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Among the several thousand Harford County high school seniors receiving diplomas soon will be one who is working simultaneously toward another graduation.
And, although he is excited about finishing high school, Tim, an artistic and determined 17-year-old with a history of alcohol and drug abuse, knows that the stakes in Juvenile Drug Court, where he is enrolled in a rigorous program, are even higher.
Because what Tim wants desperately as he enters adulthood is to earn back something he left in a stolen car and a haze of marijuana smoke: a clean criminal record. High school graduation can't give him that. Only successful completion of Juvenile Drug Court can.
So Tim, like several dozen of his peers, says he is trying harder than he ever has in his life "to stay clean and follow the rules."
Despite its reputation as a haven from urban ills, Harford County exceeds the state's teen-age drug-use percentages in several categories, including for heroin and barbiturates. A 2001 survey of 326 Harford County teen-agers conducted by the Maryland State Department of Education put 12th-grade heroin use at 2.1 percent, compared with the state's figure of 0.9 percent for the same group. The survey also reported unspecified narcotics use by 5.9 percent of Harford County 12th-graders, compared with 3.6 percent by other Maryland 12th-graders. And 6.2 percent of the same respondents reported using barbiturates, twice the state's 12th- grade rate of 3.1 percent.
Citing those numbers, Joe Ryan, executive director of the Harford County Office of Drug Control Policy, asserts that many Harford teen-agers planning to walk across a stage to get their diplomas will be under the influence of drugs.
"The high schools are going to graduate about 100 kids who are heroin addicts," says Ryan, who retired from the Maryland State Police after 26 years -- nine of them in the Drug Enforcement Division. "And 26.9 percent of 12th-graders surveyed said they smoked dope on a regular basis. A lot of them aren't going to be worth a dime to us as productive kids."
Determined to change the trajectory of drug- and alcohol-dependent teen-agers who broke the law, an interagency group responsible for juvenile offenders discussed possible alternatives to traditional Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ) programs.
Circuit Judge William O. Carr is credited with bringing the concept to Harford County in 2001.
"It's an integrated system between the courts, the legal system, DJJ, the Health Department and the school system," said David B. Mitchell, the coordinator of the Juvenile Drug Court. "It's a multidisciplinary approach that combines legal issues, treatment, counseling, education and life skills."
Offenders who are referred to the roughly yearlong voluntary program must agree to a stringent set of rules and activities, including mental and physical health screenings, mandatory counseling and drug testing, appropriate treatment and attendance at school or in a high school equivalency diploma program. The grant covers the total cost of all of the services provided to participants and their families. The program is not, however, open to all addicted teen-agers in Harford County. Drug Court is designed to serve no more than 30 juveniles at one time, and access to its resources is limited to nonviolent offenders.
At the heart of the program are two opposing motivators: the promise of an expunged legal record; and the threat of tougher sanctions, including termination from the program.
The Drug Court team, made up of a judge, a prosecutor, a public defender, counselors, a coordinator, representatives from the Board of Education and a DJJ probation officer, work together on each teen-ager's case, employing a range of available tools -- including random drug testing, disciplinary measures, therapy and alternative education programs. The teen-agers also receive rewards for progress, such as gift certificates to restaurants and outings to sporting events.
"First, I was really angry at everybody, and I hated it," she said. "I couldn't believe they'd make me [urinate] in front of somebody, and I thought the counselor ... hated me. But I knew if I failed that I'd go to jail."
Today, from her vantage point as an employed, drug-free graduate, Allison is grateful for the opportunity she was given. But she says she wishes that her family and the school system had done a better job of preventing addiction.
"They don't tell you what life is like as a junkie," she said. "They need to touch on the personal and how addiction affects your life and family. They don't tell you it's cool once, but then you can't eat and you throw up all the time."
That role falls to members of the Drug Court, who, in their desire to see the juveniles succeed, are clear about what they need to do to change their lives.
"I call it "cudgel therapy" because sooner or later I bring the cudgel down on them," says probation officer Bob Testudine. "And ultimately, the kids don't want to lose their freedom."
During the course of Drug Court, many of the offenders do jeopardize their freedom. Often it comes in the form of a relapse into substance abuse, which is detected through random drug tests performed twice a week. Allison was placed under house arrest for two months for a drug violation. Others are admitted to inpatient treatment centers for months at a time. The Drug Court team does what it feels it takes for an offender to be successful.
The estimated $15,000 to $20,000 that Ryan says they spend on each juvenile is gone and cannot be recaptured. Of the 92 juveniles who have volunteered and been accepted into Drug Court, 63 have graduated or are still in it.
"We're about fifty-fifty," says Carr, who has the ultimate authority over the program participants. "There's not a magic formula," he adds, stating that Drug Court "is one of the most difficult things I've done [in 19 years] as a judge."
But, he is quick to add, it is also a deeply rewarding process, a sentiment echoed by his colleagues involved with Drug Court.
"When you see the light bulb go on in the kids' eyes, you know you've done something good," Testudine says. "The only way to win the drug war is one kid at a time."
Mitchell says that Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. has been a strong supporter of Juvenile Drug Court since its inception.
In the end, however, it is difficult for the Drug Court team to think of the young men and women in terms of dollars and cents.
"I don't think we can put a price on a juvenile's life value," Mitchell says.
His colleagues agree.
"If you get one kid clean, off drugs and productive, then it's money well spent," Testudine says.
In the end, it is the participants who make the best case for the program. Tim, who has made honor roll in high school, is ready to start college and plans to become a clothing designer, says that without Drug Court, "I would still be doing the same thing. But now," he says, "my mind is clear, and I don't even want to go back to my old self."
Copyright © 2003, The Baltimore Sun
