Special Report - Part Five Of Five: Losing The War On Drugs

HOPE FOR THE FUTURE

Glasgow's Pioneering New Drugs Court Is An Easy Target For The Moral
Majority, But Its Radical Way Of Dealing With Chronic Addicts Really Does Work

I meet Peter outside Glasgow Sheriff Court just before his hearing. He's
here to attend the drug court -- a pilot project where drug addicts with
records as long as your arm are given the chance to stay out of jail as
long as they don't re-offend and take medical treatment and counselling for
their addiction.

As we walk in through the doors of the court, he pulls me back. 'Hang on a
second,' he says, pointing at the airport-style body-scanners and the
security guards who are there to frisk him . He dips into his inside
pocket, brings out a lump of cannabis which must have cost UKP40, and pops
it in his mouth. 'I get a bit stressed out with all this drug court
carry-on, so I need a wee smoke afterwards,' he mumbles through the drugs
stuffed inside his cheek.

If the goings-on at the drug court were reported daily, the moral majority
would choke on its cornflakes. During one hearing, a drug addict who was
trying to explain why he'd been found with Valium and ecstasy in his urine
said to the sheriff: 'Oh, like, f* man, I was just partying all week'. He'd
spent his Social Security crisis loan on a sex, booze and drugs binge .
Other addicts snigger in the dock and cast backwards glances to their pals
in the body of the court while the sheriff runs through their progress.

This is how it works: a serial offender, usually one who has stolen to feed
his habit, is pointed out by police to Christine Hamilton, the principal
procurator fiscal depute attached to the drug court. Violent criminals
don't get the option to take part. Candidates are then assessed by
prosecutors and social workers who decide if they are suitable for going
through the drug court -- which has been running only since last November.

Social work staff say they are over burdened with casework and worried
about not being able to give heroin addicts in the drug court enough
support. This is crucial, as it is social workers who help them find houses
and jobs, get them back in touch with their families and get them
counselling. Without that help, the chances of reoffending are very high.

Once accepted by the court, offenders are bailed (as long as they plead
guilty to the charge ) and given probation and a drug treatment and testing
order -- usually for a year or 18 months -- which means they are
immediately placed on a methadone programme. There is also the chance of
rehab and detox services. They are regularly brought back before the court
and interrogated by the sheriff.

Despite the swearing and the odd lump of hashish secreted around addicts'
bodies, the drug court works. Similar projects in Ireland, Canada and
America have seen re-offending rates drop by between 35% and 70%. Financial
savings also stand at around 20% because of the drop in jail populations.
In Glasgow alone the addict population, which is at least 8500, commits 2.6
million offences a year, stealing goods worth at least UKP535m. Of this
they make UKP150m from the 'fences' who receive the goods , which all goes
into the criminal underworld of drug-dealing.

According to Michael O'Grady, one of two sheriffs currently running the
Glasgow drug court, it is 'the last-chance saloon'.

'We are looking at people who have been given every other option --
probation, deferred sentences, jail -- and it hasn't worked,' he says.
'Although we test everyone throughout the programme, I know that most of
the people will go on taking heroin for quite some time. We have to be
realistic -- people don't just stop injecting after years on heroin because
I tell them to.

'I don't expect them even to end the programme drug-free. If they have
stopped offending and have their drug-taking under control, I see that as a
success.

'Crime which is related to drug use is not the same as other crime. These
people have chaotic lives. If they relapse the odd time, or fail to attend
for a hearing, I'm not automatically going to dump them in jail . If they
tell me they got off their face, I won't automatically bin them. Even if
they commit another minor offence -- like shoplifting -- I won't
automatically find them in breach of their conditions and jail them.
Reoffending is very serious, and the chances are high they will get jailed,
but I can't be absolute. It's a carrot-and-stick philosophy we use here. We
need to realise drug addiction is a chronic condition which causes many
people to relapse.'

Because addicts who are sent to the drug court go on a methadone programme
immediately, critics say criminals are jumping the queue. But O'Grady's
answer is that we should have these services anyway.

Privately, many supporters of the drug court are dreading the 'mugged
granny' scenario -- where an addict working through the drug court commits
a violent crime while on bail and getting treatment. O'Grady, however, is
clear about his responsibilities. 'We can't allow ourselves to be
influenced by the public. We are here to care for the public interest, not
the public's emotions. I believe that the interest of the public and the
addict coincide -- and that means getting these people to stop offending.
That requires a degree of understanding on the part of the public.'

Most sheriffs believe that recreational drugs do not cause offending -- by
which they mean nobody robs houses to buy cannabis or ecstasy and that
criminalising users doesn't do a thing to cut crime. Other senior members
of the judiciary, however, go a lot further. One well-known sheriff told me
in the strictest confidence that not only was he in favour of the mass
legalisation of all drugs, but that he'd taken both cannabis and cocaine.
Another said he had sat down to dinner with numerous MSPs and MPs who were
in favour of mass legalisation, but were 'petrified of the tabloid terror
and the knowledge that if they said these things in public they'd be finished'.

Yet another added: 'I see drugs in the UK as a clear analogy with
prohibition in America. I don't take heroin because I don't want to die,
not because the law tells me not to. Those who do take heroin don't give a
damn about the law. We should legalise everything. I'm allowed to climb up
a mountain and kill myself or smoke until I get lung cancer, so why can't I
shoot heroin up my arm?'

Although the drug court is limited -- in the two years it is to run it will
take on just 200 addicts -- it has few limitations. Even dealers may be
allowed to come on board -- although only street dealers who sell smack to
their friends to earn enough to buy their own supply.

'On a human level, everyone wants this to succeed,' says Christine
Hamilton. And if people fail the first time round, re-offend and are sent
to jail, there is no reason, according to Hamilton, why they cannot be
given a second bite of the cherry and another chance with the drug court .

Peter, the addict who smuggled cannabis into court in his mouth, is one of
the success stories. Sheriff Hugh Matthews lavishes him with praise like an
indulgent uncle. After his hearing, we sit down in the court canteen for a
coffee and he tells me his life story. He has 77 convictions, all for
theft, and has served 49 jail terms, which have cost him 12 of the past 20
years. He has been on smack now for 23 years. He is 37 years old. He has
been clean for six weeks -- the longest he has ever been drug-free in his
life. The offence that brought him to the drug court was stealing two
bottles of champagne. 'I may be a junkie, but I've got taste,' he jokes.

'This has changed my life. I've been in and out of jail and round in
circles for years -- desperately wanting to get off drugs but finding no
way to get off the merry-go-round of smack, stealing and the nick. I don't
have to steal any more as I got put on methadone as soon as I was brought
before the drug court. I'm now aiming to reduce my methadone and get
completely off drugs. It's made me take responsibility for my life. I have
to answer to these people -- the sheriff and the social workers and doctors
who are helping me. I was in the gutter and they've given me a chance
despite all the f*-ups I've made. I can't thank them enough.'

O'Grady is in absolutely no doubt of the value of the drug court. 'Drugs
are a huge threat to social cohesion," he says.

"Whole generations are being lost through heroin addiction and crime. I
have this horrible feeling that out there somewhere is a kid in a toilet,
trying to find a vein, who might be the next Chopin. The drug court gives
that kid the chance to have some potential."