A Club With an Unusual Membership

Sounding more like a motivational speaker than a Municipal Court judge, Gregory H. Lewis looked around Department 101 in Orange County Superior Court one day this month, smiled and said to a room filled with about 100 people: “I like to see your faces! There’s a lot of energy flowing.”

This is no ordinary day in Lewis’ court. It’s the day he presides over the 321 Club, an experimental court program that seeks to rehabilitate addicts or alcoholics convicted of misdemeanors instead of sending them to jail.

“I don’t want people to fail,” Lewis said in a recent interview. “My theory is that they’ve had enough failure in life. I want them to lead a healthy, sober life. There is nothing better than to see people coming into court healthy and happy.”

Becoming a member of the 321 Club may keep offenders out of jail, but it is by no means an easy way out.

To join, members must agree to plead guilty to the misdemeanor charge and are given the maximum sentence. The sentence is suspended and they are placed on informal probation with the following conditions: random drug testing, daily Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous meetings and monthly court appearances before the judge. They must participate in the program for three years. If a member does not appear at the monthly meeting, probation is revoked and Lewis issues a warrant for the member’s arrest.

“It’s much easier to do the time than to accept the structure of the program,” said public defender Sue Green, one of the attorneys involved in the program. “The requirements are stringent.”

Prospective club members are evaluated for what Green calls “the right mind-set,” which means wanting to change and making no excuses for their behavior.

The club is named after the department Lewis presided over when the group formed a year ago. Of the approximately 100 people who have participated in it, five have been rearrested, Lewis said.

Finding a job, drug testing, rehabilitation programs and even a haircut can be among the individual probation conditions. Violating probation can result in being sent to jail to serve the maximum sentence, which can be as long as three years.

“I blow this and I blow the rest of my life,” said 61-year-old Jerry, an Irvine resident who asked that his last name not be published. He has remained clean and sober for four months--the longest such stretch of his life. He attributes this to the 321 Club.

When Jerry arrived in Lewis’ court about four months ago, he faced six months in jail for drunk driving. Also hanging over his head was a sentence of 25 years to life for possession of heroin.

“It’s gotten to a point now that I feel like I’m learning something,” he said. “I’m not just going because I have to go for court. There’s sort of a camaraderie there with the other people.”

The monthly 321 Club sessions are a combination court appearance and AA meeting. There is a lot of laughter, there are tears, and there are occasional hugs. Sometimes friendships are born; other times, feelings are hurt.

At one recent meeting, a young woman named Sarah tearfully admitted to drinking a beer at a party and expressed deep remorse. She was treated with compassion by other club members because of her honesty.

“She knew right when it happened that it was wrong, and I’m proud that she conceded that,” a female member said to the group.

In contrast, those who make excuses for their behavior or try to deny that they have relapsed are often treated harshly by club members, who must decide whether someone who has relapsed should be able to remain a member.

“To me, what this is really about is the group,” said public defender Green. Lewis “steps aside from his normal role and turns stuff over to the group. They care about the other members of the group and take care of each other. They have a lot of courage, in my opinion.”

Figuring that it costs the county about $2,000 a month to house someone in jail, Lewis estimates that the 321 Club could end up saving the county as much as $1.5 million a year. The program receives no special funding.

The club was born after a woman showed up in Lewis’ courtroom on her second drunk-driving charge. She stood before the judge and said, “I’m a hopeless alcoholic.”

Lewis said he was struck by what she said and told her, “You may be an alcoholic, but you’re not hopeless.” He ordered her to join AA and to undergo counseling. She never completely quit drinking, but she got a job, dumped her boyfriend and hasn’t returned to the court system.

Soon after, Lewis had a conversation with Green, who represented many of the drug and alcohol offenders being brought to the judge’s courtroom.

“I began to notice repetition of drug- and alcohol-related crimes,” Lewis said. “One day, I said, ‘You know, Sue, we ought to do something.’ ”

The 321 Club began with five women. They had drug and alcohol problems as well as problems with self-esteem. They were coming to court individually and Lewis decided they should be brought together as a group.

Other judges now refer offenders to the club. Each monthly meeting is filled with regular members and potential members, some of whom are still in custody.

For Lewis, the program must be juggled along with his regular and busy court schedule. But he believes it is worth it. ‘You cannot turn your back on people who are asking for help,” he said.