"How you doing?" Judge Joseph Locascio asks a drooped-faced defendant on a Thursday afternoon in Part G of the Municipal Court building. In most other courtrooms, he'd of asked, "How do you plead?"
But this is drug court, one of the city's newest tools in its fight against drug-related crime and recidivism, and Locascio presides over the courtroom not only as a dispenser of justice, but as a lifeline for those ready to change their lives.
Many street prostitutes like Darlene White, the subject of this week's cover story ("The Oldest Professional"), end up here when they're arrested on prostitution-pattern crimes like disorderly conduct, trespassing, jaywalking or possession of a crack pipe.
Soon, there could be more.
City Prosecutor Beth Murano recently announced a new $191,000 grant from the Department of Justice, which will help hire another social worker and allow the program to handle more of the municipal court's 1,500 to 2,000 total daily caseload. The program runs solely on grant money, including $124,000 from the Health Care Foundation of Kansas City.
Drug court represents a fundamental change in the way the city prosecutes drug offenders from the lock-'em-up approach to one that treats the underlying cause of their crimes: addiction.
"You can't arrest your way out of this problem," Murano said. "You can't send everyone to jail."
The system is working. About one in 10 addicts successfully completed treatment before grant dollars added the first full-time social worker to the experiment. Now, two out of three finishes the inpatient detox and treatment, and one in three finishes outpatient treatment and counseling. Those who wash out have warrants issued for their arrests.
People and prisoners fill separate sides of the courtroom pews. About a third of the people on an August afternoon are dressed in the Municipal Correctional Institution's blaze orange or forest green jumpsuits. Many of these men and women are here for their initial hearings. The rest wear street clothes and they're in the various stages of recovery.
Locascio teases information out of the accused, who respond by baring the details of their treatment. "And what's your drug of choice," he asks a defendant in a jumpsuit. "PCP?"
Locascio gives each defendant a choice to plead guilty, and in exchange for a commuted sentence, to enter inpatient detox and treatment then stick to a regimented program of outpatient therapy.
It's informal, a little paternal, and those whose names are called last get multiple head-drillings of don't hang out in the neighborhood; don't hang out with old friends; don't use.
Not everybody here is ready for help. A man with knobby hair and jaundiced-looking eyes pleads guilty to two counts of crack pipe possession and opts for the maximum 180 days in lock-up. He's emotionless in his green jumpsuit as he's led out of court.
"All we can do is be here for people who are ready," Locascio says from the bench, "and if people come before us and they're not ready, all I can do is send them to jail."
When a pink-haired woman walks to the front, Locascio smiles at her. He's seen her before, many times, but this time something is different.
"I'm tired of being high and without money and on the streets and coming to see you," she says when he asks. "Before I had your court all the time. You sent me to Leeds. I'm tired of being high. I'm tired of being upset."
Locascio beams a wider smile and leans in. He asks what support groups she attends, and how treatment is changing her life.
"My feelings are coming back," she says, "before I didn't have feelings."
Showing 1-1 of 1
Even with her $5.00 blowjob attitude and independence sleaze factor, I liked Linda Darnell infinitely better than Will Royster with his bornwithasilverspoon-upizaz-northeastblueblood-bs. The writer and photogprapher did a great job of leaving their judgments out of the story and most readers couldn't help but feel linda's pain there in her never had a break style life. Royster seemed to have everything handed to him except a heart and the pitiable part for him is that he thinks that there is more than luck and circumstance between his life and those unlucky humans on the avenue. Mother Teresa said it well; "When you judge people, you have no time to love them."
like
dislike
