Saturday, October 3, 1998

Substance abuse facility helps inmates find spirituality

By LORETTA FULTON

Senior Staff Writer

Steve Marcee remembers the moment like it was yesterday.

He had spent a lifetime partying, with drugs and alcohol serving as party favors. It was a December day in 1995, and he was on probation for DWI, but that wasn't enough to make him face his addiction.

He was driving to work and having a conversation with himself about getting his life in order.

"It was almost like someone was sitting in the car with me," he remembered. "But I said 'no.' "

Later that night Marcee was arrested again for DWI, this time putting him at risk of doing 12 years in prison.

"That was my spiritual deal right then," he said.

Marcee had always had faith, but it lay dormant.

"I never did act on it in any way -- it was just there," he said.

Marcee didn't have to do 12 years in prison after all. The court instead sent him to the Walker Sayle Substance Abuse Felony Punishment Facility in Breckenridge, one of five such units in the state for men and two for women. He was released 22 months ago and is doing well with a new job now.

Don't think that just because Marcee got out of doing prison time means he got off easy. The Sayle unit, like the others, is secured by razor wire, just like a regular prison.

The inmates, known as "clients" at the substance abuse facilities, follow a regimented schedule and live in no-frills tin buildings that get broiling hot in the summer heat with only fans to stir the stifling air.

It's unlikely, though, that you'll hear any complaining at the units. For one thing, the clients know that even though they have lost their freedom, they don't face the threats that exist in "real" prison.

More importantly, they know they're getting the help they need, and in many cases rediscovering a lost faith.

Richard Price and Terry Rasco know what Marcee's talking about. Rasco just left the unit last week and Price will leave within the month. Price said he lost his spirituality as his addiction took control of his life, but that he has regained it while incarcerated.

"It kind of refocused me back toward that way of life," he said.

And he plans to make religion a part of his life once again when he leaves.

"I'm hoping to use it daily," he said. "It's brought a lot of fond memories back."

Rasco was at the unit 11 months before his release and has nothing but praise for the experience.

"I found religion here," he said. "I think that's what's going to keep me clean and sober."

Actually, experts say, it's not going to be religion that keeps Rasco and other addicts clean and sober, but a spiritual awakening.

Spirituality is at the core of gaining control over addiction, and it is woven into the treatment programs at the state facilities. However, an alternative program called "Save Ourselves" or "SOS" is available for people who are opposed to the spiritually based program, said Jerol Graves, a counselor with Gateway Foundation, which runs the treatment program at the Sayle unit.

The spiritually based 12-Step program of Alcoholics Anonymous is available five nights a week for the clients as is the SOS program.

"They have to go to one or the other," Graves said.

Those meetings are in addition to the daily classwork, and either work or school.

People in the field are singing the praises of the substance abuse treatment centers, and with good reason. State statistics show that 85 percent of the clients had not returned to jail a year after their release, compared with a 50 percent recidivism rate for the general prison population.

And, it's cheaper. According to state records, for every $1 spent on clients in the treatment centers, it costs the state $1.85 to house inmates in traditional prisons.

"You could spend $1.85 to lock them away in a facility where they wouldn't get any better or you could spend $1 and never see them again," said Pamela Russell, warden of the Sayle unit. "It's absolutely the best game in town."

Treatment at the units is based on behavior modification, through changing the way inmates think. Clients sent to the centers are on probation for felony offenses related to drug and alcohol abuse. Many times, as was the case with Steve Marcee, substance abuse while already on probation is what sends inmates to the units.

The main difference between life in the substance abuse unit and a regular prison is the focus on recovery.

"We are committed to do treatment," said Carlos Miller, director of the Gateway program at the Sayle unit.

Many of the inmates will protest that they have no faith or spiritual life and aren't interested, but as a counselor, Graves has learned that once the inmates start filling out questionnaires, they soon realize they were wrong.

"They start filling these out and they find out they do," have a relationship with a higher power, he said.

Inmates stay at the facilities from six to 12 months, with nine months being the norm. Afterward they are assigned to a transitional therapeutic community, or halfway house, for another three months before re-entering society under the guidance of a special probation officer for another year.

A combination of behavior modification training plus the spiritual aspect of the program is what makes it work, experts believe. In order for real change to come about in a client's life, he must change his core beliefs.

"All that has to be changed internally," said Russell, warden at the unit.

Part of that change comes through the spiritual part of the program and part of it comes just from living a good life. The inmates are assigned to work details that sometimes take them into the community for projects.

For some, it's the first time in a long time they have given back to the community, and their reward is instantaneous.

"When you do something good for someone, something happens to you inside," said Miller, director of the treatment program.

Graves said it usually takes three to four months before inmates begin seeing the light.

"They'll do that turn and start moving toward recovery," he said.

Steve Marcee remembers the turn, and he believes it came as a result of the spirituality he found in treatment.

"It's everything," he said.