Series: Four Lives, One Last Chance - A Year In Drug Court: Part 12 Of 41

ACT II. 'A SAVIOR COMPLEX'

Judge Conway sat in the back of Judge Verbena Askew's courtroom, watching a
Drug Court hearing in 1999. Askew had started the first Drug Court in the
area a year earlier, and the program had grown in size and popularity until
a second judge was needed.

Conway had recently been sworn in as a Newport News Circuit Court judge,
and this was the first time he'd seen the program in action.

The applause and the unconventional atmosphere shocked him at first, but
after a while the concept of using the court's authority to change behavior
- -not just punish it - began to win him over.

"This is cool," he thought.

In this specialized court, judges set aside several hours a week from their
regular schedule to hear only the substance-abuse cases recommended by the
Drug Court staff. Conway saw the program as a way to address the problems
of the individual addict, as well as the growing public-health issue of
addiction.

So when a second judge was needed for Drug Court, Conway volunteered. In
October 1999, he began the weekly duty of healing the addicted.

From the start, the program's premise seemed to mesh well with his beliefs
and his patient, open-minded demeanor.

"I think my bias is probably towards seeing if I, personally, can bring
something to improve a situation," he says.

Conway can trace this philosophy to his high school years, when he heard
President Kennedy call an entire generation to public service.

As a child, Conway had traveled around the world with his father, an Air
Force officer who died when his son was 14. Later, in 1962, Conway
graduated from a Roanoke high school and -emboldened by the president's
words and his father's memory - enlisted in the Air Force.

After serving four years as an air traffic controller, Conway used the GI
Bill to attend undergraduate and law school at the College of William and Mary.

During college, he helped out around the law offices of Fred Bateman, an
attorney and state legislator who became a Circuit Court judge. Bateman
became his mentor, encouraging Conway to enter public life.

"You have an obligation, a responsibility, to give back, to contribute
beyond your own interests," he remembers Bateman telling him.

Over the years, Conway also discovered a love of teaching. Whether it's a
law seminar or Sunday school, the judge enjoys working with students and
making positive changes in their lives.

His impulse to teach might have found its greatest outlet in Drug Court,
where Judge Conway teaches life to those on the edge of death.

When he discusses Drug Court, he often refers to something former Gov. Jim
Gilmore once told him.

"Judges who forget to listen shouldn't be on the bench," the governor said.

Now, nearly every day before he dons the robe, the 58-year-old,
silver-haired Conway tells himself three things:

"Remember, you do not have all the answers.

"Help me to understand before I seek to be understood.

"Help me understand the hearts and minds of those who come before me."

After hearing many Drug Court cases, Conway has found himself trying to
imagine the life of an addict. On a cold, rainy weekend, his thoughts often
drift to his clients. How are they passing the time? Do they have the money
to rent a few videos and lazily pass a crummy day? Or are they stewing
somewhere, thinking about drugs and fighting off waves of temptation?

His experiences with Drug Court have even colored the way he sees an
increasingly fast-paced American culture, which values bigger cars, bigger
houses and bigger bank accounts. He questions this predominantly white,
suburban image of success. And he wonders how these images play on the
destitute drug addicts trying to get a foothold in this society.

"I have never seen a criminal with a positive self-image," he likes to say.
"A person with a positive self-image doesn't hurt themselves, doesn't pull
a gun on someone, doesn't rob a store."

But Conway also knows that programs and treatment will never solve all of
our problems. He knows his job often requires him to punish.

Conway worries about addicts who are failing in the program. While a judge
must have some distance from defendants, his emotional investment in Drug
Court shortens that space. Conway says the participants become like his
children, and when one of them relapses, he's disappointed "like it's an
insult."

"I think that if you step back and look at Drug Court judges, there is a
savior complex," he says. "I think all of us have it to some extent. We'd
like to effect a change."