smile
broadly and lower the boom.

For failing to take required urine tests for drugs, a woman was handcuffed
to a courtroom chair for a morning, watching while Drug Court rolled on.

For faking a diabetic condition and missing repeated treatment sessions, a
man was ordered into a toughly run boot camp for 90 days, starting the
following week.

``But judge,'' protested his attorney, ``he has a problem with boot camp.''
Replied the judge, unimpressed: ``The problem is false. Medical tests show
he doesn't have diabetes.''

Violate the rules, and risk being sent by Judge May to detoxification. Or
to a month of intensive residential treatment, where personal freedom is
limited to occasional furloughs of a few hours.

The most frightening punishment, of course, for a person charged with drug
abuse is to be thrown out of Drug Court jurisdiction and left to deal with
the prospect of a permanent felony conviction in another court, followed by
prison. Most of the nearly 1,000 abusers currently enrolled in Drug Court,
therefore, follow the rules set down by Judge May.

In six years of existence, the Drug Court has proved its value in treatment
of narcotics offenders, turning thousands of them into productive citizens.
These same recovering addicts no longer are prowling the streets, no longer
committing burglaries or mugging victims to support an expensive drug habit.

So far, the Drug Court hasn't had the money for comprehensive tracking of
its ``graduates.'' An intern carried out one study, which showed that of 75
recovering addicts who successfully completed the oneyear Drug Court
program in July of 1995, just four had been arrested on criminal charges by
the following July.

That indicates a stunning success. The Drug Court, however, badly needs
sufficient money to track all of its graduates, short and longterm, so
this community can understand more precisely just how valuable the court
has become to crime reduction, reduced pressure on crowded jails and the
rebuilding of productive citizens.

Perhaps comparative financial statistics can be developed, as well. It
costs about $1,333 per year in taxpayers' money to treat an offender in the
Drug Court program.

How much money is saved, by a reasonable and informed estimate, because
that recovering addict has stopped stealing and burglarizing?

Sufficient money for such detailed research could come from several
sources. A foundation could see the need, and meet it. County taxpayers
could be asked to foot the bill.

Or a plan by the Broward County Commission on Substance Abuse to gather
comprehensive data on drug abuse could encompass tracking Drug Court
graduates.

The Drug Court should be considered an invaluable community resource. By
attaching specific, reliable numbers to its work, ``invaluable'' can begin
to be defined.

One other point: The Drug Court's caseload nearly 1,000 offenders who
make many court appearances as their progress is judged seems excessive.
A temporary second drug court could be set up, perhaps part time, to take
some cases until the time when drug abuse drops markedly in Broward County.

Copyright © 1997, SunSentinel Company and South Florida Interactive, Inc.