Series: Four Lives, One Last Chance - A Year In Drug Court: Part 36 Of 41

ACT V. GRADUATION DAY

As I walked down the Road to Recovery I asked God to be my guide And for
him to stay by my side I said, "Lord, Lord," I've traveled this road many
times before, But I always came to the wrong door You see the road to
recovery is indeed long But with God's help I remain strong.

- -- From "The Road to Recovery" by Selma, a Newport News Drug Court graduate

Eighteen to 24 months ago, they were arrested, handcuffed and jailed.

Some of them were homeless. Some of their families had given up on them.

But on this day, their families fill the gallery in the courtroom of
Verbena Askew, the judge who started the Drug Court program in Newport
News. The city's police chief, sheriff and commonwealth's attorney also
have gathered in the front. They have all come to celebrate a group of
people who lived in a seemingly hopeless cycle of addiction just two years
earlier.

Today, 16 addicts will graduate from Drug Court - six from Judge Conway's
court and 10 from Judge Askew's. They all sit in the jury box. Linwood,
dressed neatly, reclines in the back row, next to a newly engaged Linda.

The city's judges have congregated on the bench. Each of them says a few
words to start the ceremony.

The eloquent Judge Conway, who has guided Linwood and Linda through their
recovery, beams like a proud parent as he speaks.

"It is your journey today that we applaud, your pilgrimage to find your
true potential," he says. "Your pathways were filled with pain. But today,
you leave better, not bitter."

Judge Askew says the addicts have learned "something more valuable than
just following the rules."

"They have learned that drugs don't offer contentment," she says. "They
constrict life itself. It is merely an escape from reality."

The struggle, Conway reminds the graduates, will continue. He warns them
not to think they can casually use drugs without suffering the old
consequences. They must fight just as hard - maybe even harder - now that
the counselors, parole officers and judges aren't looking over their shoulders.

"You have the coping skills to handle any challenge that comes before you.
The only question is, 'Will you?' " the judge says. "You have fought some
battles, won some tough ones. But the war of addiction goes on."

Both Linwood and Linda know they would lose everything if they went back to
using drugs.

Linwood's devotion to his Narcotics Anonymous meetings has never wavered,
and his enthusiasm for his recovery is as strong as it was in those first
weeks of sobriety. He plans to enroll in college in a few months, and he
hopes to start his own business.

Linda has gone from believing her HIV was a death sentence to planning a
new life with a man who proposed to her just two days earlier. Judge Conway
joshed her before the graduation for accepting a proposal "without the
court's permission." During the graduation ceremony, he calls her a
beautiful and courageous person.

In the end, Linwood has been clean for 510 days.

Linda has been clean for nearly two years.

Neither wants to see a crack pipe again.

Before the graduates receive their diplomas, Judge Conway turns the floor
over to Linwood. The judge describes his resurrection as one of the
program's greatest achievements.

"He really could be a member of our Drug Court staff," Conway says as part
of his introduction.

Linwood rises from his seat and glides to the podium. He bows his head for
a moment, saying that he wants to draw strength from his higher power.

Then he tells his congregation how he was running from himself, hiding
behind the masks of the street hustler. He tells them how he lost his way
in life and couldn't get back.

"As you see today, I'm not hopeless, I'm not homeless," he says. "I'm still
dealing with the wreckage of my life, but it's all right. I'm taking it one
day at a time."

Tears well up in his eyes and slide down his cheeks as he speaks. His voice
cracks under the weight of his emotions.

"These tears I cry today are tears of joy. The pain is long gone," he says.
"And I would like to say to the peers who are now in the process, 'Don't
ever give up.' "

His words resonate with the program's clients, all of whom are required to
attend the graduation.

Jennifer listens with a heavy heart.

She had been scheduled to graduate with this group until the judge demoted
her last month to make sure she didn't have a relapse while dealing with
her pregnancy and making a home life with Ben. She starts crying before the
ceremony, and she quickly leaves the reception afterward.

Still, she's clean. And when the pressures of her life threaten to overcome
her, she turns to NA meetings, not the crack cocaine that took so much from
her. She learned to do that in Drug Court.

Vernon listens, too.

Just a few months ago it looked like he'd be in prison by now. Instead, he
watches as city leaders applaud people who have struggled - like him - to
turn their lives around.

Last year, Vernon watched the graduation from a cynic's perspective,
thinking it was all a con.

"It was that old conspiracy theory," he says. "You know, 'This is bullshit.' "

Back then, he talked about getting out of Drug Court so he could smoke
marijuana again.

Now he talks about the inspiration he's drawing from the ceremony playing
out before him.

As he listens to Linwood speak, he can picture the day when he, too, will
have transformed himself from an addict to a role model.

That's when the judges will celebrate him, instead of locking him up.

"My turn is coming," he thinks.