PILOT PROGRAM DIRECTS TEENS AWAY FROM DRUGS

In ninth grade, the roller coaster began.  Justin Padgett started smoking marijuana with a cousin and her boyfriend.  He was 14.

He'd light up, then quit for two months, then start again.

"I was a madman," Padgett acknowledged.

Barbara Connolly watched the youngest of her three sons - once so loving, so respectful - grow to steal from her, threaten her with knives and punch holes in doors in their Old Hillendale apartment.

The former honor roll student dropped out of high school.

"That's what really tore me down, knowing how great a kid he was before the drugs," Connolly said.  "I didn't know what to do about it.  I didn't want to give up, but I was so tired of fighting for him to get up and care about himself and be productive."

Last week, he proved to himself and others that the "madman" was no longer occupying his 5-foot-8-inch frame.

On May 15, Padgett, along with two other boys who did not wish to be identified, became the first graduates of the county's juvenile drug court, a pilot program that began in March 2003 in an effort to keep juveniles with minor drug charges from entering the criminal justice system.

The program, which currently has 21 county juveniles enrolled, is funded through a variety of federal and state grants.

Each graduate must complete a minimum of one year of intensive outpatient substance abuse treatment and stay sober for at least six consecutive months.  Offenders in the program are constantly monitored by the Circuit Court and the Department of Juvenile Services.

Upon successful completion of the program, the drug charges against the offender are dropped.

A turning point

When Padgett was charged with possession of marijuana, his probation officer laid out his options: Volunteer to participate in a pilot juvenile drug court program or go to a juvenile detention facility for six to nine months.

For Padgett, the answer was easy.  He would give the juvenile drug court a try.

His mother started to feel like she might get her boy back.

Still, despite his intentions, Padgett struggled.  Old habits and old friendships had to be broken.

"I still didn't want to do what was asked of me," he said.  "I was still smoking pot and getting high, knowing I was going to get drug tested."

He'd smoke dope then chug "detox" drinks found in health and vitamin stores or massive amounts of water, to clean out his system.

A relapse and "dirty urine" - the lingo for positive signs of substance use in a drug test - earned him a court-ordered, 35-day stay at the Maryland Youth Resource Center.

There, he was told what time to eat and to sleep and which shoes to wear.

"It stripped me of all my freedom," Padgett said.

It was his wake-up call.

"At that point, I was willing to try anything" to stay away from drugs, he said.  "I knew if I was going to keep doing the stupid things I was doing and end up at Boys Village or ( Charles ) Hickey ( School )."

Positive reinforcement

Connolly, 53, used up her vacation time from her job as an account clerk in the fire department to sit at her son's side at the hearings, held every other Wednesday in Baltimore County Circuit Court.  At the hearings, presided over by Circuit Court Judge Kathleen Cox, juveniles receive a review of their progress.

Padgett looked forward to plucking out Nerds or Skittles from a basket full of candy each week, a small reward for two more weeks of being clean and sober.

Each time Cox offered a bit of praise following a youth's good report, the courtroom would erupt in applause.

Sometimes, the reward would be a $10 gift certificate for Best Buy.

"It was little and petty, but to the kids it meant a lot to have that recognition," Connolly said.  "It gave them a sense of accomplishment."

Added Padgett, "It's so much better going to court knowing you're going to get the clap ( applause ) rather than knowing you had a dirty urine."

Padgett started taking pride in his appearance and reconnected with a childhood friend, someone he could count on outside of the bad crowd with whom he had associated.

But after earning his GED, Padgett faced another problem: too much idle time on his hands.

Hoping to spark some productivity, Cox ordered the teen to find a job.

He was hired at Marshall's, where he has since earned the Associate of the Quarter award.  With a new job under his belt and the support of his former kindergarten classmate, his outlook began to change.

"That's what got me through it," Padgett said of his job and friend's support.  "I don't feel the need to go back to using."

He began to see that he didn't want to throw his life away.

Around Christmas, Padgett joined the other drug court teens in adopting a needy family for the holidays and purchased items on their wish list, something else that gave him a shot of self-pride.

"He's not perfect," Connolly said.  "There are still issues that need to be addressed, but the ones about self-esteem, self-support and responsibility, he's pretty much on a clear path about."

Now, he looks forward to his job and one day moving out on his own.

He's on a mission to lose weight.  From 247 pounds, he is down to 218.

After a year in the juvenile drug court, he has turned his life around, his supporters say.

"The difference in you is just incredible," Cox told Padgett at the graduation ceremony.

Gov.  Robert Ehrlich was on hand to congratulate the boys.

"I do not pretend to know where you are," the governor told the graduates.  "I do not pretend to know some of the pressures you feel.  I do not pretend to know what it's like to have an addiction.  I'm not going to pretend I understand how you feel.

"But I am proud of the new start in your life."

Dressed in a navy blue suit and tie, Padgett was proud, too.  Beaming a wide smile, he received a standing ovation, a watch and a county executive-issued proclamation for his efforts in battling a marijuana addiction.

"If they didn't put me in drug court, I'd probably still be smoking," he said.  "There's a lot of positive things that came out of it."