Officials say it's time for an overhaul

Experts turn to the 1980s when asked to explain how the proposed changes to the state and county juvenile justice systems came about.

"Over the years, successive budget cuts to the state system meant that a lot of the staffing ratios and the ability to do anything more than just exert custody and control really fell off the map," said San Francisco-based attorney Sue Burrell of the Youth Law Center, which focuses on child welfare and juvenile justice.

Vocational and training programs were cut because the state couldn't afford to run them.

"These places meant to be schools for youth were turned into miniature prisons," said Burrell.

A shift in public opinion about how to handle juvenile crime led to tougher laws, stricter sentences and more confined youth.

In the late 1980s, the California Youth Authority began to experience a rapid turnover in management, and nine or 10 directors have cycled through the institution since then, Burrell said. Many of those administrators lacked experience in dealing with juveniles and running institutions, she said.

Problems arose.

Burrell started to hear stories of youths locked in their rooms 23 hours a day, rather than spending about 10 hours outside their cells in class, eating, on recreation or writing home. Letters that came to her office, which had sued the CYA in 1989 for failing to offer adequate special education opportunities, painted grim pictures.

Suicides. Tear-gas cannisters thrown into closed cells by guards. Wards beaten while handcuffed. Twenty-three-hour lockdowns that lasted nine or 10 months. Kids put in cages.

CITIES SET UP SECURE JUVENILE CAMPS

As a result of the stories, wealthy counties, such as Los Angeles, San Francisco and Alameda, started to keep more youth offenders at secure juvenile camps within their counties. At the same time, the state started to give counties more money to offer prevention programs targeting at-risk youth.

In the past 10 years, as a result of these efforts, juvenile felony arrests have dropped 40 percent, said Jerry Powers, Stanislaus County's chief probation officer.

From a high of 9,926 in 1995, the population in California's prisons for youth has steadily declined, largely as a result of a 1996 law that made counties pay the state more for housing less-serious offenders.

The state now houses about 2,600 juvenile offenders in facilities run by the Department of Juvenile Justice, the CYA's successor.

In 2004, the state entered into a voluntary agreement -- as a result of Farrell v. Allen, a lawsuit brought by inmates' rights attorneys -- to improve education, medical and mental health care, sex offender treatment, disability access and general conditions of confinement.

The cost to the state of bringing youth prison operations into compliance with Farrell v. Allen skyrocketed this year. The average cost of housing one young prisoner in a state juvenile facility has increased to $216,000 per year, mostly because of staff needed to run the required programs.

"With that much money, I could send four or five kids to Stanford," Powers said. "We can do much better than that standing on our heads. We'll stretch the dollar much farther."

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