Articles

Missouri's Youth Prisons Display Surprising Success
By JENIFER WARREN

Los Angeles Times

July 2, 2004

ST. JOSEPH, Mo. -- There are no handcuffs, no razor-wire fences, no uniforms, no cells. Missouri does things differently in its prisons for young people, and it shows in what you see and what you don't.

Inmates, referred to as "kids," live in dorms that feature beanbag chairs, potted plants, stuffed animals and bunk beds with smiley-face comforters. Guards - who are called "youth specialists" and must have college degrees - go by their first names and don't hesitate to offer hugs.

At the maximum-security lockup in St. Joseph, two cats, Midnight and Tigger, curl up on laps as the state's toughest teenage offenders explore the roots of their anger, weep over the acts of abusive parents and swap strategies for breaking free of gangs. At another facility in Kansas City, boys who rack up months of good behavior earn the right to attend summer basketball camp.

"The old corrections model was a failure; most kids left us worse off than when they came in," said Mark Steward, the chief of Missouri's youth penal system. "So we threw away that culture, and now we focus on treatment, on making connections with these guys and showing them another way. ... It works."

Missouri is winning accolades as the national leader in handling kids who break the law.

"Missouri is the best model we have out there," said Paul DeMuro, a New Jersey-based juvenile justice consultant and former chief of youth prisons in Pennsylvania.

"It works because they believe in the `small is beautiful' theory," said Barry Krisberg, president of the National Council on Crime and Delinquency. "It's about high-quality treatment in an intimate setting."

A 2003 study found that of the 1,400 teenagers released in 1999, only 8 percent wound up in adult prison.

Over the past 20 years, Missouri has replaced a traditional approach to young criminals - large, prison-like lockups with an emphasis on punishment and isolation - with small group settings that blend highly trained staff with constant therapy and positive peer pressure.

Convinced that family connections are crucial, Missouri also takes pains to house children within 50 miles of their homes. If necessary, the government sends a van to enable parents to visit.

The rehabilitative philosophy is reflected even in the aesthetics of the lockups. Dorm rooms overflow with homey touches - a piano and scented candle here, a fish tank and flowered shower curtain there. The correctional officers look different too. Dressed in their own clothes, Missouri's staff members carry no Mace, no batons, no handcuffs - only walkie-talkies.

"We don't need that stuff," said Courtney Collier, the system's regional director in Kansas City. If you do, she said, "You've got a problem."

To create such a safe environment, officials rely largely on a peer culture that engulfs youths the moment they enter a state facility. Assigned to 10-member teams with two counselors, the teenagers study, eat, sleep and exercise together. Several times a day, team members gather to "check in" with one another, a ritual that allows them to share concerns or complaints before they boil over into violence.

The Los Angeles Times is a Tribune Co. newspaper.