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PROGRAM HAS FANS, BUT JUDGE UNSURE

DURHAM -- Many view Durham's trend-setting Youth Treatment Court as a godsend that can divert young drug users from lives of crime, helping them overcome addictions and launching them on a path to productive citizenry.  But District Judge Marcia Morey, who presided over the special court from its inception in 2000 until last year, has a different perspective.  She views the program as an almost superfluous drain on judicial resources that have long been stretched to the breaking point.

Morey just completed a study that found that 82 percent of those who participated in Youth Treatment Court during its first four years have gotten back into trouble with the law.  Three are in jail as murder suspects.  But there is one point on which everyone agrees: The special court is in financial trouble, threatened with extinction by tightening purse strings at many levels of government.

A three-year, $435,000 grant from the U.S.  Bureau of Justice Assistance expires at the end of December and will not be renewed.  The County Commissioners agreed Thursday to shell out $30,000 to continue the program from January through June 2006, but no one knows what will happen after that.  The court offers residential treatment, intensive outpatient treatment and even intensive in-home treatment, as needed, for its young participants.  People accused of violent crimes are not eligible.

Clients must appear before a judge every other week and attend a "life skills group" during alternate weeks.  Drug screenings and home visits by a counselor are frequent.

So far, 120 youths have entered the special court and 22 have graduated.  The other 98 didn't make it for one reason or another.  Currently, there are 19 participants.

The judge, currently Jim Hill, "assumes the role of confessor, taskmaster, cheerleader, mentor and sometimes confidant" to the youths, according to official literature about the program.

"They are MY children," Hill told The Herald-Sun last week.  "I get kind of possessive with them.  I want to see them succeed.  It hurts me when they don't." Court officials may be the most consistent, positive role models that many of the youths have, he said.

"I'd be surprised if any of them have an intact two-parent family," Hill said.  "It's an unfortunate reality that they come from broken homes.  The lack of a good, strong family is one of their biggest problems.  We become their family."

But he emphasized that he doesn't coddle the youths.  "I rake them over the coals sometimes," he said.  "I've been known to fuss at them.  We've booted some out of the program."

Two months ago, he sent about 10 youths to jail for a weekend.  " ...  They messed up," Hill said.  "We gave them a little quick dip [behind bars] to get their attention.  Sometimes that's all it takes." Still, he acknowledged that years may pass before officials really know how much good they've done for the youths.  But some signs of improvement come quickly, he said.

"You can see a visual change in them, the way they dress, their posture and the way they carry themselves," Hill said.  "It's obvious they acquire more self-respect."

There was another indicator of success Thursday, when a 16-year-old boy became the 22nd person to graduate from Youth Treatment Court since it opened in late 2000.

Before entering the special court, the boy reportedly was headed for "training school," the juvenile equivalent of prison.  Officials said he had stolen a car and was abusing drugs.  He got into fights and was suspended from school.  He refused to obey his mother.  So the Youth Treatment Court placed him in a foster home, where he still lives, and launched a treatment regimen for him.

Now, he is on his school's A-B honor roll, participates in a summer camp and sings in a church choir.

Juvenile counselor Sheilah Peterkin said the boy would have been lost without Youth Treatment Court -- and knows it.

"He's appreciative," she said.  "He was headed down a very destructive path.  It might not happen right away, but these kids eventually open up to us.  They know we are rooting for them.  It makes them try harder.  We put some extra sauce in the recipe, so to speak.  We are passionate about what we do.  It's not just a job for us."

Another participant in Youth Treatment Court went on to obtain a high school equivalency diploma and now attends Durham Technical Community College.  Calvin Vaughan, the court's coordinator, said expectations and definitions of success may differ from person to person.

For someone who was a chronic truant, it is a sign of success if he merely begins attending school regularly -- even if he doesn't earn high grades, Vaughan said.

"We know it's a good thing," Vaughan said of the threatened Youth Treatment Court.  Morey isn't so sure.

According to her just-completed study, 56 youngsters entered the special court between late 2000, when it opened, and the end of last year.  Forty-six of those youths, or 82 percent, have since gotten into further trouble with the law, the study showed.  It also showed that eight former court participants were now jailed on murder, robbery and drug charges, with three facing prosecution for homicide.

Morey, recognized by former Gov.  Jim Hunt as one of the state's leading juvenile justice experts, said she became so discouraged that she recently stopped presiding over Youth Treatment Court.

"It's an intensive program," she told The Herald-Sun.  "It brings kids into court frequently.  It makes parents more accountable.  All that is good.  But the long-term impact doesn't appear to be very positive.  That's sad, but we shouldn't keep programs going just because we have them."