THE HIGH COST OF TOKING

When the Express ran a cover story of Archie Kiel growing medical
marijuana plants in Antrim County, people overwhelmingly responded
with letters and phone calls with their own stories of marijuana and
the law.

The following story is about the late Trevor Coddington and his
odyssey through the Grand Traverse County probate system. It is by no
means typical, but does show the consequences that attach not only to
the child, but also to the family.

Part II is coming in November.

Dan Coddington opened his door to his home in Traverse City's central
neighborhood, where he was babysitting his two-year-old granddaughter.
She gleefully showed off her new coloring book. Dan was not so happy.

Over on the counter were two cardboard boxes filled with papers that
reflected the legal and financial challenges that began when his late
son, Trevor, was caught smoking pot six years ago.

Trevor entered the Grand Traverse County probate court system for
possession of marijuana at the age of 14. He was in and out of
court-ordered drug rehabilitation for 15 months. His treatment and
court fines added up to $53,054 and his divorced parents were billed
the amount due, nearly $26,000 apiece. The total bill was later
reduced by $8,593.

Two years ago, Trevor died in a car accident at the age of 19, but the
bills just kept coming.

Recently, Dan and his ex-wife settled a wrongful death lawsuit for a
low six-figure award. It sounds like a lot of money, but after
splitting it and paying the attorney fee, Dan, an appraiser, said it
won't go very far. "I've come close to foreclosure twice in the last
two years."

The good news? The court, last week, forgave the bulk of the fees due
to the fact that Trevor, at the time of his death, had been making
progress toward his goal of earning a diploma (he just needed one more
half hour of class time) and was working.

Parents Must Pay

Dan, when notified by the Express, was relieved.

Yet Trevor's story illuminates a fact few people know. Under Michigan
law, parents must pay the court, counseling, drug testing, and
rehabilitation bills of their wayward child, unless their income
qualifies them to pay less.

"They've just decided to stab the parents of kids. It doesn't make
sense. I can understand if you're an adult, and you have to pay. But
to make parents pay for kids. That doesn't make sense," said Dan, who
objected to the long-term rehabilitation for smoking pot--what millions
of adults and youths have also done. (Dan's ex-wife has never objected
to the bill and has sent in payments on time.)

Probate Judge David Stowe, who oversees the 13th Circuit Court Family
Division, said that he tries to ensure payments fit what the family
can afford based on a "very lenient" sliding scale. The court's
mission is to get a youth back on track, not to cause hardship.

"I want to dispel the sense that families are victimized or punished;
that's the last thing I'd do," Stowe said.

"The average monthly payment we receive is $25 a month. Very seldom do
we receive more than $75 a month. Very often, we accept payments as
low as $5 a month."

Stowe also reduces the amount of money if and when the youth makes
progress toward specific goals--such as completing a class or finding a
job--by his or her next court date.

And from the court's point of view, it should be the responsibility of
the parents--not the county taxpayers--to pay for a youth's
rehabilitation, said Cheyrl Church (that's the correct spelling), who
is in charge of probate court collections.

The fees range, but families have been hit with fees of over $100,000,
said Stowe, emphasizing that the court considers the family's ability
to pay. In fact, the Probate court has written off about $850,000 in
the last three years for nearly 7,000 youth. "People in this county
might be upset if they knew how much of the cost is shifted to them
each year," Church said.

In fact, the state's entire court system has a collection problem.
"There are hundreds of millions of dollars in unpaid court costs,
fines, assessments, restitution to victims, and cost of care. That's
to date and over a period of years," said Marcia McBrien, spokeswoman
for the state Supreme Court.

The state has set up a committee to improve the collection
performance.

"It's not just about increasing revenues. Respect for the court needs
to be held, and fees are part of the punishment. People shouldn't feel
free to flaunt their fees," she said.

Trevor's Story

Trevor was two years old when his parents divorced in 1991. His
father, Dan Coddington, took sole physical custody.

Dan moved in with his parents, Pat and Dwight, who ran Coddington
Cleaners at the time. When Trevor was 8, Dan was able to buy a house
in Traverse City, right next door.

Dan was proud of raising Trevor mostly by himself. He coached his
elementary and Pop Warner football teams, and put him in Cub Scouts
and Little League. Trevor, a redhead who often wore a baseball cap,
was also a whiz at Soduko puzzles. He earned Bs and Cs, with his
teachers often saying he wasn't working up to his potential. On the
weekends, he'd fish in the Boardman River and play paintball.

Both Dan and his ex-wife found new relationships. Dan began dating
Shelley when Trevor was in kindergarten and they married in 1997. Two
years later, his ex-wife remarried.

When Dan tied the knot with Shelley, Trevor, 8, began to act out,
having had his dad to himself for so long. He had constant headaches
and argued with his dad. When he was 13, his mother invited him to
move into her Traverse City home, and, shortly afterward, they
relocated to Kansas. During his two years with his mother, he went
from a troubled youth to nearly impossible. According to a court
document that Dan provided to the Express, Trevor told probation
officer Janet Kronk that he was drinking every night in the spring and
summer in Kansas and getting high once a week. He was also
experimenting with mushrooms, Oxycotin, and lithium pills.

In Trouble

Dan said he knew he faced a handful when Trevor returned in June of
2003. And he was right. Trevor decided to move in with his
grandparents next door a month after he returned home. But the calm
home of his grandparents wasn't enough to keep him out of trouble.

In August of 2003, Trevor, 14, went down to the Boardman River to
smoke with his friends. "A policeman, on patrol, walked up to us. I
had everything on me--two glass bowls, a bag of marijuana, and my
lighter, and I handed it all over to him," he later told Mike Stein,
who was director of the Family Division court at the time.

Trevor told the probation officer that he and his dad were having
arguments and physical altercations; they "weren't able to get along
at all, and (Dan) was critical of everything" he did, according to the
court file.

In September, Trevor got in trouble again. He went to a friend's house
for a party. "We were drinking, and I got tired of everyone being loud
and rowdy and bouncing around. I went out in the backyard and laid
down and went to sleep or passed out. Next thing I knew (at 3:30
a.m.), someone was kicking my shoulder and there was a flashlight
shining in my eyes--it was a police officer. He took me out to his car
and gave me a BAC test, gave me a minor in possession ticket, and took
me to my house."

Although Trevor described himself as "energetic, funny,
straightforward," his parents saw him as "grumpy, can have an
attitude, wants everything to revolve around him."

His grandmother, Pat, said that at root, Trevor felt inferior to his
peers because he wasn't that good in school, and didn't believe that
either of his parents really loved him. He had told her once that his
mom would take away his gifts and sell them when he behaved badly.

"There's a strictness and then a strictness. You have to be able to
listen to both sides of the story. Their side. I think that's part of
it. He felt that his mom didn't love him, that nobody loved him. We
would say, your dad most certainly does love you."

Second Offense

With the arrest began trips to the courthouse, meeting with the
probation officer and referee.

After Trevor was caught a second time with marijuana, Dan and Trevor
voluntarily agreed to enter drug court instead of going the
traditional route of probate court in which you go to school, meet
with a counselor, and possibly take drug tests.

Drug court, although voluntary (but not in all counties) is far more
intensive, but also more effective. Each week, the youth must attend a
court review hearing, a probation meeting, a drug group meeting, and
take random drug tests. They also must get substance abuse counseling,
attend AA meetings, and attend youth activity and parent support group
sessions--and go to school. Despite all this attention, Trevor was
caught again with marijuana and cigarettes in November and January.

Youth who "fail" drug court are often taken out of the home and sent
to residential treatment, the expense of which can be extremely
stressful to parents.

And that's what happened to Trevor. From February of 2004 until May of
2005, Trevor lived mostly away from home--at Recovery High in
Charlevoix, the Muskegon River Youth Home in Evart, and Bay Pines in
Escanaba.

Although a court official said parents do have a say in determining
treatment, Dan said he didn't.

"I had no say in his treatment at all; my influence was out the door,"
Dan said. "I had no influence, no matter what I said or tried to do.
Everything I said, they decided to do something else. They said,
'We're sending you to Muskegon River, you're gone.' Just took him.
They didn't give me any say whatsoever. Same when they take him to
Escanaba as when they took him to Recovery High. They never told me
there was going to be a fee. That I was going to pay for it. They just
sent me the bill."

ANGRY TEEN

Trevor's first stay at Recovery High wasn't successful. During most of
his stay, he was angry and focused on his release date. In a court
update, he was described as so defiant that he had to do his
schoolwork in a separate office.

According to court documents, a Recovery High employee punched Trevor
in the chest, prompting Stowe to stop sending juveniles there for the
next three years.

On the positive side, his dad went up to visit him every weekend, and
they began getting along. Dan said he told him that it was important
he get his act together so he could come home. He significantly
improved his behavior after meeting with Janet Kronk, his probation
officer, according to a letter.

After his release from Recovery High in May, Trevor was placed in an
area group home for troubled kids (Dan said Stowe originally promised
he could go home). Pat Coddington said that decision was a terrible
one for her fragile grandson who should have been sent back home. He
needed to be around untroubled kids, and the boys in the group home
were caught stealing alcohol the same week Trevor was there.

Trevor was removed from the home and went to live with Dan. But he
flunked more random drug tests and was sent to Muskegon River Youth
Home at the end of July while they figured out where he should go.

He was miserable and wrote to his dad: "... I don't think I can go 90
days from home or from my family and friends. I can't even stand being
here not knowing when I get to leave. It's hard. When I know when I
get to go home it's a lot easyer."

"Indefinite" Rehab

In August, Trevor was placed at Bay Pines in Escanaba for an
"indefinite" period. Dan said that during his visits, Clifford Peach,
a group counselor questioned why Trevor was there. Dan said he told
him the facility was really intended for violent youths and sex
offenders, and Trevor was neither one. Officials at Bay Pines declined
comment, but its brochure shows it includes a substance abuse program
for teen boys.

But as much as Dan insisted Bay Pines was the wrong place for Trevor,
he also says it's where he did best. "Even through it was a lockdown
facility, steel doors, you couldn't go on the outside, he got along,
people liked him. He just goes through the motions and gets it done."
Pat Coddington said that Stein intensely disliked Dan, who was often
angry at the court, and wonders if that's why Trevor was sent away for
so long.

"Mike Stein was supposed to be objective and he wasn't," she said.
"They would clash and Trevor was in the middle and that's not right."

Stein did not return a phone call for comment.

Stowe, who depends on staff research and recommendations, said he
gained far closer oversight of his caseload after Stein left in March
of 2007. He has not hired a director since then.*

Drug Court Controversy

Dan believes the conflict between Stein and Stowe distracted them from
the juveniles. If he had to do it over again, Dan said he would have
put Trevor into the traditional probate court, which is less intense
and faster to get through.

Stowe countered that drug court, which is voluntary in Grand Traverse
County (but not all counties) is far more effective for long-term
sobriety and cites statistics that reflect the court's growing success.

Stowe said when he was sworn in nine years ago, there were close to
600 kids on probation at any given time. He and his staff have reduced
that number to 150. The drug court program holds juveniles accountable
for their mistakes, with very close oversight and counseling. Some
kids take drug tests every day.

"There are a lot of amazing things that can be said about the court
now. I just swore in 25 volunteers, and our drug court for juveniles
is one of the largest in the state; our recidivism is at an all-time
low. ...We approach every one of them with a strength-based approach."

Stowe said the court now puts juveniles into residential treatment for
short periods, and only for serious offenses. And youth are put
directly back in the home (unless it's unsafe). They will ultimately
return to the community and must acquire the tools to succeed.

If a teen gets caught with drugs or alcohol, enters drug court, takes
part in the activities they offer (bowling, golf, Frisbee golf), makes
good grades, and passes all the drug tests, the parents' bill is only
about $1,500--something they could reasonably expect their child to
earn. The whole issue could wrap up in about seven months (although
usually it's a year), lesson learned. If all went perfectly smooth in
the traditional family court division, the youth would finish in about
four months, said Greg Brainard, the court's therapeutic programs
coordinator.

But if the teen fails the drug tests or misses appointments, treatment
and oversight escalate. In theory, a youth can stay in drug court
until the age of 21, although that's rare, Brainard said.

If a parent is too poor to afford the court fees, they must attend a
"show cause" hearing--when the judge determines whether to reduce the
fee. On these days, the court is lucky to get $450 out of $100,000
that was billed to parents, Stowe said.

The parent does have the option--after their teen reaches the age of
18--to shift the burden to their child and many do.

Success?

Trevor was released from Bay Pines on June 2, 2005. The next month,
Judge Stowe granted Dan's request to reduce the amount he had to pay
from $23,957 to $15,365. (This was after Dan's arrest for failing to
make timely payments).

Meanwhile, it was clear that Trevor wasn't rehabilitated.

In August, Trevor was riding in a car at 1:30 in the morning, that was
driven by his friend. A deputy stopped it for a broken headlight, and
found a small amount of marijuana in the car's console. Trevor said he
had put it there. The officer asked Trevor if he'd be willing to work
undercover for the Traverse Narcotics Team, but Trevor said no--he
didn't want to create problems for others.

The next year, in February, he was a passenger in a car that was
stopped by police. The driver was drunk, and so was Trevor. He was
later found guilty as a minor in possession of alcohol. In March,
Trevor was caught at West Senior High with a tin of marijuana in his
back pocket and a pack of cigarettes. He was expelled and pled guilty
for using marijuana in April and fined $894.

Yet during this time, Trevor remained connected to his family. He had
reconciled with his dad, and was living on and off with him and/or his
grandparents. His grandparents often gave him a ride to his job at
Hooter's where he worked as a prep cook.

Payment Problems

In October of 2006, Trevor and Dan appeared together in front of Stowe
to again ask for a reduction of the bill.

Dan told the judge that his payments were very difficult to make. His
appraisal business had dropped significantly--in part, because of his
every other week trips to see Trevor in Escanaba. He also believed
that the court should pay the bill since it was the court's decision
to send him to such lengthy rehab for no greater offense than possession.

Stowe recalled that he was optimistic at the hearing since Trevor had
completed rehab and had paid the fees for his drug testing as a minor
nearly in full. He told Trevor that he would schedule a new hearing on
payments as soon as Trevor could tell the collections department that
he had received his diploma.

In December, Trevor was stopped twice and was cited for operating
without a driver's license (he was banned from getting a license).

The second time he lied about his name and birth date. It was clear
from the second police report that Trevor wasn't hanging with the best
of people. Police found marijuana under the front seat and drug
paraphernalia in the car, including a scale and 110 baggies typically
used to package marijuana.

In a little over a year's time, Trevor was charged with possession
four times and went in and out of jail. Pat recalled that he always
seemed to be in jail on his birthday and Christmas.

More Harm Than Help?

So here's the question: Why after so much time and money spent on
rehab, did Trevor continue to use? Was Dan correct? Was Trevor hurt
more than helped when he was taken from his grandparents' home for 15
months to live shoulder to shoulder with far more serious offenders
and other drug users? Did Dan's attitude cause Trevor to fixate only
on getting out and not getting better? Or is residential rehab simply
not the answer for some youths?

No one will ever know if Trevor ever would have worked things
out.

On May 14, 2007, a little after 5 p.m., Trevor was in a car with four
other young men, who were going to look at a house to rent on Old
Mission Peninsula. Trevor was sitting in the back seat of a
Volkswagen, which stopped to turn left onto Wilson Road.

A young woman was also on Center Road in her dad's burgundy Jeep with
a friend. She turned to glance at some pop bottles that were blowing
in the wind. When she looked ahead again, she saw the green VW at a
dead stop, and slammed on her brakes. It was too late. When Trevor was
found, he had already fallen into a coma with a blood clot in his
head. There's a note in the police record that Dan later went to where
the car was towed to collect Trevor's shoe. He wanted him to have a
pair of matching shoes in the hospital room.

Trevor's mom flew in from Minneapolis to be by his side, and both
parents kept constant vigil. Seven days later--after being told Trevor
was brain dead-- his parents decided to turn off his life support.

After the crash, the deputies gave a blood test to the VW driver, who
was not at fault in the accident, but was driving on a suspended
license. He told a deputy he had smoked marijuana that day. He was
fined $188 for the blood test and the sheriff's time. Another occupant
ran from the scene before police arrived (someone thought he might
have had ecstasy pills in his pocket.)

Drunk Driver

The young woman was charged with negligent homicide, and Dan went to
the hearing to ask the judge not to put her in prison (the maximum
sentence was two years). But on May 14, the second anniversary of
Trevor's car accident, the woman was arrested at midnight for driving
under the influence of alcohol. She blew a .17 (the legal limit is
.08.) Dan and his wife both wrote letters to the judge, asking him to
come down with the full force of the law. She was sentenced to 90 days
in jail.

Pat and Dwight Coddington miss their grandson, and they keep a folder
of the many sympathy cards they received. More than 200 people packed
the church for his funeral.

Since his death, Dan has grieved and fumed over the court bills. He
has sometimes paid his $75 court bill and sometimes he hasn't. He was
arrested again last summer for late payment and jailed for a few hours.

Dan's mother, Pat, worries about him, but knows he will heal. "Trevor
was his only son. Right or wrong, this is how he feels. It will all
lessen with time."

*Stein and Judge Stowe have a history of conflict. For details, go to
www.record-eagle.com/archivesearch/local_story_090094013.html. Judge
Stowe disputes the accuracy and fairnes of the article, but did not
cite specifics, saying the legal settlement with Mike Stein banned him
from making public comment.