DRUG COURT LEADS ADDICTS TO FREEDOM

Alternative Gives Offenders A Chance To Avoid Prison And Rebuild Their Lives

Since 1993, almost 800 Kentuckians charged with drug crimes haven't gone to
prison or jail -- they have gone through drug court.

They followed a strict, life-changing program that state officials say
helped them renew family ties. They bore 42 drug-free children. And they
saved taxpayers more than $11 million, according to Joanie Abramson, acting
manager of the drug court program for the state Administrative Office of
the Courts.

Drug courts divert some non-violent drug addicts from the prison system
into treatment designed to solve the problems that landed them in court in
the first place.

To graduate, they must hold jobs or take classes; pay restitution and child
support if necessary; and attend meetings with judges who volunteer their
time. They also undergo inpatient or outpatient drug counseling and,
hardest of all, stay drug-free.

Drug court clients are required to have urine tests three times a week at
the counselor's bidding over the course of their stay in the program --
usually 18 months to two years. Those who register a "dirty" urinalysis or
break any other rule of the program face sanctions that range from
community service to jail time.

"It's not a get-out-of-jail-free card," Abramson said.

But it seems to help end a cycle of repeated crimes by drug offenders,
according to a 2001 study of drug court participants in Jefferson, Fayette
and Warren counties.

The study, which began analyzing data in 1999, found that a year after
graduation, only 3.7 percent of graduates from the three programs had been
convicted of felonies, compared with 11 percent of those who didn't
complete the program.

"I think it's a great program," said T.K. Logan, an assistant professor in
the University of Kentucky's department of behavioral sciences. "It gives
people the opportunity. They can make a real difference in their lives."

But not every county has access to the program.

Statewide, 2,842 people have participated in one of Kentucky's 20 drug
court programs since Jefferson County began its program in 1993. A little
more than a quarter have graduated. Today, there are 702 people enrolled in
state drug court programs.

The 21 programs treat adults, juveniles or families in 42 counties. Only 11
of those counties are in Eastern Kentucky, where state health officials
call drug abuse an epidemic. An analysis of federal data by the
Herald-Leader last month showed that parts of Eastern Kentucky have more
narcotics per person than anywhere else in the nation.

An additional 17 drug courts -- representing 33 counties -- are in the
planning or pilot stages but haven't launched formal programs with full
funding. It takes about a year to get a program up and running, Abramson
said. Plus, grants and other sources of funding are needed.

New perspective in Perry

In Perry County, a pilot drug court program hasn't yet received federal
funding. Everyone involved in trying to help 10 clients volunteers his or
her time, from Circuit Judge Douglas C. Combs Jr. to a defense attorney,
counselors and a probation officer.

Combs said he's gotten a new perspective from the closer supervision of
drug offenders that drug court requires.

"They're no longer just a case number," Combs said. "I actually see them
more as a person with real problems."

Perry Commonwealth's Attorney John Hansen, who has openly feuded with the
circuit judge, resigned from the drug court program last year. But Hansen
said recently that he's thinking of rejoining it. "I think it's a great
program," Hansen said.

In nearby Knott County, plans are moving forward to launch a drug-court
program in October.

Glenda Shrum, health department administrator and a member of a local drug
abuse council, said the council has applied for federal funding to launch
the program this year. It's not clear whether the group will get the grant,
however.

Rural counties need the programs just as much as their urban counterparts
do, Shrum said.

"The one thing that we do want to emphasize is that we feel that people in
the mountains are as good as anybody else and deserve the same treatment,"
Shrum said.

Statewide, the programs are heavily funded through state, federal and local
grants, totaling $12.9 million since 1997. An additional $2.4 million comes
from the state General Fund, said AOC spokeswoman Leigh Anne Hiatt.

Abramson said the grants, which range up to $500,000 each, are very
competitive, and there's no guarantee any particular program will get funded.

"It looks really good if they make the next move and start a pilot program
on a small scale to show the community is really behind them," Abramson said.

Abramson estimates the cost of running a drug court program including staff
time and drug tests, is about $7.20 a day per participant, which is far shy
of the $48.41 daily cost to house someone in a state prison.

In Fayette County, 228 people have graduated from the program out of 670
participants since 1997. Right now, 127 are enrolled.

Of the 228 graduates, about 11 percent ended up back in jail within a year
of graduation, said Connie Reed, program coordinator. That compares with an
overall statewide recidivism rate of about 31 percent.

'I Did It'

Twenty-one adults -- young and not-so young, white and black, of varying
education levels -- graduated from Fayette County's drug court last month.
It was the largest class since the program began in 1996.

Craig Frazier, 49, of Lexington, had 79 charges filed against him during
his life. None were felonies, except the last one, when he got caught
trafficking in cocaine. That meant prison, not jail.

"It was a great alternative," Frazier said of the chance to get into
Fayette's drug court.

Without it, he said, he would still be in prison, serving his time and
doing what he'd always done: "finding a way to hustle up money to get drugs."

Benji Sims of Wilmore spent two years in jail for stealing pills.

As soon as he got out, Sims just "started experimenting with drugs again,"
he said.

Sims was arrested for selling mushrooms in 2000. He was facing 10 years in
prison, he said. Without the program, he'd still be in there. "I probably
would have gotten killed there," he said, or killed someone else. "Prison
or dead."

Today, he is learning about computers at Sullivan University.

"He always tried," said Circuit Court Judge Mary Noble. But he struggled.
Sims spent three years in the program, in part because he was in
residential treatment for eight months.

Plus, he was arrested on a DUI charge in 2001 while in the program.

"I don't want to leave this place," a tearful Sims told the judges and
staff at his graduation.

"Thank you for putting up with me over and over and giving me a chance and
giving me another chance," Sims said.

Noble said his strong, loving family helped. Building family ties and
renewing lost relationships is a common theme among graduates.

Melanie Foster, 30, of Lexington, had a baby while she was enrolled in the
program and is poised to get a daughter back whom she lost seven years ago.

"I did it," Foster said, fighting back tears. "It gave me my life back."

For Abramson, who took over running the program a few weeks ago but has
been involved with it since its inception, graduation is a special night.

"I haven't been to a graduation where I haven't had a lump in my throat,"
Abramson said. "It's a wonderful feeling, and it's hard to describe."

The before and after pictures displayed at graduation say it all to
Lexington police officer Chris Woodyard, who works full-time in the program.

"The eyes," he said. "Before, there wasn't any life."

Now, there is.