Posted on Thu, Oct. 29, 2009
EVERY Monday afternoon, as the Delaware County courthouse is emptying out, a handful of nonviolent offenders come looking for redemption in Courtroom 7.
They pass through the metal detector at the rear entrance, quietly battling their inner demons: drug and alcohol addiction or mental illness. Or all three.
Most of them have multiple arrests. They've hit rock bottom, but are determined to rebuild their lives and become productive members of society. They just want to feel normal again.
Welcome to Delaware County's Treatment Court, one of more than 200 specialty courts that are sprouting up around the country to reduce recidivism among criminals with mental disorders and chemical dependencies.
Mental-health courts, a relatively recent phenomenon, aim to break the cycle of arrest and incarceration by enrolling nonviolent criminals in Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous, hooking them up with mental-health providers and helping them find a job and pursue an education.
For some, it's working.
There's April, a 53-year-old recovering PCP addict who has been clean for more than a year. She arrived a half-hour early this week, eager to show Judge Frank Hazel a positive review from her supervisor at the Salvation Army, where she volunteers.
"That's my girl," Hazel said as he passed her in the hallway.
"He's really a great judge," April confided. "I think he's awesome."
What many of these people needed was a helping hand, someone who genuinely believes that they can change for the better - not a crotchety judge to throw the book at them.
April, who asked that her last name not be published, was busted last year for drug possession. She'd still be sitting in jail today, but she enrolled in Delaware County's 24-month treatment court, a two-track program that serves women with mental disorders and drug addiction, and higher-level offenders who are facing state prison sentences for drug convictions.
"I didn't have any chance in hell with anything else except this," April said. "It's working out well."
She did drug rehab, a stint in a halfway house and is now living with her sponsor in Allentown. On the nights when she is required to check in with Hazel, she catches a bus to Philly, then the train to Media. She doesn't get home until 11:30 p.m.
"The main thing is living life on life's terms," she said, "without getting high."
On Monday, after Hazel has cleared his day cases, he huddles with the treatment-court coordinator, caseworkers, probation officers, behavioral-health workers and a deputy district attorney to review the status of each case before the night court begins. Here, the defendants are called "clients" and they talk directly to the judge, not through a defense attorney.
"They want to help you, and they do everything they can to keep you in check and help you get your life together," April said. "They don't have to do this. They could just send us away and let us do our time."
Over the past decade, however, judges, politicians and prosecutors have realized that that approach doesn't work. Prisons are packed with inmates with "co-occurring" disorders - mental illness plus drug dependency. And treating that population in jail is expensive and largely ineffective.
"You see a deepening of the illness to the point that when they're released, they're almost certainly going to re-offend," Delaware County District Attorney G. Michael Green said. "This is a way to be proactive in preventing future criminal activity."
"Throwing them in jail is not helping anybody," said Linda Barbera, the county's treatment-court coordinator. "This is a huge opportunity for the court to do something different, because what we've been doing so far hasn't been working."
The treatment court has a group-therapy atmosphere. Hazel is not only the judge, but, in some ways, a sharp-witted father figure with an endless supply of sage advice, uplifting jokes and words of encouragement.
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