For Iraq War veteran Tyrone Sykes Jr., getting arrested in a drunken rage in front of his children last year landed him at rock bottom.
After a year of being sober and participating in a program tailored for veterans at
Orleans Parish Criminal District Court, Sykes sees that moment when the police brought him to jail as a turning point.
"If it didn't happen, I'd probably be dead," said Sykes, 41, a 9th Ward native. "I was going down a bad spiral. I was drinking so heavily and every problem was getting worse."
Sykes is one of 28
local military veterans who have gone through the 18-month program, which combines random drug tests, case management and therapy, since its inception in late 2010. Seven participants, including Sykes, were homeless when they were arrested. They now have housing. Only four have dropped out without graduating, a record that makes organizers proud.
To be eligible, the former service members must have been honorably discharged from the U.S. armed services, they cannot be in a gang or charged with a violent or gun crime. The program allows the participants, most of whom have pleaded guilty to drug charges, to avoid jail time as long as they abide by its strict conditions.
The idea is to help veterans with substance-abuse and mental-health issues turn their lives around by taking advantage of the social services available to them through the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs.
In 2010, Judge Arthur Hunter Jr. saw the need for such a program with the imminent return of thousands of Louisiana veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan. Hunter said he decided to start the program, which mirrors similar ones for mentally ill, drug-addicted and domestic-violence defendants, because he wanted to try to prevent veterans who had committed a minor crime from escalating to more serious ones.
"Much of the cases have to do with how they are dealing with the post-traumatic stress," Hunter said, noting that many turn to alcohol or drugs instead of seeking counseling.
"It's incumbent on our society to remedy their situation as much as we can," the judge added. "I think we at least owe that to them for putting their lives on the line for our freedom."
The program is run by volunteer Charles Bibbins, who served in the U.S. Navy for 22 years, first as an officer then as a drug and alcohol counselor. Bibbins helps screen participants, setting them up with assistance available through Veterans Affairs with housing, education, jobs, healthcare, substance abuse and therapy.
One of the most important parts of the program, he says, is the peer support meetings every Thursday in a back room above Hunter's court. This past Thursday, 14 men sat around a table discussing their previous week's troubles, most of which centered around trying to find work and stay sober.
"A lot of people in regular drug court have never been a part of something they had to finish," Bibbins told the group. "Y'all had to finish boot camp. Y'all had to finish out your military contract. Y'all are capable of being disciplined because you've proven it before. It's just somehow, somewhere you got off track."
About half the group had served in the Vietnam War. They spoke of the difficulties they faced reintegrating into society and maintaining relationships. Some of the older men, who had graduated the program and now continue as mentors, told the younger veterans that they had their "six," or back, and wouldn't leave their new comrades behind.
The group expressed disappointed with the loss of three recent veterans who had given up, having chosen to go to prison instead of complete the program.
"We want everybody in here to be a man again," Vietnam veteran Herbert McGee told the group. "When we left for Vietnam, they molded us into fighting machines. Then, when you get back, they expect for you to adjust right back into what you was, right back into society. We went out there to keep everybody safe back home but who's going to take care of us when we get home? That's why we're here."
This Veterans Day, the group plans to go together at one of the chains that offers them free meals on the holiday, such as Applebee's, Chili's or Golden Corral. It will mark an important milestone for one vet, Darryl Hill, who can remember a time just a few years ago, when he was too high on crack cocaine or too ill from his addiction to get himself to get the free food.
"This program really saved my life," said Hill, 57, who has now been clean for several years.
For Sykes, the older vets' advice has been indispensable. He entered the program angry, distrustful and didn't want to listen or talk to anyone. But over time, the group got him to open up about his problems, and take one day at a time.
The former homeless alcoholic has been sober for a year and lives in a transitional house through Volunteers of America. While he searches for a steadier residence and job, he is working through a temp agency at Saints games, picking up cigarette butts and trash.
"He's a walking miracle," McGee, one of the mentors, said of Sykes.
"I still kind of shake when I'm in groups," Sykes said. "But I tell the new guys, 'Hey, if it worked for me, it can work for you. You've just got to give it a chance.'"
