Cases Show the Need for Diversion Program: With Jails Filling Up, Organizers Say Such Efforts Have Clear Benefits.
By Laurie Au, The Kansas City Star, Mo.

Jul. 11--"The same old way doesn't work with mentally ill people."

Kansas City Municipal Judge John B. Williams

Robert Battaglia walked into Kansas City Municipal Judge John B. Williams' courtroom, the last case of the day because he is considered a danger to others.

He wore handcuffs, a red jumpsuit with white G-unit sneakers with no socks and no shoelaces, leaving the blue tongues hanging out. He flashed a friendly smile when his 4-year-old son waved to him from rows behind.

But he's severely troubled, his mother said. In the courtroom, he would mouth words to the empty space next to him. He'd snap back into reality when the judge called on him or when his little boy whispered, "Daddy!"

Battaglia is bipolar and schizophrenic. This is his last chance, his get-out-of-jail ticket to get help and become a family again, his mother said.

"One time, he shook his son and said he was shaking the demons out of him," said his mother, Vicki St. John. "Another time, he threw his girlfriend out the car and into a ditch and said God told him he could kill her if she wasn't obedient."

His mother and girlfriend pleaded with the judge to have Battaglia admitted to the Mental Health Court, a program in Jackson County that would divert him from prison and into treatment. They say Battaglia, like the hundreds of others in the program, needs serious help and doesn't belong in jail.

"He's a good person," St. John said. "We hope with the court behind him, maybe this could give him the motivation to go on his meds. I just want them to be a healthy family again."

The Jackson County program recently marked its four-year anniversary. The Mental Health Court was initially funded in 2002 by the mental health levy and Jackson County's anti-drug tax, totaling $200,000 a year. It is now funded through multiple sources, including the county and federal grants.

Under the program, mentally ill people arrested for low-offense crimes, usually trespassing or public intoxication and sometimes even domestic abuse, are referred to the program. A judge then admits them while they receive treatment from mental health counselors. They "graduate" after successfully completing treatment, and their fines and charges usually are cleared.

"It's a different approach to dealing with people that would otherwise get treated the same old way," said Williams, one of the program's organizers. "The same old way doesn't work with mentally ill people."

Organizers say the need for jail diversion programs for the nonviolent mentally ill is especially crucial with state funding dropping dramatically for mental health care.

Jails have become makeshift psychiatric wards. Nancy Leazer, who oversees Kansas City's Municipal Correctional Institution, estimates that at least half the jail cells are filled with those who are mentally ill.

Before, people could get help before things get too bad by going into Western Missouri Mental Health Center, which was hit hardest locally in cuts. Now, it's nearly impossible, said Guyla Stidmon, executive director of Kansas City's National Alliance on Mental Illness.

"They have cut it so much that only the sickest of the sick could get treatment," Stidmon said.

That is how many with mental illnesses end up in jail. Many can't get the help, or don't think they need it, until they're arrested.

Melissa Hall knew she had bipolar disorder since she was 14. But she may never have gotten help for it 13 years later if she hadn't been arrested earlier this year.

She would have episodes -- one minute she was happy and the next something would snap. She began taking bipolar medications when she was 15 but stopped.

Hall was arrested in March after getting into a fight with her mother. Days after her arrest, she found out she was pregnant. She could either get help or have her first baby in jail.

Under the program, she doesn't take any pills so they don't harm the baby. She went to anger management classes. She sews "stress" pillows to deal with her emotions, using old pieces of clothes and buttons to express her feelings.

In the courtroom, Hall is much more relaxed than she was four months ago.

"How's it going, Melissa?" asked Judge Williams, who likes to keep the atmosphere informal.

"Things are going OK. They are looking a lot better than four months ago."

"Are you still doing any drugs?"

"No, I never had a drug problem," She paused and patted her stomach. "I have an eating problem now, though."

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Copyright (c) 2006, The Kansas City Star, Mo.

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Published: 2006/07/11 06:00:34 CDT

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