Pubdate: Fri, 23 Aug 2002
Source: Hartford Courant (CT)
Copyright: 2002 The Hartford Courant
Contact:  http://www.ctnow.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/183
Author: Gregory Seay

TEENS IN A GRAY AREA

Two years ago, Connecticut passed a law to make it easier for Lu Ann 
Schneider of Windsor Locks and other parents to get help for their 
rebellious 16- and 17-year-olds.

The "youth in crisis" legislation was supposed to give parents, police, and 
the courts a way to rein in troubled teens.

The law's goal was to get these "gray area" teens - no longer children, not 
legally adults - the mental-health and drug counseling or job training they 
need.

But since the law took effect July 1, 2001, it has been branded ineffective 
by some parents, lawmakers, and child- and juvenile- justice advocates.

Parts of the law are applied inconsistently and are open to broad 
interpretation. In particular, a section of the statute giving police 
authority to locate and retrieve runaway youths is interpreted and applied 
unevenly, critics say.

Unlike a child 15 or younger, a 16- or 17-year-old who runs away from home 
cannot be forced to return. And although teens cannot drop out of school 
until 18 without a parent's permission, it isn't illegal to be a truant.

Since the law passed, a 16- or 17-year-old who repeatedly runs away or 
skips more than four days of school in a month or 10 days in a school year 
can be deemed by the court a "youth in crisis." That declaration can 
trigger the counseling to get a kid back on track.

Questions have been raised, for example, about the way East Hampton police 
responded to Makayla Korpinen, a runaway 16-year-old who died of an Ecstasy 
overdose in May.

Schneider says her worst fear is that her runaway 17-year-old daughter, 
Brittany, who used Ecstasy before moving on to other narcotics, her mother 
says, will wind up dead like Makayla.

Some observers say the law gives an inordinate measure of control to the 
teens it is designed to protect, and it lacks the teeth to hold defiant 
adolescents accountable.

More Than 900 Petitions Filed

Anyone, including parents, school officials, police, town officials, and 
probation officers, may petition the court for youth in crisis intervention.

The state's juvenile courts have granted fewer than 5 percent of the more 
than 900 petitions filed from July 2001 to June 2002. A petition must be 
granted before a troubled teen has access to services.

Hundreds more never got that far because they were either dismissed by the 
court or withdrawn by the petitioner. The law's advocates point out that 
some dismissals and withdrawals have favorable results, such as a child 
agreeing to get counseling.

Treatment Services Limited

Even those who receive intervention face delays for treatment and 
counseling because of the juvenile court's limited resources. Lawmakers, in 
last spring's budget battle, cut about $650,000 from the judicial budget 
earmarked to provide services to youths in crisis.

"It's the lack of programs and services to implement the law which is at 
the core of the issue," said Martha Stone, who runs the Center for 
Children's Advocacy at the University of Connecticut School of Law.

Schneider says the youth in crisis petition the court granted this summer 
came too late to help Brittany. After the girl used her parents' ATM card 
to take $100, her anguished mother filed theft charges.

Brittany was arrested Monday and, because of her age, arraigned in adult 
court. The judge ordered her into the York Correctional Institution in 
Niantic, where she is undergoing the psychiatric and drug screening she had 
been waiting to receive in juvenile court.

"I'm not trying to be a mean mom," said Schneider, who had to quit work to 
cope with her child. "But I'm at the end of my rope. I just want her to get 
help."

The issue of how the youth in crisis law is supposed to work - and 
instances where it hasn't - have surfaced since Makayla became the state's 
first confirmed Ecstasy overdose.

Makayla's Case Troubling

Days before she died, Makayla ran away across town to live with her 
boyfriend and his family.

Along with a criminal investigation into Makayla's death, the state is 
probing whether law enforcement and other public agencies went far enough 
to place the teen in a safe environment.

Makayla's mother, Catherine Korpinen, has publicly declared frustration 
over her inability to use social-service agencies and police to bring her 
daughter home.

There is no indication that a petition to have Makayla declared a youth in 
crisis was ever brought. But based on the law's rocky start, some question 
whether its remedies would have come in time to help her.

Rep. Gail K. Hamm, D-East Hampton, has closely followed Makayla's case not 
only because the girl lived in her district, but because Hamm's law 
practice and legislative-committee work focus on children's issues.

"The lesson we can learn from the tragic death ... is that many of the 
interventions that were supposed to be in place failed on all levels in her 
case," Hamm said.

Catherine Korpinen is lobbying for elimination of the "gray area" in which 
the state effectively treats 16- and 17-year-olds as adults.

Some key lawmakers are looking to change state law to classify anyone under 
18 a juvenile.

Youth in crisis emerged from the frustrations of parents whose older teens 
were runaways or truants.

"We did this work for the children, as well as the parents," said Rep. Mary 
Mushinsky, D-Wallingford, who co-wrote the youth in crisis measure. 
"Because if you allow a kid to make a bad decision at a young age, they'll 
pay for it later in life."

Law Needs Improvement

Mushinsky and other supporters praise the law's intent, but they concede 
that improvements are needed in the way it's used by the courts, law 
enforcement and social-service agencies.

One area that most agree requires immediate focus is deepening the 
understanding of police about their duties and responsibilities.

Under the law, police, once alerted to a runaway, are allowed to look for 
and report the teen's location.

Police also are permitted, if necessary, to take the teen into protective 
custody - not arrested, no handcuffs, no jail cell - for no more than 12 
hours while they determine whether the teen can return home or becomes a 
ward of the state.

In Makayla's case, when her mother contacted East Hampton police about her 
runaway daughter, she was reportedly told there was nothing police could 
do. Catherine Korpinen and her lawyer did not respond to repeated requests 
for comment.

Hamm said she believes police misinterpreted their responsibilities under 
the crisis law. Hamm said Makayla should have at least been taken into 
protective custody.

Police Chief Matthew Reimondo said his agency never received a formal 
runaway report on Makayla, adding he stands "by the decisions made by my 
men." He said, however, that if the state's probe determines his department 
did something wrong, "then we'll take a closer look at it."

Stone says the law's careful phrasing ensures that, in circumstances where 
an adolescent is fleeing a mentally or physically abusive home, police 
aren't mandated to return a runaway to that environment.

 From July 1, 2001, to June 30, 2002, 943 crisis petitions were filed in 
the state's juvenile courts, according to Judicial Branch data. Of those, 
only 45 or so received court-ordered supervision.

The supervision figures don't reflect the hundreds more petitions that are 
either dismissed or withdrawn because the court or the parent is convinced 
that a kid has gotten the message and promises to seek treatment and behave.

The volume of cases becomes more stark when divided by judicial district.

Data show juvenile courts in New Haven, the Rockville section of Vernon and 
Waterbury each handled more petitions in 12 months than more populous 
districts such as Bridgeport and Hartford, which historically have needed 
more in the way of social services.

Numbers Not Whole Story

Chief Juvenile Judge Michael Mack cautioned against using the data to draw 
inferences as to why some districts are more active than others with crisis 
petitions.

"A court doesn't go out knocking on doors, looking for cases," he said.

Some observers say the disparity reflects concern in some districts that 
the combination of the law's lack of teeth and the courts' scarce resources 
render intervention fruitless.

Mack insists that any frustrations of the judges and court staff aren't 
interfering with the handling and disposition of crisis petitions.

"They want it to work," Mack said. "They all are trying."
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