TOUGH JUDGE GIVES OFFENDERS A KICK TOWARD DRUG-FREE LIVES

Kelli Barker was sure that she'd lose her life one day because of drugs. At 32, that was all she had left to lose.

As a child, she says, she lost her innocence to sexual abuse. She lost her sister to prison. When her mother died five years ago, she lost her sense of belonging. And when she was arrested on drug-related charges in May, she lost custody of her newborn daughter, Angel.

But last month, Barker stood before a group of fellow addicts to testify to the new life she had found at a Detroit drug rehabilitation center. And the one person she had to thank for her new sense of hope was Patricia Jefferson.

"I've been clean 90 days," Barker said.

"My self-esteem is out of my shoes and somewhere up here," she said, saluting her heart.

Jefferson smiled encouragingly as she listened to the young mother recite an affirmation. But as supportive as Jefferson had been with Barker, she could be impatient with others. When one person in the group refused to submit to a drug test because of a painful sexually transmitted disease, Jefferson quipped: "Get him a bag of ice and a cup." When an older woman resisted drug treatment because she had just had surgery, Jefferson wasted no sympathy: "Your health is the very reason you need to be in this program. Now is the time to kick your habit."

This is not the boot camp version of Narcotics Anonymous and Patricia Jefferson is no drug therapist. She's a 36th District Court judge who presides over Detroit's drug treatment court, an alternative route through the legal system for selected drug offenders.

"You can send a drug offender to jail for 90 days and they won't get the treatment they need," Jefferson said in her chambers before a drug court session in August. "If you do, you'll end up seeing the same people over and over again. I think it's the court's responsibility to get people access to the help they need. This program isn't for everyone. But for many, it's exactly what they need to kick the bondage of drugs."

A Different Kind Of Justice

Jefferson had been on the bench only a year in 1998 when the U.S. Justice Department gave the court a grant to fund a new program.

"When the chief judge asked me to come and assist in implementing the program, I had never even heard of a drug court," Jefferson remembered.

According to the Justice Department, the idea of drug courts began as an experiment by the Dade County, Fla., Circuit Court in 1989. Attempting to halt the revolving door of drug offenders, the judges instituted an intensive, supervisory program that would divert drug offenders from jails to community-based treatment programs. If the offenders successfully completed the programs, they could go free. If they dropped out or broke the law again, they'd have to pay with stiff sentences.

A 1999 federal report found that 361 drug courts operate nationwide, and 220 more are planned. The report found that drug courts have an average 70 percent graduation rate.

More than 750 babies have been born drug-free as a result of drug courts, the study found, and more than 3,500 parents under drug court supervision have regained custody of their children. However, in part because the programs vary widely from state to state, data is inconclusive as to their long-term effectiveness.

In Detroit, if an offender is hauled to court on a nonviolent, drug-related charge like possessing drug paraphernalia, a judge may refer the defendant to drug treatment court.

But before Jefferson can take jurisdiction over the case, the offender must sign a contract vowing to attend monthly status hearings, submit to drug tests and participate in a court-prescribed drug treatment program. Defendants who have not earned a high school diploma must earn a GED, and all other defendants are expected to secure and maintain employment.

The program works in three phases, from stabilizing the drug users to reintegrating them into drug-free lifestyles. But before participants can graduate, all of their drug tests must come back clean.

The whole process can take up to two years. If during that time an offender is not living up to his or her commitment, the judge may have the person arrested and sentenced on the original offense. Sometimes, Jefferson also uses a short stint in jail as a wake-up call.

"These people are not violent criminals," Jefferson said. "They don't want to be locked away. A few weeks in jail can be very effective. To me, when I order someone to be locked up, it's saying to them, 'If you can't stop abusing your body, we can lock you up for a period of time to make you stop.' It's not just about punishment."

Investing In Treatment

Jefferson, who manages a regular docket along with her drug court cases, said that about 6,000 drug-related cases come through the 36th District Court each year. But because she has to rely on other judges to divert people into the program, and because many of the people who are recommended don't follow through, only about 100 offenders have been accepted into the program since October 1998.

"Nearly half of the people who are referred to the program never show up for assessment," Jefferson said. "That's why I'd like to have the resources for them to be assessed on the spot. If we could triple the number of people coming into this program, I'd start holding court on Saturdays just to accommodate everyone."

Just keeping one person from becoming a repeat drug offender can save Michigan taxpayers a minimum of $24,000 a year, the cost of keeping the same person behind bars, according to a 1998 evaluation of the drug court program.

There are other savings that come with treatment versus incarceration. For example, taxpayers also save what it costs to keep children in foster care while their parents languish in jail. Of the 22 people who were enrolled in the pilot program, 15 were parents.

Society also gains by not having people resort to crime to pay for drugs. The majority of participants in the pilot program reported that they had spent from $51 to more than $300 a day on drugs.

Despite the benefits illustrated by the program, public policy has favored prison over treatment for nonviolent drug offenders. From 1986 to 1996, the number of admissions to Michigan prisons on drug offenses increased 200 percent, according to the Justice Policy Institute in Washington, D.C.

Presiding Over Trial And Error

One reason so little money is put into treatment might be because the road to recovery is not guaranteed, even when supervised by a judge. In 1998, nearly 80 percent of the offenders in the Detroit program reported having abused drugs from 6 to 20 years. Ninety percent were cocaine users, and many were addicted to more than one drug. Like many of her fellow participants, Barker said she'd been in treatment once before, but wasn't able to stay clean.

Clarence Meadows, 51, who became addicted while serving in the Vietnam War, has had similar problems. He's been in the program almost since it began. But last month, when he was on the brink of graduating, he tested positive for drugs.

"Mr. Meadows," said an exasperated Jefferson at a hearing in August, "You keep asking me when you're going to graduate. Don't you know it's up to you?"

Refusing to hear his excuses, Jefferson ruled that Meadows had to submit to twice-weekly drug tests and attend Narcotics Anonymous three times a week or he would be sent to jail.

Meadows blamed his latest misstep on associating with the wrong people, a mistake he said he won't repeat. But he claims he's kicked his habit and is now desperately looking for employment.

"Drugs kill everything good you have inside of you," said Meadows, who had lived up to the judge's expectations by his September hearing. "Drugs are a waste of time, of life, of energy. A lot of people die and never come to that realization. I'm one of the lucky ones."

Jimmy Robinson might be, too. Last month he received a certificate for completing the first level of the program.

"The judge can be twice as nice, cold as ice," Robinson said of his four-month experience in drug treatment court. "But if you listen to her, you can't do anything but succeed."

At 40, Robinson has worked as a building attendant with the City of Detroit for 23 years. The first time he got drunk, he says, he was 7. By the time he was arrested earlier this year for possessing drug paraphernalia, he had added cocaine and heroin to an alcohol addiction.

"I've bought a golden gavel that I'm going to present to Judge Jefferson when I graduate," he said. "I've been in treatment before, but nothing will straighten you out like drug treatment court. Either you do right, or you go to jail."

Barker was an onlooker when Robinson got his certificate, and vows that one day soon, she'll join the 17 participants who have graduated from the program. She dreams of becoming a kindergarten teacher.

"Judge Jefferson is more than a judge," she said. "She knows what we're going through. I've never heard of anyone leaving out of court and getting sent to treatment the very same day. They took me directly out of there, no handcuffs, to treatment. It was the first day of the rest of my life."