A Day In Court Unlike Any Other

                By the appointed hour of 8 a.m.the  DWI courtroom in Minneapolis was filled with all of the required principals.

                The defendants were there waiting their turn to testify about their progress or their troubles.    The judge was seated and so was the court’s  team of aids and trouble shooters—a DWI court coordinator, a prosecutor, public defender, probation officers, a treatment program specialist, a chemical health assessor, a treatment program expert, a victim advocate, law enforcement representatives and more.

                When all  of the court people and defendants  were seated in the courtroom one of them shared a remembrance. This  would have been the birthday of his late wife and the mother of his children. His refusal to give up drinking  had led her to threaten to leave with the children unless he came to his senses more than 20 years ago.

                 He did and the marriage was saved. The testimony came not from the defendants in the court room but from the presiding judge, Gary Larson, one of the most respected in the Hennepin County  court system and its suburbs.

                For the judge it was reality and also thanksgiving  for the ultimatum that saved his marriage and the course of his life. It was no stage effect to create an aura of democracy around this unusual gathering of violaters and upholders of the law.  The primary issue here, and in courts like it around the country, is public safety. The guideline  of DWI Courts is to find a more sensible way to reduce the carnage and the financial toll  caused by drunk drivers by offering them incentives and tools that make sense.

                More sensible than what?

                Probably more sensible and ultimately less expensive  than maintaining an assembly line of driving offenders with a long rap sheets of drunk driving convictions, jail time, accidents, more victims, longer  jail time and more public expense.

                On this day in the Hennepin County DWI  (driving while intoxicated) court session  20 or so participants  in the program appeared before the judge and  the cadre of court connected advisors and monitors to bring the court up to date on their progress. The evaluations offered to the judge were mixed. So were the demeanors of the defendants.  Some were sprightly  and satisfied that they were making progress.   Most gave brief testimonies that were largely upbeat.

                 But here was a woman who had  struggled through years as a night club entertainer that made drinking part of the culture.  She was trying, but laboring.The stresses so far had not driven her to drop out of the program.  The others  there to testify to their progress tried  to empathize, and there a palpable sense of community about the gathering.

                 Is it working?  The program workers in the Hennepin County DWI  system offer figures to show that it is twice as effective in reducing repeat offenses as  chronic jailing.  Today in many parts of the country that maintain DWI Courts,  offenders convicted of drunk driving are given their choice of jail time of varied length or entrance into the DWI Court system.  Joining the system is hardly an open door to freedom and relaxation for offenders.  They’re  subject to random home visits by law people with breathalyzer equipment and other tests of sobriety. Curfews are enforced. Equipment can be installed in cars  that will nail anyone who gets behind the wheel  after drinking.

                Nobody forces the defendants to stay in the DWI Court system if they want out. But the court records show that defendants who drop out of the system are nearly three times as likely to test positive for alcohol  in random test than those who stay the course and graduate.

                So is  actually a kind of  school?

                Defined broadly, it is. If you’re arrested and guilty of drunk driving in Hennepin County’s Fourth Judicial District, which receives money from a federal grant for this purpose, you  get a choice of standard jail time  or joining the drug court part of the option.  If you do that you’re  actually free after token time BUT—

                You   enter into a bargain. No drinking. You’ll be tested.  In the early going you have to meet curfew deadlines.  Attend sobriety meetings where recovering alcoholics will welcome and counsel you. Home between 10 p.m. and 6 p.m. broadened if you  advance in the program, If you tsry to game that system the curfew hours will be tightened, you may find community service added to the sentence or you may draw substantial jail time.

                The people who supervise the program are basically telling the defendant:

                We know these outcomes  a little better than you do.  We’re not only trying to help you rehabilitate your life, but we’re also trying to protect your potential victims.  If you  can’t see what we’re trying to do for you—but even more, for your innocent victims,–then we’re all better off if you do more jail time.

                Here I have to offer a disclosure.

                The Drug Court Judge identified earlier,  Gary Larson, is the same judge who presided over my case of drunk driving  20 years ago. There was no DWI court then. I pleaded guilty, received the required day and a half sentence, entered treatment  and have been free of alcohol  since.

About Jim Klobuchar:

In 45 years of daily journalism, Jim Klobuchar’s coverage ranged from presidential campaigns to a trash collector’s ball. He has written from the floor of a tent in the middle of Alaska, from helicopters, from the Alps and from the edge of a sand trap. He was invited to lunch by royalty and to a fist fight by the late Minnesota Viking football coach, Norm Van Brocklin. He wrote a popular column for the Minneapolis Star Tribune for 30 years and has authored 23 books. Retiring as a columnist in 1996, he contributes to Ecumen’s “Changing Aging” blog, MinnPost.com and the Christian Science Monitor. He’s climbed the Matterhorn in the Alps 8 times and has ridden his bike around Lake Superior. He’s also the proud father of two daughters, including Minnesota's senior U.S. Senator Amy Klobuchar.