A court for the community

What could the concept mean for Chico?

Judge Mary Logan presides over community court at the Spokane Public Library in Spokane, Wash.

Judge Mary Logan presides over community court at the Spokane Public Library in Spokane, Wash.

Photo courtesy of Spokane Community Court

When Jim Smith walked into Spokane Community Court, he had already been homeless for more than a decade. On the streets, his mental health rapidly deteriorated: He self-medicated—meth, alcohol, whatever he could find.

Municipal Court Judge Mary Logan said his situation, unfortunately, is not unique. But, because of the Spokane, Wash., community court program, Smith (not his real name) is now housed at an assisted living facility with behavioral health services.

Logan said she can recall countless stories like that from the four years the city has had a community court. During that time, it has served more than 1,130 individuals (335 of whom have graduated) with cases of low-level criminal violations or “quality-of-life crimes” such as trespassing, public urination and drunkenness, and panhandling.

The community court system doles out community service orders and, with the help of its village of service providers, requires participants access resources to improve their lives, rather than placing orders that ratchet up fines and citations.

“The concept is reintegration with the city, because they’ve often been ostracized,” Logan said of the participants, many of whom are homeless. “We want to reconnect them to the city and we want the city to see they are also willing to do that.”

It’s a concept that appears to have captured serious interest in Chico—earlier this year, Police Chief Mike O’Brien and City Manager Mark Orme took a trip to Spokane to observe the court and meet Logan, police officers and others involved to find out more. Following the trip, Chico Mayor Sean Morgan presented the concept at his State of the City Address as something that is “right for us” in Chico. “It’s about local solutions to local problems, because if we keep waiting for other people to fix the problems in Chico, it will never happen,” he said. “It’s about and requires massive collaboration.”

Since Spokane’s court launched in December 2013, 143 participants have obtained housing and case management, 121 individuals received care from a primary physician and 112 have avoided a 60- to 90-day jail sentence. More than 2,700 hours of community service have been completed downtown—the equivalent of $25,000 in physical labor.

What would a community court mean for Chico? The idea isn’t fleshed out yet: O’Brien said, “Some conversations have taken place” and there will be additional meetings in coming weeks, with “a lot of critical work and conversations” remaining. The concept started with the idea of appointing a dedicated prosecutor for quality-of-life crimes, which led to seeking expert advice on problem-solving courts, followed by the exploratory trip to Spokane.

“Conceptually, it potentially could be a conduit to addressing some of the underlying causes of quality-of-life crime in our community,” O’Brien wrote via email, “typically untreated mental health and addiction issues.” He called it a win for the individual and community, “if done right.”

In Spokane, the voluntary program started at its public library (“We wanted it to have a very different feel than a regular court room; not intimidating,” Logan said) and gives out a free sack lunch to participants. Service providers are available to anyone, not just those appearing for court, setting up shop once a week, offering help ranging from health care to job training to nutrition to housing opportunities.

“I truly refer to them as angels all the time, because without them all we are is court,” Logan said.

Community court operates on “individualized justice.” Participants get to talk to a defense attorney and go through a needs assessment before they receive their orders.

Logan was inspired to create the court after a trip in 2010 to Dallas, where she attended a community court conference that shocked her. The city had experienced so many things familiar to her in Spokane: a high homeless population, increasing problems downtown and mounting frustration.

“We had the opportunity to create something better, or at least more adaptive and innovative,” she said. Now, so many people have told her upon graduating, “I can’t remember when I actually finished something I said I would start and complete, and I feel really good about where I’m at.”

Upon visiting Spokane, also a college town, Orme had a similar experience to Logan’s in Dallas: He said it was like “looking in the mirror.”

“It really shed a light on the fact that lot of the issues … could be dealt with on a local level, to where individuals could be held accountable, but there’s also a piece of compassion that they can be plugged into community services,” he said. The City Council would need to weigh in on the concept, which he said would likely be ordinance-specific, not targeting a specific population.

If the model is done right, it could save lives of people involved, and that should be its focus, said Michael Madieros, of Stairways Programming. In Chico, there are laws in place that homeless people violate simply by living without shelter.

“If it’s just another punishment or way to try to hold a population accountable that isn’t doing anything other than surviving, I can’t support it,” he said. “Chico pushes the idea of accountability. That implies somebody has a choice. How do we punish somebody for using the bathroom [outside] when they had no other choice?”

Jeremy Williams, Stairways’ Harm Reduction Center facility manager, is paying off $7,000 worth of debt from fines related to the nine months he spent homeless. He asked what the city is going to do when it sees the same people returning with different tickets day after day just for living on the streets.

Madieros emphasized the importance of making the court “client-centered,” addressing individual goals and needs. Otherwise, the city could create another revolving door. If homeless people walk into a neutral, noncourt-like space and see people in plain clothes who “actually want to help” and can offer help, “they’ll want to stay,” Williams added.

“If it was me, I’d want to walk into a place where they know what we’ve been through,” he said. “I’ve got to feel comfortable going in there.”