John, Kyle and Janis could have spent the weekend in the Douglas County Jail. Instead, they spent it in a small conference room at the Ramada Inn, 2222 W. Sixth St., learning about the dangers of driving under the influence of alcohol, a crime of which all three have been found guilty.

Under state law, people convicted of a first or second-time DUI must serve 48 consecutive hours in jail or do 100 hours of community service. But a recently approved program gives Douglas County DUI offenders the option of spending a weekend getting scared straight instead of sitting behind bars.

A better solution

Social workers Holly Kabler and Christy Barnett got approval this summer from the county to offer the alternative “weekend intervention” program — on the condition that participants’ civil liberties are sufficiently restricted so that the experience is similar to going to jail.

They take televisions out of the participants’ rooms and leave them with phones equipped to dial only 911. Kabler and Barnett also watch the doors at night to make sure no one leaves the hotel rooms.

Kyle, John and Janis, who asked that their last names not be used to protect their identities, checked into the Ramada at 5:30 p.m. Friday and won’t leave until 5:30 this evening. The program coordinators checked through all of their belongings, gave them each a Breathalyzer test, and laid out the restrictions for the weekend: no smoking, no phone calls, and mandatory participation in two full days of programming.

Interventions like this are becoming increasingly popular. Similar programs were in place in Salina, Wichita and Johnson County when the Douglas County program won approval. The philosophy behind the “weekend intervention” programs is that DUI offenders will get more out of educational videos and presentations than they would staring at the inside of a jail cell.

“We think this is more valuable than jail time would be,” Kabler said. “We can give them information that we hope would deter them from drinking and getting behind the wheel again.”

It also is cheaper for the state. DUI offenders pay $350 to enter the weekend intervention. Kabler said it cost the state roughly $300 to hold an inmate for the same period.

Robert Fairchild, chief judge of Douglas County District Court, said the decision to send people to the weekend program was up to individual judges and was to be made on a case-by-case basis. Some offenders aren’t eligible for the program, he said, either because of past offenses or because their treatment needs are determined to be more severe.

Fairchild said he hadn’t yet made use of the program but thought it had potential to become a strong alternative to sending people to jail.

“The time in jail is wasted except as a punishment. That’s all it is, whereas this could be a more constructive time,” he said.

That’s a philosophy with which this weekend’s participants seemed to agree.

“It’s better than going to jail,” Kyle said. “I’d rather learn something than go sit in a box.”

A full weekend

Now in its third month, the intervention program uses a mixture of techniques to inform participants of the dangers of drunken driving. On Saturday, the three participants watched educational videos and discussed how physical impairment increases with blood-alcohol level. Kabler and Barnett used a series of vision-altering goggles to demonstrate how a drunken driver views the road.

But the most influential part of Saturday’s program, said John and Kyle, came from a former Kansas University student currently in a 12-step recovery program.

Chuck, a clean-cut, muscular 35-year-old, is currently a successful salesman in Kansas City. He also is a recovering alcoholic and former crack-cocaine addict. For 40 minutes Saturday afternoon, Chuck recalled the low points of a life spent almost constantly under the influence of drugs and alcohol. In the 1990s, he hit and killed a pedestrian while driving drunk in Colorado. After getting a divorce a few years ago, he began using cocaine and eventually moved on to crack. Soon he was using crack daily, even at the office during work. He would stay up for days on end, until finally bottoming out a year ago and calling his family for help. He now has been completely sober for six months.

“I remember wanting to quit so bad, but I just couldn’t,” Chuck told the group. “The only thing that stops me now is total abstinence.”

It was a message that stuck with the group.

“It’s more real than anything else,” said John, a 29-year-old who lives in Lawrence. “It shows you that it can happen to anybody out in the real world. This weekend really makes you think about this kind of stuff.”