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Locked up, with love

Some think juvenile offenders need a firm hand. Others believe they need guidance, God and a sense of belonging.

By WAVENEY ANN MOORETimes Staff Writer
Published February 12, 2006

ST. PETERSBURG - Hunks of fried chicken, green beans and mashed potatoes for Sunday dinner. A football game on TV. Lots of smiles and hugs.

But there's nothing traditional about this scene, set at the Charles J. Britt Halfway House, with its chain-link fence, utilitarian furniture and ironclad rules.

Sunday is family day at the juvenile detention center, which sits on the edge of a modest neighborhood off 31st Street S and 26th Avenue. On this particular day, Grace Bible Church is bringing its once-a-month worship service and homestyle dinner to the facility for boys 14 to 18. During the week, other churches offer Bible study.

The involvement of religious groups in the boys' lives is a key element of a pilot program instituted at five juvenile detention centers across the state. Parents and youth must agree to be in the program, but participation in religious activities is voluntary.

As the early evening service begins at Britt House, the boys and their visitors sit in rows of blue plastic chairs that face the smiling pastor. They stand to sing, and a mother puts her arm around her son. He reciprocates.

Another mother asks Pastor Tim Cole to pray that her son "stays safe and gets home as soon as possible." Later Cole tells members of his church to stand among the young men and their families. "We need to pray for everybody, even if your family is not here," he says, understanding that some have already left for homes in Sarasota, Manatee, Hillsborough, Pasco and Polk counties, as well as other parts of Pinellas.

"Nobody stands alone," Cole tells those gathered.

His words summarized a key concept of the faith-based program, officially launched in 2005 with a $3.5-million grant from the U.S. Department of Justice. Screened volunteers are solicited to work with the young men during their stay in the center and after their release.

"In most cases, they are going back to the same environment, so the transition can be a difficult one," said Novell Chestnut, superintendent at Britt House. "We are fortunate to have this kind of program that will be providing transitional help. They have someone they can talk to."

Some, like 16-year-old Wiley, are ambivalent about the arrangement.

"If he comes, he comes," he said when discussing his mentor. "I don't need him to come."

The boy, who lives with his mother, said he got into trouble for battery on two schoolmates. "They kept getting on my nerves," he said during an interview.

Others seemed to appreciate the men who volunteer their time to visit and listen. Jacob, 16, described his mentor as "cool," while Andrew, 15, said his helped him to set goals.

"He tries to help me understand that everything has a consequence," he added, going on to describe what brought him to Britt House. "I had two counts of burglary, one count of aggravated assault and one count of aggravated battery. ... At the time, I didn't care. I was trying to get money the easy way."

Ken Hampson, a 44-year-old married father, said the young man he is mentoring was released last year. He now has a job at Disney in the maintenance department, Hampson said.

Sounding like a proud father, he added, "From what I understand, he got the third highest GED score of anyone who has taken it inside Britt House."

For some, though, the program's life skills classes, mentors and prayers don't guarantee a smooth re-entry into society.

Last week Donald McDonald found out that the young man he continued to mentor after his release violated probation and disappeared.

"I'm really disappointed," said McDonald, a land surveyor for Pinellas County. "I know what his problem is: He's gone back to his old friends."

McDonald said the 16-year-old had been trying to find a job and hoped to continue school at night. "We've been trying to get applications out, but everything has been rejected because of his record. I would go with him to talk with some of these managers to just be a support for him," McDonald said.

Despite the setback, McDonald praises the program and said he has learned that parents are begging to have their children participate in the faith-based initiative instead of being sent to boot camp.

Cecilia Walters, who lives in Dunedin, is grateful for the program. Her 16-year-old son, who was released on Christmas Day, took his GED test last week and has a job, she said.

Another mother, Deborah Woodward, said it was a lifesaver for her son. "If something didn't intervene, he was going to be in a lot of trouble, or dead," she said.

Officials hope the Florida Faith- and Community-Based Delinquency Treatment Initiative will serve about 200 moderate- and high-risk youth through 2006. The University of Florida is evaluating its success.

Cole, Grace Bible Church's pastor, said his church was eager to become involved.

"It's easy to criticize the rise in crime and how the young generation has gone to the dogs," he said. "The state provides incarceration. We provide nurture and love and a sense of family."

[Last modified February 12, 2006, 00:25:19]