Youths held accountable
Mollie Dalpae’s 14-year-old son, Luke Roe, was disappearing before her eyes.
His grades began to slip. He steadily lost weight, always had dark circles under his eyes and wouldn’t talk to her.
The most important thing – the only thing that seemed to matter to him – was smoking pot. His marijuana habit was consuming him, and his mother felt powerless to intervene.
So she picked up the phone and called the police.
“I was desperate,” Dalpae said. “I was scared to death I was going to lose him.”
The police arrested her son at a friend’s house.
“They cuffed me and read me my rights,” said Roe.
Because it was his first offense, Roe was referred to the Diversion Program. It’s an alternative to the formal court system, but it still holds youths accountable for their actions.
Twice a month, Neighborhood Accountability Boards meet to facilitate the program.
In an upstairs room at First Nazarene Church on Spokane’s North Side, the scorching evening heat didn’t deter board members from their tasks.
The volunteers read a juvenile offender’s police report and then meet with the parents and child. After assessing the situation, the volunteers offer the offender a legally binding contract that includes restitution, community service and classes on topics such as anger management or substance abuse.
If the offender declines the contract or if the volunteers determine the child isn’t a good candidate for the program, the case is sent back to the Juvenile Court system.
Roe served 25 hours of community service and had six weeks of substance-abuse counseling. He also attended a mentoring group.
Now, as her son nears the end of his contract, his mother said the change in him has been remarkable.
“He’s more confident in himself,” she said. “He speaks out and is more relaxed.”
She paused and glanced at her son.
“Physically, he looks so much better,” she said.
Across town, it wasn’t much cooler when the Spokane Valley Neighborhood Accountability Board met in the basement of Opportunity Christian Church. The waiting room soon filled with grim parents and anxious teens.
Craig Howard has volunteered here since 2002.
“I love it,” he said. “It’s one thing to talk about the problems in your neighborhood; it’s another thing to make a difference.”
“The Diversion Program gives kids direction and structure,” he said.
Volunteers make sure offenders are willing to take responsibility for their actions. When Howard writes up his contracts, he tries to steer kids to pro-social activities such as Scouting or team sports.
“When kids get bored, they start looking for trouble,” he said.
Down the hall, 14-year-old Shane Quinn can attest to that. He and his friends caused significant damage to a school with their skateboards.
Quinn’s feet shod in skate shoes with mismatched laces looked enormous compared with his slight frame. He said of his crime, “We left a bunch of holes in a wall. When I saw the holes, I thought, ‘I’m an idiot.’ “
What he didn’t think was that two sheriff’s deputies would come to his school and arrest him. He spent the night at the Juvenile Detention Center.
“It was scary,” Quinn said.
His father, Dean, sat across from him, and his eyes grew dark with sadness as he recalled that day.
“It’s a horrific situation,” he said. “It’s shocking. You think, ‘What am I doing wrong?’ “
Both Shane and Dean Quinn express appreciation for the Diversion Program.
Shane Quinn recently completed his contract, but he still isn’t allowed to skate for a year under his dad’s mandate.
“I’ve learned to think about my decision-making,” Shane Quinn said. “I’ve made changes in my friendships.”
Said Dean Quinn: “The program helps parents get their kids to wake up. We faced the music. Shane’s paying his price.”
In a different part of the city, another young man prepared to step up to the plate and meet his own consequences.
South Side volunteer Bruce Oscarson ushered the youngster and his father into a room at Manito United Methodist Church. Oscarson has served on the Neighborhood Accountability Board for 12 years.
The teen peered at the volunteer through shaggy blond hair while his dad sat next to him, arms folded.
Oscarson put them both at ease. Smiling, he asked the teen about school, hobbies and his home life.
The young man told Oscarson that once he had seen a man offering minors beer at a skate park.
“I went home and told my dad,” he said. “We called the police.”
“So why are you here tonight?” the volunteer gently asked.
“Umm … shoplifting,” said the young man, jiggling his leg rapidly.
“Tell me about it,” Oscarson replied.
The story unfolded. Peer pressure and bullying had led a good kid to make a bad choice.
“How have your actions affected others?” asked Oscarson.
The teen’s jiggling leg grew still. He looked at his shoes and then raised his eyes to meet his father’s gaze.
“I know that my dad doesn’t trust me like he did,” he said quietly.
Oscarson left the room to fill out the juvenile’s contract. The teen’s consequences will include restitution, a letter of apology and community service.
Oscarson hopes the youth will be able to answer the question he left him with: “What do you think it will take to rebuild your father’s trust?”
If the Neighborhood Accountability Boards are the hands and feet of the Diversion Program, then program manager Scott Ryman is its heart.
Ryman’s deep voice grows animated when he talks about kids. He has worked in the Juvenile Court system for more than 30 years.
The reason Ryman still is working with young people is clear. He says the volunteers energize him, and he remains optimistic about the community’s children.
“I’m personally inspired by these kids. Seven out of 10 don’t re-offend. Our program catches families during a critical window,” Ryman said.
“The teamwork involved is very satisfying, especially when you see parents and kids responding to your efforts.”
Today, Mollie Dalpae is grateful to have her son back.
Her soft-spoken teen leaned forward in his chair.
“I feel like this program gives you a second chance when you screw up,” Luke Roe said. “Without it, I’d be getting into more trouble.”