Monday, March 5, 2007 | 7:18 a.m.
Albert Paige and Patrick Allen had a lot in common.
Both had lived a life filled with bad choices: drug abuse and prison.
But now they wanted a fresh start.
Enter Las Vegas Municipal Judge Cedric Kerns and the HOPE Court.
HOPE, which stands for Habitual Offender Prevention and Education, is an innovative approach to sentencing and rehabilitation that gives habitual offenders, mostly drug abusers, a chance to change the direction of their lives. As prison overcrowding becomes a more serious problem, Kerns believes nontraditional methods are going to become commonplace.
Paige and Allen definitely met the program's criteria.
Paige had a 26-year drug habit that had seen him behind bars more times than he could count, and Allen, a four-time felon and chronic drug abuser, was on a first-name basis with most of the Metro cops on the downtown beat.
"Albert was a thug," Kerns said. "And Patrick had his share of problems, too."
That was hard to imagine, looking at them Thursday in HOPE Court.
Allen, wearing a blue HOPE Court T-shirt, appeared clean and sober. Paige, in a sharp gray outfit, looked as if he could be representing the men coming before the judge that day.
In a way, he is.
Paige was facing a maximum sentence of four years in prison when he came before Kerns looking for a break more than two years ago. What he got, he says, was the break of his life.
"He was in and out so many times," Kerns said. "When he was using, he was useless."
Instead of imposing a traditional sentence, which likely would have once more spun the revolving door of incarceration, Kerns went another way.
He admits he was not brimming with confidence when he put Paige in the HOPE program, but he says the gamble has paid off in a big way.
Paige graduated from the program in August and has a steady job as a delivery driver for a furniture company. He has rekindled relationships - with a daughter and other family members - that have been dormant for years.
He continues to make regular visits to the HOPE Court, but now he serves more as an example and informal adviser.
On one occasion during Thursday's session, Kerns looked to Paige for guidance.
"Do you think this guy can do it?" Kerns asked about a program participant.
"I think he has a chance to, but it's up to him," was the reply.
It is that informal atmosphere to which Kerns attributes HOPE's success. The candid exchanges among Kerns, Metro Police officers, participants and officials from service agencies are not often seen in the formal structure of a courtroom.
The discussions are not always pleasant.
On Thursday Kerns flatly told one participant he didn't think the man was going to make it and told another, "If you're not ready for this, don't waste your time, don't waste my time."
Kerns acknowledges he develops a rapport with HOPE Court members that is different from the typical judge-defendant relationship. He sees many of them once a week after they enter the program. He drops in on them occasionally at the transitional houses where many of them stay.
He has found that going from a strict regiment of court visits to total freedom is often too much for some to handle, so he usually spaces out the meetings as completion of the two-year program nears.
But each case is different.
Except for the regular court visits, participants lead fairly normal lives. They are expected to have jobs, participate in community projects, such as neighborhood clean-ups, and do "homework" from a book on rehabilitation that Kerns supplies. The biggest difference, of course, is that they are not imprisoned.
When Allen came before Kerns last year looking for that same break, Paige put in a good word. The two are now roommates.
"I have seen a lot of judges, and nobody ever treated me like that," Allen said. "Judge Kerns is awesome."
He was recently named Judge of the Year in Nevada.
The roughly 70 people who have participated in HOPE over the years were arrested an average of 33 times a year before they entered the program, Kerns said. The average afterward is three.
A man in court Thursday voluntarily turned himself in after falling out of compliance, which usually is the result of a failure to report or a failed drug test.
"He's going to jail today," Kerns said. "But because he came in on his own, he could get back in the program."
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