Pubdate: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 Source: Providence Journal, The (RI) Copyright: 2000 The Providence Journal Company Contact: 75 Fountain St., Providence RI 02902 Website: http://www.projo.com/ Author: Tom Mooney WITH HANDSHAKES, WORDS OF HOPE, DRUG COURT HOLDS FIRST 'GRADUATION' "We'll know in a year from now where we are in terms of success or failure," says Buddy Croft, coordinator of the Family and Juvenile Drug Court, an alternative to traditional means of dealing with youth crime. PROVIDENCE -- The 14-year-old boy who admitted to selling marijuana on school grounds six months ago was back in Family Court yesterday and was handed the most unusual of judicial paperwork: An engraved citation of accomplishment from the chief judge and a greeting card signed by drug counselors. "Life is full of new beginnings," the card read. "I hope that this is one of your happiest and most successful." And with a host of handshakes, words of encouragement to him and his parents, and a bouquet of balloons, the boy became the first "graduate" of Rhode Island's Family and Juvenile Drug Court. The drug court began last January as an alternative to traditional means of dealing with youth crime. Rather than send a young drug offender to the state Training School for punishment -- where experts say many youngsters' behavior worsens - -- the drug court offers rehabilitation: intensive counseling coupled with tough court supervision for a period of six months to a year. Those offenders who volunteer to enter the program agree to undergo regular drug counseling, submit to random drug tests, must obey their parents, meet curfews and appear in court each week where a magistrate reviews the youth's case. Those who disobey receive penalties ranging from tougher curfews and community service projects to 72 hours behind the Training School's razor wire. Nationally, more than 40 states have instituted juvenile drug courts in the last five years. Some were initially met with skepticism, particularly among law enforcement officials who said they coddled criminals. But the reality is quite the opposite, says Buddy Croft, the coordinator of Rhode Island's drug court. "The reluctance on the part of law enforcement was that this was going to be a program that was soft on kids. But it really isn't. A lot of kids don't want to go through this program, they don't want the treatment, the intensive supervision, the family counseling, curfews and drug screening. For some of them, it's easier to go to the Training School than go through drug court." And Croft says, if drug court can work, there's a huge practical benefit as well: the savings of tens of thousands of dollars in prison costs. Rhode Island's drug court program, financed by a $400,000 federal grant, currently has 28 offenders enrolled. "We'll know in a year from now where we are in terms of success or failure," Croft said. "This is not a perfect science." But then neither is the current system, he adds, which is struggling with youth crime that has become more violent. "If all the other programs that are out there worked, there would be no need for a drug court." On Tuesday afternoon, about 50 members of the drug court's advisory council -- a cross-section of representatives from law enforcement, drug treatment, education and the law -- filed into a third-floor courtroom in the Garrahy Judicial Center. They were there to hear a progress report from five teenagers -- and their parents -- involved in the program since January. The five ranged in age from a 13-year-old charged with possession of heroin to a 17-year-old charged with possession of crack cocaine, marijuana and driving a stolen car. All but one were boys. The girl was 16 and five months pregnant. A marijuana user who had been through several drug rehabilitation programs, she appeared to speak with candor. "This is the only program that got me to stop using," she said. "The minute I did something wrong I was sent to the Training School . . . I think if I wasn't pregnant I'd be slipping a little bit more." The hardest part of staying clean, she said, is when you leave a program and return to your friends and school where drugs are everywhere. "When you see kids on [the designer drug] Ecstasy and they are happy and jumping around, it makes you want to try it," she said. For now, the young girl's mother said, "We have piece of mind. We are at a 100 percent better place than we were six months ago. There is hope for the future." The fear, she said, is in what the future holds. "I don't want her to graduate from this program," her mother said. Before she was enrolled in drug court, "I had many nights where I didn't know where she was." Now, "she might be pregnant but at least she's home." A father speaking with his 17-year-old son behind him told of desperate days on end when his son would disappear "and I'd be out looking for him at 2 in the morning." Through the supervision and drug counseling he's receiving now, "my son's home," he said. His son at first didn't wish to speak. But after hearing his father, he said that "before drug court, I was running the streets, smoking weed every day, doing what I wanted. Now I have to be home at 7 [p.m.]." The boy admitted, however, that he still smokes marijuana "but not like I used to, and I don't drink anymore." Upon hearing the boy's admission, Croft, the coordinator, told the advisory council: "We constantly struggle with what is success. Relapse is part of treatment. But if we have success with some of these kids it will be wonderful." Yesterday at the graduation ceremony, the focus was on hope. If in six months a review of the graduating boy's case finds he has remained drug-free and out of trouble, this chapter of his life will be closed, said Magistrate Jeanne L. Shepard. A group of about 20 peers and their parents, Chief Judge Jeremiah S. Jeremiah Jr. and several counselors had gathered for the occasion. Shepard shook the young boy's hand. "This is the reason why we have drug court," she said, "so young people like you can get on with their lives. I want you to have a healthy, happy life." - --- MAP posted-by: Allan Wilkinson