C. Fraser Smith: Savoring success, moving forward

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She didn’t see it at first, but Shelvia Heggie was catching a break – for once.

“When they offered me drug court,” she said, “I frowned-up my face.”

Something about the frequent drug testing and weekly reporting didn’t appeal to her. She was still “in the life,” as they say.

“Then they told me the second part: 40 years in prison [if she said no],” she recalled.

It was an either-or proposition. It was the kind of leverage that is sometimes needed to move people out of old habits.

When Heggie told the story recently, an audience of other former drug offenders and their families laughed. They’d all been there, faced the same choice and made the same decision.

Now, 18 months later, they were sitting together in a shadowy courtroom to be hailed for their good decisions and their successful completion of a program designed to restore their independence.

They’d been shepherded through an arduous program by probation and parole officers, social workers, judges, friends and, many said, God.

And now they were graduating.

To be congratulated for anything seemed an otherworldly experience for many of them.

Hugs, lunch and cake

It was a festive day, a day for hugs, a day when lunch and cake would be served in the forbidding hallways outside the courtroom.

Simple things would tell the story as well: They would go home afterward.

What a contrast, said Baltimore City Circuit Court Judge Sylvester Cox, who presided over the drug-court graduation ceremony. On most days, he said, he sees the other side of the sad drama: people trudging through dank corridors without hope.

“You’re miserable,” he said, “because your liberty is at stake. You’re miserable because your money’s at stake.”

Money? Absolutely. You could lose your job if you had one. There would be lawyer fees. There might be fines or bail to cover.

Heads were nodding.

Cox went on. Drug courts work, he said, giving repeat non-violent drug offenders a choice between intensive supervision and more time in jail.

These people have been down the road a bit. They’re ready for change. They may finally choose an opportunity to get some traction in life. They know they are likely to be headed back to cells if they go back to the streets without support.

Statistics show that drug courts cut criminal behavior by 50 percent. Fewer individuals return to prison.

Statistics, though, are not the important story.

“We should be talking about humanity,” Cox said, “people reclaiming their lives.”

Moments of pride

The commencement speaker, U.S. Sen. Ben Cardin, said our society can’t afford to lose anyone.

A practicing attorney many years ago, he began with: “May it please the court …”

Addressing the graduates, he said: “Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean you can’t reach your dreams.”

Cardin also endorsed reliance on a higher power: “If you’re on your knees,” he said, “you don’t fall as far.”

Then some of the candidates came forward to say something about their feelings. It was like hearing from the world’s lost and discarded people. Suddenly, there was a moment of recognition. And pride.

“I never completed nothing,” one of them said.

“I never thought I’d get here,” said another.

A woman wiped away tears as her son came back to his seat beside her.

There were no caps and gowns, but there was a diploma of sorts: a certificate of completion. And instructions on how to get your voting rights restored.

People wore their Sunday best.

“I don’t want to leave [the program],” said Shelvia Heggie, who chose a bright orange dress. The program had been the hand she needed. Graduation would bring its challenges, but for that moment, there was no frowning.

“I’m moving forward,” she said.

C. Fraser Smith is senior news analyst for WYPR-FM. His column appears Fridays and other days in The Daily Record. His email address is fsmith@wypr.org.