Part one of a series
“Rivers are easiest to cross at their source.”
Judge Lee Harrell is reading aloud from a book he has propped open on his knee. We’re sitting on the gym floor in a circle, tired from a high-intensity workout.
Judge Harrell continues, “Which would you rather do: nearly drown in a dangerous crossing or cross when it’s still weak? It’s up to you but cross it early; that’s the key. Sometimes we’re facing bad news or a bit of self-pity… catch that early on.”
He looks at each of us as he talks about how the stress of everyday life can spur someone to open a bottle of beer or stop by grandma’s house to get a couple of oxycodone left over from a hip surgery.
In the last 20 years, substance abuse has spiraled from controlled prescriptions into a labyrinth of drug cocktails laced with anything from horse tranquilizers to an analgesic drug called fentanyl.
Drug-related crime is burdening courts in rural counties in Southwest Virginia, where we carry the state’s highest incarceration rates. But Judges Harrell and Brett Geisler, representing Grayson and Carroll counties and the city of Galax, are trying something new in their courtrooms. They’ve introduced a rigorous fitness program to their drug court – or, as Harrell and Geisler prefer to call it, “Recovery Court” — a judicial rehabilitation alternative to jail.
This isn’t any ordinary fitness program either. With the help of trainer Walter Midkiff, founder of Recovery Fitness, training, and exercise are designed specifically to serve people living with substance use disorder. There’s another reason why this isn’t an ordinary fitness program: the judges are exercising and working out with people who are there because of drug offenses.
A young woman in her 20’s has come through the courtroom’s main entrance. She locates Judge Geisler. Her chestnut hair is tied up in a ponytail, and she’s knotted her hands together in front of her when she speaks.
“Judge Geisler, I just want to thank you so much for giving my dad a chance. He’s had a hard time, and he’s really trying to stay out of trouble. So, thank you.”
Judge Geisler’s eyes soften when he hears her speak. They visit a few minutes, and when she leaves, Geisler says: “You know, putting people in jail isn’t fun. It gets frustrating seeing the same people repeating the same offenses.”
Geisler describes frequent events where people came through his courtroom with repeat drug offenses and how, after he and Judge Harrell began the Recovery Court option, people are more likely to get their lives back on track and stay out of jail.
From Skeptic to Drug Court Supporter
Talking with retired state senator and former Virginia state trooper Bill Carrico, you can hear how someone from a law-enforcement background has come to value a drug court alternative to jail. When I met Senator Carrico at the weekly Recovery Court fitness program, he shared how he formed his views about drug courts:
When I became a House Speaker (Virginia House of Delegates), I started getting phone calls from judges and the drug court coordinators. They were trying to sell me on the idea to get more funding for these programs. I was a skeptic because of my background as a trooper. I was jaded towards can you really rehabilitate anyone. … So I got engaged with the conversations; went to a drug court graduation, talked to some of the people involved … and became very convinced that it is a way to deter a lot of people from trying to re-enter the system.
Judges started saying that approach could work Southwest Virginia.
By that time, I was in the Senate on Finance (Committee) and became a proponent of the idea because I’d seen how it worked and seen how successful it’d been in other places.
He said Judge Harrell’s fitness program represents a new level of commitment to recovery.
To offer a drug court, a district’s judge applies through their state’s protocol to receive approval. In Virginia, Judges Geisler and Harrell applied through the state’s supreme court and were granted permission to operate in 2019. It’s the first multi-jurisdictional drug court in Virginia. The courtrooms share organization, community leadership, and resources.
Judge Geisler describes when he and Harrell collaborated to establish their Recovery Court:
We started separately and then Judge Harrell and I put our heads together and, “You know, we’re close (jurisdictions are adjacent). We have Carroll and Grayson and the City of Galax; we have such a community of interest – we’re so much alike.” I said, “You know, two people have got to be better than one. We can meet together in Galax and pool our resources.”
The judges started the program in May 2019, meeting late after hours.
“So we just started in with a group of people (participants) and we’ve learned on the way,” Geisler said. “As we’ve done it and progressed, I’m a true believer in the benefits of Recovery Court.
Vicky Novak is the administrator for the program. She monitors compliance with state and federal codes and oversees participants’ progress. She attends every meeting and joins in most support-group activities. Vicky is also a phone call away when someone needs a few words of encouragement. At Recovery Court, she hands me a copy of a participant’s handbook – something that she’s developed with input from the judges and other law enforcement leadership.
A Rigorous Program
Seventeen pages long, the handbook details a rigorous program that, when completed, will clear a participant’s name from any criminal charges. People matriculating through the program must be employed (or supported by Social Security for a medical disability). They meet weekly with probation officers and social work staff and agree to frequent drug tests and monitoring. Participants also have to pay fines for their crimes, court fees, and “tuition” of sorts to enroll in the program. There’s a community service component and, of course, Recovery Fitness, which meets every week. In these jurisdictions, Recovery Court can last anywhere from 18 months to two years. As participants progress through the program, they slowly earn back community freedom and privileges.
On the day of my visit, outside Galax’s courthouse, program participants and leadership visited with each other. Some have brought their children or parents along. Others gather around a bench talking to a social worker about program requirements. It feels more like a family reunion than a gathering of people recovering from substance use disorder. Eventually, the social workers and administrators file into the building and take up seats in front of a quiet courtroom. Mentors from community groups who represent safety-net services and resource centers are talking about a factory closing up the road in Hillsville and the Recovery Court participants who have received lay-off notices. Public defense attorneys and a social worker listen in. Judge Geisler is dressed in khakis and a polo shirt when he arrives through the main doors to sit with us in the gallery.
Geisler opens the meeting for a group of around nine people. He asks for updates and news on the participants and program graduates. Two graduates have had relapses. Judge Geisler sighs and leans heavily on the table. He remarks, “I need to do a better job of providing support after they graduate. We need to do a better job.”
An attorney points to an example in Montgomery County, where they taper services after graduation. Some voice a need for regular post-graduate meetings. Others suggest that graduates continue to attend the fitness group. It’s decided that leadership will strengthen and expand their post-graduate support.
Then Judge Geisler turns the focus to the current group of around 20 participants matriculating through Recovery Court. He asks for any news and updates. The news is all good: No relapses. Two participants have secured long-term employment. Another has returned from a residential recovery clinic and is doing great. After this briefing, the Recovery Court participants are asked to join us in the courtroom. Geisler offers a warm welcome and invites news or updates.
“I’ve been 54 days sober,” says a voice near the front.
“I got to have my grandson for the weekend,” says another.
“Earning back that trust is important,” adds someone sitting behind me.
With every achievement, we applaud and Geisler adds encouraging words. Then he notices a little girl sitting in the back row by one of the participants and he asks, “Who’d you bring with you, Ryan?” Ryan (not his real name) lifts the child over his head playfully and we clap for them. He got full custody restored a couple of weeks ago.
A Feeling of Optimism
In less than 15 minutes, Recovery Court is over. A feeling of optimism is in the room as we file out the door. It’s a cautious hope because recovery is a fragile thing. I ask Geisler about the data on drug use in rural areas where substance use disorder is high. Geisler says, “I always try to think of the psychology with that… you know, like we all do pretty well. We have good jobs, families… we got a lot to be thankful for.”
Geisler gestures around the room at the attorneys, administrators, and social workers.
“But if, economically, for people who don’t have a lot of hope, probably crawling into a bottle is their only outlet. Unfortunately, it’s so destructive. So we try to replace one addiction with a more healthy addiction.”
Judge Geisler observes that, even though he’s helping people, he feels like he’s the one benefiting from this service.
“I get perspective. It’s a great reminder – it puts your life in perspective – about what’s important. This is the number one best thing I do.”
Tomorrow: Part Two. “Somebody who’s recovering from substance use disorder has really wrecked their body,” says trainer Walter Midkiff, who runs the recovery workouts. “They’re broken. Fitness can fix that and help reinforce long-term recovery.”
Sara June Jo-Saebo lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. She dedicates this series of articles to Shawn (1970-2021), “who flew away too soon.”
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