JUVENILE DRUG TREATMENT COURT GIVES ONE LAST CHANCE

YORK, S.C. -- Two drug convictions didn't faze him. He still smoked pot. The
orange hair stayed, the studded dog collar wrapped around his neck stayed.

Cops locked Zachary "Zack" Hefner up for two 48-hour stints and
more.

He went to juvenile boot camps, he failed two drug tests. He still
smoked pot.

"Stoned," Zack said. "I got stoned."

His chances gone, then 14-year-old Zack Hefner had a choice with one
day left in his free life: Spend the next six-plus years in jail or
come clean.

Zack took the chance few South Carolina kids have - juvenile drug
treatment court.

Thursday night at drug court graduation with his beaming father Wayne
Lowery by his side, Zack jumped off the deep end into life instead of
jail.

But the road hasn't just been bumpy: It was a screaming avalanche that
buried Zack.

"I did all this to myself," Zack said. "Nobody made me do
it."

The first drug arrest came in 2002. Middle school. The sixth
grade.

Zack took the anti-depressant medication he'd been on to treat
Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder since the fourth grade -
usually parceled out to him one pill at a time at home - cut the 60
pills into quarters, and took them to school.

Before the bell rang in the afternoon he was in jail.

"I was so mad I asked them at jail if he could stay," Lowery said.
"That was the old me. The old father."

Prosecutors in Family Court offered a deal that gave Zack probation -
not uncommon, drug court Program Coordinator Phoebee Sturgis said.

He still smoked dope. He failed out of a substance abuse treatment
program after testing positive.

"I went to counseling stoned plenty of times," Zack
said.

"He was a B honor roll student," Lowery said. "Even with everything
going on I didn't see it."

Zack said he would do errands and cut grass for neighbors. Some of the
neighbors would give him marijuana. "I was good to them and they was
good to me," Zack said.

"That's how they pay their errand boys," Sturgis said of drug people.
"Some they pay with money and some they pay with drugs."

A week before his six-month probation was up, Zack got busted with a
$25 bag of marijuana. The second arrest was flagged by the fledgling
drug court staff as a potential case.

After meetings with Lowery and prosecutors, Family Court Judge Henry
Woods gave Zack a second chance by allowing him to join the drug court
program.

Zack pleaded guilty, went on probation again and agreed to all the
drug tests and other conditions.

He still smoked dope. He failed the drug tests, twice in the first
month.

He screamed at Sturgis and another drug court worker. He screamed at a
teacher in alternative school, the only place that would take him by
now after two arrests.

His hair was orange or blue. Black makeup covered parts of his
face.

"I thought it was over," Sturgis said. "Bad attitude? He's the poster
boy."

A day before a court hearing that would have sent him to jail, Zack
asked to be sent away to a state mental health center for juveniles.
"I was on the road to nowhere," Zack said.

"The reality is this," said Sturgis, the tough-love mother and sister
and mean aunt all in one, a former probation officer who dries the
tears and barks the orders but doesn't give extra chances. "If York
County didn't have a drug court, Zack would be in jail."

Nine days later, his anti-depressant medication changed, Zack came
home to live with his father for good.

The changed medication made a big difference, Lowery said, but Sturgis
said Zack changed his own life.

Zack and his father went to group sessions and family
sessions.

Zack went to his own counseling - not stoned on pot anymore - and
finished all the requirements, including the drug tests.

York's new court is one of only a few in the state.

A federal grant pays $337,000 over three years, with a 25 percent
match from the county.

Sixteenth Circuit Solicitor Tommy Pope acknowledged at Thursday's
graduation that some may say this alternative to prosecution is
jelly-kneed kowtowing to bad kids when prosecution money is so tight.

One state prosecutor told Pope drug court was "Touchy-feely
stuff."

"We do it because we can," Pope told the two graduates and their
families. "If you win, we win."

Zack isn't an angel. He knows he's just starting. "I want to finish
school," he said. "After that I don't know."

His father vowed to keep plugging.

"We've got a lot of work left to do," Lowery said. "I'm a better
father now. It's not enough to love your kid. You have to learn how to
listen." Drug court graduation means no more probation and no more
drug tests, but it doesn't mean Zack Hefner is in the clear. He's
still in alternative school. But at 15, he's not stoned or in jail.

Zack addressed the graduation Thursday night after he signed an oath
of sobriety.

Drug court staffers fought back tears. His father and little sisters
sat in the front row.

"I hope the program works for others as it did for me," Zack
said.

Everyone in the room applauded. Zack Hefner started life
again.