UNDERSTANDING OPERATIONAL DYNAMICS of DRUG COURTS by JACQUELINE G. VAN WORMER a Dissertation Submitted in Partial Fulfillment Of

UNDERSTANDING OPERATIONAL DYNAMICS OF DRUG COURTS

JACQUELINE G. VAN WORMER

A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

WASHINGTON STATE UNIVERSITY Department of Criminal Justice

To the Faculty of Washington State University:

The members of the Committee appointed to examine the dissertation of JACQUELINE G. VAN WORMER find it satisfactory and recommend that it be accepted.

______

Faith Lutze, Ph.D., Chair

______

Otwin Marenin, Ph.D.

______

Laurie Drapela, Ph.D.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Change is never easy, nor does it happen quickly – a quick glance through the history books of the criminal justice system is testament to such a thought. I have spent my 18 year career working in the criminal justice system, with a good deal of time and effort spent on

(slowly) changing, reforming and improving the system. Various individuals and professionals along the way, including Dr. Nick Lovrich and the Honorable Dennis Yule (ret.) influenced much of my passion for such reform early in my career. Upon meeting Dr. Faith Lutze, however, I realized that there was certainly more to be done yet from a different angle. Dr.

Lutze was instrumental in my return to graduate school and allowed me to take an important personal step of change and growth. I will be forever grateful for her mentorship, vision and friendship. I also owe a great deal of thanks to my committee, including Dr. Otwin Marenin and

Dr. Laurie Drapela for their insight, suggestions and support.

My research into the inner operations of drug courts would not have been possible without the support of numerous people, including Iris Key, Jessica Pearce and Wendy Schiller at the National Council of Juvenile and Family Courts. Most importantly, I need to thank Sharon

Paradis, Juvenile Court Administrator of Benton and Franklin Counties. Sharon encouraged and allowed me to pursue my interests and research without complaint or question. Sharon is a gift to the community and children of the State of Washington for her tireless championship of their needs. I am fortunate to have worked for such an incredible force and visionary leader.

My family has always been a great source of encouragement and support for me. This has not changed even as I have become an adult with my own family. My parents, Jim and

Gaye, instilled in me a strong work ethic and sense of humility, all of which I embrace proudly.

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My siblings, Michelle and Mark have always been there with nothing but encouragement and

support. Dale and Betty van Wormer have also stuck by me through the last five years, helped

in many different ways, and I am privileged to be a part of their family.

Finally, I owe my greatest gratitude to my own beautiful family. I can never repay Roy,

Cade, Sophia and Tucker for all they have sacrificed, and yet at the same time given and offered to me. The many, many days and nights spent in “the cave” are soon to end, and I look forward to this new chapter of our lives together. I love you all beyond words.

DEDICATION

Quite simply, for Roy. You are my deepest breath, and most peaceful sleep. You inspire and challenge me. I am so deeply blessed to share this life with you.

UNDERSTANDING OPERATIONAL DYNAMICS OF DRUG COURTS

ABSTRACT

By JACQUELINE G. VAN WORMER, Ph.D. Washington State University December 2010

Chair: Faith Lutze

Drug courts seek to provide a coordinated and comprehensive approach to addressing the complex intersection of defendant addiction and crime that plagues our court system. Under the layers of activity and services that occurs in a drug court model exists a team that is charged with carrying out the goals and objectives of the designed program. This program should represent, in most courtrooms, a drastic departure from business as usual. History has shown, however, that proper implementation and maintenance of criminal justice reform and program efforts over time is difficult, and mission creep or program drift is not uncommon.

This research analyzes the ability of drug court teams to follow recommended operational standards and explores whether drug courts are able to reach a strong state of collaboration. In addition, this research examines philosophical and ideological program change over time to assess if drug courts have drifted away from the balanced approach that should be applied within the model.

This study found that survey respondents report strong adherence to the recommended drug court components and strategies, although juvenile drug court team members are embracing components built for adult drug courts. Training was significantly correlated across many scales and revealed that as training increases for team members, so to does perceptions of model adherence. As training increases, so to does perceptions of personal and system wide benefits associated with drug court operations. Findings also reveal that the prosecutor and probation

officer express less overall systems and personal benefit with participation on the team and

within the drug court. In terms of assessing program drift, those team members that have received varied types of training perceive more drift and mission creep of the program over time.

These findings offer important new insights into the inner working of the drug court model.

Policy implications and recommendations for standardization are discussed.

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE: Introduction ...... 1 Research Questions ...... 7 Summary ...... 7 CHAPTER TWO: Understanding Drug Courts and their Characteristics ...... 9 Introduction ...... 9 Historical Structures of Justice ...... 9 The War on Drugs ...... 11 The Drug Court Model ...... 15 Drug Court Outcomes ...... 28 Beyond Recidivism Studies ...... 34 Summary ...... 42 CHAPTER THREE: Digging Deeper--Understanding Implementation and Collaboration Challenges in the Criminal Justice Field ...... 43 Introduction ...... 43 Defining Implementation and the “Black Box” Concept ...... 44 Drug Court Program Implementation ...... 50 The Collaboration Foundation ...... 52 Defining and Identifying Collaboration ...... 53 Theories of Collaboration ...... 59 Benefits and Drawbacks to Collaboration ...... 61 Elements of Success ...... 65 Collaboration Measurement ...... 66 Collaborative Attempts in Criminal Justice ...... 68 The Application of Collaboration Principles Applied to Drug Courts...... 70 Summary ...... 76 CHAPTER FOUR: Research Methodology ...... 78 Introduction ...... 78 Research Procedure ...... 78

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Sample Selection ...... 80 Sample Characteristics ...... 81 Measures...... 82 Reliability and Factor Analysis ...... 82 Survey Measures...... 84 Strengths and Limitations of Sample: ...... 105 CHAPTER FIVE: Results...... 107 Introduction ...... 107 Respondent and Court Characteristics ...... 107 Drug Court Model Adherence ...... 113 Team Dynamics and Collaboration ...... 118 Characteristics of Collaboration ...... 120 Judge and Collaboration ...... 121 Benefits and Drawbacks of Collaboration and Team Participation ...... 122 Drug Court Team Drift ...... 131 CHAPTER SIX: Discussion ...... 152 General Observations ...... 152 General Findings ...... 154 Evaluating the Operational Dynamics of Drug Courts ...... 158 CHAPTER SEVEN: Policy Recommendations and Conclusion ...... 172 1) Creation of mandatory training ...... 172 2) Creation of standardized performance measures ...... 174 3) Drug courts must fully staff their programs ...... 176 Conclusion ...... 177 APPENDIX A: Drug Court Survey ...... 179 REFERENCES ...... 205

LIST OF TABLES

Table 1: 10 Key Components ...... 17

Table 2: The 16 Strategies of Juvenile Drug Courts ...... 18

Table 3: Interorganizational Innovations ...... 56

Table 4: Independent Variables ...... 85

Table 5: Reliability Results for General Training Index ...... 87

Table 6: Reliability Results for Juvenile and Family Training Index ...... 87

Table 7: Reliability results for 10 Key Components Index ...... 90

Table 8: Reliability Results for Judicial Decision Making Scale ...... 94

Table 9: Reliability results for Collaboration Indicators Scale ...... 95

Table 10: Reliability Results for Personal Benefits Scale ...... 97

Table 11: Reliability Results for Systems Benefits Scale ...... 98

Table 12: Reliability Results for Personal Drawbacks Scale...... 99

Table 13: Reliability Results for System Drawbacks Scale...... 99

Table 14: Reliability of Accountability Oriented Change Scale ...... 101

Table 15: Reliability of Treatment Oriented Change Scale ...... 102

Table 16: Program Challenge Scales ...... 103

Table 17: Respondent Characteristics ...... 109

Table 18: Court Characteristics ...... 111

Table 19: Staffing and Court Participation ...... 112

Table 20: Training Descriptives...... 113

Table 21: Perception of Adherence to 10 Key Components/16 Strategies ...... 114

Table 22: Model Adherence and Professional/Personal Characteristics ...... 115

Table 23: Linear Regression for Model Adherence Scale ...... 116

Table 24: Juvenile Drug Court Responses by General Model Application: 10 key components vs. 16 Strategies ...... 118

Table 25: Collaborative versus Adversarial Summary ...... 119

Table 26: Collaboration Indicator Scale Correlations ...... 120

Table 27: Linear Regression for Collaborator Indicator Scale ...... 121

Table 28: Judicial Collaboration Scale Correlations ...... 122

Table 29: Perceived Benefit of Drug Court Participation ...... 123

Table 30: Drug Court Drawback Summary ...... 125

Table 31: Overall Benefits versus Drawbacks Findings ...... 126

Table 32: Personal Benefits & Drawback Correlations ...... 127

Table 33: Linear Regression on Personal Benefits Scale ...... 128

Table 34: System Benefits & Drawbacks Correlations ...... 129

Table 35: Linear Regression on System Benefits Scale ...... 130

Table 36: Linear Regression on Systems Drawbacks Scale ...... 130

Table 37: Traditional vs. Integrated Drug Court Participation ...... 133

Table 38: Philosophical Orientation—Team member beliefs on what should versus does guide team decision during staffing ...... 135

Table 39: Should versus Does Embrace Punishment/Punitive Philosophy ...... 136

Table 40: Should versus Does Embrace Balanced Approach Philosophy ...... 137

Table 41: Court Does Execute Punishment/Punitive Philosophy ...... 138

Table 42: Logistic Regression Punishment/Punitive Philosophy Application ...... 139

Table 43: Court Does Execute a Balanced Approach Philosophy ...... 139

Table 44: Logistic Regression Balanced Approach Philosophy Application ...... 140

Table 45: Team Philosophical Change Over Time ...... 141

Table 46: Accountability Oriented Change Scale Correlations ...... 142

Table 47: Linear Regression on Accountability Oriented Change Scale ...... 143

Table 48: Treatment Oriented Change Scale Correlations ...... 144

Table 49: Linear Regression on Treatment Oriented Change Scale ...... 144

Table 50: Court Membership Stability ...... 146

Table 51: Team Practice Challenge Scale Correlations ...... 147

Table 52: Operational Support Challenges Scale Correlations...... 148

Table 53: Treatment Challenges Scale Correlations ...... 149

Table 54: Political and Community Support Scale Correlations ...... 150

Table 55: Linear Regression on Political and Community Support Scale...... 150

Table 56: Information and Evaluation Challenges Scale Correlations ...... 151

Table 57: Overall Findings Summary ...... 156

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CHAPTER ONE: Introduction

The American criminal justice system is built on the ideals of a balance between fairness and justice. To achieve this balance in a democratic state, many different methods of service delivery have been tried over the past 200 years. As the pendulum swings back and forth, many lives are impacted, in both positive and negative ways. A most recent example of a new type of service delivery has been a balance between accountability and treatment as witnessed through the drug court movement that surfaced over 20 years ago. In response to the “war on drugs” criminal justice officials scrambled to find a way to significantly and thoroughly address an overwhelming population of addicted offenders that were flooding court systems across the country. A unique response was born in Dade County, Florida in 1989, when a group of court and justice system officials (including then State Attorney Janet Reno) began an integrated and coordinated process of addressing offenders and their complex needs. Rather than simple sentencing and handing a defendant off to the correctional system, the court would now remain involved, with a team of criminal justice and treatment professionals tracking, monitoring and treating the defendant, often referred to as “client,” for an extended period of time. This court involved process is now popularly referred to as therapeutic jurisprudence, with courts, specifically judges, applying a public health approach to justice (Hora et al, 1999; Lutze, Lucas

& van Wormer, 2010).

What began as a grassroots movement born out of frustration of the “loosely coupled” criminal justice and treatment systems (Hagan, 1989), drug courts quickly spread across the country as court and criminal justice officials, who would attend various conferences and trainings, heard of the promises of such a model. These early models were part of what would later be termed “problem solving courts,” with various models surfacing over the last two

decades that seek to address the unique criminal and personal challenges of defendants. The

original problem solving courts clearly have roots in the ideals of the Progressives, where the

focus is placed on the individual and provision of necessary services (Rothman, 1980).

The first and most numerous of the problem solving courts are drug courts, but over the past twenty years several other hybrid version have been developed including family dependency drug courts, DWI courts, Veterans treatment courts, mental health courts, domestic violence courts, gun courts and truancy courts (Huddleston et al., 2008). As the problem solving movement spread, early video clips shown at conferences and trainings had various drug court personnel (coordinators, treatment professionals, judges) touting the successes of the models, with one Coordinator from the State of New York proudly stating that his drug court “reduced recidivism by 80% among graduates!” (Department of Justice, 2000). Of course, in the criminal justice system, this type of outcome was generally unexpected and unheard of to date.

Enthusiasm for the drug court movement grew quickly, as did federal support for the program.

Despite the early eager claims of success, scholarly research and evaluations seriously lagged behind the swift growth of drug courts.

Research that was completed was often methodologically weak, utilized small sample sizes and suffered from design issues (Roman and DeStefano, 2004). This phase of drug court research focused on determining if drug courts were in fact reaching the levels of recidivism reduction as claimed by drug court pioneers (Marlowe et al., 2006). By the mid to late 1990’s, the drug court “revolution” (Nolan, 2001) had clearly taken hold in court systems across the

United States, and federal support for evaluation of drug courts became mandatory for all grant recipients. It is also important to note that during the late 1990’s the National Association of

Drug Court Professionals (NADCP), along with the National Drug Court Institute (NDCI) (the

2 research arm of the NADCP) experienced a massive increase in their membership and conference attendance (Nolan, 2001). Federal support for drug courts averaged $50 million a year by 1997 (Fox and Wolf, 2004), and recently, under the Obama administration reached a startling $88 million. Not only was direct federal support offered through the Department of

Justice in the form of grants, training, and NADCP/NDCI operations, but the other federal agencies, such as the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMSHA), would offer millions in grants to support treatment and other programming efforts. Clearly, the committed “pioneers” of the drug court movement were able to expertly sell the model and concepts to local and federal legislators, even with very limited empirical evidence for the model.

Today, if one travels down the marble hallways of one of any 2,300 local courthouses across the country (NADCP, 2010), you will likely stumble upon a group of criminal justice and treatment personnel gathered around a long table, tucked away in an old jury or conference room. This group meets weekly, maybe bi-weekly, and as you enter the room you are struck by the intense and passionate conversation between the group members. There is an important exchange occurring, whereby the various members of this group, including a judge, prosecutor, defense attorney, coordinator, probation and treatment providers ask questions, provide their own insight, often based on personal reference, and propose recommendations about the drug court

“client.” Before the in-court drama or the “court as theater” that takes place each week (Nolan,

2001), there is a team staffing process that occurs, where non-adversarial team members work together to problem solve cases and engage in strategic planning for long term efforts. This staffing process assumes (or requires) that there is support and buy-in to the drug court philosophy at both the agency and stakeholder level.

A unique and defining characteristic of the drug court model is the idea that a team of criminal justice and treatment professionals, including the judge, manages participants over a long period of time. It is well documented that although the courtroom workgroup exists to handle most cases in a plea manner (Eisenstein & Jacobs, 1991; Feeley,1979), the traditional court process is still individual entity focused, with the prosecutor, defense attorney, probation department and judge all holding distinct and often opposing roles, for short periods of time.

The drug court model assumes that these individual actors will work together to problem solve, collaborate across systems, work with clients long-term, and shift towards thinking about clients in a holistic manner (Hora, et al., 1999). When reviewing the 10 Key Components, or the

Strategies in Practice for Juvenile Drug Courts, a reader only needs to review the first two components or strategies to understand that a team approach, focused on collaboration and non- adversarial exchanges is the key operating function of the drug court model. In defining and explaining this first component, The National Association of Drug Court Professionals states that:

“Drug courts promote recovery through a coordinated response to offenders dependent on alcohol and other drugs. Realization of these goals requires a team approach, including cooperation and collaboration of the judges, prosecutors, defense counsel, probation authorities, other corrections personnel, law enforcement, pretrial services agencies, TASC programs, evaluators, an array of local service providers, and the greater community…The combined energies of these individuals and organizations can assist and encourage defendants to accept help that could change their lives.” (NADCP, 1997, pg. 9)

The focus on collaboration is so strong that the State of California has even gone so far as to name all of their problem-solving courts as “collaborative justice courts.” Given such a focus on collaboration and a team approach, one would expect to be able to travel across the country, viewing drug courts, and observe a similar team process in each court. Certainly, there are some

4 key drug court team members that are generally present in most operational drug courts, but team structure can, and does vary greatly. As can be seen from above, the NADCP, as well as the

NCJFCJ both recommend that certain core team members participate, including the judge, prosecutor, defense attorney, treatment, probation and drug court coordinator (NADCP, 1997,

NCJFJC/OJJDP, 2003). In addition, other support agencies and programs such as law enforcement, schools, housing programs, mentoring, and job skill training programs can often nicely complete a drug court program.

The operational drug court team is a critical and foundational component of a drug court, and yet very little is understood about this team decision-making and collaborative process that serves as the backbone of a drug court program. When discussing a drug court, many do not stop to think about what goes on behind the closed doors in the conference room. Little attention is given to (1) how team members interpret the purpose and role of the drug court team; (2) how collaboration is defined and utilized by teams; (3) how well drug court teams adhere to the model, (4) how well does the theory of drug court team collaboration transfer into actual practice.

Of the limited research that is available to date, it is clear that drug court operation varies drastically across courts. In some jurisdictions, drug court teams fully adhere to the 10 key components and/or 16 Strategies in Practice, and such strong practices are reflected in strong outcomes. Other drug courts appear to be heavily focused on certain components, while ignoring others, and some drug courts are simply not able to successfully implement the model. It is argued that evaluations of drug courts to date have ignored an important component that could be affecting outcomes: model adherence by the drug court team or workgroup and reaching a state of collaborative advantage (Huxham and Vangen, 2005). Second phase research is currently

focused on the various components of drug courts, and what it is about the components, or

combinations of the components that allows a drug court participant to succeed or fail. The

primary limitation with this research is that it fails to explore the dynamic operations within drug

court teams, and whether or not teams are following the prescribed model, or if they have drifted

back towards “business as usual.”

Much has been written in the drug court literature about getting “inside the black box” of

drug courts (Goldkamp, 1999; Taxman and Bouffard, 2003). While this initial “black box”

research has proven to be quite insightful and contributed to creating a necessary understanding

of both treatment and key program component operation, these studies have not focused directly

on drug court members and how they perceive the implementation and functioning of the drug

court model. As has been argued by Shaffer (2006), and Marlowe et al. (2006), exactly which

components combine to create strong and successful drug court models is still under debate.

Much of the research to date has been hyper-focused on client outcomes or treatment integrity.

This is logical given that vast amounts of resources have been invested at the federal, state and local levels to determine outcome effectiveness related to recidivism and sobriety.

An area that has received very little attention (see Longshore et al. 2000, Olsen et al.,

2001, and NPC Research for process/operational evaluations) is the drug court team and their

participation in drug court operations. When considering drug court teams, it is important to

assess if they are in fact engaged in a collaborative model, or actually just operating under a

“business as usual” model. Few, if any, studies have assessed if drug courts are operating as intended, or have suffered from program drift as implementation has flourished and enough time has elapsed for teams to become more innovative or reticent to change. Does the program

operate differently, has the intent of the program shifted, and has the designed model changed

upon implementation (Crea, Usher & Wildfiare, 2009)?

The current study will expand on the limited amount of drug court research available on

model adherence, collaboration, and program drift. Utilizing survey data from 295 different adult and juvenile drug court team members, this exploratory research seeks to address the following questions:

Research Questions

1. Do drug court professionals identify their drug court as operating and adhering to the 16 strategies and/or 10 key components as supported by the National Drug Court Institute and the National Council of Juvenile and Family Court Judges? 2. Do drug court professionals identify a state of collaborative advantage (Huxham, 2006) and does this vary by team member role? 3. Have teams “drifted” away from their original structure and intent due to various factors such as team turnover, failure to follow policies and procedures, and changes to the political and social climate?

Summary

Generally, drug court programs receive a great deal of political and community support

given that they are focused on both treatment and accountability. This is in part due to the fact

that the model finally addresses the divergent philosophical needs of various criminal justice

officials (e.g. prosecutors and their “get tough” agendas versus treatment focused public

defenders) and such a process is actually effective in reducing recidivism. Scholars and

practitioners should not be surprised that the drug court movement has grown at such a swift

pace. After all, the need among the criminal justice population is clearly evident.

A review of the drug court literature, however, shows that understanding what makes programs successful is critical to model integrity and achieving program institutionalization. To

7 understand whether drug court professionals perceive their court as adhering to the 10 key components/16 strategies in practice, a full review of the drug court model is given, and what is known about drug court success and failures. To fully understand the model it is also important to consider how the drug court model is implemented and whether team members identify coherence between the intended model and actual practice. Finally, drug courts are intended to be collaborative endeavors. Thus, it is important to consider whether collaboration is being obtained on individual and system levels of operation.

CHAPTER TWO: Understanding Drug Courts and their Characteristics “The first test of reform is in its record of implementation. A program must ultimately be judged by results, what actual benefits it brings, and what degrees of mischief it creates” (Rothman, 1980, pg 82)

Introduction

It is well understood that the focus of the American criminal justice system vacillates

between the ideals of punishment, due process rights and rehabilitation. Our expansive criminal

justice system embodies these struggles as evidenced through a patchwork of statues, practices

and programs that are unique across each court and correctional jurisdiction. Complicating this

philosophical struggle is the reality that drug-addicted offenders overwhelm the operations of the criminal justice system. The drug court model attempts to balance these ideals and challenges by creating a cohesive process that is focused on accountability and treatment through a team approach to justice. This chapter will explore the drug court movement, the key operational factors of the model, and will review outcome studies of the model. A brief historical overview of the major correctional eras in American history will be presented, with a focus on the challenges presented by the “war on drugs.” It is this war on drugs that resulted in the creation

and growth of the drug court model. A review of the drug court process and outcome literature

shows that current gaps in research still exist in the area of the drug court team, program fidelity,

and collaboration.

Historical Structures of Justice

As our American government developed and modernized in the 19th century, control of

citizens shifted from informal models of self-policing, private security and religious-based doctrines to a formalized, state-controlled system of policing, prosecution and courts (Garland,

2001). As Garland (2001) noted, “in liberal democracies, the state’s capacity to impose law and order came to be viewed not as a hostile and threatening power but as a contractual obligation owed by a democratic government to its law-abiding citizens” (pg 30).

One of the most defining eras in the history of the American criminal justice system were the philosophical and legal changes that occurred during the Progressive movement. Sparked by the overwhelming failures of the Jacksonian era, the Progressives set out to drastically over hall the American criminal justice system. In a mere twenty-year period (1900-1920), the

Progressives moved the court and correctional systems from a regimented and repressive process to an (envisioned) individualized and rehabilitative system (Rothman, 1980). Probation, parole, indeterminate sentencing options for adults defendants, and the juvenile court system were all established during this short time frame (Rothman, 2002; Hagan, Hewitt & Alwin, 1979). As

Rothman argues, in reality many of the ideals and programs that the Progressives put into place were based in the 1870 Jacksonian Declaration of Principles that mandated two fundamental principles. First, the “prisoner’s self-respect should be cultivated to the utmost, and every effort made to give back to him his manhood.” Second, “the prisoner’s destiny should be placed, measurably, in his own hands; he must be ….able through his own exertions, to continually better his own condition” (National Congress of Penitentiary and Reformatory Discipline

(NCPRD) Rothman, 2002, pg 32). The principles also maintained that prisoner’s sentences should become indeterminate until “proof of reformation” had occurred (NCPRD Rothman,

2002, pg 32).

As history has shown, the ambitious philosophical ideals versus practical application of reform proved to be too daunting for the Progressives. The probation system was “haphazard”

(Rothman, 1980), caseloads were large and staff were unqualified and underpaid. Judges and

10 prosecutors continued to exert their discretion, political and personal control. While the ideas of the Progressives were solid, the execution and implementation was poor, and the science and knowledge of “what works” with offenders was lacking (Gottschalk, 2006). In essence, the

“reforms” that were pushed by Progressives resulted in only symbolic, not substantive changes to criminal justice practices (Rothman, 1980). Even with such limitations, the Progressive agenda and era continued up until the 1960’s (Pratt, 2009).

Between the 1960’s and early 1980’s, Pratt (2009) argues that there was a creation of the

“perfect storm,” in criminal justice. Martinson (1974) published his infamous doctrine on the

“nothing works” principle, crime increased, courts shifted to determinate sentencing, Barry

Goldwater pushed the crime issue to the national level and Richard Nixon politicized the crime issue by proclaiming war. In addition a series of critical Supreme Court decisions changed the function and abilities of law enforcement, courts and corrections (Pratt, 2009). Many states also began to move to a model of determinate sentencing, replacing the discretion historically exercised by judicial officers with new grids and sentencing charts. Such a system did little to impact the discretion exercised by prosecutors and state legislators, however, and by the 1980’s politicians all across the country were introducing statutes to “get tough” on crime (Pratt, 2009;

Zimring, 2007). More laws were created for a wide range of supposed offenses, and the penalties for committing crimes, especially drug crimes, became much more severe and long term.

The War on Drugs

Throughout history, cultures have engaged in the cultivating, manufacture and use of psychoactive substances (Durrant & Thakker, 2003). The American experience with drug and alcohol use and enforcement can best be described as confused, extreme and complicated

(Nolan, 2001). In colonial America laws existed which required townships to grow marijuana

for the use of the hemp stalk. Hemp is a naturally strong fiber that is versatile, and during the

colonial period was used to make rope, textiles, and sails (Gray, 2001). Alcohol, and certain

drugs such as cocaine, opium and marijuana were largely unregulated for a good portion of our

early history, although many possessed the moral belief that drug use was wrong, others

supported a more utilitarian view that drug use negatively impacted productive citizenship

(Nolan, 2001). By the late nineteenth century, states, local cities and townships began to become concerned about a disruption in the moral order due to drug and alcohol use. Fear of the use of drugs by certain racial and ethnic groups lead to the creation of ordinances that were passed limiting the sale of drugs such as opium and cocaine (Gray, 2001). These measures mirrored a growing concern held by certain groups about the use of alcohol. Temperance movements gained great popularity during the last half of the nineteenth century, and included such groups

as the Women’s Christian Temperance Union and the anti-salon league (Durrant & Thakker,

2003).

In 1906 the Pure Food and Drug Act was passed, which required that all medications be properly labeled and meet purity standards (Gray, 2001). This act was, in part, in response to the growing rates of addiction witnessed in America. Many people became addicted to narcotics and stimulants in the late 1800’s simply because they were not aware of what was in their food product (Coca-Cola) or over the counter medication (which was generally cocaine or morphine)

(Gray, 2001). Following quickly behind the Pure Food and Drug Act was the passage of the

Harrison Narcotic Tax Act in 1914. It has been argued that this Act in fact “inaugurated the

Drug Prohibition era in which we still live” (Gray, 2001, p. 22). The Harrison Act created heavy regulation and taxation on the importation and sale of narcotics, and the Supreme Court followed

by limiting the purposes for which narcotics prescriptions could be administered (Gray, 2001).

The Act, according to Nolan (2001), changed the course and view of drug offenders as the

“institutional control of drugs was effectively shifted from the medical community to law enforcement, and the legal world would handle drug offenses in the same way that it handled all offenses” (p. 28). After the passage of the Harrison Act, the black market for drug distribution grew substantially, and the profile of user shifted from a middle-class Caucasian housewife

(using narcotics to relieve her various ills) to lower-class, young males that were engaged in social use of drugs (Durrant & Thakker; 2003; Gray, 2001). The conservative temperance movement, which argued that drugs and alcohol were linked to violence and crime, continued their march forward.

By 1920, the Eighteenth Amendment was passed and Alcohol Prohibition became law,

although liquor was still widely available. Alcohol prohibition was repealed in 1933 through the

passage of the Twenty-First Amendment, and the attention and concern around drugs and alcohol

shifted toward regulation and prohibition of marijuana. Much like cocaine and opium, marijuana

was largely viewed as a drug used by other racial/ethnic groups, most notably Mexican

immigrants, and this was perceived as another moral threat to society (Gray, 2001). Although very little scientific evidence existed about the addictive or long-term effects of marijuana use, the federal government (United States Bureau of Narcotics) decided to raise awareness about the evils of the drug through movies and published articles (Gray, 2001; Wisotsky, 1997). The

Marijuana Tax Act was passed in 1937 and was written to prohibit unregulated marijuana possession and use. Although physicians could still prescribe it, the process became so cumbersome and costly under the new Act that physicians forfeited their use of the drug (Gray,

2001).

This new method of “public education” by federal agencies continued, as did the

spending and resources put towards law enforcement throughout the 1930’s through the 1960’s.

In 1969, the drug and crime topic became a Presidential agenda item, with then President

Richard Nixon declaring a “war on drugs” and citing the increases in juvenile and street crimes

as a direct result of drug abuse. At this same time, President Nixon tasked Attorney General

John Mitchell with creating the Comprehensive Drug Abuse Prevention and Control Act (1970).

This measure combined all existing laws within one act, established the illicit five drug schedule, and expanded police powers (Gray, 2001). By 1973 President Nixon had created the Drug

Enforcement Administration, which was charged with domestic and international drug enforcement efforts and investigations. Between 1970 and the late 1980’s, the issues of drugs and crime would dominate the media, the tag lines and political positions of politicians, and

Columbian and Mexican drug cartels built and expanded extensive drug operation networks.

The media, however, played a critical role in the 1980’s creation of a societal drug panic by their

continual claim that “crack was so powerfully addictive that it drove users to desperate acts of

crime and violence” (Reinarman and Levine, 2004, p. 189). This message was repeated by

politicians, and by 1986 then President Ronald Regan signed into law the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986. This Act allocated $1.7 billion for the “war on drugs” and also created mandatory minimums for certain types of drug offenses.

The culmination of a history of intolerance towards drug use, especially among certain

racial/ethnic groups, as well as the politicizing of the drug use/abuse issue, combined to create

drastic and socially devastating changes to the criminal justice system in America. These

changes were evidenced in the increase in drug-addicted/abusing offenders sentenced to prison.

In their analysis of federal statistics, Belenko et al. (1998) found that state prison populations

increased 30 percent between 1980 and 1995, while federal prison populations increased 70

percent. A follow-up to the initial Belenko study, completed in 2010, found that 65 percent of

incarcerated offenders in federal, state and local facilities were substance involved (CASA,

2010).

The “war on drugs” and the subsequent statutory increases in drug laws drastically

increased our prison and jail population while doing very little to impact the crime and addiction

cycle (Zimring, 2007). By 1989, in Miami, and in courts across the country, frustration and

concern with overcrowded dockets, jails and lack of coordinated treatment services moved

beyond complaint to action. The results, named “drug courts” would come to be called “a sea

change,” a “quiet revolution” (Berman and Feinblatt, 2005) and even “a revolution in criminal

justice” (Nolan, 2001, p. 39).

The Drug Court Model

While traditional court systems utilize a punitive and courtroom workgroup system, the

philosophical foundation of the drug court model rests upon the notion of therapeutic

jurisprudence. In their evaluation of court systems, numerous researchers (Eisenstein & Jacob,

1977; Nardulli, 1978; Nardulli, Eisenstein & Flemming, 1988) found that the notion of justice, fairness, and community were set aside as the courtroom workgroup (judge, prosecutor and defense attorney) engaged in a deliberate process of control and plea-bargaining to manage the overwhelming amount of cases that an average court system handled each year. The workgroup is interdependent and goal focused on outputs rather than the best needs of the defendant. This system is so entrenched that even when changes, adaptations or legislative mandates are introduced into the court system, the courtroom workgroup will work around such changes in order to continue to operate as usual (Feeley & Kamin, 1996).

Therapeutic jurisprudence, however, moves beyond the dynamics of the courtroom workgroup and the reactive traditional justice approach by using the legal process to proactively create lasting change for the offender and the community (Clark, 2000; Hora, Schma, &

Rosenthal, 1999; Stolle, Wexler, & Winick, 2000). Therapeutic jurisprudence within drug courts relies on an interdisciplinary collaborative system of decision-making by criminal justice and public health professional to balance treatment with coercion to bring about change (see Lutze & van Wormer, 2007). This system of justice is focused heavily on a collaborative model across numerous systems and agencies, and in theory, should not be focused on expeditious case disposal by a few key actors, but rather careful and thoughtful behavior change through court and public health support.

There is no exact, prescribed program model for drug courts, but rather a set of principles or components that courts are highly encouraged to follow and adopt. Programs are also strongly supported by the National Association of Drug Court Professionals (NADCP) and the National

Council of Juvenile and Family Court Judges (NCJFCJ) to adopt a set of standard program functions which include a legal and addiction screening process, eligibility criteria, phase structure, incentives and sanctions and highly coordinated services and treatment, although how these functions operate vary across jurisdictions. The challenge in studying adult and juvenile drug courts is that no two drug court models are exactly alike, although almost all drug courts are built and maintained on the guiding principles of the 10 Key Components (NADCP, 1997), or the

Strategies in Practice for Juvenile Drug Courts (Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency

Prevention (OJJDP) and NCJFJC, 2003). See Table 1 for a review of the 10 Key Components.

Table 1: 10 Key Components 1. Drug courts integrate alcohol and other drug treatment services with justice system case processing. 2. Using a nonadversarial approach, prosecution and defense counsel promote public safety while protecting participants' due process rights.! 3. Eligible participants are identified early and promptly placed in the drug court program. ! 4. Drug courts provide access to a continuum of alcohol, drug, and other related treatment and rehabilitation services. ! 5. Abstinence is monitored by frequent alcohol and other drug testing. ! 6. A coordinated strategy governs drug court responses to participants' compliance. ! 7. Ongoing judicial interaction with each drug court participant is essential. ! 8. Monitoring and evaluation measure the achievement of program goals and gauge effectiveness.! 9. Continuing interdisciplinary education promotes effective drug court planning, implementation, and operations. ! 10. Forging partnerships among drug courts, public agencies, and community-based organizations generates local support and enhances drug court program effectiveness. !

The 10 Key Components: National Association of Drug Court Professionals: Drug Court Standards Committee (1997, pg 3)

Juvenile drug court standard strategies are more inclusive in order to account for the development stages of adolescents, as well as peer and family dynamics that must be considered.

They also place a larger focus on ancillary services and school-based support, all which have been shown in research to increase protective factors in youth (see Table 2 for a list of the 16

Strategies).

Table 2: The 16 Strategies of Juvenile Drug Courts 1. Engage all stakeholders in creating an interdisciplinary, coordinated, and systemic approach to working with youth and their families. 2. Develop and maintain an interdisciplinary, nonadversarial work team. 3. Define a target population and eligibility criteria that are aligned with the program’s goals and objectives. 4. Schedule frequent judicial reviews and be sensitive to the effect that court proceedings can have on youth and their families. 5. Establish a system for program monitoring and evaluation to maintain quality of service, assess program impact, and contribute to knowledge in the field. 6. Build partnerships with community organizations to expand the range of opportunities available to youth and their families. 7. Tailor interventions to the complex and varied needs of youth and their families. 8. Tailor treatment to the developmental needs of adolescents. 9. Design treatment to address the unique needs of each gender. 10. Create policies and procedures that are responsive to cultural differences and train personnel to be culturally competent. 11. Maintain a focus on the strengths of youth and their families during program planning and in every interaction between the court and those it serves. 12. Recognize and engage the family as a valued partner in all components of the program. 13. Coordinate with the school system to ensure that each participant enrolls 14. Design drug testing to be frequent, random, and observed. Document testing policies and procedures in writing. 15. Respond to compliance and noncompliance with incentives and sanctions that are designed to reinforce or modify the behavior of youth and their families. 16. Establish a confidentiality policy and procedures that guard the privacy of the youth while allowing the drug court team to access key information.

Juvenile Drug Courts: Strategies in Practice. Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention and the National Council of Juvenile and Family Court Judges (2003, pg 10)

With these components in place, there are several standard program functions that are generally implemented in adult and juvenile drug courts. Key program functions are developed by individual jurisdictions. Recommended practice is that drug courts build the components through a comprehensive planning process, although many courts do not embrace or utilize this

process. Instead, the drug court just “opens the doors” and begins operation without policies and

procedures. There are several processes, however, which set the drug court model apart from

the general court docket and sentencing procedures. These include (1) legal and clinical screening, (2) phases and staffing, (3) incentives and sanctions, and (4) team justice.

Legal and Clinical Screening: Dependant on state and local court statute, drug courts

operate as either a pre-adjudication or post-adjudication model. The pre-adjudication model

(often referred to as deferred or diversionary drug courts) operates by screening and accepting a defendant prior to entering a plea. The incentive for participation in such a program is that if the defendant is able to successfully complete the program, the pending charge will be dismissed

(Sherin and Mahoney, 1996). For the post-adjudication model, the defendant must plead guilty to the charge in order to enter into the program. The enticement for participation varies across

post-adjudication models given state statute, but generally the charge can be dismissed for

successful completion of the program (Sherin and Mahoney, 1996). In a few select courts, the

only incentive for participation is suspended/eliminated jail or detention time.

The legal screening process varies greatly across drug court sites and is usually

conducted by the Prosecutor or District Attorney to ensure that the charges are legally

appropriate for the drug court and that the criminal history of the defendant meets established

criteria. Generally drug courts are focused on felony and/or misdemeanor drug related charges.

Most courts exclude violent and sexual offenders from participation. Some courts receive the

legal screen directly from the court, when judicial officers, based on current charges and criminal

history make a direct referral to the drug court program.

The use of and types of clinical screenings also differ across drug courts. Most drug

courts are focused on determining the addiction severity levels of the potential client, needed

19 levels of treatment and ancillary services, as well as general functioning. Some of the more common tools used include the Addiction Severity Index (ASI), the Global Appraisal of

Individual Needs (GAIN), and the Substance Abuse Subtle Screening Inventory (SASSI). There is not, however, a standardized drug court clinical screening tool that has been created. Unlike the traditional court process, which can take months of hearings, and referral processes, both the legal and clinical screenings ideally occur within a quick time frame (no more than 30 days if possible) as the drug court model is built on the premise that immediate access to and placement in treatment is essential for success.

Phases & Staffing: Drug courts are essentially indeterminate models. While many drug courts set a minimum standard of time to be spent in the program (average is 12 to 18 months for adult and 9 to 18 months for juvenile), some courts may decide, based on the ability of the client to reach the phase “goals” that additional time is needed to successfully complete the program.

The ability to reach a state of “graduation” requires that a participant move through various phases and to demonstrate a period of increased sobriety under each phase. Programs generally range from three to five phases, and are aimed at interrupting the drug/alcohol abuse and criminal behavior cycle, as well as the provision of individualized treatment. While drug courts vary across the country, the majority of drug courts require participants to appear at least weekly at court sessions, although some models utilize a bi-weekly or even monthly appearance system.

Phases can include such requirements as attendance and engagement in treatment services, employment, AA/NA meeting attendance, secure/stable housing, GED or diploma completion, and a certain amount of documented sober days. When a participant has successfully fulfilled the terms of the phases (which are generally contractual) an application for graduation can be

submitted. For courts that do not utilize a graduation system, the client is released from the

program via the filing of necessary court paperwork.

Participant progress is monitored regularly by the drug court team via a staffing process.

Research has shown that in some jurisdictions only the judge, coordinator and probation officer may attend these meetings. The recommended process, however, is that all core team members

(judge, prosecutor, defense attorney, treatment, drug court case manager/probation officer and coordinator) attend. At the staffing the team will evaluate each participant’s level of progress and compliance, as well as review any violations or failures. The process for reaching decisions varies across drug courts, but generally the case is presented by a designated drug court team member (often the case manager, probation officer or treatment provider). There is then some general discussion and when decisions must be made there is a consensus voting process, with the judge often holding veto power or the ability to make the final decision.

Incentives and Sanctions: Research supports the notion that behavior change in drug addicted offenders can be cultivated through a process of positive and negative reinforcers

(Lindquist, Krebs & Lattimore, 2006; Marlowe, 2002; Marlowe & Kirby, 1999). The key to this process, often referred to as incentives and sanctions in the drug court model, is ensuring that responses are prompt, certain and graduated (Meyer, 2007). The idea is to encourage and reward participant compliance and successes in their quest for recovery, as well as provide swift interventions that discourage any noncompliance. This process is team-driven and decided, and should reflect a balance between motivating for behavior change through treatment focused reinforcers vs. traditional reinforcers. The types of incentives and sanctions used across drug courts differs widely, and should be “matched” or tailored to the individual participant (Meyer,

2007). Confiscation of an I-pod or cell phone is clearly a more powerful negative reinforcer for

some participants than others. Some drug court participants may find that praise from the judge

and the drug court team is motivating, while others may find no value in such symbolic gestures.

The use of incentives and sanctions is possibly one of the most critical tools used by the drug

court team, yet most likely the least understood, improperly used, and varied component

(Burdon, Prendergast & Rawson, 2001).

Team Justice: One of the key foundational principles of the drug court model is the

notion of non-adversarial engagement through a team process. So while drug courts have some

discretion to create program components that best match their local data, statutes and needs (e.g.

eligibility criteria), the concept of a team approach to decision making is central to the model.

For the drug court process to be most effective, certain criminal justice, treatment and support

services must work together in a collaborative and coordinated fashion. This collaboration

begins early in the lifecycle of a drug court. In order for the model to even be built, a dedicated

group of professionals must come together, including the judge, prosecutor and defense, and

commit to the process of creating policies and procedures that will support a program (Berman &

Feinblatt, 2005).

This can be an arduous process that often takes months of planning meetings whereby program specifics are developed and negotiated. More importantly, it is also a time for the team to begin to build rapport and trust, which are critical factors in strong collaboration efforts

(Mattesich, Murray-Close & Monsey, 2001). For many early drug court development efforts, it was often the planning team that eventually moved into being the team that would operate the daily drug court process. As drug courts have rapidly expanded across court systems however, it is now common to see separate planning and operational teams. This has no doubt hampered the

team dynamic process, and most likely leads to confusion about purpose/mission, role

expectations, and performance within the drug court.

As each of these team members become involved in the drug court model, however, they

are expected to undergo a role transformation. This process involves setting aside traditional

adversarial and systems operation philosophies and focus on the needs of the drug court client.

As this process occurs, ideally each team member takes on new characteristics and a

philosophical foundation. There is a buy-in process, and over time trust is built and a sense of ownership occurs (Mattessich, Murray-Close and Monsey, 2001). As evidenced by the following example, team members and their prospective roles are important to the very foundation of the drug court model.

“Each drug court team member is integral to the successful operation of the Benton and

Franklin Counties Adult Drug Court. Although each team member contributes the

perspective of his or her respective discipline, every member commits to working

collaboratively and cooperatively as a team to assist participants in becoming clean and

sober and law abiding members of the community. Each team member recognizes the

critical importance of weekly case staffings, on-going training and education, and

continuing team-building and team-sustaining activities” (Benton/Franklin Counties

Adult Drug Court Policies and Procedure Manual, 2004).

While there is no exact recommended formula for who should be involved in a drug court, there are several positions that are considered standard and critical to the functioning of the drug court model. These positions usually include the judge, prosecutor and defense attorney, drug court coordinator, case manager and treatment.

Judge The judge is often viewed as the central figure of a drug court program, and

research has shown that regular interaction between the judge and the drug court client is a

critical component to the model (Marlowe et al, 2003). It is assumed that the judge will engage in a process of therapeutic jurisprudence, whereby they look beyond the strict legal needs of a client and instead shift their focus to thinking about how the law can be used to bring about changes in behavior (Hora et al., 2002; Lutze, Lucas & van Wormer, 2010). The drug court judge often possesses many qualities, including advocate, team leader, legal and treatment scholar, and according to many drug court participants, the parental figure of the team. It is not uncommon to see a judge encouraging, shaking hands, and even hugging clients. To be able to operate in such a manner requires not only training and philosophical shifting, but also the ability to have greater discretion over the use of their drug court docket than under the traditional court process.

Boldt and Springer (2006) argue that many judges may in fact embrace the drug court model because it allows for such a high level of discretion and a move away from the mandatory sentencing structures that many states support. An example of this discretion can be seen in the decision making structure of drug courts staffing process. Most drug court teams operate on a voting basis, with each team member being offered the chance to discuss, put forth and debate information about a client. When the final vote or decision must be made about a case, however, it is often the judge who holds the final decision making authority in the drug court. In essence, the drug court judge, although a member of the team, holds great power and ultimate authority

(Freeman-Wilson, Sullivan, Weinstein, 2003).

Prosecutor and Defense Attorney While the judge enjoys some measure of freedom under

the drug court model, both the prosecutor and defense attorney are required to forgo many of

their traditional and legal obligations as participants on a drug court team (Goldkamp, et al.,

2001; Nolan, 2001). The prosecutor is often referred to as the “gatekeeper” or screener of a drug court program and can be a source of many referrals. As a member of the drug court team, the prosecutor works to ensure that the concerns of the state are protected, and that all necessary legal paperwork is completed. The prosecutor is expected to balance the treatment needs of the client against the application of sanctions or traditional punitive responses. Unlike the drug court judge, once the prosecutor has agreed to refer and file a case into drug court, they give up a level of discretion via his/her participation in the drug court program (Nolan, 2001). The vote and voice of the prosecutor carries the same weight as other team members in staffing and they are expected to present as part of the “united front” in the courtroom.

The change in roles, philosophy, and legal ethics is perhaps most pronounced for the defense attorney. The traditional role of the defense attorney is to protect the constitutional rights of their client, and to argue for the client based on their stated desires and legal concerns

(Nolan, 2001; Boldt & Singer, 2006, Orr et al., 2009). This role changes drastically once the defender signs onto the drug court team. The defense attorney is expected to shift from arguing for what the client desires and/or requests, to advocating for the client based on what is in their best interest as decided upon by the team, and not just their short-term legal best interest. While ideally the client has the opportunity to share with drug court team members their wishes and needs, the incorporation of such information varies across team. As is highlighted in Critical

Issues for Defense Attorneys in Drug Court:

“Rather than insisting that partisans assert their respective positions with

zeal and diligence, to be decided by a neutral arbiter, drug court encourages

teamwork in accordance with therapeutic models of justice. The client’s

stated interest, the argument runs, is viewed as subordinate to the client’s

best interest” (Freeman-Wilson, Sullivan, & Weinstein 2003, pg. 1).

In other words, the defense attorney is expected to fight for the collective agreement that

occurs in staffing as to what is best for the client, regardless of the client’s wishes. Needless to

say, one of the most challenging adaptations on the team occurs for the defense attorney, and

many drug courts are struggling to find the legal balance necessary to fully operate the model

(Orr et al., 2009)

Drug Court Coordinator The creation of drug courts has also added a new layer of

administration and bureaucracy to the court process that needs to be proactively managed. The

drug court coordinator most often carries out the management of the drug court. While this

position can take on different functions depending on the court, essentially the drug court

coordinator is charged with handling the daily operations of the drug court. A review of sample

job descriptions for coordinators shows that they must engage in such functions as grant writing,

monitoring and evaluation, development and maintenance of policies and procedures, managing

contracts, handling media requests, organizing trainings, and public outreach and presentations.

The duties are complex, and for some courts, the coordinator is even required to provide case management services to clients. It is not surprising that a common theme heard among drug court coordinators is that they are “expected to be everything to everybody,” and because

coordinators generally exist solely to support the drug court (unlike judges, prosecutors and

defense attorneys that handle other court matters), they often are asked to take on many tasks.

Case Manager Another key position on the drug court team is that of the case manager.

This position may be carried out by already existing probation staff, by the treatment provider, or

may be a newly created position. Much like the coordinator position, the drug court case

manager position exists to support the multiple requests and needs of the drug court client. As

NDCI highlights, the drug court case manager is expected to wear many different “hats,” but is

primarily charged with assessing, monitoring and linking clients to needed services such as job screening and employment, education, housing, health care, and other relevant services

(Monchick et al., 2006). Essentially, the case manager must execute the weekly recommendations of the drug court’s collaborative decision-making efforts, monitor the client’s progress, and report back to the team during pre-court staff meetings (Monchick et al., 2006).

Treatment Finally, central to any drug court team is the inclusion of treatment providers.

This is where the drug court process takes on its unique shape and philosophical foundation.

Under the traditional court process, treatment is an outside entity in which clients are often

required by the court to seek counseling or treatment, but the treatment process is not central to

the case. It is simply, under the traditional system, a requirement that exists amongst many

others such as paying fines, jail time, and probation. The drug court model puts treatment at the

center of expectations for compliance and the court and process become a treatment court.

Treatment clinicians are expected to be active participants on the team and are asked to not only provide treatment services to the drug court client, but to also educate the team about treatment concepts and methods. Some drug courts utilize a single provider, while others utilize multiple

providers. The types of treatment provided, and quality of treatment also varies across courts.

Some treatment providers are heavily focused on the use of sober support networks and

education, while others strictly adhere to the principles of evidence-based practices (Bouffard &

Taxman, 2004; Taxman & Bouffard, 2003). No matter the type of treatment offered, it is clear

that within the drug court model, the treatment professional is a key figure that not only provides information, but also engages in active debate and decision-making about criminal justice clients.

While the judge, prosecutor, defense attorney, treatment provider, case manager and

coordinator are standard team members, it is important to recognize that team composition can

and does vary over time. As drug courts become more experienced and institutionalized within

the court process, it is not uncommon to see teams add numerous ancillary or support services to

their core team structure as the needs of clients vary over time (Hiller et al., 2004). In addition,

team turnover is a natural occurrence in drug court. Drug court team members are often

passionate and zealous advocates for the process and model, and it is not uncommon to see drug

court staff spend many additional hours (past their normal work week) committed to working

with the clients. Some team members, such as the prosecutor and defense attorney often carry

the drug court program requirements in addition to their normal workloads, which can lead to

fatigue and burnout (Olson et al., 2001). Essentially, it should be understood that while there are

core team members that should exist within every team, this in fact is a fluid process with some

drug courts only operating with limited team members (e.g. the judge, case manager and

coordinator) and with other teams changing, growing and even dissipating over time.

With such a great amount of focused resources and energies in the drug court model, it is

important to assess the extent of drug court operations and how well the model is actually able to

deliver on the promises of recidivism reductions and the creation of healthier communities

through sobriety.

Drug Court Outcomes

After the introduction of the first drug court in 1989 in Dade County, Florida, the model

quickly expanded across the country with 47 states supporting over 300 drug courts by 1997

(Fox & Wolf, 2004; Nolan, 2001). By 2003, there were an astounding 1,042 courts in operation

(Fox and Wolf, 2004). Process and outcome research seriously lagged behind the expansion efforts. Early studies were besieged by poor methodology, small sample sizes, lack of

28 appropriate funding for evaluations, data system shortfalls and design issues (Belenko, 2001;

Roman and DeStefano, 2004)

While the salesmanship and expansion of the drug court model was occurring, researchers were attempting to determine if drug courts did in fact reduce recidivism as anecdotal stories claimed. A review of the large amount of drug court studies completed reveals that drug court research is divided into two distinct phases (Marlowe et al, 2006). The first phase of research has focused specifically on determining if the drug court model did indeed reduce recidivism at the rates practitioners claimed. Early research was not necessarily promising, with numerous reports finding no significant differences in re-arrest rates between control groups and drug court participants (Deschenes & Greenwood, 1994; Granfield, Eby & Brewster, 1998; Ericson, Welter

& Johnson, 1999; Meithe, Lu & Reese, 2000; Wright & Clymer, 2001: Harrison, Patrick &

English, 2001).

Belenko (1998; 2001) conducted a “critical review” of available drug court studies and found that drug courts did increase treatment completion probability, reduced criminal activity and drug use during program enrollment, and offered post-program reductions in re-arrest.

Belenko cautioned that much was still to be discovered about the operational nature of drug courts. By mid 2000’s, through a coordinated and political effort supported by the National

Drug Court Institute (NDCI), available research began to be synthesized and reported. In 2005, the General Accounting Office (GAO) published their review of 23 adult drug courts and found substantial recidivism reductions. They could not, however, identify which drug court program components (e.g. treatment, interaction with the judge) might have led to such reductions (GAO,

2005). Individual research studies that exhibited greater methodological soundness also began to emerge and showed that drug courts were in fact successful in reducing recidivism rates of

participants, with several courts exhibiting very strong results. For example, in their analysis of

two Florida drug courts, Peters and Murin (2000) found that drug court graduates exhibited

lower re-arrest rates than the control groups. For the graduates that did reoffend, they remained crime free for longer periods of time than control group participants. In their analysis of two separate Ohio drug courts, Litswan, Schaffer & Latessa (2001a; 2001b) found that adult drug court graduates were significantly less likely to be rearrested for new crimes than control group subjects (39.4% vs. 51.5% and 35.9% vs. 68.8%). Analysis of an Eastern Washington adult drug court by Lutze and Mason (2008) found that the program was highly successful in reducing recidivism. For those graduates who did reoffend, they in fact spent greater time in the community before re-offense and committed less serious (generally misdemeanor) offenses.

Galloway and Drapela (2006) found similar findings in their retrospective review of drug court graduates and control group participants in a Western Washington community. Drug court participants were significantly less likely (12.2%) to be rearrested than control group (60%) probationers, although observation periods did vary between six month and four years.

One criticism of drug court research is that studies are generally not able to employ a randomized design structure. In criminal justice, with research that is aimed at measuring program effectiveness, randomization is critical. Researchers must be able to determine if the outcome results are due to the effects of the prescribed program/treatment rather than pre- existing individual attributes (Neuman, 2007). In applying this concept to the drug court treatment model, researchers would test the hypothesis that drug court participants have greater treatment completion and lower rates of re-arrest than matched offenders. Gottfredson, Najaka

& Kearley (2003) were able to employ a randomized design in their study of the Baltimore City

Drug Treatment Court. Participants (n=235) were randomly assigned either to the drug court or

standard treatment. Findings revealed that drug court graduates averaged 1.6 new arrests vs. 2.3

for control group subject.

To date, four major meta-analysis evaluations of American drug courts have been completed (Barnoski & Aos, 2003; Lowenkamp, Holsinger & Latessa, 2005; Shaffer, 2006;

Wilson, Mitchell & MacKenzie, 2003). Overall, these studies have concluded that adult drug court participation can reduce recidivism between eight and 26 percent. Taking these studies a step further, the Washington State Institute for Public Policy determined that adult defendants who participated in drug courts with the eight percent recidivism reduction rates created $4,800 per participant in savings to tax payers (Aos and Miller, 2006).

The general positive findings for the adult drug court model do not appear to extend to juvenile drug courts at the same level. The first juvenile drug court began operation in Key

West, Florida in 1993 (Belenko, 2001). By 1995, juvenile drug courts began to take hold on court dockets with five locations (Birmingham, Alabama; Visalia, California; Pensacola, Florida;

Reno, Nevada and Salt Lake City, Utah) across the country establishing programs (Sloan &

Smykla, 2003). The concept of the juvenile drug court is similar to the adult model, but with a greater emphasis on family-based services and education (Rossman, Butts, Roman DeStefano &

White, 2004). In essence, the juvenile drug court program concept is not that great of a departure from the ideals of the juvenile justice system envisioned by Progressives. Progressives built a juvenile system that was to be individualized, provided direct care, and understood the complexity of each child (Rothman, 2002). Sloan and Smykla (2003) have even questioned if a juvenile drug court system is necessary given the rehabilitation and treatment focus of the general juvenile court system.

Belenko and Logan (2003), however, argue that the model is in fact a “promising” program

that has served to address the drastic influx of drug/substance abuse related cases flooding

juvenile court dockets (pg 189). In actuality, the juvenile drug court is different then the general

juvenile court operations given the philosophical shift that has occurred across juvenile courts over the last three decades. Increasingly, juvenile courts have become punishment focused, with youth subject to a wider range of crimes and increased penalties, greater likelihood of being tried as adults for serious crimes, and extension of state control (resulting in potential detention time) into civil matters such as truancy, ungovernable behaviors and runaway. Shaffer (2006) maintains that the juvenile drug court is distinct because of the collaborative nature of the program, the increased reliance on frequent (weekly) judicial interactions, and the use of rewards and punishments to motivate for behavior change. The most notable difference between the juvenile and adult drug court model is that juvenile drug court practioners are essentially forced to manage a client that is undergoing a constant change process – most commonly referred to as adolescent development (Cooper, 2002). Brain growth and changes, increased importance of the social world vs. family needs, and gaining a sense of belonging are all constants in the adolescent life.

Much like their adult counterparts, early juvenile drug court evaluations were methodologically weak, and included both quasi-experimental and non-experimental designs

(Roman and DeStefano, 2004). Belenko’s (2001) early review of seven juvenile drug court evaluations, dated between February of 1999 and November of 2000, found that most programs lacked control groups for proper comparison, and most studies suffered from small sample sizes.

Wright and Clymer (2001) compared juvenile drug court participants to youth from a “graduated sanctions” program and found that drug court participants actually had the same, or even higher rates of re-arrest than control group subjects. Review of the Kalamazoo juvenile drug court by

Hartmann & Rhineberger (2003) revealed that control group members actually had better re- offense outcomes than drug court participants, although the authors did question whether the drug court treatment group and control group were well matched, actually comparable and large enough in number.

As more juvenile drug courts received federal funding to support start-up, the need to complete sound, professional evaluations increased. Between 2002 and 2007, numerous evaluations, which matched drug court participants to control group participants, and included strong sample sizes, reported positive results for juvenile drug participants (Crumpton, Carey,

Mackin, Finigan, Pukstas, Weller, Linares, & Brekhus, 2006; Latessa, Shaffer & Lowenkamp,

2002; Lutze and Mason, 2007; Rodriquez & Webb, 2004; Thompson, 2006). More recent work completed by various researchers at NPC Research in Portland, Oregon has found even more promising results for juvenile drug courts. Mackin et al (2010), for example, found that juvenile drug court participants in Baltimore County significantly reduced their drug usage and exhibited lower rates of re-arrest than control group members (56% vs. 76%). Henggeler (2006) analyzed the application of the Multi-Systemic Therapy (MST) model of treatment to juvenile drug court clients and found that youth that received MST services performed significantly better in the program, were more likely to complete treatment, and less likely to reoffend.

Of the two meta-analysis studies of juvenile drug courts that have been completed to date

(Wilson et al, 2006; Shaffer, 2006), both found null results for juvenile drug courts. Shaffer

(2006) did find that juvenile drug court participants supported a 47.5% recidivism rate vs. 52.5% for comparison group members, but when removing outliers, the confidence interval ranged between .00 to .08. Given that zero was reported under the confidence intervals, Shaffer could not report that statistically significant change occurred among participants.

Beyond Recidivism Studies

Recently, in the academic literature and among those who study the drug court process and

model, research has shifted into a second phase that is focused on determining exactly which

components combine to create effective outcomes. Although there now exists a standard belief that adult drug courts do in fact reduce recidivism (Shafer, 2006; Marlowe et al, 2006; Wilson et al, 2001), it has proven a difficult task to determine which drug court components contribute to the success of the model. Even with the meta-analysis studies that show null effects for juvenile drug courts (Shaffer, 2006; Wilson et al 2001), more recent findings on juvenile drug courts are promising (Crumpton, Carey, Mackin, Finigan, Pukstas, Weller, Linares, & Brekhus, 2006;

Hennggler et al., 2006; Latessa, Shaffer & Lowenkamp, 2002; Lutze and Mason, 2007;

Rodriquez & Webb, 2004; Thompson, 2006) and the same question of “why do they work” is

being applied to the juvenile drug court model (Cissner and Rempel, 2005). Studies have

ranged from examining the role and interaction rates of the judge, the use of incentives and

sanctions, drug testing effects, treatment effects, and time in program. Marlowe et al (2006, pg

9-21) set forth a research agenda of 23 priority areas (based on feedback from NADCP

members) that cover such areas as long-term impacts, better understanding of the role,

characteristics and decision making power of judges, developing a deeper understanding of

incentive and sanction effectiveness, numerous questions on treatment length, levels of

addiction, aftercare, information exchanges and additional services. Given that historically, very

few studies have considered how team dynamics, decision making, and collaboration may

influence the process and outcomes (see Logan, et al., 2000), Marlowe et al (2006) also

recommended development of instruments to measure collaborative impacts and various team

interactions and role involvement outcomes. Greater understanding of the factors or components

34 that are associated with strong drug court outcomes is essential so that quality assurance and performance measures can be created, maintained, and effective program models replicated.

Several frameworks have been introduced in order to organize research and program operations of this new phase of “how do they work” research (Cissner & Rempel, 2005;

Goldkmap, 2001; Longshore et al., 2001). Goldkamp (1999) engaged in the first framework attempt, with Sloan and Smylka (2003) applying his framework to the juvenile drug court model.

More recent framework attempts have included proposed concepts from Longshore et al (2001) and Olsen et al (2001).

The early work of Goldkamp (1999) was most concerned with building an initial framework from which to begin to categorize and study drug court programs. Goldkamp (1999) maintained that drug courts had expanded so rapidly that models most surely had evolved as well, and that it was necessary to try to test some common dimensions. Goldkamp (1999, p.

172-173) identified as key dimensions for study target problem, target population, court processing focus and adaptations, identifying, screening and evaluating candidates, structure and content and treatment, client accountability and extent of system wide support and participation.

Under each of these dimensions Golkamp (1999) listed varied procedures and conditions, which highlighted the inherent “home grown” and divergent nature of the drug court model.

For example, Drug Court A may be located in a rural area, is a pre-adjudication model, only accepts felony cases, contracts with a single treatment provider, utilizes a rotating judge and employs a list of only four incentives and five sanctions. In contrast, Drug Court B is located in an urban area, is a post-adjudication model, accepts misdemeanor and felony cases, operates gender specific tracks, has two full-time assigned drug court judges, utilizes seven different treatment services, and maintains an individualized incentives and sanctions list for each client.

Essentially, Goldkamp (1999) found great variation across drug courts. Due to this variation it becomes challenging to understand what is correlating to the outcomes, as well as the creation of cross-comparison study challenges.

Sloan and Smykla (2003) utilized Goldkamp’s typology for application to juvenile drug court survey data. Sloan and Smykla (2003) found strong variations across all the dimensions, including strong differences in target populations (resulting in net widening effects), differences in types and frequencies of service provision, programs lasting from 12 month to “indefinite” in duration, and a lack of generalized support for the model (pg. 358).

Longshore et al. (2001) proposed a more focused framework to address some of what they believe were shortcomings in the work of Goldkamp. As compared to Goldkamp, Longshore et al. proposed a five- dimension, directional model that encompassed both structural and process dimensions of drug courts. The five dimensions include leverage, population severity, program intensity, predictability and rehabilitation emphasis. Indicators and hypotheses were created for each dimension. Longshore et al. (2001) did not specifically test the model, but instead encouraged use and application of the dimensions to further the research field.

Rather than grouping drug court activities by dimension, Olson, Lurigio and Albertson

(2001) instead measured adherence to the 10 key components in three different drug courts via a grouping process. Importantly, Olson et al. (2001) grouped the activities of the evaluated drug courts into either workgroup dynamics or offender-centered components. Specifically, Olson et al. were interested in understanding cross-court differences and similarities in the adoption of the

10 key components. Of interest to the current study, they found that the three drug courts were much stronger in implementing and operating client focused services and components, and performed much more poorly on team dynamic and operation components.

This focus on client-centered services and outcomes is a central focus of current drug court

research evaluations. A great deal of time has been spent attempting to determine which client

focused characteristics lead to success or failure in drug courts. These studies have analyzed

everything from the correlation between criminal history and post program recidivism (Harrell et

al., 2001; Latessa et al., 2002 ; Miethe et al., 2000; Peters and Murrin, 2000;) to demographic

characteristics associated with positive or negative outcomes (Dannerback et al., 2006; Finigan,

2009; Harrison, Patrick & English, 2001; Logan et al., 2000; Senjo & Leip, 2001; Shaffer et al.,

2002; Truitt et al., 2002; Wiest et al., 2007; Wright & Clymer, 2000; Wolf et al., 2003) to time

spent in program (Peters, Haas & Hunt, 2001) to the impact of substance abuse history and types

of drugs used (DeMatteo et al., 2009; Harrell et al. 2001; Sung & Belenko, 2005). While

understanding the individual level predictors of success or failure are important, there is a much

larger process that occurs that includes an interplay between client focused and team focused

dynamics.

Numerous researchers have argued that more should be done to understand the complicated

interactions between the drug court components, services and teams that are impacting outcomes

(Marlowe et al., 2006; Shaffer, 2006). Recent research has begun to focus on specific program

components and activities included in the drug court model in an attempt to identify exactly what

attributes make certain programs successful. This emerging research is worthy of review as it

has begun to expose the complexity of the interactional effects between team dynamics, model adherence and client outcomes.

Judicial Interaction: Since the inception of the drug court model, it has been a common belief that frequent contact through judicial hearings is a key factor that most likely lends to the success of the model (Cissner and Rempel, 2005). One question that has been asked is how

much contact is needed with the judge? Marlowe et al. (2006) found that high-risk offenders performed best when seen on a bi-weekly basis by the judge, while low risk offenders clearly

benefitted from less frequent contact, and were often not in need of intensive contact. In their

review of 18 adult drug courts, Carey, Finigan & Pukstas (2008) found that frequency of contact

with the judge (weekly vs. bi-weekly) had no impact on graduation rates for participants.

A second area of research has focused on the amount of assignment time to the drug court

bench. Early work by Goldkamp, White & Robinson (2001) in Oregon and Nevada found that a

rotating judge policy can in fact be detrimental for clients and resulted in lower attendance rates

in treatment. In addition, clients that were assigned to a single judge experienced lower

termination rates. Carey, Finigan & Pukstas (2008) found that drug courts experienced better

graduation outcomes if judges were assigned to the drug court for two or more years (52% vs.

45%). In addition, drug courts that had judges return for a second term of services also

experienced stronger outcomes.

Treatment effectiveness: Numerous treatment factors have been explored in the research

related to drug courts including the type and duration of treatment programs as related to

program success, types and duration of treatment received by clients across different drug courts,

the use of aftercare, and the cost benefits of treatment. Taxman and Bouffard (2003) studied four

different drug court treatment services from two urban and two rural drug court settings via both

direct observation of sessions and through survey of staff. The researchers noted that evaluations

of evidence-based practice have determined that cognitive behavioral therapeutic milieus are

correlated with the strongest outcomes, while simple education is correlated with weaker results.

Taxman and Bouffard (2003) found, however, that on average, only a small amount of time

(20%) during each two-hour session was dedicated to cognitive-behavioral therapies. Surveyed

38 staff also reported that they would utilize a wide variety of therapeutic techniques during sessions, and only one court utilized a standardized curriculum. Taxman and Bouffard (2002) also found varying degrees of treatment and assessment integration into the drug court process itself. Similar findings by Wenzel, Longshore, Turner and Ridgely (2001), revealed that staff could not identify more than one provider, lacked understanding about basic treatment conditions, and considered AA/NA therapy (NIJ, 2006).

Access to treatment services, as well as the application of needed dosage of service has been two prevalent issues in the criminal justice system, and drug courts are no exception to these concerns. Analysis of the Baltimore City drug Court by Gottfreson et al. (2003), found that many clients (32%) did not receive any treatment, and that providers often lacked necessary certifications. In their evaluation of a rural drug court, Giacomazzi and Bell (2007) found that treatment offered to adult drug court clients was comprehensive and individualized, but questioned the overtreatment of clients, given that some drug court participants received a minimum of 322 hours, more than “three times the minimum level recommended” (p. 303).

Drug court participant perceptions about treatment are also important to analyze when considering effectiveness. Lindquist, Krebs, Warner and Lattimore (2009) surveyed 229 drug court participants and compared them to 295 non-drug court (but court involved) participants to measure perceptions of supervision and treatment use among both groups. The researchers were surprised to find that drug court clients did not report “receiving more intensive substance abuse treatment than non-drug court clients” (p. 188). Finally, Marlowe (2003) notes that while there now exists a great deal of research on general drug court effectiveness as it relates to reductions in recidivism, very few studies have assessed new or continued substance use post program completion. This lack of research seriously questions the presumed long-term effectiveness of

39 treatment for criminal justice involved populations. This finding supports other research highlighted above, which when opening up the “black box” there exists discrepancy between program policies and procedures and actual “on the ground” operation.

Incentives and sanctions: While extensive research exists that demonstrates the positive outcomes that can be achieved by utilizing contingency management (CM) in general treatment

(Pendergast et al., 2006; Silverman et al., 2007), analysis of the benefits of using CM in the drug court model has been more limited. The most comprehensive analysis of the use of CM (referred to as incentives and sanctions in the drug court model) was completed by Marlowe and colleagues. In a randomized design, Marlowe et al. assigned 269 participants from a

Philadelphia drug court into three different incentive groups. The first group was assigned to standard or traditional rewards, while the second group was assigned to more enhanced incentives, and the third group received large incentives from the outset, but decreasing in value as time in the program progressed. The study had numerous limitations (including a limited amount of financial resources to utilize for client) and ultimately revealed that the use of graduated incentives did not strengthen the outcomes for participants (Marlowe et al., 2008). In a related study of 55 adult drug court graduates, Wolfer (2006) found that perceptions of fairness surrounding the distribution of incentives was a concerning issue for graduates as they did not believe the process was equal, which may explain loss of motivational enhancement of the CM process in drug courts.

Team Process: Historically, very little attention has been paid to the team process itself.

Over the past five years, important new research has surfaced, completed mostly by NPC

Research (Portland, OR). The research team at NPC has developed a drug court typology guide that is used by their researchers when they complete on-site evaluations. It is a multi-modal

approach, and includes focus groups with participants, interviews with key drug court personnel

(e.g. judge and coordinator), as well as team staffing and court observations. This

comprehensive approach has allowed the various researchers (see Carey et al., 2008; Mackin et

al., 2007; Mackin et al., 2010; Carey et al., 2009; Finigan and Carey, 2001 for examples) to

evaluate how well teams implement and operationalize the 10 key components and/or 16

Strategies in Practice in various jurisdictions. To date the findings provide some critical data that

goes a long way in supporting the notion that the drug court team itself is a key component that must be nurtured and maintained. For example, Carey et al. (2008) found that when adult drug courts have both prosecutors and defense attorneys participating in both staffing and court, then graduation rates increase. In addition, courts that use paper files, as compared to courts with electronic files, experience lower graduation rates (Carey et al., 2008). This research did not, however, survey full teams or seek information about benefits vs. drawbacks, potential drift of program components and the impact of contextual and political forces.

Mackinem and Higgins (2010) observed three drug courts (both staffing and court proceedings) over a four-year period. These researchers found an interesting phenomenon that

occurred among the teams, which they framed as “losing hope” (p. 188). Essentially, if clients

were unable to gain sobriety, or if a client began to return to their using behaviors and

criminogenic thinking, the teams would begin to assign “unworthy identities” (pg. 18). Clients were often referenced in staffing via a grouping and labeling process (good vs. bad). Mackinem and Higgins (2010) assessed that it is not the client that necessarily fails, but the drug court team

itself that creates the success or failure based on their collective assumptions and labeling.

Summary

Review of the historical structures of justice, including the Progressive Era philosophies and practices, reveals a strong lineage to the current problem solving court process that is employed in over 2,300 courts across the country. Given the expensive, and some would argue continued failure, of our “war on drugs,” scholars and practitioners should not be surprised by the extensive and promising drug court movement. A review of the drug court literature and policies reveals that drug courts are as unique as the communities and court systems in which they reside. Consideration of key model components, team member positions, and standard program functions (e.g. use of incentives and sanctions) set against the current process and outcome findings on drug courts shows great discrepancies across programs. Therefore, while many drug courts are able to significantly reduce recidivism rates of participants, the uniqueness of each program makes it difficult to assess exactly which components are related to program effectiveness.

These are all important findings, as they relate to the current study in that team-focused components, dynamics, model adherence, and program drift must all be more fully understood.

It is important to assess exactly what is happening in the programs, as perceived by various team members. As Rothman (1980) argued, it is important that one understand the substantive versus symbolic changes of a criminal justice program. By understanding the quality of available drug court programs, researchers may be able to gain a more clear understanding of the positive and negative effects that drug courts are reporting. These two research areas rely heavily on the concepts of program implementation, stability and collaboration, and in the next chapter these two areas will be explored more fully.

CHAPTER THREE: Digging Deeper--Understanding Implementation and Collaboration Challenges in the Criminal Justice Field

Introduction

Given that many examples exist of the challenges of model implementation and ability to

create true systems change, ranging from policing to community corrections (Bittner, 1972;

Rhine, Mawhoor & Parks, 2006; Rothman, 2003; Urban, 2008; Zhoe, He & Lovrich, 2003), it is important to assess how well the drug court field has fared on this front. Many drug court practitioners and judges pride themselves on the organic nature of the drug court model.

Jurisdictions appreciate the fact that while there are guidelines and key components that are supported and maintained by the NDCI and the NCJFCJ, courts have the ability to create a model that best matches their jurisdictional needs. This more open interpretation of what a drug court is, and how it should operate allows courts to maintain some distance from rigid quality assurance practices. More recently, however, numerous states have begun to create performance standards, specialized trainings and even changes in statute in the attempt to create some continuity across sites (i.e. Idaho State Judiciary Office of Drug Courts, Maryland Office of

Problem Solving Courts, New York State Problem Solving Courts).

Given the inherent grassroots foundation of the drug court, exploring the question of how well drug courts implement the key components or strategies and how they engage in a

collaborative process within the team approach is worthy of further analysis. In addition,

assuming that a court has successfully created a strong collaborative environment and team

approach it is essential to know how well the team truly functions together, and whether the collaboration is beneficial. A review of the literature of social service program implementation

43 and collaboration shows that reaching a state of true and maintained program implementation, stability and collaboration is a challenge for agencies. The key principles, aspects and benefits versus drawbacks of these two functions will be explored.

The available drug court literature and process evaluation studies, as compared to general studies of social service program implementation, will show that drug courts are not unique in their challenges. The struggles inherent in fully implementing program designs, components and philosophies are reviewed for further insight. It will be argued that implementation and stability failures, as witnessed in other justice program efforts, also plague drug courts and causes model

“drift,” or a return to business as usual. In addition, a comprehensive review of the collaboration literature will show that true engagement in a collaborative model is difficult and that the elements of successful collaborations, which include such characteristics as trust, time commitment and political and community buy-in are a challenge within the drug court model.

Defining Implementation and the “Black Box” Concept

Over the last two decades there has been a definable move towards evidence-based programming and policies in the criminal justice system. Policing agencies, courts, and corrections have all adopted the “evidence-based” and “promising practices” mantras and seek to build, implement and operationalize programs that they believe will be most effective in reducing recidivism, creating safer communities and conserving resources. The problem, of course, is that there exists a long and well-documented history of implementation failures as it relates to criminal justice reform efforts (Rothman, 1980, Pisicotta, 1994). A quick review of the history of Progressive Era reforms highlights the disconnect between vision/passion, and the ability to fully implement intended practices. Given that resources, knowledge and philosophical buy-in were often absent in the reform efforts of the Progressive Era, it should not be surprising

that what actually occurred was just more “business as usual” (Rothman, 1980; Lutze, Lucas and

van Wormer, 2010).

It is important to acknowledge that implementation is a distinct step in the policy formation

and adoption process (Bardach, 1977). In an ideal situation, policy is created by legislative

bodies, managers, and/or administrators through a data and research informed process. The

reform or program is then implemented by staff trained in the model or program, quality

assurance measures are in operation, and there is a level of philosophical support of the efforts.

What generally happens, however, is that the policy makers are often a part of the implementation process, which can result in changes to the policy in process (Carlucci, 1990).

In addition, agencies often suffer from budgetary constraints, political climate shifts, and staff are minimally trained or refuse to adopt the program (Barnoski, 2004; Mattessich, Murray-Close

& Monsey, 2001; Price, 2004; Rhine, Mawhorr & Parks, 2006).

Lipsky’s (1980) classic analysis of the demands placed on “street level bureaucrats,” and their reactive adaptations of policies and practices highlighted the on-the-ground challenges that social service employees must process on a daily basis. Lipsky argued that because street-level bureaucrats (such as police, prosecutors, judges, teachers, social workers) exercise a great deal of discretion, continually lack the necessary resources to effectively carry-out their duties, and often operate under vague directives, they must in fact implement and manage their job duties through more simplified means than envisioned by policy makers. Therefore, while policy is often created at the legislative or agency administrative level, “much policy is made during implementation itself” (Palumbo & Calista, 1990). Lipsky’s analysis of true program implementation was insightful for the time, yet is somewhat limited given the operational realities of current criminal justice systems. Lipsky’s work has been challenged by Howe

(1991), who argues that discretion is certainly more limited than previously argued, and that managers and statues/laws actually play a more relevant role than was argued by Lipsky. Howe

(1991) maintains that managers are more critically involved and have a greater knowledge and understanding of what line level employees are engaged in than supported or argued by Lipsky.

Although recent research efforts have shown that proper implementation and model fidelity result in stronger outcomes for clients (Barnoski, 2004; Lowenkamp and Latessa, 2005), fully implementing models as intended is costly in terms of both staff resources and financial commitment and it is not uncommon to see programs adjusted to address the local climate realities (Crea, Usher & Wildfire, 2009). Compelling research highlights the necessity of not only implementing program models as intended, but following certain key principles in order for programs to reach a level of effectiveness. This effectiveness is generally measured by changing the behaviors and outcomes for criminal justice involved defendants (Latessa & Lowenkamp,

2006; Barnowski, 2004). One key principle is that of model fidelity. Model fidelity assumes that programs will be implemented and operated as developed, that staff will be fully trained and philosophically supportive of the intervention, and that quality assurance measures are in place to monitor for drift from the model (Latessa & Lowenkamp, 2006). So while courts across the country publicize that they are engaged in offering “evidence-based practices” and are concerned only with “what works” in changing offender behaviors, closer analysis of the program and efforts often reveal many challenges in the delivery and operation of model programs.

Maguire and Mastrofski (2000) refer to the phenomenon that was identified by Lipsky and others as “refraction” (pg 9). Refraction, as defined by Maguire and Mastrofski, is a process whereby local agencies, due to political and resource constraints, filter national and state initiatives; modifying and adjusting them accordingly (their analysis applied to community

oriented policing model adoption). This “filtering,” generally entails modifications, adjustments

and amendments to program structures, practices and philosophies. Maguire and Mastrofski

maintain that agencies can (and often do) engage a process of symbolic versus technical

implementation of programs, especially if resources and political buy-in are lacking. Maguire

and Mastrofski (2000, pg 9) contrast the process of program “refraction” to the process of

“isomorphism,” whereby implementation of a program is similar across agencies. Isomorphism assumes strong model adherence and application. Observing a criminal justice reform in one agency or court should model another, and another. Building on the work of Tolbert and Zucker

(1983), Maguire and Mastrofski argue that while criminal justice program reform efforts may

initially experience refraction, as the programs gain legitimacy, they may in fact become

isomorphic.

Given financial and personnel limitations, it is not uncommon for criminal justice agencies

to slightly change or adapt a model program to fit a given situation or to better match to

organizational needs (Melde, Esbensen & Tusinski, 2006; Rothman, 2002). Criminal justice

agencies also lack the philosophical buy-in of staff because it is often contradictory to their training and operational styles (Brank et al., 2007). It would certainly appear, given available literature, that many criminal justice and social service agencies experience the process of refraction as they seek to implement programs and innovations (Urban, 2008; Okamoto, 2001;

Rhine, Mawhoor & Parks, 2006; Klein & Sorra, 1996; and Longoria, 2005, for similar argument

in the human services field). Unfortunately, examples of implementation challenges or failures

are prevalent in the criminal justice and social services fields.

Given the move towards “evidence based practices” in the corrections and court field, a

large amount of research has begun to surface. In their evaluation of “assertive community

treatment” (ACT) programs, McGrew et al (1994) not only found variations in program

implementation across sites, they also measured a considerable amount of “program drift” across

the sites/models. Urban (2008) summarizes numerous impeding conditions or issues that often exist when trying to implement new criminal justice reforms, including lack of understanding by staff of the new program/procedure, philosophical differences, ability to follow original design of the program, and insufficient resource allocation. Urban’s (2008) evaluation of a juvenile curfew check program, based on a collaborative model between juvenile probation and local law enforcement, revealed numerous implementation challenges, including budget reductions mid- program, staff resistance and challenges with multi-system partnerships and collaborations. In her analysis of a statewide effort to adopt cognitive behavioral programming efforts in the North

Carolina Department of Corrections, Price (2004) found very low rates of program implementation, despite training efforts and the creation of standard operating procedures. Price

(2004) revealed that staff lacked buy-in and awareness, the programs did not have quality assurance measures, and that there was a general need for standardization across the sites.

Similar concerns were noted in an analysis of a neighborhood probation supervision program by

Drapela and Lutze (2009). These researchers found that probation officers were exposed to numerous potential legal liability issues due to improper or insufficient implementation of various program components. Issues included the lack of availability and understanding of localized policies and procedures, excessive caseloads and lack of proper training. In their analysis of an at-risk youth program and model that was offered in 14 different school, Melde,

Esbensen & Tusinski (2006) found that adaptation of the original curriculum and model was the norm. They concluded that “program implementation failure is a viable, if not probable, explanation for a lack of program effect” (Melde, Esbensen & Tusinski, 2006, p. 737).

Implementation challenges are not just limited to the court and correctional system.

Numerous researchers have found that full implementation of a community oriented policing models (COP) was limited due to officer’s attitudes and beliefs about the model itself, communication concerns, lack of necessary resources and increased necessary meetings and a more formalized decision making structure (Lord and Friday, 2007; Chappell, 2009). Wilson and Bennett (1994) and Brody et al (2002) also found that implementation of COP model was challenging and argued that such struggles were likely attributed to the various contextual factors that existed at each agency, as well as at the officer level. Even confusion over definitions and terms of COP created implementation challenges according to findings by Zhao, Thurman and

Lovrich (1999). For program implementation efforts that have been successful, some common variables can be found across the studies, and include the use of targeted interventions, quality assurance measures, proper up-front and on-going training measures, use of data to correct for drift and failures, and full managerial support and guidance (Latessa et al., 2002; Mears, 2007;

Barnoski, 2004).

Criminal justice historians are not surprised by these findings and recognize repeated attempts at reform as a “familiar path” and a hallmark feature of the criminal justice system

(Rhine, Mawhorr & Parks, 2006, pg 348). As Rothman (2002) so eloquently captures in his analysis of the correctional system in the United States, while there are many well-intentioned and passionate reformers in the criminal justice system, repeatedly, true systems level reform proves too daunting due to lack of political and professional buy-in, insufficient resources, political manipulation and the “convenience” of doing business as usual. In terms of model replication of programs, Urban (2008, p. 99) goes so far to argue that the “micro-dynamics” of jurisdictions creates environments that often “make true replication of a program impossible.”

While there are notable exceptions to these historical paths (see the Washington State Institute

for Public Policy, MacArthur Foundation and Annie E. Casey Foundation for key examples of

program and systems reforms), courts and criminal justice agencies across the country struggle

with implementing and maintaining program and systems change. Given this long established

history of program implementation challenges that dates back to the Progressive era, it is

important to assess the level of implementation success within the drug court field. Only

recently have process evaluations (largely completed by NPC Research in Portland, OR) begun

to address this critical concept.

Drug Court Program Implementation

Only a limited amount of drug court process evaluations have approached how well drug

court system level changes have been implemented and those that have been completed were not

necessarily thorough in their analysis (see Carey and Finnigan 2001; Carey, Finnigan & Pukstas

2008; Crumpton et al. 2006; Goldkamp 1999; Mackin et al. 2008; Polakowski, Hartley & Bates

2008; Shaffer et al. 2002; Sundet et al. 2000; Truitt et al. 2002; Wolfe et al. 2004; and for

examples). Findings from these studies reveal wide variation in the implementation of the key

components surrounding collaboration and a team-work approach.

Available research highlights numerous challenges for courts at the implementation stage.

Problems included courts suffering from a lack of political buy-in at the agency and stakeholder level, which in turn impacted the ability of the drug court to truly implement critical partnerships

(Truitt et al., 2002). In some instances, key stakeholder and potential community supports had never even heard of the drug court model (Crumpton et al., 2006). Some courts suffered from a lack of permanently assigned team members, especially related to the judicial and treatment roles

(Wolfe et al., 2004; Goldkamp, 2001). This lack of permanent assignment caused continual

50 turmoil and role confusion on the drug court team. Rossman and colleagues (2006) found in their analysis of six juvenile drug courts that team compositions varied across the sites, which created different decision-making patterns across the courts.

While Judge Judy Harris Kluger maintains that “there should never be a discussion about a case and a defendant without the prosecutor and defense counsel being present” (cited in

Berman & Feinblatt, 2005, pg 119), numerous drug courts reported that either the defense attorney, prosecutor, or in some instances both positions, failed to participate in case staffing meetings and/or court hearings (also see Carey, et al. 2008). For some drug courts, the prosecutor is an unwilling or reluctant participant who will often operate in their traditional, adversarial role (Shaffer et al., 2002). Defense attorneys struggle with numerous dilemmas, beginning with carrying heavy case loads in addition to their drug court caseloads. The most common complaint heard, however, is that of role confusion. Many drug court defense attorneys struggle with the inability to reconcile the needs of the drug court and the oath of defending their client, and therefore elect not to participate in staffing or in some cases the court process itself

(Orr et al., 2009). The drug court team is a powerful entity, and when all members do not fully sign-on or participate, power becomes inconsistent, or worse, unbalanced, which in turn can create a business as usual (punitive) model.

When key stakeholders are not aware of the drug court model and lack knowledge and buy-in, and when core team members are not functioning members of the drug court team, then proper implementation of the model has not occurred. A model whereby there is selective collaboration (either intentional or politically driven) creates an environment where the best interest of the client cannot be protected or supported because the team balance is lost and uneven and inconsistent power will exist. Research from courts that have effectively

implemented the model and have strong team member and stakeholder buy-in, in fact exhibit stronger graduation rates. Carey, Finigan & Pukstas (2008) found that when both the prosecutor and defense attorney participate in the drug court, graduation rates were significantly improved.

In addition, drug court programs that had law enforcement representation on the team also experienced better graduation outcomes. Carey, Waller and Marchard (2006) argue that the strength of the Clackamas County Juvenile Drug Court program (as evidenced by positive outcomes) was most likely the result of a high functioning and committed team.

It appears many drug courts are struggling to fully implement the model as intended. Even more challenging, and potentially damaging is the fact that once teams are able to implement a program as intended, changes to the team dynamics begin to occur because of team turnover and/or changes in the political climate, power shifts, or changes at the parent agency. These changes impact the collaborative foundation upon which the drug court model is built.

The Collaboration Foundation

Theories surrounding the creation of collaborative processes, as well as the operation of a

collaborative can be found in multiple disciplines, ranging from public health, to education, to

business management, to public policy/administration. Indeed, a review of the literature from

any one of these fields reveals an abundance of articles focused on the successes and failures of

collaborative efforts within and across systems. As is the case in these other disciplines, the

criminal justice system is also abuzz with catch phrases and words such as the current concept of

“cross-systems collaboration.” Mattessich, Murray-Close and Monsey (2001, p. 34) maintain that the past decade has been highly defined by “collaboration mania” among public agencies.

Government and private foundation funding for collaborative efforts has become common and heavily relied upon by many criminal justice and social service agencies. Many grants and

program supported by the Bureau of Justice Administration (BJA) and other federal agencies

require partnerships and/or collaboratives to be established in order to receive federal funding.

Examples include the weed and seed program, community oriented policing grants, violence

against women grants, prisoner re-entry programs, and of course, drug court programs. These

agencies and programs are encouraged to collaborate on a multitude of issues, even though there

is very limited hard evidence that such processes are superior to traditional methods of

hierarchical management of criminal justice and social services (Ryan, 2008). Given that such

extensive collaborative processes exist across the criminal justice system, from community

oriented policing to restorative justice to victim centered prosecution projects, numerous

questions must be addressed including how is collaboration defined, what elements define a

successful collaborative model, how do we measure the success of collaboration, and what are

the benefit and drawbacks of such efforts?

Defining and Identifying Collaboration

I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description ["hard-core pornography"]; and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it, and the motion picture involved in this case is not that.

Justice Potter Stewart, Jacobellis vs. Ohio (1964)

Collaboration conjures up images of efficiency, greater effectiveness, integration,

networking and accountability (Longoria 2005, Cunningham, Olshfski & Abdelrazek, 2009), and the term is used frequently in many criminal justice publications, guiding principles, policies and procedures. Clearly, defendants are complex individuals with a great many needs that exceed the abilities of what the traditional court and correctional system can offer and the idea of collaboration seems to provide an answer. Many in the criminal justice system are quick to push

53 the concept of collaboration, but when managers or line-staff are asked to define the process of collaboration it is common to hear the infamous “I know it when I see it” response. Ask almost any criminal justice practioner and they will claim to be collaborating on various issues and cases, yet closer analysis of their efforts reveals more simple relationships of case coordination, greater communication and stronger cooperation across sites. While these are important elements of collaboration, these efforts taken alone do not create a true collaboration (see

Okamoto, 2001 for similar argument). Huxham and Macdonald (1992) define cooperation as the process whereby “organizations interact only so that each may achieve its own mission better”

(pg 53). This is contrasted with coordination, which Huxham and MacDonald (1992) define as

“situations where there may be no direct interactions between organizations, but where an organization aims to ensure that its own activities take into account those of others (pg 53).”

Huxham and MacDonald (1992) maintain that both coordination and cooperation can happen simply by “default” within agencies, especially when similar-serving agencies interact.

What is not naturally occurring is the true state of collaboration. Many definitions of collaboration exist (see Bryson, Crosby & Stone, 2006; Graham & Barter, 1999; Huxham and

Macdonald, 1992; Huxham, 2003; Mattessick, Murray-Close & Monsey, 2001), but all share some common features, including the idea that information, resources and activities are shared and coordinated, positive team dynamics emerge and that a synergy is created through the process. Most importantly, however, is the idea that there is a shared vision and that the agencies or entities that are collaborating together could not have achieved such outcomes separately (Bryson, Crosby & Stone, 2006; Mattessick, Murray-Close & Monsey, 2001; Gray,

1985).

Gray (1989, p.227) argues that there are five key aspects that must be present when

defining an effort as a collaborative. The first aspect is that all the involved “stakeholders are

interdependent.” Second, resolutions will only be reached when the team is able to productively

handle their differences. Third, all parties involved must take joint ownership of decisions and

outcomes. Fourth, all parties involved must agree to take responsibility for the future of the collaborative effort. Finally, the team must understand that “collaboration is an emergent process.”

Interdependency, or the level and intensity of professional relationships appear to be a central feature in all definitions of collaboration. According to Mendell and Steelman (2003) within cross-department or cross-agency efforts there are varying levels of interdependence.

This interdependence takes on many different forms, with various explanations used to highlight the process and outcome of collaboration, including networking, coalitions, partnerships, joint ventures, and cooperatives (Mendell and Steelman, 2003, p. 199). Given this diversity in concept and application, Mendell and Steelman (2003, pg. 198) support the use of a continuum to explain what they define as “interorganizational innovations.” The use of the continuum allows for interorganizational innovations to be classified beginning at one end with loosely coupled efforts, to stronger degrees of interdependence, to high level structures. Each arrangement displays various characteristics, and in reality, the interorganizational innovation can move along the continuum as various factors, such as turnover in employees, addition or subtraction of resources, legislative changes and political climate, all change. The arrangements are identified as intermittent coordination, temporary task force, permanent and/or regular coordination, coalition, and network structure. Table three highlights the arguments presented by Mendell and Steelman (2003).

Table 3: Interorganizational Innovations Intermittent coordination: when the policies and procedures of two or more organizations are adjusted mutually to accomplish the same objective. There are low levels of interaction 1 and the commitment to each other is minimal.

Temporary task force: purpose is similar to intermittent coordination, but differs in the specific focus and tasks to be accomplished. It is time and purpose limited and will disband 2 when the purpose is accomplished.

Permanent and/or regular coordination: when two or more organizations, through a formal arrangement, agree to engage in limited activity to achieve a purpose(s). There is some 3 level of resource sharing, but risk is kept to a minimum.

Coalition: occurs when interdependent and strategic action(s) are taken, but purposes are narrow in scope and all actions occur within the participant organizations themselves or 4 involve the sequential or simultaneous activity of the participant organization. The purpose is specific and long-term, with stable membership.

Network Structure: there is a strong commitment to overriding mission and goals, and 5 members agree to commit significant resources over a long period of time. There is high degree of risk involved.

(Mendell and Steelman, 2003, p. 203 & 204)

Within each of these typologies, there are characteristics that define the strength, commitment and level of success of the interorganizational innovation. These characteristics, according to Mendell and Steelman (2003) include 1) the extent to which the members address the task at hand from a group or individual perspective. 2) Do the members embrace and support the goals of interorganizational innovation, or do they only support the goals of the home organization. One set of goals cannot override the other, 3) is there loose or tight associations between the members? Do they view themselves as independent or interdependent?, 4) Are the participating members committed to systems change, or are they comfortable with business as usual? Some members prefer to take the path of least resistance (and hence rarely reach a level

56 of true system change or improved outcomes), while others are willing to travel down the road less traveled in hopes of instituting change (Mendell and Steelman, 2003).

An organizational issue that must be addressed when considering the typology and characteristics put forward by Mendell and Steelman (2003), is the entrenchment of a hierarchical model of management. Top-down management is the most common management structure across policing, corrections and courts. Collaborative models generally assume a loosely coupled, linear model typology, with trust and power shared equally among members

(Page, 2003; Ryan, 2008). In traditional criminal justice and social service organizations, a fair amount of discretion at the practioner level exists, yet there are still managerial levels of accountability (Lipsky, 1980). Workers are responsible for tangible products, reports and outputs. Page (2004) suggests that collaborative processes thrive on discretion and autonomy, which makes holding collaborators accountable for outputs difficult. Because the process generally operates in a loosely coupled manner, the question of who is responsible for defining and collecting data and performance measures, as well as how the data will be used (and by whom) are common concerns (Page, 2004). Applying these arguments to the drug court model reveals a potential fit. Drug courts are often autonomous bodies that exercise a great deal of discretion in their group decision-making. In addition, it can be argued that drug courts were built and operated across the country as loosely coupled organizations, until such entities as the

NDCI and NCJFCJ began their work of expanding, sustaining, and formalizing the drug court structure in courts across the country.

Bardach (2001) suggests that collaboration is in fact an art, and the techniques and foundation for creation vary from legislative mandates to grassroots movements. The impetus for the creation is almost as important as the steps taken to actually operationalize the effort.

Bardach (2001) believes that the collaborative process actually builds upon itself, and he identifies numerous steps that are ideal for building a successful collaborative “platform” (pg

152). There first must be a need for change that will result in an increase in public value. The issue must be important enough to generate what Bardach (2001, pg. 153) refers to as

“intellectual capital,” so that strategic discussions can occur. As the group begins to work together, interest, passion and trust grows, which leads to stronger levels of commitment.

Eventually, some level or source of leadership will emerge and capacity and communication improve. This ideal model allows for the collaborative to process and handle what Bardach

(2001) refers to as “external shocks” (p. 149). Bardach (2001) maintains, as do others (Bryson et al., 2006; Huxham, 1996; McGuire, 2006; Thompson & Perry, 2006; Vangen & huxham, 2003) that collaboration outcomes are often disappointing and not beneficial for either those participating in the collaborative, or for the intended recipients of the products, policies and practices produced under the collaborative. Outcomes of collaboration can be generalized into three categories: 1) added public value; 2) status quo or business as usual; and 3) symbolic/political (Bardach, 2001).

If collaboration is a beneficial system of operation, it would predict that courts and partners are able to reach what Huxham (1996) refers to as “collaborative advantage.” This concept is defined as “meeting an objective which no individual organization could have met alone and achieving the objectives of each collaborating organization better than it could alone”

(Huxham and Macdonald, 1992, pg 51). The state of “collaborative advantage” is contrasted to what Huxham (1996) refers to as “collaborative inertia.” Huxham (2003) theorizes collaborative inertia as “the output from collaborative arrangements often appears to be negligible or the rate

58 of output to be extremely slow” (p. 403). Clearly there are numerous steps and principles that must be present in order to reach a strong collaborative state.

Drug court advocates assert that they can achieve collaborative advantage by utilizing the coercive power of the criminal justice system (i.e. police, courts, corrections) to enhance the power of the treatment providers to achieve rehabilitative goals (i.e. treatment duration, attendance and sobriety). Collaborative advantage is also achieved by greater communication, long term professional relationships, shared resources, access to resources, and shared power

(Lutze, Lucas & van Wormer, 2010). It remains uncertain, however, whether drug court professionals participate in or perceive benefit from the intended collaborative model. It is equally important to understand and clarify what defines collaboration for drug court team participants. Do the team members share the same philosophies and vision? Is there trust, and the necessary support and training to be effective? These are but a few of the questions this research seeks to answer.

Theories of Collaboration

Given the diverse definitions and key characteristics of collaborations, the creation of a single theory of collaboration has proven elusive. Definitions and observations of collaboration vary by discipline, with much of the theory research generated from the public administration, business management, sociology and organizational fields. References to collaboration can be found in various theories including discourse theory (Lawrence et al., 1999), action research theory (Huxham & Vangen, 2000); institutional theory (Lawrence, Hardy & Phillips, 2002;

Phillips, Lawrence & Hardy, 2000), resource dependency theory (Bardach, 1998; Pfeffer &

Salanick, 1978), network theory (Bardach, 1998) and game theory (Schelling, 1960). Several of

these theories are worthy of further exploration given their focus on interactions between

participants, power sharing, and the synergistic effects that can occur under optimal conditions.

Resource dependence theory is largely applied in the private industry field, and maintains

that generally private industry and businesses prefer to operate autonomously, but will partner if

necessary. Therefore, collaboration may precede or follow the partnership efforts and it will

only be obtained if trust and a common vision emerge from the efforts. This theory is not

concerned with reaching a state of collaborative advantage (Huxham, 1996), it is only concerned with the willingness motivations of agencies and businesses to begin such a process (Bardach,

1998; Pfeffer & Salanick, 1978). Network theory is focused on the building and maintenance of relationships, as well as the creation of effective communication techniques (Knoke, 1990,

Powell, 1996). Scholars of network theory maintain that relationships are only motivated by commercial gain – it is simple economics. For this reason, Bardach (1998) dismisses the applicability of the theory in sociological settings, given that the mission and goals of public agencies are not profit driven enterprises. Rational choice theory, often referred to as game theory, is focused on explaining the choices and decision-making patterns of individuals and

small groups (Schilling, 1960). This theory is more concerned with the value judgments and

influences of organizational cultures (and individuals) on decision-making (Powell, 1990).

Therefore, its applicability to understanding a full theory of collaboration is limited, given the diverse and complex conditions that must be present in order for collaboratives to succeed.

The most comprehensive attempt at theorizing collaboration has been completed by

Huxham & Vangen (2005), who propose the collaborative advantage theory. It is an interactive and descriptive theory that proposes 15 different themes and elements within the model, including trust, power, culture, identity, accountability, social capital, leadership, risk,

democracy and equity, commitment and determination, compromise, communication, common

aims, learning, resources, membership, and working process (pg. 12). Because the process and

model is so complex, Huxham and Vangen argue that it is a “resource-consuming” activity and to only engage in such a process if absolutely necessary (pg. 13).

Benefits and Drawbacks to Collaboration

Gray’s (1989) extensive research in collaboration has focused on interorganizational efforts, and she notes that there are multiple benefits, as well as realities, when engaging in collaborative efforts. Benefits include the potential of increased innovation, communication and stronger relationships, with members involved taking ownership for both the problem and solution. Most importantly, because the issue(s) are addressed from numerous differing views, a more inclusive outcome is likely. Gray (1989) also notes that agencies should not attempt to collaborate if the underlying ideologies and mission of the various participating groups are too varied, if there is a drastically uneven balance of political power, if past efforts at collaboration

(on other issues/topics) have been unsuccessful and if the fiscal costs are too burdensome.

Power is critical in the collaboration equation according to Phillips et al. (2000) and must

be considered when evaluating the process. Power, according to Phillips et al (2000) is naturally

occurring for some agencies/entities and is witnessed by the resources afforded an agency, their

perceived legitimacy in the field, coerciveness, and their inherent authority. When a

collaborative process can reach this level of power, there is more likely to be what DiMaggio and

Powell (1983) term “institutional isomorphism.” Isomorphism is a “constraining process” in

which institutions that face similar challenges and changes to environments develop parallel or

similar missions, policies and procedures (Phillips et al., 2000, p 37). As collaboratives gain

power and success, the potential to generate institutional change is strong, with participating

institutional structures responding by modifying current practices. DiMaggio and Powell (1983)

argue that this isomorphic process can occur via three different avenues.

The first possibility of reaching a state of institutional isomorphism is through the process

of dependent organizations developing similarities due to the coercive nature of one of the

agencies. DiMaggio and Powell (1983) maintain that the “greater the dependence of an

organization on another organization, the more similar it will become to that organization in

structure, climate and behavioral focus” (p. 154). For example, a drug court may choose to

contract with a specific drug/alcohol treatment provider for services. While traditionally the court would be viewed as the inherently powerful entity, the provider displays expertise in given therapies (a needed commodity), and also develops unique knowledge about the drug court process. An exchange relationship is built and the court comes to rely on the treatment provider, and adopts their “behavioral focus.” This process or event can also evolve in a negative, or counterproductive manner. Murphy and Lutze (2009) and Lutze and Symons (2003) found

evidence of this very issue of isomorphism within the criminal justice system. Murphy and

Lutze (2009) and Lutze and Symons (2003) both argue that what challenges criminal justice

collaborative partnerships (e.g. police-probation partnerships and domestic violence/criminal justice collaboratives) is the inability of groups and agencies to share equal power. The

(generally punitive) group is often dominant, and therefore the efforts of the collaborative cannot be obtained, or the original intent of the program or services “drift” back to business as usual.

The second possibility is through a “mimetic process” (DiMaggio and Powell, 1983, p.

151) whereby organizations exhibit ambiguity through poorly defined mission, goals and objectives, or they lack structural integrity. In response, organizations mimic other identified successful organizations so that they can create legitimacy and push aside unresolved differences

(DiMaggio and Powell, 1983). This mimetic process is commonly observed in drug courts.

Given that drug courts are grassroots movements, they are most often started by a few interested

court and criminal justice system practioners. Resources are often scarce, and the opportunity to

participate in the federally sponsored drug court training initiative series is limited. Therefore,

courts will just “jump in” often without policies or procedures, and completely lacking any

mission, goals and objectives for their programs (van Wormer, 2010). After a period of

operation the drug court personnel will realize the necessity of such products and will reach out to a state organization or other identified drug court to request their materials, policies and procedures and they will essentially mirror another program. It is not uncommon to ask drug court practioners where how they developed a practice (e.g. phase structure) only to have them

respond “Well, the 3rd judicial district did it, so we copied it” (van Wormer, 2010).

The third and final possibility is defined as normative isomorphism, which is essentially defined as legitimate growth and professionalization of organizations. As organizations grow and demand higher levels of training and education, then they will naturally become more alike in their work (DiMaggio and Powell, 1983). As applied to drug courts, obtaining this level of normative isomorphism is the goal of numerous federally supported agencies, including the

National Drug Court Institute and the National Council of Juvenile and Family Court Judges.

Both of these agencies are charged with providing training and technical assistance for drug courts with the goal of creating drug courts that are modeled after best practices. This has been a difficult state to reach, however (van Wormer & Lutze, 2010). Reaching this level of normative isomorphism also require that members of the collaborative to have the power to control resources, have models/institutions from which to mimic and have the ability to access necessary training and education (Phillips et al, 2001). Review of drug court programs from across the

country reveals that this is rarely the case (van Wormer & Lutze, 2010; Carey et al., 2001; Carey

et al., 2006).

According to Vangen and Huxham (2003) and Bardach (1998) a key step in reaching a

state of collaborative advantage is the process of nurturing trust. As applied to collaborations,

trust is a reciprocal process that is built through multiple interactions (Vangen and Huxham,

2003; Bryson, Crosby & Stone, 2006). Vangen and Huxham (2003) propose that a trust loop is

in fact created via collaborative processes. As trust is built incrementally, risk taking increases,

and as situations are successfully managed, collaborative groups become more ambitious and

secure. Sustaining this trust-loop process, however, is the challenge. According to Vangen and

Huxham (2003) healthy collaborations will naturally grow and their goals, objectives and focus

areas change. In addition, personnel that have been involved with the collaboration will

naturally move on to other projects or assignments given their visionary and progressive nature

(Vangen and Huxham, 2003; Lutze, Lucas and van Wormer, 2010). There is an inherent

transitory nature built into the collaborative process, which results in a cyclical effect under the

trust-loop process and threatens stability of the collaborative. In order for a collaborative to remain viable and for trust to be constant, continual attention must be paid to “nurturing the collaborative relationship” (Vangen and Huxham, 2003; p. 22). Essentially, building trust is time consuming, constant, and for some, an overwhelming process. In drug courts, this means

that teams must focus on their own health and well-being as much as they focus on their clients.

Another strength and positive outcome of collaborations is the potential to increase the social capital of a community via stronger problem solving ability (Sridharan & Gillespie, 2004;

Putnam, 2001). While much literature focuses on the positive or negative impacts of informal civic networks (Rose and Clear, 2002), Stone (2001) argues that social capital can also be built

via formal networks, such as partnerships between agencies, faith-based organizations, grassroots movements and private enterprise. The very structure and process of the drug court, with a heavy emphasis on new and varied cross-systems partnerships (e.g. faith community, local

businesses, private donors) creates an avenue or opportunity for strengthening the social capital

of any participating community.

Of course, reaching a point whereby the social capital of the community is increased

means that there must be strong leadership and vision behind such an effort. There are other

fundamental conditions which must also be present, including time committed to such a process,

process formalization, and leadership. These conditions are further explored below.

Elements of Success

What defines or constitutes effective collaboration efforts? The arguments and identified

elements are diverse and numerous. Ryan (2008) and Mizrahi and Rosenthal (2001) found that

timing of the implementation of a collaborative, as well as the amount of time dedicated to the

process, was critical to success. Nylen’s (2007) evaluation of seven community based health

care collaborative efforts revealed formalization and collaborative intensity both impacted defined success. Nylen (2007) found that programs were more effective when there was some level of formalization between agencies and groups. Too much formalization, however, was associated with higher costs and resources.

More importantly, the amount, type and intensity of interactions between professionals was found to be even more critical to success. Davoli and Fine (2004) suggest that for collaborative efforts to be successful, there must be personal connections among members, there must be a sense of inclusiveness across members and disciplines, participants must not lose focus on their given professional role, and each team member must feel valued and respected. Bryson,

Crosby and Stone (2006) highlight numerous propositions for success, including a history of past collaborative attempts, inclusion of powerful organizations, committed “champions” who provide both “formal and informal leadership” (p. 47), power balance, and use of data to continually assess program/output effectiveness. In fact, Davoli and Fine (2004) strongly believe that “cross-sector collaborations are most likely to create public value when they are resilient and engage in regular reassessment” (p. 51). Although collaborations are generally considered non- linear models of business, and generally lacking the top-down hierarchy that frames the parent agency, Thomson (2001) maintains that managers play an important role in supporting (or challenging) collaborative efforts. In their evaluation of 41 social change coalitions, Mizrahi &

Rosenthal (2001) found that consistent and competent leadership (to drive and manage the collaboration) was critical to perceptions of success.

Review of current available process evaluations of drug courts reveals that some of these very conditions, such as time dedicated to drug court (Carey & Finigan, 2008), strong leadership

(Olsen et al., 2001) and use of data to consistently review program effectiveness (Carey &

Finigan, 2008) directly impact drug court outcomes and participant successes. Many of these success elements, program conditions and indicators will be explored more fully through the current study.

Collaboration Measurement

With such a huge fiscal investment in collaborative programs, and such a varied and extensive list of how to define collaboration, as well as how to define success of the process, great challenges are apparent in how to measure the success of a collaborative effort. Weber,

Lovrich and Gaffney (2007, pg. 195) posed the insightful question of “how do we know

(collaborative capacity) as an outcome when we see it?” There is an assumption among some

66 researchers, and certainly among criminal justice and social service practitioners that collaboration between partners will naturally lead to positive results (Graham and Barter, 1999;

Mattesich and Monsey, 1992). Others maintain that in order for benefit to be achieved, there must be vertical and horizontal capacity within a collaborative effort in order to determine if a state of collaborative advantage has been attained (Weber et al., 2007). Understanding the vertical and horizontal capacities of a collaborative allows researchers to determine if collaboration is in fact the best model for use, or if potentially stronger outcomes could be achieved through traditional hierarchical models, or simple case coordination.

According to Weber et al. (2007) measurements of vertical capacity include implementation levels and compliance to laws and statutes, and evaluation of hierarchical relationships. Horizontal capacity is measured by evaluating “social capital and institutional commitment to pre-existing vertical programmatic goals” (Weber et al., p. 197). Weber et al.

(2007) also measure collaborative capacity along the vertical-horizontal axis, which includes the principles of trust, good faith bargaining, leveraging of resources, and sharing of same mission and goals. The authors argue there are numerous scenarios that can result, including high vertical compliance/low horizontal scores, or low vertical compliance/high rates of horizontal capacity, but of course, the ideal is high vertical and horizontal compliance. Essentially when the model is unbalanced, there are challenges within the collaborative process and the involved agencies and communities must determine if collaboration on the selected topic is in fact the best option (Weber et al., 2007). While this measurement is promising, it is limited in its application for this study given the need to measure the impact of the collaborative efforts on the social capital of the community.

As applied to drug courts, Marlowe et al (2006) actually recommend the creation of a

standardized tool to evaluate the effectiveness of the drug court collaborative efforts. While not

utilized in this current research (due to the requirement of assessing social capital), such a tool

and process as developed by Weber et al., can possibly serve as a guide for future drug court

research efforts.

Collaborative Attempts in Criminal Justice

It should not be surprising, that given the amount and diverse types of variables that have

been found to correlate with successful collaborative attempts, that reaching a state of

“collaborative advantage” is in fact a rare occurrence (Huxham, 1996). The criminal justice system is inherently challenged when trying to reach such a state due to the adversarial nature of the system, as well as the diverse philosophical differences among agencies and line-level staff related to rehabilitation and punishment oriented justice. Research from the criminal justice field reveals collaboration challenges at many different levels.

In his evaluation of collaborative efforts centered on high-risk gang youth, Okamoto

(2001) found, via structured interviews, that participants in the collaborative believed that

frequent communication and cooperation were required for strong outcomes. While these

characteristics were identified as ideal, they were often missing. Instead, Okamoto (2001) found

blame, “diffusion of responsibility” and what he came to term “agency fear” (p. 13). Fear took

on many different forms dependent on the respondent, but ranged from concerns about liability,

negative feedback from the community and fellow officers, and physical safety (Okamoto,

2001). In their study of an early intervention, collaborative effort aimed at reducing recidivism

for drug-involved offenders (“Breaking the Cycle”), Harrell et al (2002) found several

interesting challenges. Although the program ultimately proved successful in reducing

recidivism of the participants, reaching a state of collaboration was challenging at the beginning,

given the lack of incentive for certain agencies to participate, political pressures, and no prior

history of collaborative efforts across the key agencies.

In the field of substance abuse prevention and intervention, the creation of coalitions and

collaborative processes has become quite common (Lindholm et al., 2004; Delany et al., 2003).

In the late 1980’s, the Robert Woods Johnson Foundation (RWJF) invested a significant amount

of financial and personnel resources into their “Fighting Back” initiative. This project was

aimed at creating “unified systems of care” in 14 different communities from across the country

(Lindholm et al., 2004, pg. 266). The project was not necessarily focused on direct services, but

rather the creation of strong collaborations between grassroots agencies, city/county agencies,

and created oversight boards. Project success varied across the 14 sites, but essentially, there

were relationship challenges in most of the sites (conflict, mistrust of “outsiders,” and

apprehension), and after initial participation, many partners “fell off” (Lindholm et al., 2004, p.

273). In summary, Lindholm et al. (2004) found that “no local program came close to forging a

single unified system” (p. 272) and “long-lasting collaborations were much less common.”

Perhaps some of the most comprehensive analysis of collaboration attempts in the criminal justice system has been completed around intimate partner violence and sexual assault initiatives. This is an area where reform has been on going over the past two decades, with many jurisdictions adopting prosecution, police and sexual assault and domestic violence services partnerships. The goal of many of these programs to maintain the victim’s safety, while also ensuring that the victim’s voice is heard in court. Collaboration across systems has proven challenging for these efforts due to multiple factors including turnover to key positions

(Cattaneo, et al., 2009), lack of trust and questioning the motivation for participation, as well as

failure to adopt mutually agreed upon goals (Cole & Logan, 2009). As discretion is lost, and

cases become more difficult, being able to collaborate effectively is also challenged (Cole &

Logan, 2009).

Some research has found that collaborative efforts can improve relationships across agencies and the community, with collaborative participants reporting numerous benefits including shared resources and decision-making. When analyzing the impact on arrests or recidivism of such programs, however, little to no impact is often reported (Visher et al., 2008;

Mazerolle et al., 2006).

Given the general challenges faced by criminal justice agencies in their numerous attempts at collaboration, closer analysis of drug court collaboration is warranted to determine if the collaboration is adding value, just creating another business as usual program or if it is simply a symbolic and/or political gesture as identified by Bardach (2001) and Rothman (1980).

The Application of Collaboration Principles Applied to Drug Courts

Given that overall positive findings for drug court programs exist (further research is still needed for juvenile drug courts – see Butts & Roman, 2004), one would hope that collaborative advantage is being reached. Yet when taking a closer look at individual drug court programs, it becomes important to ask the question if drug courts are truly reaching a state of collaborative advantage, or are they in-fact just coordinating, engaging in enhanced communication, or at worst, none of the above. Even as drug courts continue to grow across the country, and with multiple layers of macro and micro collaborations going on, there is still minimal research available to show whether or not this collaborative process is being obtained, beneficial and is preferable over the traditional judicial model (Marlowe et. al, 2006). The foundation of drug courts is the emphasis on collaborating across agencies within criminal justice (i.e., prosecution,

defense, judiciary, law enforcement, probation), which is difficult in its own right, but also

because it requires collaboration across systems (i.e., criminal justice, public health, education)

and institutions that have not always trusted or respected each other (Lutze and van Wormer,

2007).

True team collaboration and balance is achieved through proper training, financial and

human resources, on-going program assessment (preferably by outside agencies), and philosophical buy-in by team members and stakeholders. Essentially, team members need to value the process, have a sense of shared trust, and believe that they personally, as well as their agency, and the client, gain more through the collaborative process than traditional court process

(Weber et al, 2007, pg 196). There are, of course, many political and personal forces that inhibit the attainment of true team collaboration. Huxham and Macdonald (1992) identify four drawbacks to participation in a collaborative process: 1) loss of control; 2) loss of flexibility;

3) loss of glory; and 4) cost. If the drawbacks become too great, team members will simply fail to participate, they may sabotage efforts, or the collaborative process may in fact revert back to the traditional model of business.

Several of these drawbacks are often heard being spoken by drug court team members.

Defense attorneys consistently report that they are expected to be a team player, one that is focused on what the team believes is in the best interest of the client and not necessarily what is in the legal best interest of the client (or their wishes) (Orr et al., 2009). Probation officers lose flexibility and discretion in their ability to case manage and broker for clients as the team makes decisions. There is also the professional and personal cost of participating on the drug court team. Most team members are linked back to their parent agency, which may or may not support the drug court model or even the ideals of the collaborative environment. Ivery (2008, p. 56)

argues that for those involved in a collaborative, they will reach a point when they must decide

“when is it best to preserve their own self-interest or when to work collectively towards a goal.”

Serving as a member of a drug court team assumes that one supports the goals and philosophy of

the model, yet this may not always be the case.

Given that drug courts are built on the notion and assumption of collaboration, it must be determined if true collaboration exists in the drug court model. Deeper analysis of available reports and evaluations reveals that practices, composition and collaborative efforts of drug court teams vary widely across the country. The team meetings before court sessions are a process that relies heavily on the ideal of collaboration, and it is a time when summarized information, discussion and negotiations occur. Indeed, as cases are reviewed and information disseminated, a team can often move from discussions about the use of detention or jail, all the way to offering a reward, dependent on which team member is most persuasive and articulate in their argument

(see Paik, 2009 for example). It is critical at this staffing stage that all team members, including the prosecutor and defense attorney, be present so that the rights of clients can be preserved

(Paik, 2009). Lack of their participation, or even limited participation not only affects the application of the legal process, but also most likely severely damages the potential of positive outcomes for clients.

In a cost-benefit analysis study of nine California drug courts, Carey and colleagues

(2005) actually found evidence for this argument. They revealed that although the nine drug courts operated similarly on several of the key components, including the drug court session itself, inclusion of treatment providers, and the existence of rewards and sanctions (but not necessarily the use and application of the rewards/sanctions). Beyond those three similarities the courts varied greatly, especially on staffing and team involvement. When looking specifically at

the collaborative effect of the process on outcomes, Carey and colleagues (2005) compared two

courts in particular: Monterey and El Monte where they found that the court in El Monte had a

robust staffing and court session process, whereby all team members were present and

participatory. The Monterey program suffered from low attendance of various team members,

although probation was consistently involved. The key overall finding of their study suggest that

drug courts that have strong pre-court staffing meetings, with many different team members

involved, experienced better client and program outcomes.

In their analysis of 26 drug courts from across the United States, Finigan and Carey (2001)

found that teams struggled greatly with cooperation and collaboration between key team

members, as well as with parent agency support and buy-in. The researchers found

overwhelmingly that courts struggle with coordination and collaboration at many different macro

and micro levels, and recommended that drug court teams spend the necessary time to develop

true buy-in and commitment from agency leaders and line staff, as well as team members.

In a more recent analysis of 18 different drug court programs, Carey, Finigan & Pukstas

(2008) found that those courts in which the prosecutor and defense attorney participated in both

the pre-court staffing and court had significantly better graduation rates than those courts where they were not required to attend. In addition, Carey, Finigan & Pukstas (2008) found that formalized training for drug court team members was associated with higher graduation rates, although the type of training offered, and at what point in the tenure of the team member varied across the sites. In terms of teams, the majority of teams had the traditional members serve on the team, however, some of those services or team members from the “secondary level” varied greatly across the sites. Interestingly, having law enforcement on the team was also associated with significantly better outcomes, although as was highlighted above, many programs only

utilize law enforcement as a secondary or support level function in the drug court.

Other researchers have also found levels of great diversity in team structure and practice by

the drug court team, which included failure to follow policies and procedures around such

fundamental components as targeting and eligibility, and the proper use of incentives and

sanctions (see Rossman, Butts, Roman, Destefano & White, 2004; Goldkamp, 2001, Polakowski,

Hartley & Bates, 2008). Many argue that one of the key features of the drug court is the role of

the judge, who offers leadership and management of the team and model, but yet also serves to

support and guide the client through the drug court process. We know that in order to achieve

stronger outcomes judges should be permanently assigned to the drug court, and in fact when the

judge position turns over or rotates, it adversely affects team stability and dynamics

(Goldkamp, 2001; Crumpton et al, 2006; Finigan, Carey & Cox, 2007).

Very limited research has been conducted to determine how well the judge functions as a

member of the team and in fact supports the recommendations and decision of the team once he

or she is residing on the bench in front of the drug court client. Sundet et al (2001) found that the

judge role varied greatly across the 14 drug courts that they studied. In some courts, the judge

did not even attend the pre-court staffing due to concerns around ex-parte communication. Other courts experienced situations whereby the judge would modify team decisions once he/she was sitting on the bench addressing the drug court case. Olsen et al. (2001) found great inconsistencies across judges in their analysis of three courts, and reported that in numerous cases judges failed to follow the agreed upon recommendations of the team, which in turn damaged team dynamics and trust. Wolfe et al. (2004) found similar findings of frustration and inequality among team members due to unbalanced decision making, which in part was attributed to rotating and inconsistent judges. Both staff and participants complain that it is

difficult to form strong relationships with a rotating, temporary judge. Such actions by judges seriously undermine the ability to reach “collaborative advantage,” and can cause great frustration, and eventual departure among team members, and is most likely impacting the positive outcomes of drug courts.

Finally, the ability of juvenile drug courts to reach a state of collaborative advantage is worthy of its own discussion. One of the arguments about the differences between adult and juvenile drug courts is that the adult population is more easily defined. Adult participants often suffer from deep and heavy addiction, whereas juvenile offenders, are often just abusing alcohol and/or drugs, and rarely rise to the level of serious addiction. Adolescents also have a host of other factors impacting their behaviors, including negative family dynamics, academic challenges and negative peer groups. Particularly noteworthy are the process outcome findings on juvenile drug courts. Overall, juvenile drug courts are struggling to reach the outcomes experienced by the adult and family court models (Butts and Roman, 2004), although there are a few notable and recent exceptions (Latessa et al., 2002: Lutze & Mason 2007; Rodriguez &

Webb 2004). While there are many arguments as to why this may be, including the argument that more coordinated, large-scale evaluations are needed (Butts and Roman, 2004), some of the answers may be found in the team composition and collaboration findings.

In their analysis of several Maryland juvenile drug courts, Mackin et al. (2007, 2008) found that there was often turnover to the key positions on the drug court team, and maintained that because this may have been attributed to the fact that juvenile court is often a starting place, not an end point in a criminal justice career. Therefore, maintaining defense attorneys and prosecutors and judges is difficult, as many will move on to employment within the adult system.

This lack of philosophical commitment no doubt impacts the juvenile court in general, and

specifically the juvenile drug court model. Short tenures and team turnover on drug courts leads

to lack of clarity about roles and responsibilities. Mackin and colleagues (2007, 2008) also found

that juvenile drug court team members (much like their adult counterparts) experienced difficulty in balancing the drug court and traditional workload and there was a need for cross training and shared philosophy/vocabulary. While some of these courts were successful in reducing the recidivism rates of juvenile participants, it is likely that the outcomes could have been greatly enhanced if the teams were properly trained, multiple layers of macro and micro collaboration existed and there was the philosophical buy-in by all partners involved.

Despite many of the concerns raised above, there are many positive outcomes that can be

obtained from serving as a team member on a drug court. Olson et al (2001) found that team

members reported gaining new insight and understanding into the complexities of addiction, they

appreciated the increase in their knowledge base gained via training, and that they had come to

experience a new understanding and appreciation for the other team members roles within their

parent agencies. Yanzuki and Vaxquez, (2002) and Shaffer, Latessa, Pealer & Taylor (2002)

found similar findings in their evaluation of juvenile drug courts, with team members expressing

great commitment to the drug court model and understanding of their roles, which was witnessed

through a high degree of communication and participation.

Summary

The U.S. criminal justice system is replete with examples of well intentioned practitioners

and programs that instead of providing the envisioned services, result in net-widening, punitive

responses, symbolic program efforts, or business as usual. It is important to ensure that such

departures do not occur in the drug court field. A review of the implementation and

collaboration principles identified many key factors that must be present in order for strong

implementation to occur, and for a true state of collaboration to be reached. As was evident in the review of the literature, however, is that a great deal of forces, influences and challenges exist when it comes to implementing and maintaining programs in the pubic service system. In addition, although highly touted, collaboration is difficult, time consuming and complex. These are important findings as they relate to this current study in that it is important to more fully assess how well courts are able to implement and maintain their models, and how well they are able to collaborate. This study expands on the existing literature by surveying drug court practitioners about their courts adherence to the drug court model, their perceptions of how the model should be implemented compared to how it is actually implemented, and how they understand and perceive the collaborative process.

CHAPTER FOUR: Research Methodology

Introduction

Existing drug court studies have focused on the extent to which certain process factors,

such as the role of the judge, treatment effects, and the use of incentives and sanctions impact the

recidivism rates of drug court participants. These studies have furthered the drug court research

field tremendously, but no study to date has fully explored the operational dynamics of a drug

court from the perspective of various team members. This study seeks to examine how drug court team members interpret various operational and collaborative functions of their drug court programs with the goal of creating a line of inquiry that will inform future research. This study focuses on three specific research questions:

1. Are drug courts operating and adhering to the 16 strategies and/or 10 key components as supported by the National Drug Court Institute and the National Council of Juvenile and Family Court Judges?

2. Do drug court professionals identify a state of collaborative advantage (Huxham, 2006) and does this vary by team member role?

3. Have teams “drifted” away from their original structure and intent due to various factors such as team turnover, failure to follow policies and procedures, and changes to the political and social climate

Research Procedure

For this research, a national on-line survey was conducted to measure drug court

professional’s perspectives about their drug court as well as their experiences working within a

drug court team. The survey was administered between March 16, 2010 and June 15, 2010.

Respondents were predominately from adult and juvenile drug courts from 36 different states.

The research procedure included (1) the development of a pilot survey administered in

Washington State, (2) the development of an on-line survey distributed nationally, and (3) strategies executed to gain access to a convenience sample.

In October of 2008, a pilot survey was administered to the attendees of the fall conference of the Washington State Association of Drug Court Professionals in Seattle, Washington.

Researchers were granted permission to distribute paper surveys of a pilot survey to drug court practitioners attending the training. This paper version took approximately 20 minutes to complete and respondents were allowed the option to complete it on their own or via assistance

from researchers. All respondents completed the survey on their own and 102 responses were

collected. After preliminary review of the survey results, taking into account survey design

comment feedback received from survey respondents, and further review of the literature, the

survey was redesigned and implemented on-line (see Appendix A).

Based on the results of the pilot survey, an on-line survey was designed to access a larger,

national sample. The on-line survey included ten sections with a total of 59, multi-part

questions. The survey was built to gather information on the inner-workings of drug courts,

including operational designs and challenges, team dynamics and model adherence.

Jurisdictional information, team participation, team composition, basic program operations,

program philosophy, team decision making about participants and policy, team transitions,

collaboration within the drug court, and basic demographic information was collected.

The survey was disseminated through the on-line service called Survey Monkey. The

survey took approximately 20 to 30 minutes to complete. The survey was voluntary, and

respondents were free to skip questions as well as submit the survey without completion.1

Respondents were given the opportunity at the end of each section to provide additional

comments and insight about their drug court experience. When and where appropriate, this

information was coded into standardized responses.2

In the event that a respondent failed to answer a question it was recorded as missing. A thorough review of the data shows that the majority of missing observations were due to complete randomness. Depending on the type of analyses conducted, various missing variable executions were conducted. For analyses whereby fewer than ten variables were missing, the

“replace with mean” function in PASW 18 was utilized (Field, 2005). For any missing data above that threshold, pairwise deletion was executed when conducting correlation and linear regression (Pallant, 2007; Pigott, 1994).

Sample Selection

This current research uses a quantitative design to explore the operational team dynamics

of drug courts. The primary strategy employed for this research was the development and

administration of a survey that utilized close-ended questions, with Likert scales, yes/no and numeric data collected (Creswell, 2003).

The common method of convenience sampling was the primary method used for survey sampling and distribution (Frankfort-Nachmais & Nachmais, 1992). Given this author’s

professional relationship with the National Council of Juvenile and Family Court Judges

(NCJFCJ), four different comprehensive email list serves were provided in February 2010 by the

NCJFCJ staff. These list are comprised of current and former juvenile drug court team

1 Of those who began the survey, 77% completed all ten sections. See description of the sample for additional information. 2 Responses generally provided clarification about their role, type of court they worked for, or further description on collaborative ideals or program challenges.

members that have participated in planning, implementation or enhancement trainings offered by

NCJFJC. In addition, the National Association of Drug Court Professionals (NADCP) and

National Drug Court Institute (NDCI) website was searched for links to state-level drug court

email list serves. This proved to be a valuable process as many states either have drug court

program offices, or information regarding drug court programs available through their State

Office of Courts. This author also directly informed the Director of NDCI of the survey

distribution to elicit support and guidance in obtaining a strong return. After the collection of the

various list serves for adult, juvenile and family drug court teams, approximately 788 emails,

with the survey link attached, were sent to drug court team members across the United States.3

The data was coded by this researcher and entailed a review of each submission, the

creation of a codebook and the coding itself. Upon completion of the coding of the standard data set, numerous additional dummy and collapsed variables were created to meet the research needs of this project. To ensure inter-rater reliability, random sections of the data set were

independently reviewed and coded by a second party. This review resulted in an almost near

perfect match of 99%.

Sample Characteristics

The sampling population is current and prior drug court practitioners throughout the United

States. Those surveyed include judges, prosecutors, defense attorneys, drug court coordinators,

substance abuse treatment providers, educators, law enforcement, Guardians Ad Litem,

probation officers, mental health providers, and miscellaneous agency directors. A total of 325

survey responses were submitted (41% response rate), although not all respondents completed

3 I could not control for those emails that were forwarded to other drug court team members (by Coordinators for example) for which emails were not available via email list serves. Therefore, it is possible that more than 788 drug court team members received the email request.

each item or question. After careful review of the data, it was determined that 30 cases were

removed due to completion of less than 20% of the survey, and because the responses were

unrelated to the current study (e.g. domestic violence court responses).

All 295 survey respondents completed the question related to their role on the drug court

team. Thirty six percent of respondents were participants on a juvenile drug court team, 41%

were adult drug court team members, 16% were members of combined courts (e.g. adult and

family courts; adult, juvenile & family), 5.4 % were involved with family drug courts, 1.4% were

DUI/DWI court team members. Given that many respondents have worked or been associated

with numerous drug courts, each team member was asked to select the drug court for which they

were reporting on. This question, along with a thorough review of the data, resulted in two

distinct categories of responses: adult and juvenile drug court respondents.

Responses were received from team members in 36 different states. The largest number of

responses received was from Washington (16%); Wisconsin (13.2%); Texas (11%); Louisiana

(7.2%) and Kentucky (6.9%). Respondents range from 24 to 72 years of age and have been

active on a drug court team for a significant amount of professional time (4.3 years).

Measures

Reliability and Factor Analysis

This survey is unique in that it is not modeled after existing drug court survey designs.

While information on basic drug court operations and model adherence has been collected in numerous research efforts (see work completed by NPC, Schaffer 2006, Hiller et al., 2010), no research to date has collected this level of detail, from the perception and response of varied

team members. Under past research efforts, this information has been collected through the drug court coordinators (Hiller et al., 2010; Schaffer, 2006), or through researcher observation (NPC

Research).

This research yielded a very large number of variable items that are most likely correlated

along common theme areas. Factor analysis is a statistical technique used to summarize, reduce,

produce hypotheses and/or test a theory of a given set of data. There are two primary types of factor analysis: exploratory and confirmatory. Exploratory factor analysis (EFA) “seeks to describe and summarize data by grouping together variables that are correlated” (Tabachnick &

Fidell, pg 637, 1996). This method is often used in the initial stages of research to merge correlated variables together (as to create a more manageable data set) and to also assist in creating hypotheses (Tabachnick & Fidell, 1996). It is assumed that the data is normally distributed and that relationships are linear. Given that this research is concerned with investigating relationships and potential correlations among collected variables, EFA is utilized and numerous scales are created and presented. When surveys are exploratory and original, it is generally recommended that certain tests guide interpretation of findings. For this survey,

Varimax rotation was utilized, along with applying the Eigenvalue rule (1.00) and a review of scree plots.

It is important that survey answers vary not because the questions are confusing or multiple interpretations exist, but because of variations across respondents (Field, 2005). Cronbach’s alpha is widely used as a measure of internal consistency and of the reliability of survey questions and scales (DeVillis, 1991). The computation of Cronbach's alpha is based on the

number of items on the survey (k) and the ratio of the average inter-item covariance to the average item variance (Field, 2005; DeVillis, 1991). Values between .7 and .8 are desirable

(Field, 2005)

As each scale was developed, alpha scores were computed and reported as to the strength

of reliability of the scale (weak, moderate or high). Another measure of the strength and internal

relationship of the selected variables that is utilized in this research is the use of the inter-item correlation mean. The optimal range is .2 to .4 according to Briggs and Cheek (1986).

Survey Measures

A total of 267 questions were developed from the original survey that contained 59 questions. Survey Monkey was used as the on-line data collection tool, while Predictive

Analysis Software (PASW) 18.0 was used to code and analyze the collected data. Various types of analysis were conducted including the development of descriptive statistics, cross-tabulations, bi-variate analysis, chi-square, and linear and logistic regression.

Professional Characteristics

There are numerous independent variables that are utilized for this analysis (see Table 4 below). Essentially, this survey measures team member perceptions related to 13 various drug court team operation and management characteristics (see Appendix A). It is important to assess how these perceptions vary by the type of team that the respondent was assigned to at the time, their role on the team, time spent assigned to the drug court, training, and by tenure at home agency. For the variable “role on team,” positions were collapsed into the standard roles of

Judge, Prosecutor, Defense Attorney, Probation/Case Management, Coordinator, Treatment and

Secondary/Other. For analysis purposes, these positions are also collapsed along philosophical lines to allow for even more concentrated use of the team member information. This is done to allow for greater strength in bivariate and multivariate analysis. The collapsed team position responses included judge, prosecutor/probation officer, defense/treatment, coordinator/administrator. Time spent both assigned and working within the drug court model are important variables to consider. Therefore, both “months on team” and “percent of time

dedicated to drug court” are utilized for analyses.

Table 4: Independent Variables Question n % Type of Court (n=295) Juvenile (115) 39 Adult (180) 61

Role on Team (n=288) Judge (30) 10 Prosecutor (22) 8 Defense Attorney (19) 7 Probation/Case Manager (52) 18 Coordinator (109) 38 Treatment (38) 13 Secondary/Other** (18) 6

Months on Team (284) 52 (range 2 to 165)

Years at Home Agency (276) 9.2 (range 0 to 37 years)

Percent dedicated to drug court (295) 55 (range 10 to 100 percent)

Education Diploma/GED (12) 5 Associate Degree (17) 7 Bachelors Degree (78) 30 Masters Degree (73) 28 Ph.D. (5) 2 Juris Doctrate (67) 26 Other (7) 3

** Includes law enforcement, GAL, schools, and agency administrators

Training

Given that drug courts are built on the notion of therapeutic jurisprudence, it is important to

understanding training programs and opportunities that would expose team members to new

philosophies, practices and standards. Therefore, team members were asked what types of drug

court training they have participated in during their program tenure. This question was a yes and no format, and asked them to report if they had attended training through the National

Association of Drug Court Professionals, National Council of Juvenile and Family Court Judges,

Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Programs, state training opportunities, local training opportunities, in-house training, and/or informal, on the job training. Factor and reliability analysis was then conducted on this set of questions to determine the strength of the inter- correlation among the potential construct items. Factor analysis for the training questions did reveal two distinct constructs, and resulted in the creation of two indices, the General Training

Index and the Juvenile & Family Training Index. Tables 5 and 6 highlight the corrected item- total correlation and means for each scale. For the General Training Index, the mean score is

1.34, indicating that that the majority of respondents are not exposed to diverse and numerous types of training. Increases in the scale, however, would indicate an increase in exposure to different types of training across multiple mediums. Due to the low response rate and limited scope of the Juvenile and Family Training Index, only the General Training Index is utilized for bivariate and multivariate analyses.

Table 5: Reliability Results for General Training Index Corrected Item Types of Training Total Correlation NADCP (federal) training .397

State training .517

Local training .514

In-house training .516

On-the-job training .323

Coefficient Alpha: .696 Inter-Item Correlation: .313 Scale Mean: 1.34 Range: 0 to 5

Table 6: Reliability Results for Juvenile and Family Training Index Corrected Item Type of Training Total Correlation NCJFCJ training .469

OJJDP training .469

Coefficient Alpha: .696 Inter-Item Correlation: .313 Scale Mean: 1.45 Range: 0 to 2

In the three sections that follow the measures are organized according to each of the research questions.

Research Question #1: Are drug courts operating and adhering to the 16 strategies and/or 10 key components as supported by the National Drug Court Institute and the National Council of Juvenile and Family Court Judges?

This first question is focused on whether or not teams are following the drug court model

as supported by the NDCI and/or NCJFCJ. To explore this question, multiple dependent

variables were analyzed. These questions were built to measure team member perceptions of

adherence to the 10 key components or 16 strategies in practice, by actually incorporating each

component/strategy into a question format. The questions were presented in a Likert format,

with respondents asked whether they strongly disagreed (1), disagreed (2), agreed (3) or strongly

agreed (4) that the drug court followed or practiced the various components/functions listed.

This data was later collapsed and twenty-one different dichotomous measures were coded “1” for

agree and “0” for disagree (! =.839).

Because this survey is heavily focused on application of collaborative principles in the

drug court model, as well as program integration and implementation, the program researchers

decided that in addition to the standard 10 key components and 16 strategies, supplementary questions would be asked on the topic of collaborative ideals as well as treatment and service integration. Review of the 21 variables was then conducted in order to reduce the data into manageable groupings by component or strategy as to not oversample on select characteristics.4

These groupings were based on the literature and 10 key components and/or 16 strategies

supporting materials. The following questions were combined:

4 Not all respondents answered each individual question. The data was reviewed and it was determined that inserting “0” into the missing data rows did not negatively or positively impact the overall mean of each question. The average question had two “0’s” inserted per question.

Question Mean (SD) Alpha

Component 3 / Strategy 3 Our eligibility criteria is followed closely .91 (0.28) .505 We only accept those in our identified target population .85 (0.36)

Component 6 We work hard to coordinate our incentives, rewards & sanctions to achieve participant compliance. .91 (0.28) .607 Our team utilizes strength-based approaches with participants. .89 (0.31)

Component 9 Our team understands the values, goals and procedures of our treatment providers. .87 (0.34) .621 Our team has a full understanding of what occurs in treatment. .72 (0.45)

Strategy 12 Our team works hard to engage family members. .74 (0.43) .773 Family members are viewed as valued partners in the drug court process. .84 (0.36)

These additional questions were then collapsed into a scale comprised of 17 various components that represent both the 10 key components and the 16 strategies.

Table 7: Reliability results for 10 Key Components Index Corrected Item-Total Key Component and Strategies Scale Questions Correlation We understand and use a non-adversarial approach that focuses the team on the participants recovery and behavior. .293

Our eligibility & target criteria are followed closely. .461

Our team utilizes a continuum of substance abuse and other related treatments. .168

Our team receives on-going education related to understanding addiction and related behaviors. .420

We monitor abstinence through drug testing. .105

Our team is skilled in interpreting and understanding drug testing measures. .343

We work hard to coordinate our incentives, rewards, and sanctions to achieve participant success and we utilize a strength-based approach .585

The judge understands his/her role in interacting with participants. .291

All team members understand their role and responsibilities, and those of their team members. .463

Our team understands how drug court program goals are measured and .571 evaluated.

Our team is interdisciplinary. .320

Our team understands the values, goals and procedures of our treatment providers and has a full understanding of what happens in treatment. .567

Our team understands the importance of forging partnerships among the drug court, public agencies, and community based partners. .253

We have created policies and procedures that are responsive to gender and/or cultural differences. .380

We work hard to tailor treatment to the developmental needs of participants. .453

We value and engage families in our drug court. .401

Confidentiality policies and procedures are followed closely. .321

Coefficient Alpha: .793 Inter-Item Correlation: .177 Scale Mean: 14.92 Range: 0 to 17

In addition to questions about singular components, survey respondents were also asked two separate general questions regarding their perceived overall adherence to the 16 strategies or

10 key components. Respondents were asked, “Does your drug court operate based on the 10 key components of effective drug courts?” and/or “Does your drug court operate based on the 16 strategies for effective juvenile drug courts? Respondents were given the choice of yes, somewhat, no, unknown and not applicable (1 to 5 coding).5 Juvenile and adult and family drug

court responses are included in the analysis. The median for the 10 key components questions

was 1.00 (s.d.1.17), while the median of the 16 strategies question was 4.0 (s.d. 1.60).

Research Question #2: Do drug court professionals identify a state of collaborative advantage (Huxham, 2006) and does this vary by team member role?

As is demonstrated in the literature, collaboration exists at both a macro and micro level

within and between organizations, communities and individuals (Bardach, 1989, Vangan &

Huxham, 2003). One of the core tenants of the drug court movement is that criminal justice

practitioners and agencies work together with various entities such as treatment, schools, and

ancillary services to meet the needs of clients. This requires a true and maintainable state of

collaboration.

5 Two questions (no/not applicable) are utilized in a collapsed form for analysis in chapter 5.

First, to gain a general sense of collaborative spirit vs. traditional adversarial engagement, team members were asked to report who they believe to be collaborative vs. adversarial on their drug court team when making decisions about participants. This question was presented in a

Likert scale and asked respondents to rate whether the individual team member roles (which were listed) were nearly always adversarial; generally adversarial; generally collaborative or nearly always collaborative. This question was further collapsed into adversarial (0) and collaborative (1) responses for analysis purposes.

To greater understand how well team members collaborate, survey respondents were asked which team members were more likely to engage in “business as usual” vs. participating in an integrated manner around policy considerations. Specifically, respondents were asked:

“When discussing policy, who tends to rely on doing business as they would in their traditional role and who is most likely to engage in the integrated drug court model?” This question was

also presented as a Likert scale, with the respondent asked to rank each team member as one of

the following, nearly always traditional; generally traditional; generally integrated; or nearly

always integrated. For analysis purposes, responses were reduced to traditional (0) and

integrated (1), and this format is used in the models presented below.

Under the drug court model, certain team members are expected to engage in a fairly

radical departure from their traditional roles. A fair amount of research has been conducted on

the role of the judge in the drug court model. The judge is generally considered the central

figure of a drug court program, and research has shown that regular interaction between the

judge and the drug court client is a critical component to the model (Marlowe et al, 2003). In

most drug courts the judge retains veto or final decision-making power, however there is a strong

assumption that the judge will participate in the staffing and decision making through an

integrated and teamwork approach – where each team member’s opinion and insight is valued

and processed.

To assess the level of collaborative spirit among the judge role, survey respondents were

asked a set of questions about judicial decision-making in the drug court program. Five different

questions were presented which focus on the judge following team decisions related to sanctions,

incentives and treatment, as well as how likely they were to clearly communicate expectations to

drug court clients. A Likert scale format was used, with respondents asked to report whether they strongly agree (4), agree (3), disagree (2) or strongly disagree (1).

Factor and reliability analysis is conducted on this set of questions to determine the strength of the inter-correlation among the potential construct items. Four questions are retained

for analysis and incorporation into the Judicial Decision Making Scale. The question, “Our

judge clearly communicates the team’s expectations to participants while in court” is not used

due to low corrected item-total correlation (.291). Table 8 (below) highlights the scale findings.

Although the alpha for this scale is weak (.666), all questions are of a similar concept, with a

strong scale mean (3.83), and corrected item-total correlations all above .3 (Field, 2006).

Table 8: Reliability Results for Judicial Decision Making Scale Corrected Item- Judicial Decision Making Scale Questions Total Correlation The judge understands his/her role in interacting with .518 participants.

Our judge is most likely to follow the team’s decision when it relates to a sanction. .429

Our judge is most likely to follow the team’s decision when it relates to treatment. .452

Our judge is most likely to follow the team’s decision when it relates to an incentive or reward. .481

Coefficient Alpha: .666 Inter-Item Correlation: .354 Scale Mean: 14.05 Range: 0 to 16

In an effort to “dig deeper,” around the true state of collaboration among drug courts, a

set of questions based in the collaboration literature were asked of respondents. The purpose of

these questions is to assess how well teams are able to engage in creative problem solving,

develop shared goals and objectives, and engage in more responsive and client-centered dialogue and services. Each of these characteristics is indicative of strong collaboration efforts (Davoli &

Fine, 2004; Gray, 1989). Survey respondents were asked to rank each collaboration question as follows: very well (4), somewhat well (3), not so well (2), or not well at all (1). The questions were preceded with the main heading phrase of “Through working together, how well are the partners in drug court able to...”. To determine how well the indicators of collaboration are related to one another, reliability and factor analysis are conducted on all five questions. Given the strong coefficient alpha of .905, all questions are retained and the Collaboration Indicator

Scale is created (see Table 9 below).

Table 9: Reliability results for Collaboration Indicators Scale Corrected Item- Collaboration Indicator Scale Questions Total Correlation Identify new and creative ways to solve problems? .776

Include the views and priorities of the people affected by the partnership’s work? .801

Develop goals that are widely understood and supported among partners? .805

Identify how different services and programs in the community relate to the problems the partnerships are trying to address? .766

Respond to the needs and problems of the clientele? .682

Coefficient Alpha: .905 Inter-Item Correlation: .660 Scale Mean: 16.22 Range: 0 to 20

One important finding in collaboration research is that entities that engage in

collaborative efforts experience greater benefits (personal, professional and agency level) then if

the work was to be completed under traditional means (Gray, 1989; Huxham, 2006). Given this,

respondents were asked a set of questions intended to capture both the benefit and drawbacks of

participation in the drug court process. Respondents were asked a general question regarding

their overall perception of benefit vs. drawback through participation. Respondents were asked:

“How do the OVERALL benefits of participating in the drug court partnership compare to the

drawbacks?” Five forced choices were available and included the following:

o Benefits greatly exceed drawbacks o Benefits exceed the drawbacks o Benefits and drawbacks are about equal o Drawbacks exceed the benefits o Drawbacks greatly exceed the benefits

The questions were coded as drawbacks exceed benefits (1), equal (2) and benefits exceed drawbacks (3).

Numerous drug court researchers have engaged in qualitative analysis in attempt to capture the daily operations, as well as the self-reported or observed advantages and

disadvantages to participation on a drug court team (see for example Olsen et al., 2001, Carey &

Finingan, 2008, MacKinem & Higgins, 2010, Lucas, 2010). To explore the different personal, professional and agency issues that can potentially impact a team member’s positive or negative

perceptions of a drug court program, a set of 16 benefit questions were asked of respondents, as

well as nine potential drawback questions. Statements concerning different types of benefits and

drawbacks were listed in the survey with Likert scale responses available. Respondents were

asked to report whether they strongly agree (4), agree (3), disagree (2) or strongly disagree (1)

with each statement. The nine questions in the drawback section were reverse-coded, resulting

in a rating of “1” indicating strong agreement, to “4” indicating strong disagreement. Next, factor

analysis was conducted for each set of questions to determine if the data did in fact load onto

similar constructs.

Factor analysis results for the benefit questions reveals two distinct constructs, and results

in the creation of a Personal Benefits Scale and a Systems Benefit Scale. Reliability testing is

executed, and the Personal Benefits Scale, which included nine questions, exhibited a high

coefficient alpha of .929. The Systems Benefit Scale, which includes five questions, also

produced a strong coefficient alpha of .883 (see Table 10 below). Two questions were

eliminated from inclusion in the scales (less professional stress and acquisition of financial

support) due to their low item to total correlation and reliability scores.

Table 10: Reliability Results for Personal Benefits Scale Corrected Item Personal Benefit Scale Statements Total Correlation Enhanced ability to address important client issues. .791

Development of new skills. .757

Increased utilization of my expertise or services. .718

Acquisition of useful knowledge about services, programs, or people in the community. .720

Development of valuable new relationships. .736

Enhanced ability to meet the needs of my constituency or clients. .771

Ability to have greater impact than I could have on my own. .780

Ability to make a contribution to the community. .782

More professional accountability. .634

Coefficient Alpha: .929 Inter-Item Correlation: .599 Scale Mean: 30.38 Range: 0 to 36

Table 11: Reliability Results for Systems Benefits Scale Corrected Item Systems Benefit Scale Statements Total Correlation Enhanced trust between social service agencies and the criminal justice .592 system.

Enhanced trust between public health and criminal justice system. .655

Enhanced trust between educational and criminal justice system. .546

Heightened public profile. .550

Enhanced ability to affect public policy. .485

Coefficient Alpha: .883 Inter-Item Correlation: .606 Scale Mean: 15.1 Range: 0 to 20

Factor analysis results for the drawback questions also reveals two distinct constructs, and results in the creation of a Personal Drawbacks Scale and a Systems Drawbacks Scale.

Reliability testing on the Personal Drawbacks Scale, which includes four questions, exhibits a moderate coefficient alpha of .700. The Systems Drawbacks Scale, which includes five questions, produced a strong coefficient alpha of .859 (see Table 13 below).

Table 12: Reliability Results for Personal Drawbacks Scale Corrected Item-total Personal Drawbacks Scale Statements Correlation More professional stress. .610

More professional accountability. .396

Serious diversion of time and resources away from other .416 priorities or obligations.

Frustration when team members do not follow-through on .528 assignments/agreements.

Coefficient Alpha: .700 Inter-Item Correlation: .377 Scale Mean: 10.4 Range: 0 to 16

Table 13: Reliability Results for System Drawbacks Scale Corrected Item- System Drawback Scale Statements total Correlation Insufficient influence in drug court decisions. .751

Viewed negatively by peers due to your association with other partners or the partnership. .621

Frustration or aggravation. .608

Insufficient credit given to me for contributing to the accomplishments of the partnership. .713

Conflict between my job and the work of the drug court. .432

Coefficient Alpha: .859 Inter-Item Correlation: .363 Scale Mean: 14.8 Range: 0 to 20

Research Question #3: Have teams “drifted” away from their original structure and intent

due to various factors such as team turnover, failure to follow policies and procedures, and changes to the political and social climate?

Of interest in this exploratory research is determining if factors outside of the control of the drug court cause programs to drift from the original intended model. Numerous questions, centered on perceptions and changes in program philosophy and operations, staff turnover patterns, as well as barriers to effective model operation were asked of respondents to begin to

assemble potential drift patterns.

Philosophy: To assess philosophical beliefs and changes, respondents were asked two separate

questions regarding which philosophy they believed should guide team decision making versus

what philosophy actually does guide the decision making each week. A Likert scale was utilized

for this question (1=strongly disagree; 2= disagree; 3= agree or 4 =strongly agree). Respondents

were asked to evaluate numerous philosophical and operational standards including offender

accountability, crime prevention, punishment/punitive, rehabilitation, balanced approach,

strength-based approach, surveillance, and due/process fairness. Results from the questions

show that team members certainly believe and expect that the drug court model should provide

many different orientations and supports. Factor analysis did not reveal any logical groupings or

constructs, and therefore these questions were not transferred to scale form.

Team members were also asked if they believed, based on observations of the team’s

decision making over time, if team philosophy about how to treat participants had changed. This

question was a yes (1) and no (0) format. If respondents answered affirmative, they were

prompted to answer a further set of questions regarding the severity of the change across the

same set of philosophical and operational standards listed above. The questions were Likert

scale (1 to 5) items and potential responses included “much more,” “somewhat more,” “no

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change,” “somewhat less,” or “much less.” The alpha for this set of questions was strong at

!=. 813. Factor analysis for the change in philosophy questions reveals two distinct constructs,

and results in the creation of two scales, the Accountability Oriented Change Scale and the

Treatment Oriented Change Scale. Tables 14 and 15 highlight the corrected item-total correlations and means for each scale.

Table 14: Reliability of Accountability Oriented Change Scale Corrected Item- Change in Philosophies total Correlation Change in Accountability .639

Change in Crime Prevention .597

Change in Punishment .494

Change in Surveillance .524

Coefficient Alpha: .755 Inter-Item Correlation: .450 Scale Mean: 13.4 Range: 0 to 20

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Table 15: Reliability of Treatment Oriented Change Scale Corrected Item- Change in Philosophies total Correlation Change in Rehabilitation .660

Change in Balance Approach .606

Change Strength-Based .635

Coefficient Alpha: .790 Inter-Item Correlation: .561 Scale Mean: 11.3 Range: 0 to 15

Program Challenges: In order to assess the types of factors that may or may not be impacting

team goal attainment, and potentially causing program drift, a series of “challenge” questions

were asked of respondents. Likert scale format was used (1 to 5) with answers ranging from

never, very rarely, rarely, often and very often. The questions were preceded with the main

heading of “ How often do the following challenges occur to inhibit the team from reaching

program goals.”

For this set of questions, exploratory factor analysis was employed in an attempt to identify patterns of relationships across similar dependent variables. Table 16 below summarizes the

factor and reliability analysis for the program challenge questions. The results demonstrate that

two questions, “lack of support from parent agency” and “lack of jail/detention space” did not

load onto any factor given that their size was less than .40, and were disregarded, as suggested by

Stevens (1992). All other questions exhibited strong reliability and factor loading along five

different constructs.

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Table 16: Program Challenge Scales Question Inter-Item Correlation Team Practices Failure to reach consensus at staffing .645 Judge doesn’t follow team recommendations .554 Team doesn’t follow policies & procedures .718 Team unable to engage in effective problem solving .688 Team turnover and instability .522

Coefficient Alpha .826 Inter-Item Correlation .491 Scale Mean 11.61 S.D. 3.5 Range 0-25

Operational Support Lack of funding for UA tests .612 Lack of space to operate program .625 Lack of goods & services to operate program .693 Lack of secretarial and clerical support .611

Coefficient Alpha .815 Inter-Item Correlation .525 Scale Mean 10.10 S.D. 3.70 Range 0-20

Treatment Challenges Lack of treatment funding .552 Lack of treatment access .733 Lack of treatment expertise in the community .722 Lack of evidence based treatment in our community .716

Coefficient Alpha .844 Inter-Item Correlation .575 Scale Mean 12.36 S.D. 3.74 Range 0-20

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Political & Community Support Lack of legislative or county funding .725 Lack of community knowledge & support .697 Lack of state laws/statutes to support our work .615

Coefficient Alpha .832 Inter-Item Correlation .556 Scale Mean 12.04 S.D. 3.54 Range 0-20

Information and Evaluation Lack of information sharing between agencies .765 Lack of coordination between partnering agencies .816 Lack of evaluating progress and impact of partnership .736

Coefficient Alpha .880 Inter-Item Correlation .717 Scale Mean 7.76 S.D. 2.67 Range 0-15

Assessing Drift – Team Turnover & Program Stability: It is hypothesized that drug court

teams “drift” from the original model due to multiple factors that intercept and impact program operations and team dynamics. Numerous questions were asked in an effort to determine potential drift cause and patterns. Drug court team members were asked the following question:

“In the last three years, which of the following drug court team positions have experienced turnover?” Standard team members were listed, and included the judge, prosecutor, Attorney

General, public defender, probation/community corrections, drug court coordinator, case manager, drug/alcohol treatment provider, mental health provider, school representative, law enforcement, guardian ad litem and “other.” Respondents were given the option of checking

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never, once, or more than two times. If the respondent was unsure of the answer, they were

allowed to skip forward.

If the positions had experienced turnover, then the respondent was asked to report the

reason why. Options included: lost funding, person poor fit, person reassigned by parent agency,

or “other.” A large portion of respondents listed various reasons in “other” and these reasons were coded to reflect a general set of answers, including end of rotation, resigned/retired, new election, conflict with team members, terminated, heavy workload, and poor fit and therefore reassigned.

The final question asked under this section was an overall belief question. Respondents were asked “In the last three years, do you believe the drug court team membership has been…”.

Answers were in Likert format (1-4) and included very unstable, mostly unstable, mostly stable

or very stable.

Strengths and Limitations of Sample:

Given the strong outcomes associated with drug court programs, a great deal of research

is currently underway in an attempt to explore the relationships and interactions that may be

leading to such success. In essence, the drug court field is under a constant state of research.

Obviously efforts include individual level program evaluation, but a large body of research being

conducted at both the academic and federal level is also seeking to answer the “why do they

work?” question (Marlowe et al., 2006; Rempel & Cissner, 2006). This results in a situation

whereby drug courts are asked to submit surveys, data, policies and practices on a regular basis.

Much of these requests often fall to the drug court coordinator to process, and is likely the reason

why there was such a large response by Coordinators on this survey. This survey is unique in

that it was sent directly to all team members (when email addresses were available), but issues

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such as workload, unfamiliarity with a survey process, and even distrust may have impeded some drug court team members from survey participation. While 295 survey responses is a strong

beginning, this research could have benefitted from a stronger response from both prosecutors

and defense attorneys. Direct outreach was made at the national level with both groups to seek

assistance in obtaining a stronger response, but no correspondence was returned. Such a large

return from a single position does not allow for this research to capture many of the nuances that likely exists among the various team member perceptions.

This research effort was limited both in terms of time and resources. This research is intended to serve as an exploratory exercise and this author is optimistic that the findings from this research will lead to a new line of inquiry and research to be more fully explored in the rapidly growing drug court field. In the next chapter, detailed statistical analyses and findings will be explored and presented. Drug court and professional characteristics, including sex of respondent, age, education, tenure on drug court, time dedicated to drug court, training, type of court, role on team, will all be utilized as independent variables. Relationships between the drug court and professional characteristics and the model adherence, judicial and team collaboration, personal and system benefits and drawbacks scales will be explored. In addition, the drug court and professional characteristic variables will used to determine possible covariation with the accountability oriented change scale, the treatment oriented change scale, and the various challenge scales.

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CHAPTER FIVE: Results

Introduction

This analysis examines current and former drug court team member perceptions of various

operational dynamics of their drug court model. In this chapter, numerous program functions

will be analyzed, including adoption and use of the 10 key components/16 strategies,

incorporation of NDCI/NCJFCJ supported philosophical orientations, ability of team members to

adopt integrated vs. traditional team work styles, acknowledgement of benefits vs. drawbacks of

the drug court process, and team processing of program challenges. For each research question,

univariate results are reported to allow for an initial description of specific findings on selected

questions. Next, bivariate analyses are presented to explore potential relationships between team

member perceptions, professional and drug court tenure and drug court operations. Finally,

multivariate analyses, specifically linear and logistic regression, are displayed to determine

which variables account for some of the dependent responses.

Respondent and Court Characteristics

Sixty-one percent of survey respondents are from adult drug courts and 39% from juvenile

drug courts (see Table 17). The largest amount of responses returned was from Coordinators

(38%), followed by Probation/Case Managers (18%). The lowest responses from the traditional team members are from attorneys, both the prosecutor (8%) and the defense attorney (7%). The average amount of time served on a drug court is 51 months, and the average time employed at the respondent’s home agency is 9.2 years.6 The majority of respondents held degrees from

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higher education, including bachelors degrees (30%), Masters degrees (28%) and Juris Doctorate

degrees (26%). These findings indicate that possibly, as criminal justice and treatment

professionals become more experienced, they are more likely to recognize the importance of

utilizing different models and procedures to obtain better outcomes for defendants, and hence become involved in programs such as drug courts.

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Table 17: Respondent Characteristics Characteristic n % S.D. Type of Court (n=295) Juvenile (115) 39 Adult* (180) 61

Role on Team (n=288) Judge (30) 10 Prosecutor (22) 8 Defense Attorney (19) 7 Probation/Case Manager (52) 18 Coordinator (109) 38 Treatment (38) 13 Secondary/Other** (18) 6

Sex (n=260) Male (103) 40 Female (157) 60

Education Diploma/GED (12) 5 Associate Degree (17) 7 Bachelors Degree (78) 30 Masters Degree (73) 28 Ph.D. (5) 2 Juris Doctorate (67) 26 Other (7) 3

Age (mean) (259) 46 10.85 (range 24 to 72)

Mean Months on Team (285) 52 37.35 (range 2 to 165)

Mean Years at Home Agency (277) 9.2 7.3 (range 0 to 37 years)

Percent of time dedicated (295) 55 37.81 To drug court (10 to 100 percent) *Includes 19 family drug courts **Includes Law enforcement, GAL, schools, and agency administrators

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Analysis of drug court program characteristics reveals that most courts operate through a

county-level jurisdiction (81%), and are built to handle less than 40 offenders at a time (66%).

While the majority of programs are designed to handle smaller numbers of offenders, reaching

capacity is a concern for most operational drug courts. 35% of drug courts reported operating at

less than 75% capacity. One criticism of the drug court process is that for some clients, the road

to graduation can be unnecessarily long and arduous. When asked to report graduation rates,

64% (n=137) reported that on average their program graduates less than 10 clients per year. A

cross-tabulation was executed to understand the difference between graduation rates of juvenile

and adult drug courts. It appears that juvenile drug courts are not only built to handle a smaller number of clients, but they also have lower graduation percentages, with 71% (n=65) of juvenile drug courts reporting less than 10 graduates per year, and 58% (n=72) of adult drug courts reporting less than 10 graduates per year. Seventeen percent of adult drug courts (n=22) have graduation rates between 11 and 20 per year, while 21% of juvenile drug courts (n=19) graduate up to 20 youth a year.

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Table 18: Court Characteristics Median and Characteristics n % S.D. Jurisdiction of Court (n=289) Municipal/City (10) 3 Median = 2.0 County (234) 81 s.d. = .593 Bi-County (34) 12 Other/State/Tribal (11) 5

Capacity (n=275) 0 to 10 (21) 7 Median = 3.0 11 to 20 (71) 26 s.d. 3.159 21 to 30 (63) 23 31 to 40 (27) 10 41 to 50 (31) 11 51 and above* (62) 23

Graduation Rates (n=214) Less than 10 (137) 64 Median = 1.0 11 to 20 (41) 19 s.d. = 1.703 21 to 30 (11) 5 31 and above (25) 15

* 11 courts reported capacity for 200 clients or more

One recent concern within the drug court model has been the presence or absence of

various drug court team members in staffing and/or court sessions (see Carey & Finigan, 2006,

Carey et al., 2008). Team members cite different reasons for failure to participate, including

concerns over ex parte communication, breach of confidentiality and workload. To explore this question further, respondents were asked how often they attended both staffing and court. As

Table 19 below highlights, 94% (n=274) of respondents report attending staffing, and 96%

(n=276) attend court. Coordinators (24%), probation officers (24%) and judges (18%) were the team members most likely to report that they did not attend staffing. Generally, all core team

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members attend the court session, but 42% of secondary services/support (e.g. law enforcement,

schools, GAL) respondents reported non-attendance for court.

Table 19: Staffing and Court Participation Yes No

% (n) % (n)

Staffing (n=291) 94 (274) 6 (17)

Court (n=288) 96 (276) 4 (12)

One final variable to consider is the amount and types of training that drug court

practitioners are exposed to and afforded. It would appear logical, and is supported in the

implementation and collaboration literature (Gray, 1989; Latessa & Lowenkamp, 2006; Mendell

& Steelman, 2006), that team members that receive stronger amounts of professionalized training

will in fact engage in stronger model adherence, and also have greater insight into how the drug

court model should actually operate. Analysis of these findings show that reported training

levels are high, with 85% (n=202) of training opportunities occurring on the job. Eighty-three percent (n=217) of respondents reported that they participated in state-level training opportunities. At the federal level, and via programs offered by the National Drug Court

Institute/National Association of Drug Court Professionals and the National Council of Juvenile

and Family Court Judges, training rates were not as frequent. Seventy-three percent of

respondents (n=198) had participated in some form of NDCI/NADCP training, but only 29%

(n=63) of respondents had participated in a NCJFCJ sponsored training. Due to this low

response of juvenile and family drug court training types (NCJFJC and OJJDP), and the limited

applicability across adult drug courts, the Juvenile and Family Training Index (described in

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Chapter Four) is not utilized for analysis purposes. Table 20 below outlines the findings from this set of training questions.

Table 20: Training Descriptives Yes No % (n) % (n) NADCP/NDCI 73 (198) 27 (72) NCJFCJ 29 (63) 71 (153) OJJDP 31 (66) 69 (144) State level training 83 (217) 17 (44) Local training 72 (181) 28 (71) In-house training 71 (172) 29 (70) On the job training 85 (202) 15 (15)

Drug Court Model Adherence

Overall, drug court survey respondents report a high level of adherence to the core

principles outlined in the 10 key components and/or 16 strategies (Table 21). Ninety-six percent

(n=275) of respondents maintain that they engage in a non-adversarial process and are interdisciplinary in their work. The responses that received the lowest responses, even though still moderately strong, were to the questions centered on treatment, evaluation and cultural/gender/developmentally appropriate services. Seventy-two percent (n=206) of respondents believe that they understand the treatment process, while 73% (n=210) understand the need for and the process of outside evaluation, and 74% perceived the court as culturally responsive.

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Table 21: Perception of Adherence to 10 Key Components/16 Strategies Agree Disagree

Variable % (n) % (n)

Use a non-adversarial approach 96 (275) 4 (11)

Follow eligibility criteria 91 (261) 9 (24)

Accept target population only 85 (242) 15 (43)

Utilize continuum of treatment options 96 (274) 4 (12)

Receive on-going education on TX 78 (2 23) 22 (62)

Utilize drug testing 99 (282) 1 (04)

Skilled in interpreting drug testing measures 93 (267) 7 (19)

Proper use of incentives/sanctions 91 (260) 09 (26)

Judge understands role 94 (268) 06 (18)

Team members understand role 84 (239) 16 (47)

Team understands evaluation procedures 73 (210) 27 (76)

Team is interdisciplinary 96 (273) 4 (13)

Team values goal of treatment 87 (248) 13 (38)

Team understands treatment process 72 (206) 28 (80)

Team values and builds partnerships 92 (262) 8 (24)

Treatment tailored to developmental needs 88 (252) 12 (34)

Team is gender and culturally responsive 74 (211) 26 (75)

Utilize strength-based approaches 89 (255) 11 (31)

Team engages family members 75 (213) 25 (73)

Team values family as partners 84 (240) 16 (46)

Confidentiality policies are in place 94 (269) 6 (17)

Note: ! =.839

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It is reasonable to assume that perceived adherence to the key components of drug courts

are related to training opportunities (whereby the information is disseminated), time spent

serving on the team, and percentage of time dedicated to the drug court model (which would

allow for greater assimilation of the components). There may also be a relationship between

perceptions and basic personal characteristics such as sex of respondent, education levels and

age. For this research, correlations are executed to determine whether the independent variables of training, role, type of court, months on team, tenure, capacity, and respondent age, sex and

education are associated with adherence to the model. As Table 22 below highlights, five

variables are related to adherence to the model and include months on team, percentage of time

assigned to drug court, program capacity, holding the role of prosecutor/probation, the role of

coordinator, and training.

Table 22: Model Adherence and Professional/Personal Characteristics Correlation Variable Significance Coefficient Months on Team .092 .032 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .145 .001 Home Agency Tenure -.039 .423 Program Capacity .079 .077 Type of Court .047 .427 Judge Role .068 .189 Prosecutor/Probation Role -.133 .011 Defense/TX Role -.028 .585 Coordinator Role .099 .058 Training .316 .000

The correlations reveal that months on team (r=.092) and percent of time dedicated to drug

court (r=.145) exhibit a small effect. Holding the role of coordinator (r=.099), as compared to other positions reveals a small effect and is moderately significant. Training (r=.316) exhibits a

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moderate effect, and reveals that higher scores on the model adherence scale are associated with

varied and greater amounts of training. In other words, as drug court personnel become more

fully and comprehensively trained, their beliefs that they are fully operating within the model is

likely to increase. Holding the position of prosecutor/probation officer (r=-.133) is negatively related to perceptions of model adherence. Those respondents that held the role of prosecutor or probation officer, as compared to other team members, were less likely to report strong model adherence.

To further test the correlations, linear regression is conducted to investigate the relationships found between training, months on team, percent of time dedicated to drug court program capacity and positions. Although the overall model is significant (R2= .097, p=.000),

after controlling for the five variables, only training (p=.001) is significantly related to the model

adherence scale.

Table 23: Linear Regression for Model Adherence Scale Dependent Variable: Covariate b S.E. Sig (p) Model Adherence Scale Months on team .002 .005 .715 % of Time on Drug Ct .009 .005 .065 Prosecutor/Probation position -.391 .457 .394 Coordinator position -.204 .425 .631 Training .440 .125 .001

Model Fit: R2=.097, df=5, F=5.317, p=.000

As can be seen in the table, as the amount and type of training increases, perceptions of

model adherence increases. As team members become more educated about the components and

strategies, and their knowledge level increases, their ability to ensure that the team is following

the model increases, which will be discussed further in Chapter six.

After questioning survey respondents about their perceptions of adherence to each of the

various components and strategies of drug courts, drug court team members were provided a

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simple one line question that asked whether they believed their court operated based on the 10

key components and/or 16 strategies in practice. This question was meant to capture a general, overall sense of compliance to the 10 key components and/or 16 strategies in practice. This was viewed as an important question given that jurisdictions have a strong amount of discretion in determining how their drug courts will be structured, and what type(s) of guiding principles and components the program will utilize for operation. Respondents were given the choice of yes,

somewhat, no, unknown and not applicable (1 to 5 coding). Two of the questions are collapsed

(no and not applicable) for analysis purposes.

In general, adult drug courts report fairly high levels general 10 key component adoption

and operation. Sixty-five percent (n=113) of adult drug court respondents report general

adherence to the 10 key components, and 20% percent (n=35) report that the court somewhat

follows the model. Such levels of general adherence are not duplicated at the juvenile court

level. Tables 24 highlights juvenile team member responses by court involvement. It is

interesting to note that 32% (n=35) of the juvenile drug court survey respondents answered

“unknown” as to whether their court operated under the 16 Strategies and 28% (n=31) reported

“somewhat.” Juvenile drug court respondents appear to understand or more fully adopt the 10

key components. Forty-seven percent (n=52) of juvenile drug court team members report that

they follow the 10 key components for program operation. Only 8% (n=9) of juvenile drug court

respondents reported that the 10 key components were not applicable. This finding highlights the level of discretion that is available to teams when considering and adopting practices and will

also be discussed further in Chapter six.

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Table 24: Juvenile Drug Court Responses by General Model Application: 10 key components vs. 16 Strategies

Components/Strategies Yes Somewhat No/Not Unknown Applicable % (n) % (n) % (n) % (n) 16 Strategies in 36 (40) 28 (31) 5 (5) 32 (35) Practice (n=111)

10 Key Components (n=111) 47 (52) 26 (29) 8 (9) 19 (21)

Team Dynamics and Collaboration

Overall, team members report generally high levels of collaboration across all team

member roles. According to respondents, the highest levels of collaboration exist among the

case managers (95%), drug and alcohol providers (93%), judge (92%), and mental health treatment providers (92%). It is interesting to note that those considered to be the least likely to be collaborative are those in traditional criminal justice roles such as the prosecutor, state attorney, defense attorney, law enforcement, and probation/parole officer positions.

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Table 25: Collaborative versus Adversarial Summary Team Member Role Adversarial Collaborative

% (n) % (n) (sd)

Judge 8 (20) 92 (243) .26

Prosecutor 22 (46) 78 (168) .41

State Attorney General 32 (15) 78 (32) .47

Defense Attorney 24 (55) 76 (178) .42

Probation/Parole 21 (48) 79 (182) .40

Coordinator 11 (26) 89 (212) .31

Case Manager 5 (8) 95 (144) .22

Drug/Alcohol Treatment 7 (18) 93 (227) .26

Mental Health Treatment 8 (9) 92 (110) .26

Schools 14 (10) 86 (61) .35

Law Enforcement 22 (25) 78 (87) .41

Guardian Ad Litem 3 (1) 97 (29) .18

In addition to reporting fairly high rates of collaboration among team member roles, respondents strongly believe that they are able to engage in creative problem solving, understand and incorporate diverse views, obtain mutually established goals, respond to needs of clients and match services to program needs. Each of these characteristics of collaboration were used to create the Collaboration Indicator Scale and compared to professional and program related measures.

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Characteristics of Collaboration

First, correlations were conducted to determine if various professional and program related

variables are associated with the Collaboration Indicator Scale ( = 16.22). As can be seen in

Table 26, the majority of variables are insignificant in explaining the perceived high levels of collaboration in drug courts. Two variables, program capacity (size of drug court) (r = .137) and

training (r=.162), are found to have some small relationship to perceptions of reaching a true

state of collaboration, although the findings for training is a negative relationship. Therefore,

team members that report various and stronger levels of training are more likely to perceive

collaborative benefits.

Table 26: Collaboration Indicator Scale Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team .100 .114 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .109 .079 Home Agency Tenure -.104 .107 Age of Respondent .066 .293 Sex of Respondent (male) .001 .988 Education Level .054 .395 Type of Drug Court .014 .824 Size of Court .182 .004 Judge Role .088 .163 Prosecutor/Probation Role -.051 .422 Defense/TX Role .005 .934 Coordinator Role -.012 .847 Training .162 .024

To examine these relationships further, linear regression is conducted to explore how

characteristics of drug courts and professionals are related to collaboration. Table 27 highlights

the results, and reveals that a weak 4% of the variance in the model can be explained for by these

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two variables, and therefore these findings should be interpreted with caution. Size of court was

significantly related (p=.028) to collaboration. Respondents that reported receiving various training modalities display a positive relationship, although it only approaches significance

(p=.062).

Table 27: Linear Regression for Collaborator Indicator Scale

Dependent Variable: Covariates b S.E. Sig (p) Collaboration Indicator Scale Training .270 .144 .062 Size of court .006 .004 .028

Model Fit: R2=.041, df=2, F=5.096, p=.007

Judge and Collaboration

A central tenet of the drug court model is that the judge is to serve as a leader and engage in a collaborative process with the designated team. The Judicial Collaboration Scale ( =

14.05) revealed that respondents perceive the judge to be highly collaborative and a team leader.

Correlations were executed to assess any potential relationships between numerous variables

related to court and professional characteristics. The majority of variables are insignificant (see

Table 28) in explaining the perceived high levels of judicial collaboration in drug courts. One

variable, type of drug court (r= .106) was found to have a significant, yet small relationship to

the scale.

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Table 28: Judicial Collaboration Scale Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team .052 .256 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court -.028 .567 Home Agency Tenure -.010 .841 Age of Respondent .034 .460 Sex of Respondent (male) -.035 .529 Education Level -.040 .431 Type of Drug Court .106 .054 Size of Court -.024 .608 Judge Role .085 .123 Prosecutor/Probation Role -.050 .362 Defense/TX Role -.058 .291 Coordinator Role .043 .442 Training .052 .369

Benefits and Drawbacks of Collaboration and Team Participation

Team members were asked a set of questions regarding benefits and drawbacks to

participation in the drug court model. These questions attempted to assess general perceptions of

trust, enhanced skills and work abilities, networking, collaboration across new systems as well as political, social and community support. Generally, respondents reported strong levels of benefit from drug court involvement, with the strongest responses centered on concepts of enhanced relationships and services (see Table 29). Team members believe that through drug court participation they are able to gain an enhanced ability to meet their client needs (94%), and that their knowledge of programs and services in the community increases dramatically (94%).

Survey respondents do not feel that drug court participation necessarily allows them to garner more resources for the program (52% agreed), and 62% maintain that they are able to affect policy changes through their drug court participation.

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Table 29: Perceived Benefit of Drug Court Participation Benefit Agree Disagree

% (n) % (n) (sd) Enhanced ability to address 94 (243) 6 (17) .25 important client issues. Development of new skills 78 (229) 11 (29) .32 Enhanced trust between social service agencies and the 87 (220) 13 (34) .34 criminal justice system Enhanced trust between the public health and criminal justice 79 (197) 21 (51) .40 system Enhanced trust between the educational and criminal 82 (197) 18 (42) .38 justice system

Heightened public profile 75 (188) 25 (64) .44 Increased utilization of my 89 (228) 11 (29) .32 expertise or services

Acquisition of useful knowledge about services, programs, or 94 (239) 6 (15) .24 people in the community

Enhanced ability to affect public 62 (157) 38 (98) .49 policy Development of valuable new 94 (244) 6 (16) .24 relationships Enhanced ability to meet the needs of my constituency or 92 (235) 8 (21) .28 clients Ability to have greater impact 93 (238) 7 (19) .26 than I could have on my own Ability to make a contribution to 95 (247) 5 (12) .21 the community Acquisition of additional financial 52 (130) 48 (120) .50 support Less professional stress 45 (113) 55 (140) .50

More professional accountability 82 (210) 18 (45) .38

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Perceptions of drawbacks are focused on increased stress, new levels of accountability,

frustration, diversion of resources and lack of influence on team decision-making. The same response theme found in the drug court benefit questions continues with this set of questions. On

perceived drug court drawbacks, survey respondents believe that the process of team

participation and garnering of services actually creates an advantage over traditional system

processes (see Table 30 below). Only 15% of respondents believe that they lack a voice or influence when participating on the team, and just 16% of team members believe that working in the drug court is perceived negatively by their peers. Team members do report, however, a fair amount of increased professional stress (46%), and accountability (47%). Team members also experience not only general frustration/aggravation (48%), but also frustration when team members do not follow through or do what is expected of them (53%).

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Table 30: Drug Court Drawback Summary Questions Agree Disagree

% (n) % (n) (sd) Serious diversion of time and resources away from other 31 (79) 69 (177) .46 priorities or obligations Insufficient influence on drug 15 (39) 85 (216) .36 court decisions Viewed negatively by peers due to your association 16 (42) 84 (214) .37 with other partners or the partnership Frustration or aggravation 48 (124) 52 (135) .50 Insufficient credit given to me for contributing to the 20 (52) 80 (203) .40 accomplishments of the partnership Conflict between my job and 18 (45) 82 (210) .38 the work of the drug court More professional stress 46 (117) 55 (140) .50 More professional 47 (118) 53 (133) .50 accountability Frustration when team members do not follow 53 (135) 47 (121) .50 through on assignments/agreements

Respondents were asked an overall and general drawbacks versus benefits question. As

can be seen in Table 31, drug court team members expressed a strong belief in the benefits of

drug court participation (!" = 2.81), with only 6% of respondents (n=15) maintaining that the

drawbacks exceed the benefits of participating on the team and in the court.

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Table 31: Overall Benefits versus Drawbacks Findings % (n)

Benefits exceed drawbacks 87 (288) Benefits and drawbacks are about equal 7 (19) Drawbacks exceed benefits 6 (15)

Mean = 2.81 SD = 0.51

In an attempt to determine what factors or conditions create such positive opinions,

bivariate and multivariate analyses is conducted on four different scales. First, bivariate analysis is conducted on drug court and professional characteristic variables and the Personal Benefits

Scale ( = 30.38) and the Personal Drawbacks Scale ( = 10.4) . As Table 32 below highlights, only a few variables are correlated with perceived benefits and drawbacks of drug court participation.

For the perceived Personal Benefits Scale, percent of time dedicated to drug court

(r=.124), sex of respondent (r=-.135), and holding the role of prosecutor/probation officer (r=-

.141, p=.010) are significantly correlated, although the strength of the relationship for each

variable is small. In addition, the prosecutor/probation officer position displays a negative

relationship. Training is also correlated with the Personal Benefits Scale (r=.293). As can be

seen, this relationship is more moderate, but essentially, team members that have experienced

training are more likely to report stronger outcomes in the personal benefits scale. In addition,

holding the role of the prosecutor or probation officer (as compared to other team members)

results in a negative relationship. Relative to other team member types, prosecutors and

probation officers are less likely to perceive as many personal benefits as other members of the

team. As can be seen in Table 32, there are no variables that are correlated to the personal

126 drawback scale and therefore no further analysis is conducted for that scale.

Table 32: Personal Benefits & Drawback Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Benefits Months on Team .075 .095 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .124 .010 Home Agency Tenure -.036 .448 Age of Respondent .026 .572 Sex of Respondent (male) -.135 .014 Education Level -.090 .070 Type of Drug Court .080 .141 Judge Role .091 .097 Prosecutor/Probation Role -.141 .010 Defense/TX Role .032 .557 Coordinator Role .044 .423 Training .293 .000

Drawbacks Months on Team .104 .108 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .042 .507 Home Agency Tenure -.094 .156 Age of Respondent .051 .427 Sex of Respondent (male) .104 .106 Education Level .017 .788 Type of Drug Court -.025 .699 Role of Judge .087 .179 Role of Prosecutor/Probation -.018 .783 Role of Defense/TX .067 .301 Role of Coordinator -.091 .169 Training -.120 .106

Based on the results displayed in Table 32, a linear regression analysis is conducted to further explore the relationship between personal benefits of drug court participation and time devoted to the drug court model. Results for this model (see Table 33 below) show an overall significance (p=.000) and 12% of the perceived personal benefits can be explained by the time dedicated to drug court, the role of the prosecutor/probation officer, sex of the respondent and

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training. As training levels increase, perceived personal benefits increase according to these

findings. Male survey respondents report lower perceived personal benefits, as compared to

females. Prosecutors/Probation officers also appear to experience lower personal benefits from drug court participation as compared to other team members.

Table 33: Linear Regression on Personal Benefits Scale Dependent Variable: Covariate b S.E. Sig (p) Personal Benefit Scale % of Time on Drug Ct .012 .009 .184 Sex of Respondent (M) -1.299 .684 .059 Role of Prosecutor/Prob -1.603 .762 .037 Training .757 .235 .002 Model fit; R2=.124, df=4, F=7.490, p=.000

Bivariate analysis is conducted for the System Benefit Scale ( =15.1) and System Drawback

Scale ( =14.8). As is highlighted in Table 34 below, months on team (r=.144), percent of time

dedicated to drug court (r=.148), education level (r=-.120), type of drug court (r=.129), the role

of judge (r=.136), holding the role of prosecutor/probation officer (r= -.232), and training

(r=.244) are all associated with experienced systems benefits. As was found with the personal

benefit correlations, these relationships are small, but significant. As training levels increase, team members are more likely to perceive strong systems benefits from involvement in the drug court. These findings again indicate a negative relationship for prosecutors and probation officers. These two positions are less likely than other team members to perceive strong systems benefits from drug court participation.

When executing bivariate analyses to determine associations between key variables and the

System Drawback Scale, three variables, including months on team (r=.169), age of respondent

(r=.100) and role of judge (r=.177) are correlated with the scale. As has been found throughout

this section of analyses, the relationships are small, yet positive and significant. This scale is

reverse coded, and therefore, judges, those that have spent more time participating in the drug

128 court, and older team members are less likely to believe that participation drawbacks exist compared to other respondents.

Table 34: System Benefits & Drawbacks Correlations Variable Correlation Significance Benefits: Months on Team .144 .031 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .148 .024 Home Agency Tenure -.106 .115 Age of Respondent .029 .541 Sex of Respondent (male) -.079 .088 Education Level -.120 .020 Type of Drug Court .129 .050 Role of Judge .136 .040 Role of Prosecutor/Probation -.232 .000 Role of Defense/TX .036 .586 Role of Coordinator .091 .171 Training .244 .001

Drawbacks: Months on Team .169 .008 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .046 .475 Home Agency Tenure -.055 .396 Age of Respondent .100 .028 Sex of Respondent (male) .113 .071 Education Level -.007 .895 Type of Drug Court .012 .852 Role of Judge .177 .006 Role of Prosecutor/Probation -.138 .032 Role of Defense/TX -.071 .271 Role of Coordinator .072 .261 Training .055 .453

For the Systems Benefits Scale, as is shown in Table 35, when the linear regression is executed, 14% of the variance in the model can be explained by these variables. There are a few interesting findings that center on education, training and judge role. As levels of education go down for respondents, perceived levels of system benefits goes up. The opposite is true for training. As types and amount of training goes up, perceived levels of system benefits increases.

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In addition, going from a non-judge role to the role of judge increases beliefs in system benefits.

Table 35: Linear Regression on System Benefits Scale Dependent Variable: Covariates b S.E. Sig (p) Systems Benefit Scale % of Time on Drug Ct .005 .007 .434 Months on Team .007 .006 .232 Type of Court .563 .446 .208 Level of Education -.506 .162 .002 Role of Judge 2.232 .812 .007 Role of Prosecutor/Prob -.944 .520 .072 Training .359 .162 .029

Model fit: R2=.143, df=7, F= 5.150 p=.000

Finally, linear regression is executed on correlated variables and the System Drawbacks

Scale. Three variables are associated with attitudes about system drawbacks via drug court participation. As months on team increases, so to does perception of disagreement about system

drawbacks. As is noted below, however, the unstandardized coefficient is very small, and

indicates that most likely these two variables are not linearly dependent on each other. Finally,

role of judge, as compared to the non-judge roles is significant (p=.012). As was noted in

Chapter Four, this scale is reverse coded. Therefore, judges, as compared to other team members

are less likely to perceive as many system drawbacks from drug court participation.

Table 36: Linear Regression on Systems Drawbacks Scale Dependent Variable: Covariates b S.E. Sig (p) Systems Drawback Scale Months on Team .011 .005 .023 Age of Respondent .008 .018 .675 Role of Judge 1.458 .577 .012

Model fit: R2 =.046, df=3, F= 4.765, p=.003

As is captured in the analyses above, team members report a strong sense of collaboration,

as captured by the high mean score on the collaboration scale, and when drawbacks do exist, the impact appears to be minimal. In addition, certain team members appear to hold stronger beliefs

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about the benefits of drug court participation than do others. As is well discussed in the

collaboration literature, however, is the reality that capturing exactly what influences and makes

a collaborative enterprise successful is complex and varies across discipline, time, location and by type of members involved (Gray, 1989; Huxham, 2002). Given that teams perceive strong levels of collaboration, it is also important to assess whether or not these synergistic teams employ the necessary drug court philosophies, and if not, what sort of challenges cause the court to experience mission creep or program drift.

Drug Court Team Drift

The criminal justice system has a long record of failed program implementation efforts,

as well as programs that “drift” away from their original intended outline, structure and focus.

Drug court research is beginning to uncover some of these same issues (see Carey and Finigan,

2006; Rodriquez et al., 2008, for examples) and therefore this next set of analyses seeks to determine if drug court “drift” is occurring within courts, and if so, what some of the potential causes and challenges may be.

First, survey respondents were asked which team members they believed still operated in their traditional, “business as usual” role when discussing policy, and which team members are more likely to engage in an integrated manner. Table 37 outlines the findings, and shows that when behind closed doors, prosecutors and defense attorneys appear to revert to their traditional, adversarial role on policy issues. According to respondents, 44% (n=91) of prosecutors, 53%

(n=21) of State Attorney Generals, and 36% (n=79) of defense attorneys operate through a traditional “lens” when it comes to making policy decisions surrounding drug court operations.

When it comes to operating in a more integrated fashion, coordinators (85%, n=194) and case managers (82%, n=110) appear to embrace this shift most thoroughly. Given that the position of

131 coordinator specifically exists as a support and administrator for the overall program, they are charged with managing and maintaining the team. Therefore, such findings should not be surprising.

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Table 37: Traditional vs. Integrated Drug Court Participation

Team Member Role Traditional Integrated

% (n) % (n) (sd)

Judge 27 (68) 72 (181) .44

Prosecutor 44 (91) 55 (115) .49

State Attorney General 54 (21) 46 (18) .50

Defense Attorney 36 (79) 64 (143) .47

Probation/Parole 38 (80) 62 (131) .48

Coordinator 15 (34) 85 (194) .35

Case Manager 18 (24) 82 (110) .38

Drug/Alcohol Treatment 24 (54) 76 (168) .43

Mental Health Treatment 24 (25) 76 (78) .43

Schools 39 (24) 61 (37) .49

Law Enforcement 44 (48) 56 (60) .49

Guardian Ad Litem 22 (5) 78 (18) .42

Critical to operating in an integrated fashion is the necessary ability to adopt the

philosophies that best meet the needs of the collaborative and the client. To explore these findings further, a set of questions were asked of survey respondents that are focused on how courts should operate, what types of philosophies they actually employ and utilize, and if change to the program has occurred over time. In the sections below, descriptive, bivarate and multivariate techniques are used to analyze these questions.

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Philosophy that Court Should Utilize vs. Does Utilize

The results from these questions reveal some interesting trends. Drug courts, in order to be most effective, must be able to adopt to various philosophical roles in order to meet the needs of clients. A major premise behind the model is that drug courts operate as a balance between accountability and treatment (NDCI, 1997; NCJFCJ, 2003), that they employ a strength-based approach and that all clients are afforded due process throughout participation (Hora, 2002;

NDCI 1997; NCJFCJ, 2003). Several of these findings are worthy of closer discussion.

First, as can be seen in Table 38, 52% of respondents believe that a punishment or punitive philosophy should not drive court decision-making about clients each week. In actual operation, however, 69% of courts report that a punishment/punitive viewpoint drives decision- making on client matters. Even if the court embraces a punishment attitude, if other approaches are also utilized, such as strength-based and a balanced approach, then the drug court should, in theory, provide a steady foundation for decision making. In fact, 92% of respondents state that in theory their drug court should provide a balanced approach, which places equal emphasis on treatment and accountability. Eighty-seven percent of respondents report that they allow a

balanced approach to guide their decision making each week. Finally, 100% of all respondents

reported that their court should embrace and provide a strength-based approach, yet 87% of

respondents believe that they actually do engage in strength-based interactions for evaluating

clients each week.

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Table 38: Philosophical Orientation—Team member beliefs on what should versus does guide team decision during staffing Strongly Strongly Philosophy (N) Agree Disagree Agree Disagree

Should Guide: Offender (278) 73% 26% 1% ------Accountability Does Guide: Offender (276) 61% 36% 2% 1% Accountability Should Guide: Crime (273) 48% 44% 7% 1% Prevention

Does Guide: Crime (271) 32% 51% 15% 2% Prevention Should Guide: (267) 9% 39% 42% 10% Punishment/Punitive Does Guide: Punishment (264) 19% 50% 28% 4% Punitive Should Guide: (273) 69% 30% ----- 1% Rehabilitation Does Guide: (269) 50% 48% 2% ----- Rehabilitation Should Guide: Balanced (274) 56% 36% 7% 1% Approach Does Guide: Balanced (271) 38% 49% 12% 1% Approach Should Guide: Strength- (274) 67% 33% 1% ----- Based Approach Does Guide: Strength- (271) 41% 47% 12% 1% Based Approach Should Guide: (269) 30% 51% 18% 1% Surveillance Does Guide: Surveillance (268) 25% 54% 19% 2%

Should Guide: Due (271) 54% 43% 3% ---- Process/Fairness Does Guide: Due (267) 39% 50% 9% 2% Process/Fairness

To further explore these findings, Chi-Square is conducted on each of the philosophical

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orientations.7 Only two models are significant, and as shown in Tables 39 and 40, the pattern of responses between the two categories of should versus does punish are significantly different (p

=.000). In addition, the responses between the should versus does provide a balance approach are also significant (p =.006).

As can be seen in Table 39, a large amount of survey respondents believe that the drug

court should provide, and that they actually deliver, a punishment oriented approach to clients.

Less than half of respondents believe that the drug court should provide a punishment/punitive

approach, but report that in reality the court actually does embrace such an ideology.

Table 39: Should versus Does Embrace Punishment/Punitive Philosophy Should Use Punishment/Punitive Disagree Agree % (n) % (n)

Does Use Punishment/Punitive Disagree 53 (71) 9 (11) Agree 47 (62) 91 (114)

Note: p = .000, df=1, n=258

Drug courts are able to embrace many different philosophical models in order to meet the

needs of clients. Table 40 highlights the application and use of the balanced approach by teams.

Ninety percent of respondents report that the court should, and actually does, provide a balanced

approach when dealing with client matters. A small amount of respondents actually reported that

the court should not use a balanced approach in dealing with offenders within the drug court

model.

7 For analysis purposes, the reduced agree/disagree model is used.

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Table 40: Should versus Does Embrace Balanced Approach Philosophy Should Use Balanced Approach Disagree Agree % (n) % (n)

Does Use Balance Approach Disagree 31 (6) 10 (26) Agree 68 (13) 90 (222)

Note: p = .006, df=1, n=267

To analyze these findings more closely, correlations and logistic regression are conducted

on both ideologies. First, correlations are conducted on the punishment/punitive findings in an

attempt to understand if there are other moderating variables impacting the relationship found

above.8 As can be seen in Table 41 numerous variables are explored, including months on the team, program capacity, home agency tenure, percentage of time dedicated to drug court, training, sex of respondent, and education of respondent. Because the respondents were asked their perceptions regarding if they believed the court should employ or utilize a

punishment/punitive philosophy, this finding is executed as an independent variable.

8 The reduced agree/disagree model, outlined in Chapter four is utilized for the two logistic regression models.

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Table 41: Court Does Execute Punishment/Punitive Philosophy

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team -.041 .428 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .101 .064 Home Agency Tenure -.136 .011 Age of Respondent .044 .405 Sex of Respondent (male) -.044 .489 Education Level -.100 .084 Type of Drug Court -.093 .131 Size of Court .059 .271 Judge Role -.119 .056 Prosecutor/Probation Role -.069 .271 Defense/TX Role -.098 .115 Coordinator Role .043 .442 Training .063 .330 Should Punish Philosophy .479 .000

Analysis of the correlation data reveals that the perception that drug courts should punish

(r=.479) and home agency tenure (r=-.136) are related to the belief that the court actually does

engage in a punishment/punitive ideology. The perception of the respondents that the court

should employ a punishment/punitive philosophy displays a moderate effect, while home agency

tenure displays a small, yet negative effect. Therefore, those that have fewer years of experience

at their home agency are more likely to believe that the court does utilize a punishment/punitive

philosophy. In addition, the role of judge approaches significance, and reveals that judges (r=-

.119) are less likely than other team members to believe that the court does actually execute a

punishment/punitive philosophy.

Next, logistic regression is executed utilizing the information found above. Thirty one percent (R! =.307) of the variation in the fact that drug courts actually operate under a

punishment/punitive philosophy can be accounted for by these two variables. Respondents who

reported that the court should provide a punishment/punitive approach were ten times more

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likely to actually believe that the court does provide such a process than other respondents.

Home agency tenure was not found to be significant.

Table 42: Logistic Regression Punishment/Punitive Philosophy Application Dependent Variable: Independent Variable b S.E. Sig Exp(B) Does Punish/Punitive Should Punish/Punitive 2.345 .365 .000 10.436 Home agency tenure -.032 .020 .109 .968

Note: !"#$%&'&(; R! =.307, df=2, p=.000

Correlations are next conducted for the balanced approach ideology. The drug court and

professional characteristic variables are utilized again for this correlation. As Table 43 reveals,

the prosecutor and probation officer positions (r=-.132) exhibit a small, yet negative relationship with the belief that the court does actually offer a balanced approach. In addition, being male

(r=.135) shows a small but significant relationship in perceptions of application of the balanced approach. Males are more likely than females to believe the court utilizes a balanced approach.

For those respondents that believe that the could should provide a balanced approach, a small and significant relationship (r=.167) is found.

Table 43: Court Does Execute a Balanced Approach Philosophy

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team -.003 .951 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .073 .179 Home Agency Tenure -.068 .198 Age of Respondent .056 .288 Sex of Respondent .135 .032 Education Level -.051 .380 Type of Drug Court .079 .193 Size of Court .051 .333 Judge Role .052 .399 Prosecutor/Probation Role -.132 .032 Defense/TX Role .066 .286 Coordinator Role .035 .575 Training -.075 .241 Should Balance Philosophy .167 .007

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Next, logistic regression is conducted to further analyze these findings. A small 9% (R! =

.089) of the variation in perceptions of providing a balanced approach can be accounted for by these three variables. Respondents who reported that the court should engage in a balanced

approach were four times more likely to believe that the court actually does reach a state of

balance. Holding the role of prosecutor or probation officer, and sex of respondent were found

to be insignificant in the logistic model.

Table 44: Logistic Regression Balanced Approach Philosophy Application Dependent Variable: Independent Variable b S.E. Sig Exp(B) Does Balanced Approach Sex of Respondent (M) .750 .415 .071 2.116 Prosecutor/Probation Position -.732 .432 .090 .481 Should Balance Approach 1.486 .603 .014 4.417

Note: !"#$))'*++, R! =.089, df=3, p=.010

To compare the above line of inquiry centered around philosophical orientations, when

appropriate9, team members were asked to share their beliefs about philosophical change over

time in the drug court program. Some interesting trends emerged, with drug courts reporting much more (27%) and somewhat more (62%) accountability for offenders. Strong rates of stability, or no change were reported for the use of surveillance (50%), application of due process (50%), and crime prevention philosophies (60%). In contrast to what was found in the

should vs. does questions, 38% of respondents believe that their court engages in less application

of a punishment model, compared to 18% who believe that the court utilizes somewhat more

punishment, and 12% who maintain that the court uses much more punishment.

9 Respondents were asked if they believed that philosophy had changed over time (yes/no) and if so, they were directed to a set of questions regarding philosophical change over time.

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Table 45: Team Philosophical Change Over Time Philosophy (N) Much Some- No Some- Much more what change what less more less

Change in Offender (136) 27% 62% 24% 5% 1% Accountability

Change in Crime (133) 8% 26% 60% 5% 1% Prevention Philosophy

Change in (136) 12% 18% 27% 38% 6% Punishment/Punitive

Philosophy (135) 19% 44% 29% 7% 1% Change in Rehabilitation Approach

Change in Balanced (131) 27% 41% 20% 11% 2% Approach

Change in Strength-Based (135) 29% 37% 26% 7% 1% Approach

Change in use of (134) 16% 25% 50% 7% 2% Surveillance

Change in Due (133) 19% 22% 50% 7% 2% Process/Fairness Approach

To explore some of these findings shown above further, bivariate analyses is conducted

between demographic characteristics, drug court characteristics, professional role and the

Accountability Oriented Change Scale ( = 13.4) and the Treatment Oriented Change Scale (

=11.3).

First, correlations are conducted for the Accountability Oriented Change Scale and reveals that percentage of time dedicated to drug court (r=.225), education level (r=-.330), home agency tenure (r=-.183), and judge role (r=-.163) are related to the Accountability Oriented Change

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Scale. As found in the other models, training (r=.152) is again a significant, positive relationship

factor. The coordinator role (r=.147) is moderately significant and is included for analysis.

Percentage of time spent in drug court and the judge and coordinator roles show a small relationship to the scale, while level of education and reveals a medium or moderate negative relationship to the scale. The education and home agency tenure findings indicate that when education and tenure of respondent is decreased, accountability oriented beliefs about change on the scale increase.

Table 46: Accountability Oriented Change Scale Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team .011 .865 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .216 .001 Home Agency Tenure -.183 .005 Age of Respondent .045 .486 Sex of Respondent (male) .051 .514 Education Level -.330 .000 Type of Drug Court .040 .601 Size of Court .153 .087 Judge Role -.163 .033 Prosecutor/Probation Role -.060 .433 Defense/TX Role .021 .784 Coordinator Role .147 .056 Training .152 .052

Next, linear regression is utilized to determine how much variance is accounted for by the

variables and only education (p=.000) and training (p=.026) are significant in the linear

regression model. Overall, 17% of the total variance in the model is explained for by the

included variables. After running the regression, education level remained significant (p=.000),

and showed that as education level decreases, beliefs in the Accountability Oriented Change

Scale increases. Training was positively related to this scale, and shows that those with greater

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and more varied levels of training are more likely to believe the team has changed in their

accountability oriented change philosophy beliefs. Therefore, team members with strong amounts of training are more likely to believe that the team has shifted towards a stronger use of correctional or punitive based philosophies.

Table 47: Linear Regression on Accountability Oriented Change Scale Dependent Variable: Covariates b S.E. Sig (p) Accountability Oriented Scale Percent of Time Dedicated .006 .008 .491 Education level -.740 .198 .000 Role of Judge .081 .968 .933 Role of Coordinator -.202 .591 .733 Training .424 .188 .026

Model fit: R2=.169, df=5, F= 5.142, p=.000

Next, the same set of drug court and professional characteristics are explored to see if relationships exist with the Treatment Philosophy Change Scale ( =11.3). Numerous variables

(see Table 48) are significantly related to the scale. Percent of time dedicated to drug court

(r=.158) is positively related, and training reveals a moderate relationship (r=.303). Education level (r=-.145) reveals a small, but negative relationship.

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Table 48: Treatment Oriented Change Scale Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team .052 .417 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .152 .026 Home Agency Tenure -.007 .915 Age of Respondent .053 .423 Sex of Respondent (male) -.020 .806 Education Level -.145 .045 Type of Drug Court -.031 .691 Size of Court .077 .241 Judge Role .079 .310 Prosecutor/Probation Role -.062 .422 Defense/TX Role -.120 .123 Coordinator Role .097 .212 Training .303 .000

Next, linear regression is conducted to further explore the relationships between these variables. As is shown in Table 49, the model was found to be significant (R! =.139, p=.001), with 14% of the variance accounted for by these variables. The only variable to exhibit a relationship in the linear regression model, however, is the training variable (p=.000). Going from not having training to having training results in increases in treatment philosophy change beliefs. Therefore, team members with strong amounts of training are more likely to believe that the team has shifted towards a stronger treatment philosophy.

Table 49: Linear Regression on Treatment Oriented Change Scale Dependent Variable: Covariates b S.E. Sig (p) Treatment Change Scale Percent of Time Dedicated -.001 .006 .888 Education level -.261 .155 .095 Training .615 .158 .000

Model fit: R2=.139, df=3, F=6.435, p=.001

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Program Challenges Impacting Drift

To understand whether drug courts may be shifting away from standard operations and philosophies, survey respondents were first asked a set of questions about team turnover. As team members exit the drug court, and new team members join the court, the potential exists for both negative and positive change to occur. Across courts, the positions that experienced the greatest amount of turnover (at least once) were the mental health providers (58.3%), law enforcement (57%) and drug/alcohol treatment positions (56.7%). Probation officer positions also exhibited a high rate of turnover (50%), as did prosecutors (46.5%), and defense attorneys

(44%). The positions with the lowest rate of turnover were the judge (37.7%), and coordinators

(30.4%). Across courts and positions, juvenile drug courts experienced greater rates of turnover than adult drug courts. The most common reason cited, across the positions, as to the cause for turnover was “person reassigned by parent agency” (55%). Across all of the positions, only the coordinator position turned over for a different reason. Coordinators were more likely to resign/retire or be promoted into another position (41%). While these turnover rates and reasons appear concerning, survey respondents do not appear to view this as a problem or concern.

As is presented in Table 50, respondents were asked whether they believed their court membership has been unstable or stable over the last three years. A strong 93% of respondents

maintain that their court membership has been stable. Cross-tabs were executed to determine if these perceptions varied by team member role. Results show that, as compared to other members, prosecutors/probation officers are most likely to believe that the court membership had been unstable over time (12%), although the percentage is still small. Interestingly, not a single judge reported that their team had experienced unstable membership over the past three years.

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Table 50: Court Membership Stability % (n) Stable 93 244 Unstable 7 19

Median = 1.0 SD = .259

To further explore the notion of program drift, survey respondents were asked a set of

questions about various challenges that they face within the operation of their drug court

programs. The purpose of these questions is to determine if certain challenges impact the ability

of the court to carry out their necessary functions and duties, thereby forcing teams back to a

business as usual model. Five scales were created to specifically explore various program features and functions that may be creating opportunity for program drift. These included: 1)

Team Practices Scale; 2) Operational Support Scale; 3) Treatment Challenges Scale; 4)

Political and Community Scale, and 5) Information/Evaluation Scale. Bivariate analysis is conducted on each of the five scales to determine if relationships exist across numerous

variables, including months on team, percentage of time designated to drug court, tenure at home

agency, sex, age and education of respondent, drug court type, size of court, training and team

member role. In the sections that follow, correlations for each scale are exhibited, followed by

linear regression models when and where applicable.

Program Challenges

The first scale, Team Practice Challenges ( =11.61) , measures issues related to reaching

consensus at staffing, following policies and procedures, and effective team problem solving.

Bivariate analysis of the Team Practice Challenge Scale reveals that only the role of the judge

(r=-.142) is correlated, and displays a small and negative relationship.

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Table 51: Team Practice Challenge Scale Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team -.058 .189 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .083 .077 Home Agency Tenure .013 .777 Age of Respondent .034 .448 Sex of Respondent .071 .189 Education Level -.037 .449 Type of Drug Court .073 .168 Size of Court .047 .302 Judge Role -.142 .008 Prosecutor/Probation Role .088 .101 Defense/TX Role .064 .237 Coordinator Role -.041 .444 Training .082 .144

As has been found in other analyses, the variables included only account for 3% in the

variation of the model and therefore findings should be interpreted with caution. Moving from a

non-judge to a judge role decreases perceptions of team practice challenges. In other words, judges, relative to other team members, perceive fewer team operational challenges than other team members.

Next, bivariate analysis is conducted on the same set of variables executed above to search for potential relationships to the Operational Support Challenges Scale ( = 10.10). This scale measured funding, personnel support and physical space challenges. As Table 52 shows, none of the variables selected reveal a relationship with the scale, and therefore no further analysis is conducted.

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Table 52: Operational Support Challenges Scale Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team -.044 .329 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .027 .571 Home Agency Tenure .008 .870 Age of Respondent .045 .312 Sex of Respondent (male) .079 .142 Education Level -.005 .918 Type of Drug Court -.060 .259 Size of Court -.025 .590 Judge Role -.087 .105 Prosecutor/Probation Role -.050 .352 Defense/TX Role -.048 .378 Coordinator Role .059 .278 Training .021 .772

To continue to explore the challenges that teams face, bivariate analysis is conducted on numerous variables to search for potential relationships to the Treatment Challenges Scale ( =

12.36). This scale is focused on measuring funding and access for treatment, as well as the availability and use of evidence based modalities. As occurred in the previous scale above, none of the standard variables selected reveal a relationship with the Treatment Challenges Scale

(Table 53), and therefore no further analyses are conducted.

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Table 53: Treatment Challenges Scale Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team -.031 .487 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court -.005 .910 Home Agency Tenure .070 .271 Age of Respondent .124 .052 Sex of Respondent (male) .043 .503 Education Level -.101 .108 Type of Drug Court -.008 .897 Size of Court -.011 .865 Judge Role .033 .542 Prosecutor/Probation Role .010 .851 Defense/TX Role -.092 .086 Coordinator Role .044 .414 Training .066 .239

To ensure continuity across the scales and analyses, the same variables are analyzed for potential relationships with the Political and Community Support Scale ( = 12.04 ). This scale analyzed perceptions of community, county and state levels of support for the drug court model.

For this correlation, three variables, sex of respondent (r=.119), months on team (r=-.089), and role of judge (r= -.136) are shown to have a relationship to the Political and Community

Support Scale. The strength of the relationship between the variables and the scale is weak, with the judicial role and months on team displaying a negative relationship to the scale. In addition, males are more likely than females to carry strong beliefs related to the Political and Community

Support Scale.

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Table 54: Political and Community Support Scale Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team -.089 .048 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .047 .324 Home Agency Tenure .014 .769 Age of Respondent .023 .609 Sex of Respondent (male) .119 .029 Education Level -.064 .192 Type of Drug Court -.046 .396 Size of Court -.015 .750 Judge Role -.136 .013 Prosecutor/Probation Role .013 .818 Defense/TX Role .015 .783 Coordinator Role .058 .288 Training -.019 .741

Next, a linear regression is conducted to explore the relationship of months on team, judge role and sex of respondent with the scale. As can be seen in Table 55, 5% of the variance in this model can be explained by these three variables. Changing a team member's type from non- judge to judge results in a reduction on the Political and Community Support scale score.

Because this scale is reverse coded, lower scores are associated with fewer concerns. Therefore, judges are less likely to perceive problems or challenges related to support than other team members. The gender of the respondent is correlated with the Political and Community Support

Scale, with the model showing that men will have higher scores, and hence more concerns, about political and community support than female respondents.

Table 55: Linear Regression on Political and Community Support Scale Dependent Variable: Covariates b S.E. Sig (p) Political and Community Scale Role of Judge -1.332 .636 .037 Sex of Respondent (M) 1.088 .418 .010 Months on Team -.010 .006 .083

Model fit: R2=.052, df=3, F= 5.467, p=.001

The final analysis conducted for this section entails analyzing the same set of variables

150 with the Information and Evaluation Challenges Scale ( = 7.76). The scale measures issues related to information sharing, coordination between agencies and progress evaluation. As is highlighted in Table 56, none of the selected variables are related to the scale, and therefore no further analysis is conducted.

Table 56: Information and Evaluation Challenges Scale Correlations

Variable Correlation Significance Months on Team -.053 .419 Percent Dedicated to Drug Court .026 .692 Home Agency Tenure -.012 .855 Age of Respondent .031 .635 Sex of Respondent .096 .145 Education Level -.014 .829 Type of Drug Court -.059 .396 Size of Court -.015 .362 Judge Role -.101 .124 Prosecutor/Probation Role .036 .589 Defense/TX Role .021 .749 Coordinator Role .016 .810 Training .086 .150

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CHAPTER SIX: Discussion

General Observations

Reform is an inherent cornerstone of the criminal justice system. Since the creation of the first penitentiaries, groups of concerned citizens and criminal justice practitioners have been analyzing, proposing and eventually operationalizing different programs in the attempt to reduce and rehabilitate the ever expanding criminal justice population (Rothman, 2002). For those who work in the criminal justice system, the rapid spread of the drug court movement has not come as a surprise. Many long-time criminal justice professionals consistently bemoan the inefficient and overcrowded dockets that are all too common in American court systems (Spinak, 2003).

Part of the reason why the drug court model is so appealing is that the “process fits the problem”

(Berman and Feinblatt, 2005, pg 4). The current adversarial process is overwhelmed just due to the sheer numbers of cases that must be processed in our American court systems, the majority of which are lower level offenses such as petty thefts, drug possession charges and simple assaults (Berman & Feinblatt, 2005). Hence, drug courts offer to address and support this massive population and are clearly a concept that is grounded in promising practices.

The results herein offer the first opportunity for a deeper look into the operations of drug courts, as perceived by the drug court team members themselves. As the drug court research literature continues to grow, this study contributes to an area that is just being discovered and discussed in the literature. While a great deal of time and energy has been spent evaluating the effectiveness of drug courts in terms of reduced recidivism and cost savings, research is more limited when considering and evaluating operational issues and challenges that drug court teams must process. It has only been in the past few years that certain researchers, most notably NPC

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Research, have begun to evaluate the effectiveness of drug courts through application of the 10

key components and/or 16 strategies in practice. This research has quickly uncovered the many

discrepancies and differences that exist among drug courts across the country. Exactly what this

is attributed to has been speculation at times.

In a sense, this current study opens another avenue of drug court research. First, drug

court research to date has generally approached the issue of model adherence via researcher

observation. Recently, Hiller et al (2010) conducted a national survey of drug court coordinators

in order to understand their perceptions of adherence to the 10 key components. To the best of

this author’s knowledge, no other studies have surveyed various team members, across the

United States, on perceptions of adherence.

Second, at the core of any drug court is collaboration and coordination of services, both of which must occur in a non-adversarial environment (Belenko, 2001; van Wormer & Lutze,

2010). To date, minimal research has been able to capture the true nature of collaboration among drug court teams. Central to this issue is whether team members are able to operate in an integrated versus traditional manner, as well as understanding team member beliefs about key collaboration indicators such as shared goals and the collective efficacy gained via drug court participation. As Gray (1989) and Vangen and Huxham (2003) have found in their research, the perceived benefits of group participation must outweigh the drawbacks and “business as usual” process for the program to be successful. Therefore, this research sought to capture the benefits versus drawbacks of participation from various team member perceptions.

Finally, given the large amount of social service program implementation literature that highlights the repeated challenges and failures within service delivery, coupled with the growing drug court research that points to issues of mission creep and program drift, it is crucial that this

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issue be more fully explored. Again, to the best of this author’s knowledge this is the first

attempt to directly capture team member awareness of ideological change over time, how the

court should operate, versus how the respondent believes the court actually functions.

General Findings

Overall this research found strong evidence that drug court professionals are primarily adhering to basic principals of the 10 key component and/or 16 strategies in practice. Juvenile drug courts respondents, however, are more likely to report following the 10 key components, rather than the adolescent specific, and developmentally appropriate 16 strategies. While team members report high levels of model adherence, the findings from this study highlight that teams appear to be changing their ideological foundations and drifting over time, in both positive and negative directions. Drug court team members perceive some changes over time in the use and application of certain ideological orientations, including increased use of a punishment/punitive orientation, yet, at the same time, an increased adoption of treatment oriented principals.

The findings on collaboration are also quite strong, with drug court professionals reporting that they are reaching a fairly strong state of collaboration. Most team members report high levels of personal benefit from participating on the team. None of the potential drawbacks of drug court participation reached a level of significance. Most team members also believe that various systems, including the criminal justice, social service, public health and educational systems all benefit from the collaborative efforts of the team. Some of the more detailed analysis of the collaboration questions, however, provide interesting insight how well team members are able to work in a truly integrated versus standard adversarial manner. Survey respondents reported that some of the traditional criminal justice personnel, such as the prosecutor (44%), probation officer (38%) and defense attorney (36%), operate in their traditional adversarial

154 manner when discussing client and program efforts.

In the sections that follow, detailed findings from each of the three major research questions will be discussed. Table 57 is provided as a summary of all relevant analyses across each of the three research questions, providing both correlation and regression model findings.

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Table 57: Overall Findings Summary Dependent Variable: Independent Variable Significant Relationship 1) Overall Model Adherence

Model Adherence Scale Training Positive Months on Team* Positive Percentage of Time Dedicated* Positive Prosecutor/Probation Role* Negative Coordinator Role* Positive

2) Team Dynamics &

Collaboration

Collaboration Indicator Scale Size of Court Positive Training* Positive

Judicial Collaboration Scale Type of Court* Positive

Personal Benefits Scale Prosecutor/Probation Officer Negative Training Positive Percentage of Time Dedicated* Positive Sex of Respondent (male)* Negative

Personal Drawbacks Scale None

Systems Benefit Scale Level of Education Negative Role of Judge Positive Training Positive Months on Team* Positive Percentage of Time Dedicated* Positive Type of Drug Court* Positive Prosecutor/Probation Officer* Negative

Systems Drawback Scale Months on team Positive Role of Judge Positive Age* Positive Prosecutor/Probation Officer* Negative

3) Drug Court Team Drift

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Punishment/Punitive Philosophy Application Should Punish/Punitive Positive Home Agency Tenure* Negative Role of Judge ** Negative

Balanced Approach Philosophy Application Should Balance Approach Positive Sex of Respondent (male)* Positive Prosecutor/Probation Officer* Negative

Accountability Oriented Change Scale Level of Education Negative Training Positive Home Agency Tenure* Negative Percentage of Time Dedicated* Positive Role of Judge* Negative Role of Coordinator** Positive

Treatment Oriented Change Scale Training Positive Percentage of Time Dedicated* Positive Level of Education Negative

Team Practice Challenge Scale Role of Judge Negative

Operational Support Challenges Scale None

Treatment Challenges Scale None

Political and Community Scale Role Judge Negative Sex of Respondent (male) Positive Months on Team* Negative Information and Evaluation Challenges Scale None * Indicates correlation finding ** Approached significance in correlation model

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Evaluating the Operational Dynamics of Drug Courts

Drug Court Model Adherence

As has been found in other research, this study shows that team members express a high

level of perceived adherence to the individual key indicators of the 10 key components and/or 16 strategies. These finding suggest that drug court teams have been well exposed and trained to

the indicators, and therefore should openly use such components/strategies as a road map for

their program. Unfortunately, juvenile drug court team members appear to be embracing the

wrong overall model, as they reported significantly higher rates of adherence to the 10 key

components than the juvenile drug court specific 16 strategies. One must question if the lack of

utilization of the youth focused and developmentally appropriate 16 Strategies is in turn

impacting program outcomes and collaborative ideals.

Drug courts were originally built to serve adult populations, and the majority of federal funding for drug courts is funneled towards the adult drug court model. The adult drug court movement has been strongly organized since the late 1990’s and such structure has allowed for a coordinated and consistent message and marketing of the 10 key components. As has often been the case in the criminal justice system, juvenile court programs are simply adaptations of adult models, and rarely receive the necessary support, structure or financial resources necessary to make program efforts successful or sustainable. The juvenile drug court movement has not experienced the same level of extensive and coordinated support as is found at the adult level, nor has the consistent messaging and marketing of the 16 strategies existed. Such an effort, via training, is critical so that juvenile drug courts may orient themselves towards the developmentally appropriate 16 strategies.

The level of training, the amount of time dedicated to drug court, the length of time on

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the team, and one’s professional role were all found to be related to model adherence. First, as

types and levels of training increase, perceptions of model adherence also increases. This is an

important finding and highlights the absolute necessity of on-going and comprehensive training.

In their analyses of drug courts, Carey and Finigan (2008) found that drug courts that received

formalized training prior to implementation training experienced 15 times the cost savings of

other drug courts. In addition, drug courts that provided on-going formalized training also

experienced strong cost-benefits. These findings, combined with the current research, offer

critical insight and a tool that drug courts can use to control for program drift. According to

these findings, team members that lack strong and on-going training may not be able to full

operationalize basic principles and ideals of a drug court. Team members with greater amounts

of training are more likely to accurately and realistically reflect on the true operations of drug

courts. This reflection will allow team members and courts to better position them to control for

program drift and mission creep.

Second, how much time one spends assigned to and working within the drug court, and

hence being exposed to the various components also reveals a relationship with perceived model

adherence. Across all positions, the greater number of hours assigned to drug court the more

likely respondents were to identify that their court adheres to the key components. It appears that positions, such as the coordinator and case managers, that are often fully dedicated to the drug court, are more likely to get to observe the various components in action and can assess adherence on a more informed level.

Third, months on team is correlated to perceptions that the team is following the 10 key components and/or 16 strategies. This finding would indicate that the longer one is a member of a drug court program, the more likely they are to adopt and assimilate the 10 key components

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and/or 16 strategies. It is possible that as tenure on the team increases, exposure to drug court

training materials, publications, conferences, and peer networking increase also.

Finally, role is important to consider when analyzing perceptions of model adherence.

Both the prosecutor/probation officer positions and the coordinator positions are correlated to the model adherence scale. Although the effect was small, coordinators, as compared to other team members are more likely to report strong model adherence. The opposite is true for the prosecutor and probation officer positions. Prosecutors and probation officers are less likely than other team members to believe that the team is adhering to the model.

These findings point to the need for immediate, model specific (e.g. adult versus juvenile

drug court models) and on-going training for drug court team members. Long-assignment periods for team members are ideal, as it allows for better understanding and full assimilation of the model components into daily operations. This may be especially challenging for juvenile drug courts, because criminal justice personnel are often assigned to juvenile courts for short periods of time at the beginning of their careers to gain experience before moving on to the

“real” work of the adult system. Time and effort must also be spent ensuring that those team members that operate in traditionally punishment or accountability driven systems, such as the prosecutor and probation positions, are provided the necessary training and support to become fully educated on model components focused on strength-based and balanced approaches, which will allow for better philosophical adoption of the key principles.

Team Dynamics and Collaboration

Team dynamics and collaboration are important to understanding whether drug courts are being implemented according to plan and whether team members experience benefits or

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drawbacks from their collaborative efforts. Research on collaboration initiatives indicates that building collaboration between agencies and across institutions is complex and only achieves intended goals when properly tended over time. Few studies have considered how team members perceive other important players, such as the judge, or whether members experience personal or system level benefits or drawbacks from their drug court experience. In addition, drug court characteristics, such as the size of the court may influence perceptions about the benefits of collaboration. The results of this study show that the size of the court in terms of the number of drug court participants served matters. Research has shown that smaller drug courts often struggle with various operational dynamics (e.g. funding, buy-in, program stability, reaching capacity) (see Buttts and Roman, 2006), and this finding shows that as size of court (capacity) grows, so too does positive perceptions of collaboration.

As was found in other research, training displayed a significant and positive relationship to collaboration. Those that reported receiving training are more likely to view the court as embracing collaborative principles and goals. Carey and Finigan (2008), found that courts with greater amounts and availability of training are more likely to experience stronger cost savings.

Such savings are most likely generated from teams understanding the importance of following the prescribed model, as well as engaging in true and thorough levels of collaboration. Team building exercises, goal setting, creative problem solving, joint policy and program guideline development, community mapping exercises, and interdisciplinary approaches are all a critical focus in federal and state training initiatives. All of these efforts build a foundation for shared responsibility and strong collaborative relationships. As these finding reveal, it is critical that teams receive on-going and coordinated training opportunities. Such training allows team members to honestly and accurately reflect on potential opportunities for collaboration, as well

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as barriers and obstacles to collaboration.

Interestingly, the majority of drug court and professional characteristics were did not

show a significant relationship with judicial collaboration. Adult drug courts, as compared to

juvenile drug courts were more likely to express positive perceptions of judicial collaboration

efforts. This finding is somewhat surprising and two explanations are offered. First, it is

possible that the inherent adversarial nature of the adult court system creates a situation whereby

the judge cannot be viewed as a collaborative partner. Therefore, once involved in the adult drug

court model, judicial collaboration is a new measurement, so to speak. In the juvenile court

system, problem solving across agencies, including the bench, is common, and judges are often

viewed as active participants in youth behavior modification. The second possibility is that

judges are not viewed as collaborative within the juvenile drug court setting due to the constant

instability that naturally occurs within the juvenile court setting. Research has shown that the

juvenile drug court movement is not exempt from this transitory pattern. Therefore, it is difficult

to build a collaborative spirit when team members, including judges, are in constant rotation.

At the core of successful collaboration attempts are the characteristics of buy-in, trust, enhanced ability to achieve goals, and synergy. To assess some of these characteristics, respondents were asked a set of drug court participation benefit and drawback questions. The purpose was to examine possible team and operational dynamics that may impact a court’s ability to truly engage in collaboration. Overall, team members expressed strong and positive opinions about being able to increase trust, gain new skills, and develop important relationships.

These are all critical factors associated with effective collaborative endeavors. The drawbacks

reported by team members were minimal, but respondents did report increased levels of

professional stress, increased accountability, and a general sense of frustration. Survey

162 respondents also reported frustration on some teamwork issues, such as when others do not follow through on assignments. This is an important finding to consider given the level of conflict that can be created, and lack of trust that can develop, when team members do not follow through on their given duties. Drug court success should not only be defined by graduation rates and treatment completion. The ability of teams to effectively manage conflicts and work load issues, and to professionally hold each other accountable may in fact lead to better outcomes for drug court clients. Nowhere else in the criminal justice system are such diverse groups (e.g. courts, prosecutor, defense attorney, corrections) able to hold each other accountable for program operations and outcomes. If someone does not follow through in their professional role than their peers are quickly made aware of the shortcoming and how it potentially affects outcomes for both the team members and the clients.

Collaborations may have both personal benefits and drawbacks or system level benefits an drawbacks. Interestingly, none of the standard predictor variables (i.e., personal or court level characteristics) exhibited significant relationships for the personal drawbacks scale. Although the alpha (! = .700) and mean response ( = 10.4) were moderate for this scale, it could be that the questions asked did not truly capture the drawbacks, or it is possible that overall, team members did not perceive drawbacks to collaborating with others through the drug court model.

If this is true, then drug courts may be promoting a new way of doing business in criminal justice that is generally embraced by those who work within the drug court model. It would be interesting to know whether those who work in both the drug court and the traditional system simultaneously, if they attempt to bring the positive aspects of collaboration into their traditional role.

Training and percentage of time dedicated to the drug court program revealed a

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relationship to the personal benefits of collaboration. As training increased, team members were

able to learn more about the services in the community, develop new and improved skills, and

become educated about programs and effectiveness of such programs. Respondents also

reported the ability to gain an overall feeling of enhanced ability to meet the needs of the client.

All of these conditions lead to greater professional satisfaction, and a keen awareness of how

beneficial collaboration can be. Team members actually see results and recognize their role in

the joint effort. This occurs more readily for those team members that are highly trained and

who average greater tenure, than for other team members.

Personal benefits of drug court participation are more likely to be experienced by female

drug court team members. In addition, prosecutor and probation officers report lower levels of

personal benefits as compared to other team members. Olsen et al. (2001) found similar findings

in their analysis of three different drug courts, whereby the probation officer experiences less

overall job satisfaction due to such an increase in workload and loss of autonomy. The same can

be argued for the prosecutor.

When viewing team member perceptions on system benefits and drawbacks, a greater

number of drug court and professional characteristics are related to perceptions of collaboration.

Training, percentage of time dedicated to drug court and months on team all continue to be key findings. Those team members that have more training, that have served on the drug court for a longer period of time, and those that dedicate a good portion of time to the program perceive stronger levels of system benefits and fewer system drawbacks. Training and tenure allows these team members to build relationships and trust across agencies, and they in fact report higher levels of trust between social service, public health and educational systems. Respondents also report that they feel an increased ability to affect public policy through their drug court

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participation.

Role is also important when looking at systems benefits and drawbacks. For both of

these scales, judges are more likely to believe, as compared to other team members, that there are

both greater systems benefits and fewer drawbacks for drug court participation. As compared to

other team members, judges are more likely to believe that trust has been created and enhanced

across systems and that an increase in public profile has occurred. In addition, as compared to

other team members, they are less likely to perceive conflict between their regular position and

the function of the drug court, and are also more likely to believe that their peers support their

collaborative efforts across the bench.

Unlike judges, prosecutors and probation officers exhibit a negative relationship with

system level benefits and drawbacks. Given the nature of their roles, it is possible that these

positions are not exposed to interactions between various systems (specifically the prosecutor)

and can therefore not witness the benefit of such relationships. It may also be possible that probation officers, given their focus on case management (this position was defined as traditional probation and case management) may be so myopic that they are unable to witness the impact that drug court operation has on a public policy level. It is also possible that the mission and purpose of each agency (prosecution and probation) are so contrary to the goals and objectives of the drug court that benefits cannot be agreed upon. Gray (1989) found that it is difficult for

certain team members to participate in a collaborative effort and find value if their own

underlying personal and agency ideologies are too divergent from the collaborative. Olsen et al

(2001) found that working as a member of a drug court team was quite challenging for the

probation officer given the large increase in workload duties. Olsen et al. (2001) also found that

probation officers struggled with their lack of autonomy that resulted from team participation. It

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certainly could be that drug court probation officers do not experience the benefits perceived by

other drug court members given some of these conditions.

The same could be argued for the prosecutor position. The prosecutor originates from a

truly adversarial process, concerned with community safety and accountability and punishment

for wrongs against the state. Buy-in and philosophical opposition may also originate from the

elected prosecutor. Goldkamp (1999) found that when the elected prosecutor position changed,

support and philosophical buy-in changed and negatively impacted the outcomes of the court. As

Gray (1989) argues, for some team members, it is difficult to become a true functioning member

of a collaborative if the new role requirements are too divergent from the underlying mission of

the home agency.

Drug Court Team Drift

Perhaps some of the most significant findings in this study are those related to the

philosophies that drug court team members believe should be utilized as compared to what

actually does occur in the court. Three important questions were asked related to program

philosophy:

# What philosophy do YOU believe SHOULD guide the team’s decision making when evaluating clients each week? # What philosophy do YOU believe DOES guide the team’s decision making when evaluating clients each week? # Based on your observation of the team’s decision making over time do you believe the team’s philosophy about how to treat participants has changed? If yes, please indicate how the philosophy has changed for each philosophical area.

Numerous ideologies were presented for respondents to rank, including offender accountability, crime prevention, punishment/punitive, rehabilitation, balanced approach, strength-based approach, surveillance, and due process/fairness. Only the balanced and punishment/punitive approaches were found to be significant.

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In terms of the punishment/punitive application, a large number prosecutors and

probation officers believe that the court should embrace a punishment/punitive philosophy.

They do not believe, however, that the court actually embraces such a model at the levels that they would like to see. This result indicates that prosecutors and probation staff are most likely not to be ideologically aligned with other team members. Those that support the use of punishment are more likely to believe a punishment/punitive philosophy is occurring. This is an important factor to consider when teams are first building a program or undergoing a period of team turnover and transition. Assessing personal and professional ideological alignment during the interview and transition stage is critical, because as was well discussed in the collaboration

and implementation literature above, philosophical buy-in and agreement is critical to

collaborative designs and can make the difference between symbolic versus substantive change

in a collaborative effort (Brank et al., 2007; Rothman, 1980).

Analyses of the balanced approach model also display a negative relationship for the

prosecutor and probation officer positions. These positions are less likely to believe that the

court is utilizing a balanced approach ideology. Given the high rates in which these two

positions embrace a more accountability and punishment oriented philosophy, it is possible that

their interpretation of a balanced approach differs from other team members, or that they are just

not able to become philosophically aligned with such a process.

Just as important as the “should” and “does” questions is the change in philosophy over

time question. Team member's views on the philosophy of accountability were most strongly

correlated with the time the team member dedicated to court. Team members who dedicated the

most time to drug court tended to perceive more drift in punishment and punitive based

philosophies, with courts more likely to engage in the greater use of accountability, surveillance,

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and punishment. In addition, coordinators tend to perceive more drift in accountability-based philosophy, relative to other member types taken as a whole. This could be accounted for by the fact that most often, coordinators are employed solely to support the functions and operations of the court. This consistent “viewing” of the court and process allows coordinators insight that other team members simply cannot gather because they lack the permanent, full-time assignment to the model. Judges, on the other hand, are less likely than other team members to believe that the court has drifted towards increased punitiveness and accountability. Given that judges are often not assigned to a drug court program full time (as compared to coordinators) they may not be witness to the intricacies of change over time.

Training was found to be a significant factor once again. As training increases for team members, so too does their belief that the court has increased their use of a more punitive, accountability and surveillance based model. While at first this may appear concerning, it is important to remember that these team members also are more likely to report strong levels of model adherence and collaboration. Therefore, it is plausible that those with greater and varied amounts of training are more likely to accurately and realistically reflect on the operations of drug court and therefore be in a better position to control for program drift and mission creep.

Respondents were also questioned as to whether they believed their court had experienced a change in time over the utilization of treatment (rehabilitation), strength-based and balanced approaches. Respondents exposed to training are more likely to believe that the court embraces such methods. This again is an important consideration for drug court teams. The availability and completion of training allows team members to understand the fundamentals of a strength- based approach, how to reach a state of balance between accountability and treatment, and what types of services are known to be most effective with drug-addicted populations. For those that

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are assigned to drug court in a more full time capacity, it is also more likely that they are exposed

to such ideologies on a regular and central basis.

Finally, it is important to understand what types of conditions and situations may combine to inhibit the team from reaching their goals and potentially drifting away from the model. Team practices, operational support, challenges to treatment, support from the community and political entities, and challenges to gathering necessary information and evaluation of the drug court model may be related to potential drift or stability. Interestingly, no relationships were found between operational support, treatment challenges, and information and evaluation challenges, and personal or drug court characteristics. Several of these models displayed weak alpha coefficients, and therefore it could be that the measures did not fully capture potential relationships.

Team practice includes how well teams were able to reach consensus at staffing, followed policy and procedures, and were able to engage in team problem solving. The results show that judges are more likely than other team members to perceive fewer team operational challenges.

Although there were fairly high levels of support for judicial collaboration as evidenced by other questions, it is possible that team members do not perceive such a strong level of consensus and team problem solving as judges perceive. It has certainly been this author’s professional experience that team members often hold different perceptions and beliefs about the consensus building and team problem solving efforts than judges hold.

For political and community support, the role of the judge and the sex of the respondents were found to be significant. As was found in the section above, judges were also less likely to perceive political and community support challenges within the drug court model than other team members. This finding may be due to the fact that much of the community, systems and

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political engagement, and outreach are duties dictated to the coordinator to manage. It may also

be that the judge, due to campaigning or appointment, is more familiar with true legal, political

and community level buy-in to the program. Male respondents were more likely than female

respondents to have concerns about political and community support.

Future Research

This survey is a first attempt at blending core drug court operational components with the

collaboration and implementation research. Essentially, this research was conducted as an

exploratory process. An earlier version of this survey was piloted in Washington State two years before the actual launch of this current survey tool, and results from the survey pilot outcomes were used to develop the survey in its current form. Future research efforts need to be focused on developing external validity measures (e.g. content validity) for this survey to determine if the survey is in fact capturing what was intended (Listwin, 1995).

The majority of survey respondents were Coordinators. Given that Coordinators are generally assigned to manage the drug court, including engaging in program evaluation and monitoring, it is not surprising that such a large return would come from this position. In research of this type however, which is comprehensively focused on the perceptions of each team member, it is crucial that all team members have a strong voice. Future research efforts should be focused on reaching a larger and more varied audience of drug court team members, especially those who have been found in previous research to be challenged in their professional roles such as prosecutors and defense attorneys.

This survey was also time and resource limited. After completion of an external validity

process, a second release of the survey would certainly strengthen the data set. Such an

expanded release would not only allow for a greater number of drug court practitioners to be

170 reached and surveyed, but it would also allow researchers to explore other problem solving models, including mental health, domestic violence and Veteran’s courts.

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CHAPTER SEVEN: Policy Recommendations and Conclusion

Under the layers of activity that occurs in a drug court, exists a team that is charged with carrying out the goals and objectives of the designed program. This program should represent, in most courtrooms, a drastic departure from business as usual. It is systems reform at its finest – with a cadre of criminal justice and social service practitioners working together to solve problems and guide the drug court client through their treatment. The questions that this research sought to answer focused on the extent to which this true level of reform can and has happened within the drug court movement.

Research into the impact of team dynamics and collaboration on outcomes is still in its infancy, but several important policy considerations can be gleaned from the current study.

Certain themes emerged from this research, and when coupled with the findings from NPC

Research, Hiller et al. (2010), and Olsen et al. (2001), a set of policy recommendations are proposed.

1) Creation of mandatory training

Training was consistently found to be related to model adherence, collaboration, system and personal benefit, and operational and philosophical drift. This research found that those team members that were highly trained via different modalities such as federal, state and local training opportunities, were able to more fully understand and embrace the key operating principles of the drug court model, exhibited stronger beliefs in collaboration and reported stronger personal and system benefit from drug court participation. As training increased for team members, they were also more likely to be able to recognize, and hopefully control for drift and mission creep within their programs. It is critical that drug court team members possess an

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open awareness and honest reflection about the state of their program. This can be achieved

through coordinated and targeted training efforts.

As drug court teams are created, or as they experience turnover and new members join the process, there must exist in each court a thorough training process. This training should occur no later than three months into employment in the drug court. Although a large number of survey respondents reported receiving on the job training, this cannot be considered sufficient, and should be categorized as experience, not training. The National Association of Drug Court

Professional (NADCP), National Drug Court Institute (NDCI), and the National Council of

Juvenile and Family Court Judges (NCJFCJ) all offer extensive training tracks on a variety of topics, ranging from week long, role specific training (e.g. judge, prosecutor, defense attorney), enhancement trainings, effective use of incentives and sanctions, and managing and sustaining your juvenile drug court. Each of these agencies are also encouraged to build further training opportunities that address current and relevant program needs, such as team member engagement, retention and turnover. Development of a transitional manual/training tool would go a long way in assisting courts with dealing with this current issue. While this author understands that there are costs associated with such efforts, it is clear from this research that as training increases, so too does awareness, thoroughness and program control, all of which will potentially create cost-effective programs. On-line training options, with certification upon completion, should be explored as a possible way in which to reach a large amount of drug court professionals.

Many states (see Idaho and Ohio for examples) also offer statewide level training, technical assistance and oversight for drug court teams and team members. For many teams this is a cost effective way in which to gather a great deal of information and support. It is important that

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NDCI and NCJFCJ work closely with interested states in developing common training themes,

messages, and on-line opportunities so that trainings can be consistent at all levels.

Team transition and turnover is an operational reality of all drug courts, and an issue that

has not been well addressed by many teams. Drug court team members and leadership should

fully expect team turnover and should build a comprehensive internal and external system to

manage this process. Training must be focused not only on role adoption and program

operations, but also there must be a process of team building (again) and engagement as changes

to the team occur. It is recommended that new team members be assigned a drug court mentor,

and that verbal and/or written agreement by the new team member(s) exist. This would ensure

that they understand the philosophy of drug court, are willing to support the mission, goals and objectives, follow the policies and procedures, and commit to the team concept (Finigan and

Carey, 2001). It is recommended that coordinators be responsible for arranging this process, and that materials are developed by the NDCI, NADCP and NCJFCJ.

2) Creation of standardized performance measures

Drug courts must pay closer attention to managing and nurturing their drug court teams, and monitoring the ideologies they embrace and practice. Programs need to monitor for complete team member buy-in, and work to ensure that a balanced approach remains on the team. This can be achieved via the training proposed above and performance measure exercises.

This research found that drug court respondents are experiencing program and ideological drift within their courts. In offering technical assistance to drug courts across the country, this author has found that many courts are in a state of transition, as they realize that their program has changed not only ideologically, but also along key program components (e.g. targeting and eligibility or have become to sanction focused).

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To help control for drug court drift, it is recommended that national performance standards

be created as a tool for drug courts and fully institutionalized across courts. Standards have

already been developed by the NCJFCJ, and the NDCI and NADCP are currently considering

such measures. The important consideration is how these measures will be used on an on-going basis, how the information will be reported back (and to whom) and how the finding will be utilized to cycle teams back to basic program operations. Creation and implementation of standardized performance measures will increase the probability that drug courts will reach a state of isomorphism (Maguire and Mastrofski, 2009), as compared to the current process of filtering and refraction that has been captured by numerous research efforts, including this current study.

Bryson, Crosby and Stone (2006) report that collaborative efforts are more likely to be successful when they have a data tracking system that is built to measure adherence to the program policies and procedures. So while drug courts have spent a great deal of time collecting data to prove that they are effective in reducing recidivism of clients and treatment completion rates, they must also develop statistical measures to ensure that they are following the key components and policies that drive their courts. A data management component should be developed in concert with the performance measures. A great deal of academic literature and research time is spent discussing the notion of treatment integrity, justice system integrity and legal integrity. Creation of national and/or state level performance measures would allow the drug court to also monitor the integrity and strength of the drug court team, which is critical to maintaining a healthy program. This could also create an intensified level and opportunity for internal training. Therefore, a coordinated performance measurement process, with a feedback and training loop is critical for drug court integrity and sustainability. Monitoring of drug court

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team role adoption, participation levels, and decision-making should be conducted by drug court management, and findings provided to Steering or Oversight Committee to create a level of accountability.

3) Drug courts must fully staff their programs

Although survey respondents reported high levels of full team participation in both staffing and court, available drug court literature exposes a different finding. All key and central drug court team members (judge, prosecutor, defense attorney, case manager, treatment and coordinator) must be involved in both the staffing and court proceedings. Berman & Feinblatt

(2005), maintained that “The reality is that problem solving courts...are fundamentally collaborative enterprises that require the active participation of prosecutors, judges and defenders if they are going to work" (pg 182). Research shows that programs are more likely to have strong outcomes if all team members participate fully (Carey and Finigan, 2008). Having all team members present also creates the opportunity for greater trust building and joint problem solving

Although this research found fairly high rates of reported collaboration team members did report experiencing frustration when other team members do not follow through on their assigned duties or agreements (a key function of a team). In addition, another key element of successful collaborations is when the group is able to have a strong collective voice in shaping policy and change. Thirty-eight percent of respondents believe that this occurs, and only 52% believe that the collaborative nature of the drug court results in increased resources and financial support. By having all team members, including the prosecutor and defense attorney fully participate in not only the staffing and court sessions, but also in agency and community meetings, then knowledge and buy-in, and hence collaboration, will increase. Future research

176 efforts should be focused on team composition and the staffing patterns necessary to reach a state of true collaboration.

Conclusion

On the surface the drug court concept appears simple and promising: through a collaborative and non-adversarial process, accountability, treatment and guidance are provided for drug addicted/abusing criminal justice clients with the overall goal of re-entering a healthy, sober and crime free client into the community. The operational realities of drug courts, however, are daunting and are most likely prohibiting some courts from reaching a state of true collaboration as well as impacting program outcomes. While fully supportive of the drug court concept, there has been far too little attention paid to team dynamics, program drift, regrouping and rebuilding.

This study shows that drug court respondents perceive fairly strong adherence to the key components and principles of the drug court model. This is an important finding, as other research efforts (see Carey & Finigan, 2008, for example) have found that drug courts that adhere to the key components are more likely to achieve stronger graduation rates and greater cost savings. Although this research was not focused on correlating program outcomes to the survey findings, it is logical to believe that if teams are in fact following the prescribed model, their opportunity for improving program outcomes and creating cost savings increases.

Important to collaboration is the ability to engage in new and creative problem solving, including views and priorities of those affected by the collaborative, development of common and supported goals, identification of necessary services for target population, and responsiveness to clients. Survey respondents reported high rates of perceived collaboration, and this research supports the notion that teams are able to engage in collaborative processes.

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Caution should be exercised, however, when considering this finding. As is argued by Huxham

(2006), Gray (1989) and others, understanding what factors, characteristics and conditions

combine to reach a true and effective collaborative state varies across agency, location, and time.

Collaboration is complicated, and in the drug court context puts historically autonomous professionals under the review of other team members. This research should be considered a first step in exploring and understanding exactly which factors combine to create effective collaborative efforts for drug courts.

This research has uncovered an interesting phenomenon related to program drift, model adherence and collaboration. While team members report strong levels of model adherence and

collaboration, they must process and address philosophical change that occurs within the

program. Depending on the viewpoint of the team member, some of these changes can be

viewed as beneficial, such as the increased use of the balanced approach. Other ideological

changes, such as an over reliance on punitive measures (e.g. surveillance, punishment and

accountability) can be viewed as a threat to returning the program to a business as usual model,

especially if the ideological change goes unaddressed. Such shifting or program change exposes

the drug court program to refraction or filtering (Maguire & Mastrofski, 2009). The only way to

address such change, and determine the how dynamic and sustaining the change may be, is

through careful evaluation of program components via performance measures and training.

Many questions remain which must be addressed including understanding those factors

that combine to create a scenarios whereby a team can balance the due process rights of the drug

court client, with the need for treatment, support and accountability. Other questions include

understanding exactly how teams are able to overcome barriers to effective collaboration – or are

other components of drug courts just so strong in their influence (such as the role of the judge in

178 the courtroom and the effectiveness of treatment) that the impact of the team process is minimal to unimportant? Clearly, more structured research is needed to test collaboration across the 10 key components and the 16 strategies in practice, as well as creating measures for assessing and controlling for program drift. As Cissner & Rempel (2005) argue, we must more fully and comprehensively evaluate the team process, given that drug courts are built on the premise that the model is more effective because it is non-adversarial in nature and built on collaborative ideals.

APPENDIX A: Drug Court Survey

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