Every Thursday afternoon some local teenagers have a weekly court date. Their appearance in juvenile drug court is part of their mandated participation in a 12-step substance abuse program and routine counseling sessions.
A team composed of juvenile court Judge Peter Statler, deputy juvenile officer Krystal McLane, counselor Dana Branson, drug court administrator Steve Narrow and tracker Michelle Hammack meet before drug court and discuss each case. They try to convince the teens that drugs are not the answer to their problems.
"They have been through the 'Are you guilty or not?' phase," Statler said. "They have been determined to be guilty. This is a condition of their probation."
In drug court, there are no lawyers. Juvenile drug court is less formal than regular court. The team meets with the teens and their parents.
"We can run it a little more treatment-oriented than discipline-oriented," Statler said.
"This is a team," added Narrow. "We have great success working with other agencies."
Once juvenile offenders have been determined to be eligible for drug court, teens and their parents sign a contract with the court. The teens go through three levels of treatment. In level one, they come to drug court every Thursday and get counseling three days a week. By the time they reach level three, they're getting treatment one day a week and appear in court every other week.
The reason the team meets before each court session is to make sure everyone agrees with how each case is to be handled.
"When we see these guys there are no arguments, no fuss," Narrow said. "We decide before we get into the meeting what we're going to do."
The effort pays off, McLane said. Of the teens who completed the program, which began in August 2000, only one has been rearrested in the juvenile system. Only three have been arrested in the adult system. Of those three, one was not a graduate of the program.
Of 75 teens who have come into the system, 35 have finished and all 35 have stayed drug-free, Narrow said.
Juvenile drug court, like juvenile court, is closed. But the team allowed a reporter to sit in on the precourt conference to understand what the teens and the people trying to help them are up against. The names of children have been changed to preserve their privacy.
Jim, 15, hasn't shown up for much of his counseling or for drug court. Jim claims he can't make all the required meetings because he doesn't always have transportation. The team isn't convinced that Jim is trying as hard as he should. Statler is ready to send the message that if Jim misses another meeting or treatment, he'll be sent to juvenile detention.
"We need him to think he needs to find a way here," Narrow said. "Next time he misses for any reason he will be doing time. Let's not give him the option. Let's just go get him."
Other teens bring other baggage to their sessions. Norman, for example, likes attention, especially from health-care providers, so he doesn't take his pain medications.
Despite the odds, the team does see progress. Owen is making strides, despite the fact that a year ago he left school to look after his mother. Arthur is making better grades after learning some life lessons.
"He found out that if he's respectful and courteous he will actually get some favor with his teachers," Narrow said.
Knows all the excuses
The drug court team hassles, prods, encourages, threatens and does everything it can to help teens. They know all the excuses. That's why all the teens are to come to the juvenile office between noon and 1 p.m. every Saturday for mandatory drug testing so anyone who's tempted to get high Friday night will think twice. If they're not at school, Hammack or McLane will look for them and find out why.
Hammack's job as tracker is to find teens who skip school or shrug off meetings. She is also a student at Southeast Missouri State University who plans to make a career of counseling troubled teens. Narrow said she's getting the kind of experience a classroom can't provide.
Drug court works best when the team can get to the children well before they turn 17.
"One of the tragedies is once they reach the age of 17 we have to let them go whether they are ready or not," Narrow said. "We could have kept one another six months. Shortly after he turned 17 he got arrested and pleaded guilty to felony burglary."
lredeffer@semissourian.com
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