YOUNG OFFENDER LOOKS TO PRISON PROGRAMS

Editor's note: This story is a compilation of several interviews over a
four-month stretch between Frontiersman reporter Naomi Klouda and Robert
Norris. It is the second of several articles which will explore how some
Alaskan residents end up behind bars, what happens while they serve out
their sentences, and options they are presented to assist with their
rehabilitation.

The week starts off first thing Monday morning with a court date. After
five months in jail, 18-year-old Robert Norris is about to hear his sentence.

At 9 a.m., he takes a seat beside his attorney, Assistant Public Defender
George Davenport, and folds his handcuffed hands in his lap.

When the hearing starts, Palmer District Attorney Roman Kalytiak addresses
Palmer Superior Court Judge Eric Smith first. He recommends a sentence of
eight years, with six-and-a-half suspended.

Norris was brought to jail Oct. 2, 2001, after trying to outrun an Alaska
State Trooper on the Glenn Highway. Kalytiak points out the seriousness of
the case, which involved speeds exceeding 100 mph in a stolen car.

"There was a serious element of danger and a felony drunk driving offense,"
Kalytiak says.Davenport opposes giving Norris more than a year of jail
time. He has already served a substantial amount of time, he said.

Davenport's main objection is that more time could prove harmful.

"We would like him to still be a young man when he gets out. Rotting away
in jail will kill his potential. He is an earnest young man," he concludes.

The judge makes a few observations on the facts of the case. He compares it
to the July 9, 2001, police chase that ended in the death of the drunken
teen driver, his passengers and Anchorage Police Officer Justin Wollam.

"I don't think anyone survived that wreck," Smith said. "In that case, the
young man was trying to outrun the police. He intended to run directly into
the officer."

When Robert Norris' turn to address the judge comes, he said he didn't
intend to run into anyone.

"I wasn't thinking of myself after it happened. I was afraid because I
could have killed my brother. I didn't try to run anyone off the road. I
didn't want to hurt anyone. I just didn't want to go back to jail," Norris
said.

Judge Smith points out that is probably the main difference between Norris'
case and the summer fatalities.

"That one was purposeful. This one wasn't. Yet it was totally out of
control," Smith said.

He found that Norris wasn't in the worst-offender category, but that he
will be in the future if he continues with his behavior.

"Alcohol drove him to a really bad place," Smith concludes.

He sentences Norris to 20 months in jail. His driver's license will be
revoked for three years. He also gives him a six-and-a-half year suspended
sentence that could be imposed if he violates probation when he is released.

He was placed on probation for five years. He must pay a $5,000 fine.

Norris' hangs his head. At least this part is over.

By Wednesday, Norris is more philosophical than dejected. During a visit at
the Mat-Su Pre-Trial Facility, he says jail officials have let him know his
release date: Nov. 6.

"I felt like the judge was a little harsh with me, but I'm alright with the
sentence," Norris said.

There was more he wanted to tell the judge about the events of that night.
"But I didn't want to sound like I was making excuses for myself," he said.

Norris will soon find out where he is to be moved. He has requested to
serve his jail time at a Fairbanks facility to place him closer to his
aunt, Kimberly Owens, who has been a good support for him. She has offered
to have Norris live with her and her family when he is released, to help
him get a good start in life.

He's also been thinking a little more optimistically about getting
treatment so that he can leave drinking behind in his life. He readily
admits it has already cost him lost years, the 18 months he spent at
McLaughlin, the four months at Mat-Su Pre-Trial for a previous DWI, and now
this stretch of time.

"There's a man here from Fairbanks. He was telling me about some programs
there.

He wrote down a list for me," Norris said. "I was thinking I would like to
go to Old Minto, a treatment center there, when I get out. It's at a place
where people chop wood and do traditional hunting while they are [receiving
counseling] there."Defense attorneys and courts can make recommendations
about where an inmate will serve his time, but the Department of
Corrections ultimately makes that determination.

DOC figures out the release date by subtracting 33 percent of the sentence,
for good behavior, and the time already served. Those with a significant
amount of time to serve usually go to the Arizona prison, DOC spokesman
Bruce Richards said.

"Lately because of budget constraints, we have not been sending them there
as much. Also, we're getting ready to open a new Anchorage Jail, which will
have 300 beds more than the old Sixth Avenue Jail," Richards said. This
will give DOC more options in-state.

The determination is made based on the amount of security (maximum or
minimum) and the inmate's treatment needs, Richards said.

Currently, the decisions are also primarily population-driven because many
prisons are overcrowded, he said. From the start, Norris' attorney, George
Davenport, has been concerned about placing Norris in a prison that lacks
good rehabilitation programs.

"Placing young men in jail with older convicts creates problems," said
Davenport. "There is the potential for them to learn a lot of negative
things from others in jail. It's a sensitive age."

Seward's Spring Creek has a youthful offender program segregating 16- and
24-year-olds from the prison population. Kenai's Wildwood Correctional
Facility has a much-praised substance abuse program.

Point MacKenzie's work farm environment keeps the prisoners busy chopping
wood, raising vegetables and feeding livestock that supply other prison
facilities.

The problem is that there is a wait list. No one gets priority over another
inmate, even if their case is sensitive.

Richards said there are only so many slots in a program. "Unfortunately, we
can't put everyone in a program who wants or needs it. There are certain
eligibility requirements because no program wants people who don't want to
commit to sobriety and turning their lives around."

All of the prisons have certain levels of alcohol and substance abuse
education, whether it's introductory or more in-depth, Richards said.

George Miller, superintendent of the Wildwood facility, said generally
inmates admitted to their program have to be serving a year-long sentence
because that's how long the intensive substance abuse program takes.

"We have found that most people admitted here have deep problems and they
need a full year. An 18-year-old would be the youngest in this program.
Mostly we get people who haven't succeeded in lesser treatments in the
past, the outpatient programs being the first level. The next step up is
20-30 day residential treatment program, then a 42-90 day one. Most we get
have failed at most of those levels and in fact failed time and time again.

This might be a little much for someone his age."However, Norris wouldn't
be disqualified because of those things, Miller said. "Keeping to the
college analogy, this would be like going to Harvard or West Point as
opposed to a state college. People in the program say it is easily the most
difficult thing they have ever done."

Norris knows he has a little more time to spend at Mat-Su Pre-Trial before
he will be shipped to another place. In the meantime, he has a few trusted
friends at the jail who provide a positive influence for him, he said.

A stranger came to visit him last Friday after the first article on Norris
appeared in the Frontiersman. He apparently read it and arrived at the
jail. He told Norris he, too, had struggled with alcohol in his life, and
offered the young man some ideas.

"His name is Carlos," Norris said. "He told me he had been having bad
dreams that he was stuck in jail and no one was helping him. He told me
that he came to see me to tell me that there are people that do care --
that there is hope."

Norris said the visit made him feel good. "It was really cool. He said he
would come back again."