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Struggle for funding overshadows drug court's success stories
By CARRIE JOHNSON © St. Petersburg Times, published May 20, 2001 INVERNESS -- There's an air of congeniality in Circuit Judge Patricia Thomas' courtroom on Wednesday afternoons that doesn't fit the somber surroundings. The defendants laugh and hug as they wait their turn before the bench. One woman passes around her newborn baby to be fussed over. Thomas distributes birthday cards to deserving defendants, offering an encouraging "Keep up the good work" to those who passed their latest drug tests. But when a lanky young man with a short, black goatee is discovered to have tested positive for cocaine, the high spirits vanish. "The excuses you're giving are not appropriate," said Thomas, her smile replaced by a look of steely severity. "You know what this means, right? Twenty-four hours in jail." This is drug court, Citrus County's answer for nonviolent drug offenders who want to kick their habits and stay out of jail. It's been almost a year since the county launched the treatment program, and officials say there have already been some successes. They have accepted 43 people, 13 more than anticipated, said Raymond M. Cox, the program's administrator. Most of those 43 have shown real progress: They're passing drug tests, mending family problems and getting jobs. "People like to hire our folks," Cox said. "They know they're clean, and they know they're getting their urine tested." Drug court is open only to non-violent felony offenders who have a history of substance abuse. The defendant need not face a drug charge; a person caught stealing to pay for drugs may also qualify. Defendants apply for entry. Their applications are screened first by Cox, and then by the State Attorney's Office. Next, they are reviewed by a team that includes a public defender, a probation officer, a treatment provider and Thomas. The 18-month program is a highly structured regimen of 12-step meetings, drug tests and court appearances. Participants risk jail time if they don't obey the rules. However, if they complete the program successfully, charges against them will be dismissed. It hasn't all been perfect. Seven people have dropped out of drug court and had to be rounded up by police, Cox said. And even those committed to the program sometimes stray: Of the nearly 1,300 urine samples collected from drug court defendants between August 2000 and May 2001, 6.9 percent have tested positive for some form of drugs. But the most challenging obstacle so far has been money. The program received a $30,000 federal grant for start-up costs. Cox later applied for another federal grant but didn't receive it. So he approached the Citrus County Commission in August and asked for $25,000 to keep the program afloat. The commissioners agreed. At the time, Cox said he planned to make the drug court self-sufficient. But so far that hasn't happened. He applied for six grants, both federal and private, and didn't receive any of them. "Our population isn't diverse enough for the federal government to want to fund," Cox said. "We're short on Indians, short on Hispanics and short on African-Americans." Fees paid by defendants help defray some of the costs. They are charged $25 per court visit and $20 for each mandatory group therapy session they attend. But this is just barely enough to pay for the many drug tests needed to monitor the progress of the participants, or the cost of the counselors who treat them, Cox said. And it's not enough to cover Cox's salary. The State Court Administrator's Office in Tallahassee requested money this year to pay for Cox's position, but the Florida Legislature cut it out of the budget, Cox said. But Citrus' money woes aren't unique. Other drug court programs in the area are struggling to make ends meet. Osborne James, the administrator of Marion County's drug court, said money has always been a constant headache. Marion County began its drug court in April 1997. He, too, has had trouble obtaining grant money. And that puzzles him. "You don't have to be a rocket scientist to see that this works," James said. "But it seems like we're always scrambling for money." Marion County's program is funded primarily by a portion of the Law Enforcement Block Grant given to the county by the U.S. government, James said. The drug court received $53,000 this year. It keeps them in the black, but there's not a lot of money to spare, James said. He can only afford one employee, an assistant who works 35 hours a week and receives no benefits. James' position is funded by the state. Grant writing is always a toss of the dice, he said. "It's very competitive . . . and it really depends on who's reviewing your grant. It's all very political," James said. The first drug court was started in 1989 as an experiment by then-Dade State Attorney Janet Reno. Today there are more than 620 drug courts throughout the country. Locally, there are also drug courts in Pinellas and Hillsborough counties. "A great many of these people have hit their bottom," Cox said. "The legal system can be a great motivation to make some big changes." Cox said that he will probably have to go back to the County Commission by the end of the fiscal year in October to request more money. But Commissioner Vicki Phillips said she wants to see some results before she's willing to open up the county coffers again. While she said she supports the idea of drug court, she wants to see hard numbers. "How many people go through the program and fail?" Phillips asked. Assistant State Attorney Jeffery Smith said the county is saving big money by putting defendants in drug court instead of jail. The cost of keeping an inmate in the Citrus County Jail is $42 a day, which is paid by the county. The average first-time offender spends about 60 days in jail, Smith said. By keeping these defendants out of jail, drug court has saved the county $92,736 in incarceration costs between June 2000 and April 2001. "As this program expands, the savings are growing," Smith wrote in a report to commissioners. "Importantly, so will the collateral, and beneficial, aspects of returning a cured addict back to society as a productive member, not as a leech." It's the payback in human dignity that makes drug court truly rewarding, Smith said. Two defendants who never held a job in their lives are now employed. Career criminals who would say or do anything to get themselves out of trouble are taking responsibility for their actions. "We're saving life's lost causes," Smith said.
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