Mental-health court gave first grad ‘a second chance’

He called his ex-girlfriend and told her his plan.

He said he would drive his car off the escarpment. Still on the line, he did exactly that.

It was the night of June 8, 2023. The Queen Street hill.

“I went through the barrier wall, down the escarpment,” says Dre, 26. “I felt I had nobody to talk to. I was depressed. The car caught on fire, but I escaped through the windshield.”

He points to a scar on his elbow. A reminder of his pain and luck.

Weeks later, Dre stole his uncle’s car. Dre was arrested. Because of the car, of course, but also for fear he might hurt himself or someone else with it. He was also arrested out of desperation.

Sometimes, when families hit every dead end trying to get help for a mentally ill relative, the criminal justice system seems like the only option left.

For Dre, the help didn’t come from programs inside a jail. It came from Courtroom 302 on Wednesday afternoons — Drug and Mental Health Treatment Court.

Dre was its first graduate.

“My happiness level out of 10 is a nine,” Dre says, soon after his small but significant graduation ceremony.

“My happiness level is a 10 right now,” says his biggest supporter, his mother Gerry. “He’s healthy. He’s stable. He’s taking his medications. He’s definitely on the right track.”

Dre and Gerry asked that their full names not be used in this story. They are concerned they will be labelled or stigmatized by a society that still has much to learn about mental illness and addiction.

Run on a shoestring by a team of committed and tireless lawyers, judges, social workers and special constables, the court follows a template similar to Drug Treatment Court, which has been around for 10 years and has now combined with the new mental-health stream.

Non-violent offenders whose issues with mental health are the underlying reason for their criminal behaviour can be accepted into the program and given the opportunity for treatment under the close scrutiny of the court, rather than going to jail.

Those who make it through have their criminal charges discharged. Those who don’t, return to custody.

Many participants in the specialized court have issues with both mental health and addiction.

While Dre has used drugs, they did not propel him toward the car theft. He was in the mental-health stream of the specialized court.

Born in Hamilton, he grew up with a younger brother and loving parents.

“He was quiet, funny,” says Gerry. “He liked to make a lot of jokes. He would make us laugh. He was a good kid.”

He went to St. Thomas More high school. His grades were decent, he always attended class, he had a girlfriend and friends, and he played on a rep soccer team. He was interested in developmental psychology and environmental sustainability.

At 17, he and his girlfriend broke up and “he took that very hard,” says Gerry. But it was more than that.

“We really didn’t know what was going on with him. We started seeing a side of Dre we had never seen: his anger. That’s when the drug use started showing up.”

He graduated high school and went through a series of jobs as a server or a dishwasher at restaurants and at a retirement home. He spent his pay on drugs, cigarettes and alcohol. The jobs didn’t last.

“I only got fired from one job,” he said. “But I would quit most of the time. I just wanted to have fun.”

Dre’s parents were frustrated. Their relationship with their son was strained.

“It would become confrontational,” says Gerry. “As a parent, I didn’t know how to deal with Dre.”

They found drug paraphernalia in his bedroom and once, friends dropped him off at home “completely knocked out” by drugs.

Gerry got counselling for herself from Alternatives for Youth to better deal with the situation. Meanwhile, Dre moved to his uncle’s home, then lived in a basement with strangers. For a bit, he lived in his car.

While living with a friend’s family, Dre experienced psychosis. He was delusional, up all night cleaning and organizing. The family called Gerry and COAST (Crisis Outreach and Support Team).

He was taken to St. Joseph’s Healthcare and admitted for a few weeks, according to Dre and Gerry. They say a psychiatrist told them it was a “drug-induced psychosis episode.”

When released from hospital, Dre lived at home again, working construction alongside his father.

He also started using cocaine and crystal meth.

“I would do some odd things at work,” Dre says. “I was imagining things. I’d see bombs on the floor.”

A year after his first hospital admission, he had another psychotic episode — up all night, rearranging furniture.

He was again admitted to St. Joe’s. He stayed four weeks and this time he says he was told he probably had bipolar Type 1 disorder, which is characterized by manic episodes.

In the days leading to the escarpment crash, Dre struggled. He was hallucinating and not sleeping.

“I was going berserk again. I was full-blown manic. I was playing music outside. I was playing detective outside in the dark. I was going crazy. I was digging out the garden at my grandma’s without sleeping.”

“Mom, I need to go to the hospital. I’m not well.”

She took him to St. Joe’s. They both say they told the hospital he was suicidal.

“I said please, please, please,” Dre recalls, describing how he pleaded for help. He told them he had a plan to kill himself, although he wouldn’t disclose the details.

“I’m suicidal right now,” he told the hospital. “Why can’t you just put me in a seclusion room?

“They gave me antipsychotics to calm me down.”

Hours after arriving at hospital, he called his mom to pick him up.

“A few days later, I drove off the cliff,” Dre says.

That night he was admitted to the trauma unit at Hamilton General Hospital because of his physical injuries. He was charged with dangerous driving.

He was eventually moved to St. Joe’s for several weeks. This time, psychiatrists told him he had ADHD and borderline personality disorder, according to Dre and Gerry.

While Dre was in hospital, Gerry again searched for help. Research led her to Hamilton’s brand new Mental Health Treatment Court.

Dre and his mom say he was released from St. Joe’s with medication prescribed.

Weeks later, he stole from his uncle.

“I took some money out of his wallet. And I took his car.”

Gerry says the uncle wasn’t angry or punitive. He involved police because maybe if he went to jail, the justice system would be forced to get him the help the medical system seemed unable to provide.

Dre was arrested and charged with theft over $5,000 and driving while suspended.

“I didn’t want to be in jail.”

So Dre applied for Mental Health Treatment Court. Most accused do so through their lawyer or duty counsel, but basic information is available by contacting [email protected].

He was accepted into the program and released from custody to begin a long and demanding regimen of counselling, volunteering and weekly court appearances in front of Justice Amanda Camara of the Ontario Court of Justice.

“I like her,” says Dre. “She’s very nice. She always smiles and looks you in the eye when she’s speaking to you. So a little bit of respect there.”

The Crowns and duty counsel get good reviews from Dre, too. They encouraged him.

Every week Dre brought his court-issued journal to the courtroom. The judge reviewed it, remarking on his activities and observations.

If it was a good week, she stuck a little gold star in his journal. Like the ones kindergarten teachers give pupils for a job well done.

“The gold stars were the best thing,” says Dre. “It makes you motivated to get those stars and have a good week. It encourages you to do well.”

The judge asked if he used drugs that week.

“I had one or two weeks where I smoked a joint and I said I had used. I was honest. The hardest thing to learn was to be straightforward and honest.”

Besides his commitment to getting well, Dre had another thing going for him at Mental Health Treatment Court.

Gerry accompanied her son to the courtroom every single time for six months. She became such a fixture she received warm hellos from Justice Camara.

“Nobody else had a mom there every week,” says Dre.

Both his parents were there for graduation, in a courthouse room usually reserved for jurors.

There was cake. Dre wore a suit. Justice Camara attended in civilian clothes.

“You have a lot to give the community,” she told him.

“It felt really good. I was proud of myself,” says Dre. “Now I can be a role model to others.”

The court granted an absolute discharge for all of Dre’s matters.

Now, a few months later, Dre feels well, lives at home and is looking for a job.

“I wanted to be a professional soccer player, but now I’m too old for that,” he says.

He is clean, sober and taking prescription medication for bipolar disorder.

Gerry and Dre want to tell their story to encourage others to consider Mental Health Treatment Court.

“There’s a lot of stigma around mental illness,” Gerry says. “I don’t know if the stigma will ever go away. (Dre’s) actions were because he was very sick and not because he was a bad person. Nobody deserves to be in jail because of their mental health. He didn’t choose to be sick.”

“He can still live a happy and healthy life.”

“Mental Health Treatment Court is really good for people who want to commit to something good,” Dre says.

“It gave me a second chance.”