But that just wasn't true.
A series of articles ("Slammed," July 5, 2001) in New Times over the past year revealed that ADJC was violating its own policies and in some cases the court order by routinely putting children in solitary confinement in specialized "separation units" for days or weeks, sometimes even months, without adequate education or other services; locking children in their cells for days at a time; failing to meet staff-to-youth ratios. In addition, staff members were using violence to control kids and were not always disciplined for these physical outbursts. There were staff members having sex with kids. Corrections officers and teachers were at risk because department policies weren't followed to ensure their safety.
David Hollenbach
David Hollenbach
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Read related stories in the "Slammed" series - A look at conditions within the Arizona Department of Juvenile Corrections
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And mental health services were found to be inadequate. Unqualified staff were counseling kids, and there were not enough spaces in the special mental health unit to accommodate boys in need of extra mental health services.
A subsequent story ("Learning Disorder," December 13, 2001) revealed that while ADJC runs state schools, it does not meet the standards all other Arizona schools are held to, particularly with regard to special education.
After the initial "Slammed" article appeared, officials from the U.S. Department of Justice began an informal inquiry into conditions at ADJC, and several months later announced a formal investigation, into areas including educational services and the use of force by staff against kids. Also following "Slammed," a group of more than 30 community leaders asked Governor Jane Hull to create a task force to look into conditions at ADJC. She never responded to the request.
Following David Horvath's suicide, Jan Christian, the former executive director of the Governor's Select Commission and Task Force on Juvenile Corrections, who headed the letter-writing group, confirmed she has yet to hear from Hull. "The governor refused to listen to the pleas of citizens," Christian says. "I wish she would at least listen to the cries of desperate children."
Margaret Leon's admissions do much to explain why the individual reports of abuse and other disturbing activities leaked by ADJC employees and the glowing descriptions of the agency's performance released by spokesman Steve Meissner never matched up.
But now Leon is gone. She'll start a new job soon, working on dropout prevention for the Paradise Valley Unified School District. And she leaves behind almost 1,000 kids. The National Association of State Mental Health Program Directors reported last year that 50 percent to 75 percent of youth in public and private corrections programs have at least one diagnosable mental health disorder. That's a lot of mentally ill kids.
Following the Camacho and Horvath suicides, there's been a lot of talk about a lack of funds, that if only there had been money for David Horvath to go to a residential treatment facility, he would be alive.
That may well be, Terri Capozzi says, but she believes kids could be treated just as well at ADJC as they are in those outside facilities. It's not merely about a lack of funds, she says, but rather, "It's about stewardship of funds." Instead of firing line-staff, ADJC could have closed institutions and consolidated populations, or stopped hiring more administrators, Capozzi says.
Further, she adds, ADJC officials have long known that their population was changing, and even though Gaspar has a background in mental health, they did little to respond.
"We knew that the population changed. We talked about it all the time. All the numbers reflect it. The kids are getting younger. Their offenses are getting smaller. And they're sicker. They're mentally ill. . . . We lock them up. We don't give them the treatment they need. We don't give them stimulation. We don't give them programs.
"And yet on paper we look terrific. We know what to say."
Editor's note: Suicide prevention counseling is available through EMPACT at 480-784-1500 or 1-800-SUICIDE.
