News (Media Awareness Project) - CN AB: 'I Owe It My Life,' Former Addict, Dealer Says Of Drug Court |
Title: | CN AB: 'I Owe It My Life,' Former Addict, Dealer Says Of Drug Court |
Published On: | 2008-12-13 |
Source: | Edmonton Journal (CN AB) |
Fetched On: | 2008-12-14 04:29:05 |
'I OWE IT MY LIFE,' FORMER ADDICT, DEALER SAYS OF DRUG COURT
Pamela Spurvey is not ashamed to talk about her sordid past. She
believes that telling her story can help other drug addicts change
their tragic lives.
Spurvey, a 38-year-old mother of five, believes that if people see how
she managed to dramatically alter her life with the help of the city's
experimental drug court, they will find the resolve to make the tough
decisions to change their own lives. Still, it isn't easy to talk
about the pain in her life, about living with her prostitute mother
and the sexual abuse she endured as a child.
Her voice chokes with emotion as she describes hitting rock bottom two
years ago after police raided her home and charged her with nine drug
offences, including trafficking cocaine, crystal meth and marijuana.
She was on bail at the time from a raid two weeks earlier that
eventually put her in jail for 20 days on a drug possession charge.
Spurvey says she was stoned most of the time back then. She earned
money to support her addiction by selling drugs to kids while her own
children were left to take care of her -- hardly a poster mom. After
the last raid, her four youngest children -- aged three months to 14
- -- were placed in the care of others.
Spurvey, homeless, ashamed and plagued with guilt, plunged into a
deep, drug-fuelled funk, not caring if she lived or died. But two
things happened to pull her out of her downward spiral. Her oldest
son, who was 17, begged her to straighten out for the sake of his
siblings, while her lawyer urged her to enrol in the drug court pilot
project that offered addicts a chance to avoid prison by cleaning up
their acts.
Spurvey was extremely frightened the first time she walked into
Courtroom 267. She doubted she would find any friends there, but what
she discovered were people who genuinely cared.
"I started to see that somebody actually wanted to know how I was
doing, and they became like family," she says. "They became real
people in my life, and they are still there for me."
Spurvey dried out and found spirituality at a treatment centre,
learned lifeskills at a safe house and reported weekly for 15 months
to Provincial Court Judge Darlene Wong, who presides over drug court.
Once rehabilitated, Spurvey was reunited with her children and now,
clean for 21 months, she is enjoying being a mom.
"It's incredible to be a mother again. I love it that I am home and
making supper for my kids every night and tucking them into bed. I can
tell them how
proud I am of them. The love I have, I wouldn't want to
lose."
Spurvey says a key part of the program was attending court to account
for her actions in front of Wong.
"You look at this tiny, little woman that is up there and you see so
much love and kindness and concern in her eyes. She is just like a mom
to us. She cares."
But Spurvey also knew Wong could send her to jail if she messed up
like some of the others did.
The program, which has been running in Edmonton since December 2005,
has graduated 17 people with one relapse, says program head Doug
Brady. There are 20 in the program now and Brady would like to double
it if he can get more treatment beds, funding and staff.
Brady says there are only six drug court projects in Canada compared
to about 2,100 in the United States, and experience is showing they do
make communities safer. "I think for every dollar we spend on someone
in drug court, there's a return of $3 because they are no longer
breaking into cars or selling drugs and they are no longer a burden on
the criminal justice system," he says.
Wong credits the drug court workers and their clients for the
significant changes the program made in people's lives -- even in the
lives of those who didn't successfully complete it.
"It's not magic," the judge says. "It's hard work, dedication and a
high level of skill. I share their pain and I share their joy. We have
laughs and tears and hugs, and all sorts of things you wouldn't see in
a normal courtroom."
Spurvey says she is living proof the program works and she's anxious
to spread the word. She says she has broken a cycle of addiction that
has spanned 70 years in her family.
"This program kept me from going to jail and losing my family. I owe
it my life."
She says she is loathed in Camrose, where she sold drugs to kids, but
she wants to make amends.
"I have made mistakes and I would like to apologize for hurting that
community. I would love for them to see that it is possible for people
to change."
Pamela Spurvey is not ashamed to talk about her sordid past. She
believes that telling her story can help other drug addicts change
their tragic lives.
Spurvey, a 38-year-old mother of five, believes that if people see how
she managed to dramatically alter her life with the help of the city's
experimental drug court, they will find the resolve to make the tough
decisions to change their own lives. Still, it isn't easy to talk
about the pain in her life, about living with her prostitute mother
and the sexual abuse she endured as a child.
Her voice chokes with emotion as she describes hitting rock bottom two
years ago after police raided her home and charged her with nine drug
offences, including trafficking cocaine, crystal meth and marijuana.
She was on bail at the time from a raid two weeks earlier that
eventually put her in jail for 20 days on a drug possession charge.
Spurvey says she was stoned most of the time back then. She earned
money to support her addiction by selling drugs to kids while her own
children were left to take care of her -- hardly a poster mom. After
the last raid, her four youngest children -- aged three months to 14
- -- were placed in the care of others.
Spurvey, homeless, ashamed and plagued with guilt, plunged into a
deep, drug-fuelled funk, not caring if she lived or died. But two
things happened to pull her out of her downward spiral. Her oldest
son, who was 17, begged her to straighten out for the sake of his
siblings, while her lawyer urged her to enrol in the drug court pilot
project that offered addicts a chance to avoid prison by cleaning up
their acts.
Spurvey was extremely frightened the first time she walked into
Courtroom 267. She doubted she would find any friends there, but what
she discovered were people who genuinely cared.
"I started to see that somebody actually wanted to know how I was
doing, and they became like family," she says. "They became real
people in my life, and they are still there for me."
Spurvey dried out and found spirituality at a treatment centre,
learned lifeskills at a safe house and reported weekly for 15 months
to Provincial Court Judge Darlene Wong, who presides over drug court.
Once rehabilitated, Spurvey was reunited with her children and now,
clean for 21 months, she is enjoying being a mom.
"It's incredible to be a mother again. I love it that I am home and
making supper for my kids every night and tucking them into bed. I can
tell them how
proud I am of them. The love I have, I wouldn't want to
lose."
Spurvey says a key part of the program was attending court to account
for her actions in front of Wong.
"You look at this tiny, little woman that is up there and you see so
much love and kindness and concern in her eyes. She is just like a mom
to us. She cares."
But Spurvey also knew Wong could send her to jail if she messed up
like some of the others did.
The program, which has been running in Edmonton since December 2005,
has graduated 17 people with one relapse, says program head Doug
Brady. There are 20 in the program now and Brady would like to double
it if he can get more treatment beds, funding and staff.
Brady says there are only six drug court projects in Canada compared
to about 2,100 in the United States, and experience is showing they do
make communities safer. "I think for every dollar we spend on someone
in drug court, there's a return of $3 because they are no longer
breaking into cars or selling drugs and they are no longer a burden on
the criminal justice system," he says.
Wong credits the drug court workers and their clients for the
significant changes the program made in people's lives -- even in the
lives of those who didn't successfully complete it.
"It's not magic," the judge says. "It's hard work, dedication and a
high level of skill. I share their pain and I share their joy. We have
laughs and tears and hugs, and all sorts of things you wouldn't see in
a normal courtroom."
Spurvey says she is living proof the program works and she's anxious
to spread the word. She says she has broken a cycle of addiction that
has spanned 70 years in her family.
"This program kept me from going to jail and losing my family. I owe
it my life."
She says she is loathed in Camrose, where she sold drugs to kids, but
she wants to make amends.
"I have made mistakes and I would like to apologize for hurting that
community. I would love for them to see that it is possible for people
to change."
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