County program steering chronic offenders straight

Bill Gang

Monday, Jan. 11, 1999 | 10:18 a.m.

Over an 11-year period, a Las Vegas man's drinking problem landed him in jail seven times on drunken-driving arrests, resulting in six convictions. Two stints in prison totaling three years didn't sober him up.

But now in an experimental county program for drunken drivers, the 32-year-old, who asked to remain anonymous, has stayed sober for the past 14 months.

"I served two years in prison on one (conviction) and one year on another," the man said.

"Prison didn't do much," he said. "It's prison, it's not recovery. You're not getting anywhere."

The county's experimental DUI Serious Offender Program is designed to stop the pattern of drinking, driving and being arrested that many chronic drunken drivers fall into.

Deputy District Attorney Gary Booker, who heads the district attorney's DUI Unit, found himself frustrated with the cycle and the failure of tougher laws to break it. He sought a different solution, one that focused on curing problem drinkers. No drinking, no drunken driving. Simple.

He found a kindred spirit in Laurel Turner, a technician in substance-abuse evaluation for the court system, who also has been frustrated by the number of repeat offenders she saw.

Together they put together the county's DUI Serious Offender Program with the motto "Treatment with an Attitude."

The program dangles a carrot -- the chance at a clean record -- and wields a long and multi-tailed whip -- close supervision and the threat of prison -- to elicit the long-term changes that will protect society.

And protecting society, Booker said, is the what program is about.

The program takes an aggressive stance against drunken driving and plugs the loopholes that drunks have used to skate out of responsibility and return to their self-destructive and potentially deadly lifestyles.

The concept is rigorous but simple: Intensive supervision and electronic monitoring, coupled with individual and group counseling and mandatory Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.

The "carrot" is that if they complete the program, their criminal charges are dismissed or reduced or, at the least, the offenders avoid going to prison. It all depends on the seriousness of the offense and the record of the defendant.

The "whip" is that if they fail, they are guaranteed a trip to prison, and such failures usually result in maximum sentences, Booker said.

Modern technology helps make the program work.

If the defendants have their driver's licenses, the program requires that breath-ignition interlock devices be installed on their cars. They must blow into the machine and show they have not been drinking before the car will start. A computer chip records times that the cars are driven, along with breath failures.

While someone other than a defendant could blow into the breath interlock, Turner said, it would be difficult because there is a pattern of blowing that is difficult to master, even for a sober participant.

The 32-year-old offender said the device is so sensitive, even with his sobriety, that it sometimes has taken him several attempts to receive computer clearance to drive.

Offenders are generally monitored with house-arrest devices. So if defendants try to evade the interlock device by renting a car, they are likely to be caught when Turner compares house-arrest records with the breath-interlock records. If a defendant is gone all weekend but the car hasn't moved, for example, questions are asked.

With defendants who have lost their driver's licenses because of DUI convictions but still own cars, Turner applies a "club" device that is locked onto the steering wheels.

The clubs, in fact, were purchased for the program by the Stop DUI group, showing its support for the program.

But technology is only an aid in fighting the problem, not a full solution. The key to the program's success so far is the human element: Turner, the case manager, whom Booker has affectionally nicknamed "The Bulldog" because of her tenacious approach.

Turner said that sometimes the participants simply forget their priorities once they are out from under the immediate threat of prison. She recalled a woman who said she couldn't attend a counseling session because she had an appointment at a beauty salon.

Turner said all she had to do was ask, "What kind of haircuts do they give in prison?" and the woman fell into line.

"There is a fear factor here," Turner said. "We understand they can relapse, but that's not part of the program. If they want to drink, they can go to prison."

Booker said he understands the addictive nature of alcohol and said participants who falter won't be kicked out unless they are caught in a car.

But if they are caught drinking and driving, they are immediately expelled from the program and a get trip to prison. Of the 74 participants who have joined, only four have met that fate.

For those who relapse with an occasional drink or have trouble complying with the structure, Turner is quick to tighten the controls -- a key component of the program.

If they are recalcitrant about outpatient counseling, they are thrown into an inpatient program. If they violate house-arrest rules, there is a "sober living" environment available -- in essence a halfway house for 15 men monitored by two AA members.

If they are hanging out with their drinking buddies on weekend nights, AA meetings are scheduled for them during those times. The intent is to break the destructive pattern of behavior and establish new peer groups.

If compliance is slow, Turner calls probation officers, their attorneys or their families. Counseling sessions and visits to Turner's office are increased.

"They usually don't want to see me," she said, conceding she sometimes yells.

The proven axiom in treatment, Turner said, is that the more counseling an alcoholic gets, the greater chance of success.

And there is a side benefit. The program already has saved taxpayers about $1 million, even though it is still in its formative and experimental stage.

The participants pay the freight for all the counseling and monitoring and are required to kick in $500 annually for the privilege of being in the program. The monthly cost is no more than $300.

But the participants aren't complaining. They are not in prison and most say they save money, Booker said, because they used to spend much more than the program costs on alcohol each month -- sometimes $400 to $500 a month.

When the program is fully operational -- it just received a federal grant to hire a full-time person and run the program for three years -- it should have 150 participants and save taxpayers more than $3 million annually.

That's out of about 5,500 DUI arrests annually in Clark County.

Without the Serious Offender Program, the participants would be in prison at a cost of $16,000 a year each. Then there would be parole costs and the probable future court appearances.

The early success and the savings of the Serious Offender Program already have attracted interest from other parts of the country and state, Booker said.

With the participants having been in the program less than a year -- the county requires three to six years before offenders are released -- no one is calling the Serious Offender Program the answer to the drunken-driving problem. But the preliminary indicators are that there is potential.

One indicator is the individual lives that are showing change. One of those is Jo Laverne Gilbert, who pleaded guilty last week to felony reckless driving and a misdemeanor DUI charge.

Her blood-alcohol level was more than twice the legal limit of 0.10 percent on Jan. 1, 1998, when her car slammed into a light pole after she and her live-in boyfriend, William A. Wilson, left a Henderson casino, according to court records. Employees there tried to keep her from driving, but she slipped away.

Gilbert broke her back and neck in the accident.

"She has really turned around," Booker said, explaining that Gilbert has become a leader in the group counseling sessions and is mentoring younger participants.

She won't be sentenced for three years, and until then will be on house arrest and have a breath-interlock device on her car. If everything goes according to plan, she will be given credit at her sentencing for the time she spent on house arrest and will walk out of court a free -- and sober -- woman.

The program is also addressing the problems that drove Booker to seek new solutions. He knew that except when drunks were behind bars, there were no guarantees the public would be safe from them.

And he knew that even with mandatory minimum sentences of one year in prison for a third-offense DUI, most offenders spend only four or five months behind bars. Then they often are put on house arrest by a prison system that is in need of space for criminals with more serious offenses.

"We're a big revolving door," fumed Booker, who has specialized for years in prosecuting the worst drunken-driving cases.

He also knew that, when back among the public with only minimal supervision, alcoholics probably would drink and drive drunk, even if they had no driver's licenses. Many second-, third- and fourth-offense DUI complaints also charge defendants with driving without a license.

The close supervision aims to break those bad habits and get the offenders accustomed to living their lives outside prison without alcohol.

The approach has received nothing but praise from at least one attorney who specializes in DUI cases.

"It's an excellent program that is working extremely well," John Watkins said. "For the first time, we're working to help someone with a drinking problem.

"As a defense attorney it lets me help my client."

Those clients, he said, are elated at having an option other than prison and almost relieved at being forced into a program in which they address their drinking problems.

"It's almost like a weight has been taken off their shoulders," the attorney said. "It's wild."

And, he said, Turner does a good job balancing fear with fairness. "She's a no-nonsense lady, fair but stern."

The offenders' families also benefit.

Turner said that when wives first bring their husbands to the program, they often are angry at their spouses and the added responsibility. But after a few weeks, she said, wives usually are cheerful and amazingly appreciative.

"The wives absolutely love this," Booker added. "Many of these men also had domestic-battery arrests in their pasts."

Watkins said he also can see the changes in his clients and their spouses.

"The drinking interfered in their relationships," he said. "Now it seems like they can rekindle their love."

Most of the participants in the program -- 88 percent -- are men. Of the 74 participants so far, all but a few -- those involved in accidents that seriously injured or killed someone -- are repeat offenders.

It may take years of tracking the participants before a true picture of the program's success becomes clear. But Turner's boss, Steven Grierson, notes that even if the program isn't everything he believes it will be, it is still worth the effort.

"While we're trying, we aren't tying up prison beds," he said.

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