County's new drug court helps offenders find sobriety

JACKSON, Mo. -- Cape Girardeau County's drug court is in full swing with some of the program's participants celebrating more than 30 days of sobriety.

Others are sitting in jail.

"This program is what you make of it," said drug court administrator Steve Narrow.

Designed as an alternative to incarceration, the goal of a drug court is to give nonviolent, first-time drug offenders supervised treatment. Participants are recommended by the prosecutor.

Narrow calls it a win-win situation. If people are successful, then they become productive members of society and are able to move on without the specter of a criminal record following them around.

It's too soon to pronounce the fledgling program a success, but participants say things look positive so far.

In just three months, the drug court has saved the county $1,600 in jail costs, Narrow said.

But the program isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card, he said. If participants get in trouble again, prosecutors can use the original criminal charge against them.

"A suspended imposition of sentence allows them to go to a prospective employer and truthfully say 'I don't have a felony conviction,'" Narrow said. "That's the carrot."

From the time people enter the program, every detail of their lives is scrutinized. Screened at least twice weekly for drugs, offenders are also required to attend drug-recovery meetings like Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous.

They're in daily contact with either a case worker, a probation officer or a drug counselor. Because everyone involved is in constant communication with each other, lies are quickly exposed and confrontations swift.

Each Friday morning, they're held accountable by Associate Circuit Judge Peter Statler. How pleasant that encounter is depends on the previous week's progress.

Friday, six defendants each took a turn in front of his bench. He was at times stern, at others, downright congenial.

First glancing over her file, Statler looked down at an 18-year-old woman and suggested that since she was the only one in the program who hadn't seen the inside of a jail yet, perhaps it was a good idea if she did.

She stiffened. Tears welled in her eyes.

"I mean for a tour," Statler said.

"Perhaps I should have phrased that more carefully," he mused as the young woman slumped in her chair trying to catch her breath.

She had been consistently testing positive for marijuana. Since it takes up to a month for marijuana to clear out of the body's system, she was given the benefit of the doubt.

For now.

One thing that separates drug court from other court sessions is defendants must plead guilty before getting into the program. Attorneys don't argue over sentences.

But the biggest difference is that sometimes rewards are offered.

A 21-year-old man who has stayed sober while handling the stress of a new job received a pair of movie tickets, applause from everyone in the room and praise from the judge. So did a 23-year-old female who recently celebrated 30 days of sobriety.

The rewards will have to wait for some.

One 18-year-old man, knowing he broke the rules of conduct, came to court prepared to bond out of jail yet again. He was in court originally for robbery and tampering with evidence.

Friday, when he learned bond wasn't possible, he was stunned. He will be in the county jail until he's transferred to the diagnostic center in Potosi, Mo.

"How's it going to help me being surrounded by those animals?" he demanded.

Probation and parole officer Peg Wolf reminded him that he committed a felony, the same as the people he'll meet in the diagnostic center.

"They're not all animals. They're there because they broke the law, just like you," she said.

Given similar news, another man first burst into tears, then into a tantrum, throwing his watch at his mother.

Other defendants remained silent as he was led away in handcuffs, relieved that it wasn't them.

Teamwork

Each week, the entire team meets and has frank discussions about each offender and decides as a team how to proceed with treatment.

Made up of the judge, the drug court administrator, a public defender, a prosecutor, a probation and parole officer and a case worker, the team hears a detailed summary about each defendant.

And despite the intensive one-on-one involvement with each offender, ultimately drug court programs save the state money, Narrow said.

"We spend $6,000 to $8,000 per person. That sounds like an astronomical amount, but compare that to the $13,000 a year it costs to keep someone in the penitentiary," he said.

abuchanan@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 160