The episode's name is derived from Judge
Amanda Williams' comments that she believes in the use of
tough love by families dealing with drug problems. The title is used because Williams' actions far exceed the normal standard of tough love, coming closer to
Authoritarian parenting, which is often linked to negative outcomes. The show begins with Glass providing background on the home town of the person he is about to interview at
Lee Arrendale State Prison in northeast Georgia. The story of
Lindsey Dills is the primary focus of the episode. She began playing soccer in the youth league, and by high school, she was outstanding. However, she wasn't coping with her parents separating, and began
self-mutilating and smoking pot. Her parents got her into treatment programs several times, but it didn't help. She got a job at a restaurant/bar and started hanging out with older employees after work, doing cocaine. She decided to quit soccer before her senior year, and nobody could talk her out of it. Her parents divorced, her mother moved away, and she lived with her father. One weekend when her dad was out of town, she forged two checks that totaled $100 from her father's account and used the money to buy drugs. Upon his return, her
CPA father quickly found the discrepancy. Her actions scared him and he desperately wanted to help his daughter before she was beyond help. Lindsey Dills explained what happened: So Jason Clarke is my public defender at the time and he's warning me. He's saying, "Lindsey don't take drug court. I'm telling you, you won't make it." He's told me this like three or four times. I'm adamant. I'm saying, "I'm taking drug court." Because all I know is I get to get out of jail. It's all I know. I don't know anything else about it. So I go to plead into drug court. My dad's in the court room. Judge Barton was on the bench that day instead of Judge Williams. She was gone. My dad's done Judge Barton's accounting for probably the past 15 years and they're very good friends. So (Judge Barton) sees me come in and he pulls me up to the bench and he's like, "Don't do this. Don't take drug court. Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked me three or four times. Judge Barton's trying to talk me out of taking drug court. That I would not do well. I wouldn't make it. He didn't think it was what I should do. West Huddleston is executive director of the NADCP, the primary support organization for the nation's 2,400+ drug courts and 25,000 counselors, lawyers, and judges. He commented: Any drug court that relies primarily on jail, or punishment generally, is operating way outside our philosophy and just does not understand addiction. They've (addicts) lost their jobs, their income, they've lost their loved ones. I mean, all of those natural consequences which are much more severe than a day or two or three in jail have not stopped them from using drugs and alcohol. Why would we think putting them in jail would do so?". When Dills violated drug court rules, she served jail terms of 51 days, 90 days and 104 days. Dills had been in the drug program for 42 months when she went to court on October 8, 2008. The judge took Dills into chambers with the drug court staff and debated terminating Dills from the program, which would require her to serve 20–24 months in prison for the original forgery charges. Finally, Judge Williams told Dills to do 28 days in jail. After Dills was returned to jail, the judge phoned and ordered Dills to have "no further contact", which meant no visitors, phone calls or mail. She was also placed in an isolation cell. When Dills asked if the isolation was for the full 28 days, the guard told her that the order had been changed to an "indefinite sentence".
Drug policy The drug policy in
Glynn County, Georgia was established by Amanda F. Williams, chief judge of the
Glynn County Superior Court. She had been on the bench since 1991, and started the drug court in 1998. In Brunswick, anyone arrested and charged with a non-violent drug crime must appear at the next once-a-week drug court. If the charge is a felony, there is no bail; bail for misdemeanors is $15,000. A former Glynn County Public Defender told Glass that most defendants could not post the hefty bond, so they stay in jail. Judge Williams personally handles all drug cases. Defendants who plead guilty have a choice: immediately begin serving a minimum 10 to 12 months in a probation detention center where inmates are put to work and are ineligible for parole, -or- enter the drug court program and be immediately released on
personal recognizance. Given those choices, the vast majority choose drug court. 378 individuals participated in the Glynn/Camden drug court in 2009, the largest in the state. The population of Glynn and Camden Counties is approximately 100,000. By contrast,
Fulton County, which includes
Atlanta, had just 330 participants from a population exceeding one million. Participants in drug court are required to submit to random and weekly drug tests; observe 9:00pm curfews; participate in five drug court group therapy and individual counseling sessions each week; attend at least four
Alcoholics Anonymous or
Narcotics Anonymous meetings each week; refrain from imbibing alcoholic beverages; obey all laws; and appear in court periodically.
Wrong participants The experiences of
Brandi Byrd illustrate another problematic case. Byrd was out with a friend who was charged with
DUI. Byrd gave the police permission to search her purse, and two
Dextropropoxyphene pills were found. She explained that her mother had given them to her after minor surgery and she had forgotten about them, but she was charged with two felonies, one for each pill. After sitting in jail for six days, Byrd went to court. The public defender and the drug court counselors told her if she didn't agree to drug court, she would go to prison. Judge Williams told her, "There is no such thing as putting you on probation. If you don't beat the rap, there is no street probation for charges in this county, and hasn't been for seven years, since I've had drug court." When people without addiction and past criminal behavior are placed in an intensive treatment program, they tend to rebel and become defiant because the therapy is of no benefit to them and they feel they don't deserve the restrictions placed on their behavior.
Success stories The program does have its supporters and success stories. If a participant follows all the rules, they can complete the program and have their convictions purged in 30 months. The situation of
Charlie McCullough should have been a complete success story, but it took a detour. McCullough was caught in a police sting buying drugs, and entered drug court voluntarily, determined to kick drugs. Everything went fine for 22 months; he never missed a meeting or appointment and passed all his drug tests. Then at a random urine screening, the lab technician told him he tested positive for
methamphetamine. McCullough insisted that he was clean and asked to take another test, which he passed. A third test was administered, which he also passed, so McCullough was relieved. At his next court appearance, Judge Williams asked why he failed a drug test. He was surprised, and stated that he passed the second test. The judge told him she was going to use the first test; the second one didn't count. No matter how much he professed his innocence, the judge didn't believe him. The judge refused to bring in the lab technician to testify, but asked McCullough if he would take a polygraph, which he agreed, then she changed her mind and sentenced him to three days in jail for a "bad" test and 14 days for questioning the results of the drug screening. From that point on, his drug court experience went downhill. Lawyer Jim Jenkins, who represented clients in the drug court, concurred: "I don't disagree with the people who tell me she means well, but I think the record in too many cases speaks for itself, that a lot of people have had their constitutional and procedural rights run roughshod over." ==Reception==