In March 2003, Cpl. Frank Moody was crossing an Iraqi desert, one of the first of 1,000 U.S. Army infantrymen that led the way in the Iraq invasion. He doesn’t like to talk about what came next.
Those are the bad memories, the ones he wants to forget. The ones he doesn’t want to glorify by retelling. He spent 13 months in Iraq and seven months in Kuwait. In late 2004 he was discharged. But unlike his entry into the Army – when he received massive amounts of training to prepare him for barreling across the desert and engaging in combat – when he left, there was nothing to prepare him for returning to civilian life. He had to battle the bad memories alone.
What happened next over more than 10 years is a story that is familiar to too many veterans in the U.S. struggling with PTSD, sexual trauma, traumatic brain injuries and other mental health issues. The U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs reports one in 10 returning Iraq and Afghanistan veterans seen by the VA suffer from alcohol or substance abuse – and it’s generally believed that many more never seek help. An alarming number commit suicide, at a far higher rate than the population at large, according to VA reports. Or they do what Moody did, they self-medicate and self-destruct. In Moody’s case, he was arrested multiple times for DUIs, domestic violence and felony drug possession.
But the worst of it, he now says, was being cut off from his family – not only his children and their mother, but all of his extended family that he pushed away at first. They in turn shunned him, leaving him out of family celebrations and get-togethers. “I thought there was no bottom, and I was just going deeper and deeper,” Moody says.
Eventually, Moody says he “woke up” and realized he needed to get help for the sake of his four children, now 3, 9, 11 and 17. He had already started the process of getting (and staying) sober, when in early 2016 his probation officer recommended a new program in Monterey County Superior Court called Veterans Treatment Court (VTC).
It would not be easy. Moody would have to consent to a rigorous schedule of treatment, meetings with support groups, his probation officer and a mentor, and random drug testing, among other requirements over approximately 18 months. If successful, the court would reduce his felony to a misdemeanor, and waive the rest of his probation.
ON THE MORNING OF OCT. 4, 2017, MOODY STOOD IN A SALINAS COURTROOM before Judge Sam Lavorato, Jr., with a fresh haircut, pressed dress slacks, a peach button down shirt, and black overcoat. The man who had blocked out his feelings for years was now weeping tears of joy in front of a packed courtroom.
“I’m sober, so I have feelings now,” he said to Lavorato with a smile and a laugh. It was Moody’s graduation from the court program, one of the first of about 10 graduations between last summer and this winter.
The VTC is celebrating its two-year anniversary this month and is already making a significant difference in the lives of veterans, says Lavorato, the court’s founding judge. It took more than five years to get the court off the ground in Monterey County. And despite research showing that VTC works – only 10 percent recidivism compared to 70 percent for other offenders in one Orange County study – only about half of California counties have such a court.
Proponents say it’s taking awhile for the legal community to come around and understand that battle-scarred veterans suffering from PTSD, depression, sexual trauma and other challenges need a hand, rather than a hammer. Public safety is actually improved by sending healthy veterans back into society to contribute, they say. The alternative is expensive incarceration, and an increased suicide rate.
Lavorato says VTC has proven to be a win-win for everyone – veterans, law enforcement, families and the community. From his front-row seat he’s watched broken veterans suffering from PTSD, sexual trauma and other wounds of war and time in the service, and who were previously homeless or in jail, with no jobs and lost families, become whole again.
Last year another court launched in Monterey County, Military Diversion Court (MDC), available to both active-duty members of the military and veterans, giving them a chance to wipe records clean of misdemeanor arrests, including DUIs. MDC does not offer the same intense level of support as treatment court, and how defendants will fare is a guess. Hopefully, says Monterey County Deputy District Attorney Doug Matheson, they will turn their lives around for the long haul: “Time will tell,” he says. As for the VTC graduates, he’s more confident: “If I’m a gambling man, [they’re] never going to reoffend.”
WES MORRILL GETS ALMOST GIDDY TALKING ABOUT THE VTC while sitting behind his desk at the Monterey County Office of Military and Veterans Affairs in Monterey, where he’s the director.
“My favorite part of the month is Veterans Treatment Court,” he says. “To see someone who is homeless, or to meet them in county jail, and then to see them a year later, fully employed, family relationship’s healed, it’s really good stuff.”
Morrill is one of an entire team of professionals that work in concert to support veterans in the VTC. The court is considered a collaborative one, where there is still an adversarial component between the defense and the prosecution, but the two sides work together to support the defendants as they go through the program. They are joined by the judge, Morrill (himself an Army veteran who did his basic training at Fort Ord), a VA doctor, counselors from Monterey County Behavioral Health, the county Probation Department, volunteer veteran mentors, law enforcement officers and others.
It was just such a team that traveled to San Jose in February 2012 to learn how VTC works, thanks to a grant from the National Association of Drug Court Professionals. Santa Clara County was one of the early adopters of the court in California in 2008; earlier that year the first VTC in the nation was launched by Judge Robert Russell of Buffalo, New York. In the years after 9/11 and increased military deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq, Russell noticed high numbers of veterans appearing before him in two treatment courts, for drug use and mental health cases.
By chance, one day he watched as a veteran who stood before him in court completely mute open up after Russell asked two other veterans in the courtroom to talk with him privately. When the three returned to the courtroom, the veteran, who previously hung his head and said nothing, looked at the judge and answered his questions.
What, Russell asked the two vets who took the man outside, did they say to him? They reminded the man that as veterans, they each need to take responsibility and be accountable for their actions. Morrill says the veteran-to-veteran bond is key. If anyone wonders why the courts should treat veterans differently than other defendants, he says, “Well, it’s a different culture.”
Russell also did some math, weighing how much it costs to incarcerate a prisoner, versus the cost of treating the root cause of veterans’ problems. In California, the cost of incarceration is, on average, $71,000 per year.
Nona Medina, Monterey County Superior Court’s coordinator of collaborative courts like VTC and MDC, says there is no way to calculate the cost per veteran-defendant in the program versus a regular defendant. She points to one National Institute of Justice study for drug court that shows an average savings of almost $1,400 per defendant, and a long-term savings to the public in reduced recidivism and other benefits of $6,744 on average. In addition, veterans are supported in their efforts to find employment and become high-functioning members of the community.
Two counties in California, Santa Clara and Orange, soon followed Russell’s lead. It would take two more years before other California counties followed. Leading the way in advocating for more counties to follow suit was the California Veterans Legal Task Force, based in San Diego County. Executive Director Jude Litzenberger – a Navy veteran herself – says the courts could help thousands of veterans become productive citizens again, “so we can do better since Vietnam.”
An estimated 43.5 percent of Vietnam War veterans who saw combat wound up incarcerated for some amount of time. It’s clear that many suffered from PTSD, but it wasn’t officially recognized until 1980, five years after the war ended.
“Jail makes PTSD worse, and when they get out, they still have it,” she says.
In San Diego, one court Litzenberger’s organization helped establish had a zero-percent recidivism rate. “We know the system works,” she says. Yet, only 32 of 58 California counties have the courts.
“It was tough getting the court off the ground, because people were hesitant,” Lavorato says of the four-year gap between attending the first training and launching the program. “We were not sure of the number of veterans we had in our system.”
Lavorato says eventually the partners decided to stop discussing plans and go ahead and launch the court. In the first 18 months, approximately 35 veterans came through the VTC. There are now fewer than 20 in VTC. The Military Diversion Court surprised everyone with its popularity, Lavorato says. When it first became available in July, 40 veterans applied. Currently, there are 33 active cases.
One of the officials working behind the scenes to get the Veterans Treatment Court launched was then-deputy district attorney Jimmy Panetta, now a U.S. congressman, and himself a veteran. He says he was “perplexed” why in a county of 25,000 veterans there was no treatment court established earlier. Today one of the graduation gifts that veterans receive at the VTC is a proclamation signed by Panetta.
He writes by email, “I believe its establishment and continued success demonstrates our community’s commitment to our veterans, their recognition and, if necessary, their rehabilitation to be a productive part of our society.”
IF WHAT HAPPENED FOR MOODY ON OCT. 4 is akin to a graduation, then what happened later in the day for another defendant was an expulsion. In a nearly empty courtroom that afternoon, attorney Phillip Crawford stood before Lavorato ready to defend his client Joe, an Army veteran and West Point graduate. (He requested the Weekly use his nickname only while his criminal case is still pending.) Crawford was determined to get his client into the Military Diversion Court, a new program that’s a few months old in Monterey County.
But Crawford had one big challenge: Joe was arrested for a felony DUI. The MDC is only for misdemeanors. He had to convince Lavorato to reduce the charge to a misdemeanor if his client had any chance of making it into the program and eventually having his record cleared. His client’s future was on the line.
The Military Diversion Court was established in California in 2016, with the goal of helping active-duty military and veterans charged with first-time misdemeanors – a large percentage of them DUIs – have the opportunity to get help for their underlying issues like PTSD or sexual trauma and have their records wiped clean. (Of the 33 active cases in Monterey County, 20 percent are DUIs, 33 percent are domestic violence or assault cases and the rest are various drug, theft and other types.)
The point is to divert service members and veterans out of the normal prosecution path, as long as they can show they are getting help. In the case of active-duty service members, it can mean preserving their military careers.
Proponents say it has not been an easy sell to district attorneys, especially in the area of impaired driving. The initial legislation creating the courts left confusion as to whether DUIs were included, so new legislation was enacted in 2017 to ensure those charged with first-time DUIs can take part. It was opposed by the California District Attorneys Association, of which Monterey County District Attorney Dean Flippo has served as president of the board in recent years.
Litzenberger was a big proponent of MDC legislation, after realizing that veterans were getting overlooked during their first-time DUIs; by the time some were diverted into VTC, they had been arrested multiple times. That, coupled with potential jail time, Litzenberger says, only makes PTSD worse – instead of helping them stop, it drives them back to drugs and alcohol.
“The reason veterans drink is very different than for party boys,” she says. “It’s a very different problem, so it requires a different system.”
Who qualifies for MDC and who doesn’t is still under debate. The Legislature left it up to the courts. In Monterey County, Matheson says the District Attorney’s Office and the Monterey County Public Defender’s Office gave input to Lavorato in launching the new court.
“Our office comes to the table with certain priorities in mind,” Matheson says. Number one is justice, and number two is helping victims and public safety. Matheson notes that both he and Flippo are veterans: “We’re aware they’ve drawn the short straw in the last 10 years in getting treatment.”
Lavorato says the goal was to create an inclusive program, but the legislation didn’t provide precise guidance in as to what would keep someone out. Working with the DA’s office and others, Monterey County officials settled on “suitability” to decide who is in and who is out, which incorporates several factors. “We look at the nature of the charges, any aggravating factors, any violence involved, weapons or prior record,” Lavorato says. The court also wants to hear from victims involved. “We look at all of these on an individual basis.”
Crawford argues, however, that something as broad as “suitability” has created too many barriers for defendants who should qualify. “The intent of the legislation was to try to get as many people into diversion as possible, not create a bunch of obstacles,” Crawford says.
Even someone with a felony DUI, like Joe, should have an opportunity to participate in the alternative court, he says. He told Lavorato that his client – a former platoon leader who led more than 200 combat missions – had turned to drinking to deal with panic attacks and insomnia.
Crawford acknowledged that a test showed Joe had a blood-alcohol level three times over the legal limit when he was arrested, but says that only bolsters his case, proving the veteran had suffered enormous trauma – all the more reason to give him the opportunity to get help.
“He was wounded in battle,” Crawford said in court. “We can’t see those wounds, but that’s what happened. To turn him away because he’s too injured seems heartless… it’s immoral given what he’s sacrificed.”
Lavorato acknowledged the veteran’s plight and his service to the country, but said the high blood alcohol level presented a public safety risk. The judge’s suggestion was for Joe to apply for VTC instead of MDC. In the VTC, there is more support: treatment, peer mentors and other services. In MDC, it’s up to the veteran or service member to ask for and secure help for themselves.
Speaking by phone from another state where he’s now enrolled in a MBA program, Joe does not deny he was drunk the night of his arrest, but he disputes the facts surrounding the incident. He blames overzealous police for mischaracterizing what happened in their report.
Ironically, he says the same arrest was “the best thing that ever happened to me.” Despite losing his military career as a result, it forced him to get help: “I’m on a better trajectory now.” He now takes medication for his PTSD. He started a nonprofit for military families, and is working to complete his master’s degree.
But he’s still bitter when it comes to not given the chance to work his case through the MDC system.
“Everything I’ve experienced with the California court system is completely disingenuous,” Joe says. “I wasn’t expecting a break, but if anybody was in a position to get a break… I’m never going to be in court again, I’m not a repeat offender, I’m not a career criminal.”
DEC. 6, 2017, WAS A BITTERSWEET DAY FOR LAVORATO, his last day as presiding judge in both VTC and MDC. Monterey County Superior Court rotates judicial assignments on an annual basis, and in January 2018 it would be time for Judge Robert A. Burlison to take over. Before the day’s VTC cases began, Lavorato was awarded a plaque from the VTC team and given a standing ovation from the courtroom – defendants included.
Every VTC graduation includes certain traditions, just like any high school or college graduation. There are speeches, a diploma of sorts from Panetta, and something straight out of military tradition: a challenge coin. The oversized medallions are used as a way to bond military units together, or to recognize achievements or commemorate special events. In VTC, the challenge coin is also quite literally a challenge to take what vets have learned and pass it on to other vets.
It’s something Moody took to heart the day of his graduation. He turned to the courtroom gallery, full of veterans awaiting their turn before the judge: “Make it work for you guys.”
Lavorato had a message for Moody that day, as well.
“You deserve this, Mr. Moody,” he said, before reducing a felony for firearms possession to a misdemeanor and lifting probation. “Bottom line is, you are no longer broken, and you are whole. Whatever your life has been, you have a spotless future.”