PHOENIX LEGACY OFFERS HOPE

Addict First to Turn Life Around With Program

Not so long ago, Alan was homeless -a thief and addict in the throes
of a drug habit that has already cost him his job and his family.

He was a familiar figure in the Downtown Eastside. One judge familiar
with his rap sheet had sternly told him, just before denying him
bail, that he was a hopelessly chronic thief who would steal anything
not locked up or bolted down.

"It was true. As you get more comfortable in that world, your moral
compass gets more and more out of whack," says Alan from his tidy
Maple Ridge basement suite that has framed family photos and flowers
in vases -a far cry from the alleys and rundown rooms he inhabited
for three years in the Downtown Eastside.

Alan, 30, is the first candidate in the Operation Phoenix legacy
project, the culmination of The Province's yearlong investigative
series into the issues facing the troubled community.

Launched last March, the program, now called the Downtown Community
Court Education Program, offers scholarships at Vancouver Community
College, Sprott-Shaw College and Outward Bound to 14 offenders who go
through the court.

Today Alan is 17 months clean, with a job, loving partner,
four-month-old baby and a yappy little dog.

"Who would've thought we'd end up here, huh, Lola?" he playfully
asked the dog, scratching its belly.

He meant Maple Ridge, but he could easily have meant his life.

Alan agreed to share his story with The Province on the condition of
anonymity: "My past is part of who I am, but I don't want to let that
define me any more." Alan is not his real name.

He grew up in a middle class family in Delta. Good-looking and
funloving, he was a popular student who grew a taste for
booze-fuelled parties, lines of cocaine and driving drunk.

He completed courses in information technology at Vancouver Community
College and BCIT and, at 23, landed a well-paying job as a junior programmer.

In school, he met his first love, who wouldn't stand for his
shenanigans, so he cleaned up. "I knuckled down because I cared about
her," he recalls. "Not necessarily because I cared about myself."

For a while, he had it all: A good job in his chosen field. A woman
he loved. A bright future.

But two years into the relationship the woman left. And soon after
Alan's motivation walked out the door, he tailspun out of control.

He began drinking daily and got hooked on heroin. He lost his job
- -"dismissal by abandonment" was the official reason -and moved back
into his parents' condo.

Soon, he began to steal from them, concocting elaborate stories of a
gambling debt. In two years, he stole about $35,000 from his parents,
he says, the shame in his voice palpable.

When his parents kicked him out, he ended up in the Downtown
Eastside, where he became a career criminal. His memories of the
three years he spent there are hazy, he says, a blur of snorting,
shooting and scamming.

The person who eventually got Alan out of the Downtown Eastside was
his probation officer.

Jail or recovery, she told him. He chose recovery, a residential
program in Port Coquitlam with a minimum 90-day commitment. He stayed
for six months.

Recovery wasn't easy, he says. In some ways it was harder than jail.

When he was asked to admit his wrongs as part of the program's steps,
his confession was 60 pages long.

One day he read an article in The Province about a program that
offered chronic offenders a chance to go back to school. At around
the same time his probation officer mentioned something called the
DCC Education Program.

"You'd be a good candidate," she told him.

Since April, Carrie Camele has assessed close to 100 offenders
referred to her by the Downtown Community Court case-management team.

Her job, she says, is merely to provide information: "I tell them,
'I'm not going to make you do something. You're going to be the one
to say 'yes' or 'no,' not me.'"

When candidates walk into her office they usually don't know what the
appointment is about. They're nervous, standoffish, wary. "Then you
see their faces light up when I tell them this is about school."

For some, school is not the answer, she says. They might need to work
or find a place to live first, but she tells them: "Don't close any
doors. Keep it in mind for the future."

So far, eight people have enrolled at Vancouver Community and
Sprott-Shaw Community colleges in programs as varied as counselling,
IT, tourism and trades. One is waiting for an audition for the music
program. Two spots are available at Outward Bound.

Once in, it's not all smooth sailing. Last year, a student enrolled
in culinary arts had to drop out due to excessive absences. Last
term, two students dropped out after they relapsed.

Judge Thomas Gove, who presides over the Downtown Community Court,
says getting candidates to the point of being ready for school is a
process -one that requires other things, such as housing, being drug
free, being able to deal with physical and mental-health issues, to
be in place.

"Relapse is a reality," he says. "It happens. The preparation of
people to be successful does take some time." But he expects the
innovative program to grow and has high hopes for the other students
in the program.

For most, the opportunity to pursue post-secondary education is an
unexpected boon, says Camele.

Because when people are struggling to get back on their feet,
surviving on income assistance or none at all, college is not
something they can afford or even afford to entertain.

"It's just not an option in the past," said Camele. "It's a dream.
It's not a goal."

Alan, who started Vancouver Community College's networking technology
program last March, said he jumped at the chance to pursue his passion again.

"It would be silly not to," he says. "It's awesome. These courses are
$600 a pop and books are $150 a semester, plus they pay for my bus pass."

Alan gets straight A's and has perfect attendance, says instructor
Robert Hawk, describing him as "one of the better students I've had
in 10 years."

Hawk, who has already written Alan a glowing recommendation letter,
says he wouldn't have any qualms about hiring him, despite his checkered past.

"He has real aptitude. The reality is, I don't know a single person
who has not made a mistake in their lives."

Alan, who will have to complete 60 to 120 hours in an IT job as part
of his course requirements, is clear-eyed about any hesitations a
prospective employer might have when they see the gaps on his resume
or find out about his past: "I just hope that I'd be able to prove
myself to be capable and getting hired after despite my history."

The program will open more doors for him in the future, he says -a
future he can now look forward to.

"If you choose to judge me for who I once was, you will fail to see
who I am today: A grandson, a son, a brother, a friend, a father, a
loving partner and someone who strives to better himself one day at a time."