Adult drug court as conducted in Grundy County by Circuit Judge Robert Marsaglia is unlike regular criminal court.

"What did you do fun this week?" Were the first words Marsaglia said to defendants as they stood before him last week.

Such niceties are rare in regular criminal proceedings.

Marsaglia handles drug court this way because the purpose is to promote rather than punish, although a figurative sword hangs above the heads of defendants — a sword Marsaglia occasionally swings.

"It can get ugly," Marsaglia said, recalling cases where defendants committed violations, such as testing positive for drugs, that landed them back in jail, or worse — prison. One man looking at jail recently charged from the courtroom before he was stopped.

However, during a session of drug court witnessed by The Times last week, the atmosphere was friendly and casual, if not a bit family-like.

"We become a part of their family," said LueAnn Ismael, drug court coordinator and retired probation officer, who added many defendants in the court don't have much support at home. Their family members often have drug problems of their own. Marsaglia echoed that a camaraderie builds among the defendants. A 48-year-old man who had been in the program recently died of medical causes; his funeral drew several of his fellow drug court defendants.

Grundy County State's Attorney Sheldon Sobol said drug court is not meant to be adversarial, but rather helpful, which leads to a friendlier atmosphere.

The court usually meets at 4 p.m. Thursdays. Besides the judge, the usual personnel are present — a clerk, bailiff, stenographer, public defender and prosecutor. Also present are the members of the drug court team, consisting of counselors, including one who helps with job placement. At the session attended by The Times, State Rep. Careen Gordon, D-Morris, a former prosecutor, was present as an observer.

There were six defendants — three men and three women, late teens and early 20s, four white, two Hispanic. Two others were not present because they were hospitalized. Each has to pay a weekly fee of $15 and bring along their drug court binder, which contains the rules, fee receipts and other information. Two defendants forgot to bring binders, which resulted in a sanction from the judge of having to write an essay. Sanction is the drug court word for penalty. The ultimate sanction is getting kicked out of the program and placed into custody.

The judge reviewed events in each defendant's life in the previous week, went over their educational and-or employment situation and bantered a bit about things in general. The judge's tone was one of encouragement. As one defendant, a woman, was done before the judge, she took a piece of candy from a bowl on his bench.

The six defendants were processed in 15 minutes. They arrived separately at the courthouse, but had to wait until everyone was done before leaving.

"It's a blessing," said participant Kelly Funk."I don't lie. I don't steal. I don't isolate."

The 21-year-old Gardner resident explained the phrase, "I don't isolate," as meaning she doesn't withdraw into herself, but rather seeks help, knowing "people are out there who care for you."

Another participant, 23-year-old Melissa K. Ochoa, was more direct.

"It was a kick in the butt. If it weren't for drug court, I wouldn't have my daughter. Drugs were an escape from life."

Ochoa beamed when she pointed out she is set to graduate from the program in March.

Another participant, Brandon S. Swindells, said he entered the program to avoid having a felony charge on his record and to "get clean." The decision to do so was "pretty cut-and-dried."

Caught with illegal pills, the 19-year-old Swindells had good things to say about drug court.

"It's motivated me to get my head straightened. To get a job and go to school for culinary arts. I'd definitely recommend it."

State Rep. Gordon said when she was a prosecutor and the drug court program was introduced, she and her fellow prosecutors had to be "sold on the idea," fearing the only affect of the program would be to force them to keep their drug case files open for months and months.

However, Gordon came around.

"I support them. They're an asset to the state. It's a great way to get people to become good citizens. Some of the people in them will try to work the system, but they (drug court personnel) know all the stories. The judge knows a story when he hears it."






 — Also see stories "Grundy County prosecutor endorses program La Salle County is considering" and "Woman shares drug court experience."