Keeping Heat on Youthful Offenders

Probation officer Chris Jiron steps out of his white government-issue sedan, clips a pepper spray can to his belt, puts on his badge and straps on a fanny pack containing handcuffs and a drug test kit. Then, he makes his way to a slightly run-down tract home with punk music thundering from one window.

Jiron, a six-year veteran probation officer with more than 150 juveniles to look after, doesn’t always get the cooperation he’d like making these kinds of spot checks.

In this case, the 16-year-old boy he’s checking on is skipping school and has missed sessions with a counselor designed to help manage his violent tendencies.

He had served time in a juvenile detention center in Los Angeles before moving to Moorpark with his mother.

At Jiron’s knock, the boy’s sister answers the door. As he’s talking to her, the 16-year-old slips out of a back bedroom window and takes off through his neighbor’s yard and out of sight.

“He bolted,” Jiron says. “Maybe he had drugs or was worried I was going to arrest him. I don’t know, but I’m going to have to report that.”

The boy will probably wind up back in front of a judge very soon.

Depending on one’s point of view, Jiron is either a necessity or a nuisance.

To the court, he represents the long arm of the law--making sure juvenile offenders know there are consequences to their actions.

To the offender, he’s “the man”--another impediment to freedom and another reminder of wrongdoing.

Some of the youths detest him and let him know it, Jiron said. Others just want to get through their probation with as few hassles as possible.

“My job is to make sure they know there are consequences to their actions,” he said. “It’s not a popularity contest.”

The hassles might include weekly visits by Jiron, who does spot drug tests, checks for weapons and makes sure his charges are attending school regularly or going to counseling.

Although he’s not as overworked as some of his counterparts in Los Angeles County, Jiron’s caseload is spiraling along with the juvenile crime rate. It’s tough spending quality time with all his 150 young offenders, Jiron says, but he does his best.

Only a core group of about 25 juveniles--most on probation for drug charges, violent behavior or gang problems--require weekly or biweekly checks. He sees most of the others about every three to four weeks.

Like elsewhere in California, there are sometimes cases of very young children committing violent crimes. Jiron has seen an 8-year-old and a 10-year-old pulled in for violent behavior that included using knives and razor blades in assaults.

Jiron, who sometimes brings along a deputy for backup when he makes his home visits, has gone on most of the gang sweeps conducted in the east county, accompanying sheriff’s deputies and Simi Valley police officers when they raid the homes of gang members on probation.

Some of his work is done over the phone, talking to teachers, counselors, prosecutors and cops. Sometimes he gets phone calls from parents.

“I’ve gotten a call from a mom who said her son was spitting on her, and I’ve gotten a call from another mom complaining that her son who was on probation hadn’t made his bed,” Jiron said. “Sometimes I can help, sometimes I can’t.”

While overall crime has dropped in Ventura County, juvenile crime has jumped 50% in the last six years, according to Ventura County Sheriff’s Department crime statistics. In the last year alone, the statistics show a 17% increase in juvenile crime, with jumps in violent crime by juveniles.

The local juvenile justice system shows some of the strain. The Clifton Tatum Center in Ventura, the county’s juvenile hall, was built for 84 but now houses 122 juvenile offenders, said Frank Woodson, director of the County Probation Department.

The nearby Frank A. Colston Youth Center, which is for longer-term stays, has a four- to six-month waiting list, Woodson said.

“That has translated to a similar jump in probation caseloads,” he said.

In the last year, Woodson said, the caseload for juvenile probation officers has jumped from about 1,200 to 1,700 cases yearly.

There are 17 juvenile probation officers in the county, and they make between $27,000 and $40,000 a year.

In Orange County, a study showed that 8% of the juvenile offenders committed 50% of the crime.

“That’s staggering,” Woodson said. “We are looking into doing a similar study here, but the 8% factor is instructive, and it shows the importance of identifying these individuals early to try and reverse those patterns of behavior.”

If the county decides to follow Orange County’s lead, much of the responsibility for identifying those individuals may fall on the shoulders of probation officers, Woodson said.

Already, probation officers take on more than the obvious duties of checking up on juvenile offenders.

Prosecutors rely on probation officers to screen out juveniles who have committed less-serious offenses, saving the county money and keeping them from clogging the juvenile courts with more cases, said Randy Thomas, who supervises the juvenile prosecution unit for the district attorney’s office.

“They provide a tremendous benefit to Ventura County,” Thomas said. “All of us rely on them to make good judgment calls, to screen police reports and to handle a large caseload.”

Ventura County Superior Court Judge Steven Z. Perren, who was a juvenile court judge for two years, said probation officers are an integral part of the juvenile justice system.

“So much depends on the probation officer,” Perren said. “They are our court in the field. They make sure that the kids abide by the terms of probation . . . whatever they have to do--cajole, kick butt or whatever it takes to get these kids to get back on track.”

The 45-year-old Jiron, a Vietnam veteran, says he tries to take a quiet, evenhanded approach. He tries hard not to get emotional, one way or the other, to offer help when asked and not to let youths slide if they do something wrong.

Before this job, he had worked for 10 years at a bank and labored in construction before that. But after getting a teaching credential, he was told about this job and decided to give it a go.

“It sounded interesting and it’s been interesting,” he said. “I really enjoy the variety of things we deal with.”

Jiron, the father of an 11-year-old and a 19-year-old, said the work has made him a better parent.

“Sometimes I think we are almost taking the place of parents that have given up,” he said.

On a few occasions, former juvenile offenders have called him to let him know they have finished school, are working and have a family.

“I think they call up with that kind of ‘I-told-you-so’ attitude,” Jiron said. “It’s sort of defiant, and they’re saying ‘I’ve made it,’ and it pumps up their egos a bit.

“I don’t know that they realize, though, that it pumps up my ego, too. I mean, that’s what I’m after all along.”