Marissa Williams has seen the power of storytelling firsthand. She’s constantly telling stories about growing up in Brooklyn, New York, in the hopes that she might earn a laugh or share a positive memory.
But some stories are more painful to tell. When Williams was in high school, a gang-related incident resulted in the killing of one of her best friends. Compounding her grief, she and her friend were in the middle of a falling out and weren’t on speaking terms at the time of her death.
Williams doesn’t like to share that painful memory — let alone in front of a group of strangers. But when she was sitting with two young girls in the middle of a heated fight, she knew it was the most powerful lesson she could share on the importance of reconciliation.
With stomachs full of cheeseburgers and Pepsi, the two young girls listened to Williams’ story. They cried. They hugged. And eventually, they forgave each other.
That was a few years ago. These days, Williams says she still runs into the two young women. Their enduring friendship is a testament to the power of the Red Hook Peacemaking Program, a promising restorative justice initiative out of the Red Hook Community Justice Center, a courthouse that offers unconventional approaches to justice. The two girls found themselves in the program, which takes place in the basement of a bustling courthouse, in order to work through the hiccups in their friendship. Williams, who is by profession a housing resource specialist at the center, was volunteering as a peacemaker, the program’s version of a moderator.
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The Peacemaking Program is a restorative justice program with roots in Native American tradition. It seeks to recenter our approach to justice away from punishment and towards reconciliation and rehabilitation. Storytelling is a key component of that restoration, and trained peacemakers sit with these defendants to do more than just moderate their discussion — they’re active participants in the peacemaking process, sharing their own stories and perspectives at opportune moments.
“It’s different from a therapy session, where you’re talking to a therapist and it’s all about you,” Coleta Walker, the associate director of the Peacemaking Program, said. “This is more like, ‘Yes, we all go through things and this is my story.’ We feel like everyone has a story to tell.”
The peacemaking process is simple: Sessions are held where everyone involved in the case, peacemakers, friends and family gather to share a meal and discuss the incident. The session lasts about two hours. So that no one is speaking over one another, facilitators pass around a talking stick to ensure that only one person is saying their part at a given time. After a series of sessions that differ in frequency depending on the needs of each specific case, the offender and victim will write a consensus together.
The consensus is read in court and typically results in dropped charges.
Though this brings the case to a close, Walker told NationSwell that their “door is never closed” to those who participated in the program. The Peacemaking Program has a personal advancement session for the individuals involved with these cases. At these private meetings, they’ll receive support and resources for any challenges they continue to face. For example, the program might help an individual build a resume and apply for jobs, or find mental health resources or addiction treatment.
Having family and friends present is a key element to the circles, explained Viviana Gordon, the deputy director of Red Hook Community Justice Center.
“It brings a lot of different perspectives to the circle about how this conflict is really having an effect on kids in the home or you know someone’s partner,” she told NationSwell.
The program currently has over 170 community peacemakers and works on more than a hundred cases each year. It receives cases from a variety of streams. Anyone in the community can ask for a peacemaking session and it’s referred cases from different court systems.
Program heads originally prioritized cases where there’s an ongoing relationship between those involved — whether it be an argument between siblings, spouses or neighbors. However, the program has extended to other minor criminal cases of graffiti, assault, shoplifting, harassment, resist and arrest and petty larceny.
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The circles, which started in 2012, have been a success. They’ve helped neighbors resolve conflicts over loud music and families reunited after years of fighting.
Walker said it’s a chance for individuals to learn how their actions impact others. For example, when a young man stole a woman’s iPod and headphones, the act of stealing went beyond monetary value.
“She really wanted to tell him what happened and why it affected her so much,” Walker recalled. “It was because her father, who had passed away, had made the music that she was listening to on the iPod. And when he snatched that, that was something she could never get back.”
The Peacemaking Program gave the young man a chance to apologize and the woman a chance to forgive — something that the current criminal system doesn’t emphasize.
Beyond anecdotal success, the program hopes to track recidivism rates. Walker said the team is in need of grant funding to track recidivism specifically for the Peacemaking Program. It’s a challenge, she explained, when family and friends are all touched by the process. The Red Hook Community Justice Center, as a whole, however, saw recidivism rates 10% lower than offenders in a typical courthouse. Red Hook has experienced sustained decreases in crime in the police precincts served by the Justice Center. Finally, these changes all add up to money saved. In a 2013 independent evaluation, it found that taxpayers saved nearly $7 million.
“It showed a two to one cost savings,” Gordon said. “There is a lot of upfront investment, but it shows that it does reduce recidivism.”
That success has also been seen in other parts of New York. The Peacemaking Program was adopted in Syracuse, New York, in a neighborhood that experiences some of the highest concentrations of poverty. During its first year, it worked with over 75 members of the community.
South Brooklyn High School, a “second-chance” transfer school where students may have fallen behind or been expelled, now trains students to become peer peacemakers as part of a civic engagement class. The 22 peer peacemakers work with their classmates to solve issues and minor incidents, like cell phone usage, disrespecting a teacher or dress code violations.
Before peacemaking, the school had a zero-tolerance policy. If someone broke a rule, they were automatically suspended.
“And to me, it was just feeding that whole school to prison pipeline,” Walker explained. With peacemaking, the students have the chance to understand how their mistakes impacted others. “Having that support in the school and giving that to them is what has helped change the school culture.”.
Williams said she wishes it was something she could have had when she was fighting with her friend years ago. She said she’s happy to see it’s impact in Red Hook and hopes other neighborhoods pick up on restorative justice.
“There’s a lot of young kids that make stupid mistakes, and if they could get a second chance at fixing their wrongs, this is a great thing to do,” she said. “Let’s give more second chances.”
More: Restorative Justice Programs That Work
Tag: alternative court
The Long, Strange Journey of U.S. Drug Courts
The United States isn’t exactly an international role model when it comes to incarceration; out of all developed countries, we imprison the most people, and not very cheaply.
Close to half of those incarcerated in federal and state prisons are there because of drugs, but that hasn’t solved the nation’s ongoing drug crisis. And even though America is safer now than ever before, putting a glut of people behind bars isn’t the reason why.
The failures in the American justice system to tackle the drug epidemic — now in the form of prescription opioids and heroin — has forced the hand of lawmakers to reach across the aisle to find bipartisan solutions. Whereas prison reform used to be relegated to Democrats and libertarians, many Republicans have started to recognize the need for a change in a judicial system whose costs have far outpaced state and local spending on education.
One of these bipartisan solutions has been the implementation of drug treatment courts, an alternative to the traditional court system in which low-level offenders are kept out of prison. Under close supervision of a judge, addicts agree to undergo up to 18 months of mandatory sobriety meetings, group therapy sessions and random drug testing.
A COURT MADE FOR TREATMENT
In 1986, President Reagan signed the Anti-Drug Abuse Act, which allocated hundreds of millions of dollars to build prisons and funnel money into treatment, but the most impactful (and most covert) aspect of the bill was imposing mandatory minimum sentences on drug users.
In 1982, before anti-drug measures were signed into law, there were just under 41,000 people serving time for drug offenses. That number skyrocketed throughout the 1980s and ’90s. By 2015, close to 470,000 people were incarcerated for drugs, according to The Sentencing Project, a nonprofit advocacy group that analyzes U.S. Bureau of Justice data.
But incarcerating drug users didn’t help reduce crime.
In response, the first drug courts popped up in Miami in 1989, a time when the scourge of drugs and crime had made the nation’s most powerful CEOs rank the city as one of the worst places to establish a business, much less a place they wanted to live.
The drug courts started small at first, with only 42 programs in place by 1994, according to a report produced by the Government Accountability Office (GAO). Less than two decades later, by 2010, the number of programs had reached 2,500. But despite that growth, as of 2008, only 3.8 percent of all arrestees considered at risk for drug dependence were actually diverted to a drug court for treatment.
SUCCESS, WITH A SIDE OF SKEPTICISM
Initially, the jury was out on the impact of drug courts, though a 1997 GAO report found an incredibly wide margin of success. For example, out of the 65,000 people examined in 1997 who had gone through drug courts, between 8 and 95 percent had completed the program, and retention within the program ranged from 31 to 100 percent.
But as the drug court system matured and grew, so did its effectiveness. When it was analyzed again in 2011 by the same office, the rearrest rates of those who had completed their drug court mandates were significantly lower — up to 58 percent less — than those who hadn’t. The report concluded that “drug courts produce statistically significant reductions in drug use [and] in self-reported crime.”
However, the success (and failure) of drug courts relies heavily on the kind of treatment it administers. In other words, because of ideological differences in how to best treat addicts — which pits medical intervention against a cold-turkey approach — and the varying state laws, not all drug court programs have been created equally.
When courts recommend medically assisted treatment, or MAT, addicts are provided methadone or buprenorphine to help wean them off opiates. The practice is recommended and well-regarded among numerous world and national coalitions, including the World Health Organization and the United Nations. The research backs it up: In Baltimore, for instance, access to methadone and MAT reduced overdose deaths by 50 percent, according to a 14-year study published in the American Journal of Public Health.
But methadone, which has been used for treating opioid dependency for over 50 years, has its detractors. There is evidence that some people stay on methadone for years, leading critics to argue that these addicts are simply swapping one drug for the other.
A 2010 survey of U.S. drug court programs found that just more than half, or 56 percent, provided MAT. And though that figure is higher than in 1999, when only 39 percent offered the treatment, that’s still a wide gap considering methadone treatment has been shown time and again to reduce overdose deaths.
In giving reasons for their opposition to MAT, one survey respondent said that “Our drug court team feels that allowing our participants to take medication in order to ‘detox’ from one substance could result in new addiction to another substance.” Another court surveyed claimed that “When these drugs are used people are substituting one high for another.”
The aversion to methadone and buprenorphine has led some judges to enforce immediate sobriety. But that approach is highly ineffective, says the National Association of Drug Court Professionals, and only heightens the risk of future drug overdoses and deaths.
A BIPARTISAN SOLUTION
The promise of drug courts has led to some unlikely alliances. Liberal commentator Van Jones and Newt Gingrich, the conservative former speaker of the House, have teamed up to speak out on the opioid epidemic — and the political establishment is carefully watching their efforts to see how bipartisanship could help solve the crisis.
In a recent op-ed for TIME, both men made an argument for drug courts, writing, “What started as an experiment has now become a successful method for helping people with serious substance use disorders get on a path to long-term recovery.”
In New Hampshire last year, then-Gov. Maggie Hassan, a Democrat and current U.S. senator, signed a law that directed $2 million in matching state grants to drug courts — a move that was widely praised, even by the conservative think tank American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC).
“Saving taxpayer dollars is a central pillar of a public official’s duty, and given the overall criminal justice cost of opioid dependence is estimated to be $5.2 billion annually, measures that seek to reduce that cost are necessary, especially if such measures simultaneously reduce crime rates,” wrote Ronald. J. Lampard, director of the Criminal Justice Reform Task Force at ALEC.
And there are more across-the-aisle measures being introduced. Earlier this month, a bipartisan bill was introduced that would reduce sentences for low-level drug crimes and give inmates with drug problems more access to treatment. If it passes, it could be another important footnote in the fight for prison reform — and for recognizing that treatment, not prolonged incarceration, is the best way to address addiction in a more meaningful, and effective, manner.
Continue reading “The Long, Strange Journey of U.S. Drug Courts”
Alternative Courts Can Transform Offenders, Not Just Punish Them
After being pulled over for running a stop sign, Heather Bateman was rummaging around looking for her driver’s license when something else popped out of her purse — her crystal meth pipe.
The policeman at her car window spotted the drug paraphernalia, and Bateman soon found herself in handcuffs.
In a strange twist of events, getting arrested was actually the answer to her prayers.
For months, Bateman had been asking God for some kind of help, as her life spiraled out of control. She was using meth every day. She’d lost her nursing license. She and her 7-year-old daughter were homeless. “It was the lowest part of my life,” she says.
Later, at the courthouse, Bateman was asked if she’d like to take part in an alternative court program — a drug court. “I said, ‘Absolutely. I want to get help.’”
Instead of receiving probation or a prison sentence, Bateman underwent three years of supervised treatment in the St. Paul, Minn., drug court. Her urine was tested randomly to see if she was still using, and she was required to attend treatment and counseling groups. Batemen regularly attended court, where the judge didn’t just issue orders, but asked her what was going on in her life, in the same way a social worker might do.
It wasn’t a straight road, but Bateman found her way to sobriety, regained her nursing license, got married, bought a house and rebuilt her life. But none of this would’ve happened, she says, if she’d simply been sent to jail for drug possession.
Since the first drug court was created 25 years ago in Florida’s Miami-Dade County, the concept has proliferated. Today, there are more than 2,800 specialized courts nationwide that work with juveniles, veterans, the mentally ill, drunk drivers and prostitutes to change their lives after being arrested for minor offenses.
These so-called “problem-solving” courts are born from a recognition that traditional methods of criminal punishment are ineffective. Judges who are frustrated with the existing system and tired of seeing the same defendants appear before them again and again often lead alternative courts, which are designed to address the root causes of the arrest-imprisonment-and-re-arrest cycle.
Alternative courts are growing because they work. Studies have shown that drug courts can reduce recidivism rates by an average of 8 to 13 percent. Additionally, drug court graduates have fewer relapses than offenders who are simply given probation or prison time, according to a 2012 national study financed by the National Institute of Justice.
Most important, the turn toward problem-solving courts may be part of a larger change in the American criminal justice system: leaning toward treatment rather than retribution.
FINDING A BETTER WAY
“The traditional response of sending people to prison or placing them on probation was clearly proving ineffective, if the goal is causing people to change their behavior,” says Associate Circuit Judge Alan Blankenship, reflecting on the beginnings of the drug court he presides over in Stone County, Mo. Blankenship helped start the court 10 years ago, during a methamphetamine epidemic there.
“We realized that imprisoning people is extraordinarily expensive and the environment is not conducive to recovery,” he explains. Prison sentences for drug-addicted defendants “caused more harm and worsened public safety,” he says. “People got worse instead of better.”
Drug courts often employ a multiphase approach to treatment. Initially, defendants are closely monitored, required to undergo frequent drug testing and may have to attend an intensive treatment program, counseling or group therapy. Offenders are assigned a team that might include a probation officer, a social worker and a drug counselor. The group addresses not only treatment needs, but also issues like housing, employment and family reunification.
“The team is going to work with you every step of the way so that you’re not just clean, but stable,” says Chris Deutsch, director of communications for the National Association of Drug Court Professionals.
As defendants accumulate sober time and meet their obligations, drug tests become less frequent and court monitoring loosens. When offenders have shown themselves to be stable and clean, they graduate from the program.
Throughout the process, offenders are required to come to court regularly for conversations with the judge — interactions that look very different from traditional courtroom exchanges. Alternative court judges ask offenders personal questions about family, work and stresses in their life. And they offer praise and encouragement, even applause.
Judge Blankenship says he often says things you might not often hear in a courtroom: “You’re doing great. I appreciate what you’re doing. I’m proud of you.”
“They have this dialogue back and forth and it’s an amazing departure from the way criminal justice interactions normally go,” says Deutsch.
Just a slight shift in approach can have a dramatic impact. Blankenship recalls one defendant who told him, “ ‘I’ve been in many courts in many parts of the country and you are the first judge to look me in the eye and call me by my name. You don’t know how powerful that is.’ ”
However, if offenders are not meeting their obligations, if they are missing meetings or testing positive for drug use, they can be subject to sanctions like community service, extra group counseling sessions or even a few days in jail.
EFFECTIVE & EFFICIENT
When people complete the program, which can take anywhere from a year to several years, they don’t often end up back in court, Blankenship says. The latest data from Stone County indicates that, five years after finishing the program, 13 percent of drug court offenders were re-arrested and only 6 percent were convicted and sent to prison. That’s a significant decrease, when compared with statewide data showing that 60 percent of people with addiction who were sent to prison return there in five years. “No other criminal justice response we’re aware of even comes close to achieving these kind of results with this really high-risk population of offenders,” Blankenship says.
As drug courts have taken root, other alternative court models have appeared.
Savannah, Ga., for example, now has a felony drug court, a mental health court, a veterans’ court, a DUI court and two juvenile courts. Each offers a different twist on the basic drug court model — intensive supervision and treatment tailored to the needs of different populations.
Jean Cottier, coordinator of the Savannah-Chatham County Drug Court, offers impressive statistics about the city’s mental health court. Forty of its graduates, who together had racked up 564 arrests and 1,074 criminal charges prior to participating in the alternative court, only had four arrests and five criminal charges in the two years after completing the program.
Alternative courts also save money, Cottier says. Participants in the felony drug court cost taxpayers only about $19 per day, but “it costs $58 a day to house a prisoner in our local jail,” she explains.
Alternative courts also reduce city spending because they target those who use courts and other public systems the most. People who end up in mental health court, in particular, “are high consumers of services in the community,” Cottier says. A successful mental-illness court can cut ER visits drastically, for instance, saving taxpayer money.
A SEA CHANGE
It’s easy to caricature drug courts, which often offer cakes and hug-filled graduation ceremonies for offenders who complete programs, as part of a soft-on-crime strategy that coddles criminals. Deutsch’s response to that criticism: Drug courts work. Traditional retributive justice doesn’t.
“The people in our community, even some of the most conservative, realize that it’s better to treat people and enable them to transform their lives and become contributing members of our community,” says Judge Blankenship.
While drug courts are becoming more common, they’re still not necessarily reducing the overall prison population. “In many drug courts, criteria for admission can be pretty restrictive,” says Marc Mauer, head of the Sentencing Project, a research and advocacy group. “Many of the people going to prison never had an opportunity to go to drug court.”
One of the best critiques of drug courts, then, might be that there just aren’t enough of them, and they aren’t helping enough people. But their rise may be a signal that the American criminal justice system is beginning to move away from an exclusive focus on punishment.
Drug courts “are a response, a reaction to more than a generation of policy making in this country where we’ve essentially tiled the axis of the justice system in the direction of punitive policy making,” says Greg Berman, director of the Center for Court Innovation, a nonprofit research and advocacy organization.
Twenty-five years ago, Berman says, the criminal justice conversation was about “how to make punishment swift and certain.” Now, within policy circles, “people say, yes, we can change the behavior of offenders.”
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