Series: Four Lives, One Last Chance - A Year In Drug Court: Part 17 Of 41

ACT III. JENNIFER: DETERMINATION

The photo shows Jennifer standing outside the courthouse, proudly
displaying a certificate from her latest Drug Court promotion. In a few
days, a social worker will deliver the portrait to Jennifer's two
daughters, who have been living in foster care for more than two years
because of their mother's crack addiction.

The girls will hold the picture and know that their mother is staying off
drugs, Jennifer thinks, and they'll see that important people have
recognized her achievement.

Jennifer is suing the state to restore her parental rights, but she knows
her chances of winning her case are slim. She knows that mementos like
these, passed through strangers, may be her only link to the girls.

So she takes the glossy print and turns it over. She carefully writes her
full name and address. Then she adds her phone number and Social Security
number.

She figures that the girls will look on the back of the picture and find
the information. Then, if she loses her appeal, at least they will know
where to find their mother.

Even her attorney has a gloomy outlook on the suit. He has found only one
other case in Virginia where a mother had her parental rights returned. The
conservative appellate court, which will hear Jennifer's plea, is unlikely
to reverse the lower court's decision. The state Supreme Court is even more
conservative, making this appeal her best chance.

"She loses here and we're not going to take it any further," says Raphael
Connor, the lawyer. "It's definitely an uphill fight."

He believes his best path to victory is to focus on Jennifer's
transformation in Drug Court. The written appeal glows about her
accomplishments and touts the success of the program. But the case must be
argued on technical, legal merits, not on her newfound sobriety.

"I'll do what I can to sneak it in and see what they do with it," Connor says.

But, to Jennifer, Drug Court should be the only important issue.

The program, she says, gave her the direction to stop using drugs. For the
first time in her life, someone helped her put down the crack pipe. If she
had received that help sooner, she believes, she wouldn't have lost her
children in the first place.

She had been enrolled in the program and living clean for several months by
the time the York County judge severed her parental rights.

Now she often assails the courts and the social-service system for taking
her children just as she was walking away from the drug life. Drug Court
counselors try to steer her away from this attitude - to keep her from
deflecting the blame for what she put her children through - but she can
rarely contain her anger.

As she waits for her appeal to be heard, Jennifer spends her days consumed
with finding a way to win her case. She researches the law and hounds her
lawyer for information.

She even starts a letter-writing campaign, sending all 11 appellate judges
a note asking them to "take a deeper look" at her case. She asks them not
to dwell on the surface picture of a drug addict who neglected her children
but to see the person struggling to put her life back together and to make
amends for her past.

Occasionally, she wonders what she'll do if she loses her case. She vows
that - no matter what - she won't return to using drugs. Even if her hopes
are dashed, Jennifer says, she'll never give up again.

"Just because you go down a crooked road doesn't mean you can't straighten
out," she says. "With all the things I've endured, I haven't used because
I'm determined."