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Vietnam veterans Gordie Lane and Pete Bronstad (left and right in foreground), who pushed for an Onondaga County veterans diversion program, chat with friends at the Market Diner in Syracuse. They are joined by Dan DiFlorio, Earl Fontenet, Charles Etlpton and Dave Leeson (left to right in the background).

(Dick Blume | dblume@syracuse.com)

Syracuse, NY -- In the 1980s, two police patrolmen frequently met at the edge of their turfs to mull over problems on their beats.

Syracuse Officer Gordie Lane and Onondaga County Deputy Pete Bronstad lamented the drunkenness, fighting and domestic disputes that plagued veterans. Both veterans of the Vietnam War, the officers knew there had to be a better way: get veterans help they desperately needed.

"These guys needed help; they didn't need to go jail. Jail was just going to make them worse," Bronstad recalled of their discussion.

But society wasn't ready to treat troubled veterans differently than common criminals, Lane said.

"We were trying to get people to understand there were different ways of doing things," he said. "I gave a deputy chief some information on a case in which police officers had (post-traumatic stress disorder) themselves. It was pooh-poohed. That was a big letdown for me. I didn't want to get told 'no' again."

Bronstad understood that judges and lawyers were focused on the crimes, not their root cause.

"They were going to make up their mind based on facts, not some fairy tale we were spinning," he said.

But the two veterans never gave up. And more than two decades later, they found a solution: piggyback off a modern trend of justice that seeks to solve problems, not just punish offenders.

In this new world, veterans were no longer considered simple crooks, but wounded soldiers who deserved help to battle alcoholism, dangerous flashbacks and other battle scars that ended in legal problems.

Lane and Bronstad were encouraged by a Buffalo court that started in 2008 to help veterans get help. But what the two veterans did in Syracuse was even better: they formed a coalition of stakeholders, from cops to judges, to help steer troubled veterans toward help at every turn.

It starts with the cop on the street. Once alerted the person is a veteran, the officer is now educated on common issues, like flashbacks or post-traumatic stress disorder.

If needed, the officer can now escort the struggling soldier to a Veterans Administration hospital to deal with whatever battlefield scars they brought home. Those veterans - the numbers aren't tracked - are treated for psychiatric issues by doctors who treat veterans every day, not by doctors accustomed to civilian issues.

Some veterans commit minor offenses that still require an arrest. For them, the program extends to the courtroom, where dozens of arrested veterans have avoided criminal records and gotten back on their feet.

Prosecutor Matthew Doran

The numbers here are tracked and show remarkable results:

Of 70 veterans who have gotten court-ordered treatment, only four have failed to complete the program and only two others have been re-arrested, said prosecutor Matthew Doran, a former military lawyer himself.

That makes the court program's success rate to date 91 percent. And that doesn't include the veterans who sought help at the advice of a police officer and avoided winding up in court at all.

So why does the program work?

• Persistence: Two people passionate about their cause brought together the right people to get things done.

• Getting to the root: The stakeholders focused on what was causing the problem, not the end result.

• Flexibility: They created something that can be tailored to each unique case, while also adapting to change over time.



'Something they didn't do before'

The persistence of Lane and Bronstad made the program a reality, said Dave Gideon, principal law clerk to the area's top judge.

When discussions began in the late 2000s, Lane had served for 25 years as a co-founder and president of the local Vietnam Veterans of America chapter, giving him influence within the Syracuse veterans hospital.

Bronstad had recently retired as a captain in the sheriff's office, where he was widely respected within the upper echelon of local law enforcement.

The pair brought together a group of police officers, veterans, advocates, lawyers and VA personnel to create an approach that would work in Syracuse.

From the start, the idea was to help veterans who committed lesser crimes, mainly misdemeanors. They might include quarrels with a significant other, drunken driving, drugs, alcohol or fist fights that led to a police response, Bronstad said.

The program does not extend to veterans with more serious offenses. "If you're a homicidal maniac, I don't want you out on the street either," Bronstad said.

James Tormey III

Lane and Bronstad pitched the idea of the Buffalo court, but the area's top judge, state Supreme Court Justice James Tormey, decided on something slightly different for Syracuse: a diversion program that could be rolled out in courts that already existed.

Judges across Onondaga County were trained to identify veterans who qualified for the program. All town court justices now ask a suspect at arraignment if he or she has served in the military.

If the person says yes, then the judge asks if they served in combat. If they answer yes again, then the judge finds out what veterans services, if any, they are getting.

Then it's up to experts and the courts to determine if the veteran's legal problems were caused by their battle scars. If so, they may be eligible for the program.

Judges use the threat of a potential criminal record to make sure veterans follow through with treatment.

Lane said he'd prefer veterans could talk one-on-one with other veterans, leaving cops and judges mostly out of the process. That would speed up the process and keep the focus on each individual need.

But though the program is no longer the grassroots effort it once was, Lane sees progress.

"We did our job," he said. "We got them thinking, got them to do something they didn't do before."



Solving the root of the problem

The soldier was in combat mode, frantically dodging improvised explosive devices as he sped for his life down the mine-littered road.

Except that wasn't really happening. He was a veteran driving down Interstate 690 in East Syracuse. But a passing car sent him into a flashback and he was taking evasive action, careening around cars at a dangerous speed.

The police officer who pulled him over noticed the driver was very agitated. The judge did, too. But under law, the veteran was charged with reckless driving, a misdemeanor.

And that's when the veterans program took over. Instead of being treated as a bad driver, the veteran - who was not named by authorities - was offered help from the VA.

He had a choice: If he took the help, his misdemeanor would be dismissed. If he refused, he faced a criminal record. It's the carrot-and-stick approach that's used in almost every problem-solving court initiative.

"All they're asking for is a chance, not some special break," Lane said of veterans. "Nobody wants a record. Only sick people want a record."

For 64 Syracuse-area veterans, the program has helped them address underlying problems that have remained unresolved. They're back on their feet and have not had any more problems with the law.

A flexible approach

Under the diversion program, not every veteran who has a problem winds up in court.

Syracuse police officers are now educated in handling veterans who are struggling to adjust back to civilian life, said Lt. Daniel Belgrader, who helped implement the training in 2009 and 2013. New police recruits are also trained before they start.

The VA emphasizes that police should bring veterans needing psychiatric evaluations to the VA hospital. And officers are encouraged to bring willing veterans with non-urgent issues to a veterans counseling center.

Onondaga County sheriff's deputies receive similar training. Those avenues were opened by the discussions that Bronstad and Lane started.

Before then, veterans were taken to the Comprehensive Psychiatric Emergency Program at St. Joseph's Hospital Health Center, just like everyone else.

A classic example of a veteran who gets this treatment might be someone who is setting small fires to get rid of the demons, Bronstad said. That veteran is not a criminal, but he's in need of veteran-specific care in a secure setting.

Sometimes, an officer has no choice but to arrest the veteran. In those 70 cases, the court system takes over.

The courts are learning, too. For example, judges originally asked if the person was a veteran, but found that many newly discharged soldiers don't consider themselves "veterans," which is reserved for older folks.

So they now ask if the person has served in the military.

And there's a push to provide more services to veterans getting treated through the program. Eventually, advocates would like if volunteers could drive veterans to and from their treatment programs, for example.

The newly-formed veterans law clinic at Syracuse University is also looking to partner with the program, said U.S. Navy Ensign Tom Caruso, who serves as special assistant to the law school dean for veterans services.

Not only will the clinic focus on veterans-only issues, like getting fair disability benefits, but also make veterans a priority for a host of other services, including criminal court representation.

Because Syracuse's program works within existing courts, it has become a model for other areas in Central New York, Gideon said.

Counties with smaller veteran populations can start a diversion program for a fraction of the cost that it would take to start a new court.

Right now, Jefferson and Oneida counties are working on a similar model.

"It's a great alternative to the court model," Caruso said. "What we've been able to build is incredible."