On the night of Oct. 12, 2015, 29-year-old Elizabeth Hargett broke into her father's Decatur home and grabbed a TV. Before she made it off the property, her conscience flared and she dropped it on the front yard grass.

A few weeks later, authorities filed criminal charges and Hargett confessed to the crime. She faced two to 20 years behind bars and a lifetime as a convicted felon.

Because she had no prior felony convictions, Hargett qualified for a second chance - enrollment in a program that could lead to dismissal of the charge. Hargett promptly signed the papers, without consulting an attorney. She was eager to make a new start. That's when she found out the deal came with a catch.

"I was told, 'If you violate, you're going to prison for four years,'" Hargett said.

Once she entered the program, Hargett struggled to keep up with the fees - about $135 due at the beginning of every month. Unemployed and looking for work, the pending charges stymied her attempts to make a new start, she said. Still she completed almost all the assigned classes until a slip up eight months into the program.

A failed drug screen led to her arrest and imprisonment in the Morgan County Jail. Hargett realized she was in very big trouble. A judge scheduled her case for sentencing, which, under the terms of her agreement, would result in an automatic four-year sentence, with no chance for a trial or to reduce the charges. The prosecutor also indicated he would oppose community corrections or probation, which could keep her out of prison.

"When they arrested me, I was on suicide watch for a week," Hargett said. "I have never been one to be suicidal in the past, but it was overwhelming."

Brian White, a defense attorney in Decatur, has watched many people struggle with the high costs of pre-trial intervention, which have become vital sources of revenue for prosecutors. To White, relying on pre-trial intervention fees to fund the court system is just another sign that the state wants to shift court funding from the state to the defendants themselves.

"It passed in response to the fact that the state is providing less money," White said. "The legislature basically made the choice that we are going to make the criminal justice system a pay-as-you-go proposition."

Gambling with freedom

Pre-trial intervention for first-time offenders has existed for decades in some Alabama counties, but got a boost in 2013 when lawmakers passed a law making it easier to start new programs. Now 55 counties have diversion programs for first-time offenders, which can erase misdemeanors or non-violent felonies. Many cities also have programs that cover misdemeanors such as DUI.

For offenders facing serious charges, the programs offer a clean slate. District attorneys drop charges against graduates, who walk away without the kind of criminal history that can make it difficult to obtain jobs, professional licenses and admission to college.

Although most programs have high rates of success, failure can be costly. Defendants in pre-trial intervention often waive their right to trial and, in some cases, face resistance to probation or community corrections - programs that keep first-time offenders out of prison.

This is the second story in a series by Reckon by AL.com. Follow Reckon on Facebook.

White said the programs don't often send unwitting defendants to prison. Although a prosecutor may oppose probation, judges still make final decisions on sentencing.

In Hargett's case, a judge decided she deserved a shot at drug rehab, and released her 10 days after she entered jail.

"I'm excited to go to rehab," Hargett said.

She still has a possible prison sentence hanging over her head, if she drops out of rehab or violates any other conditions of her pre-trial intervention.

"All because of that TV," she said. "It might make sense if I sold it or something. But I didn't even get it out of the yard."

In Alabama and across the country, prosecutors often require participants to plead guilty to participate.

"Unfortunately, it's a common practice nationwide," said Spurgeon Kennedy of the National Association of Pretrial Services Agencies. "The feeling from prosecutors is that if the diversion participation falls through, it's good to have that guilty plea so you don't have to start from scratch gathering evidence for trial months or years after the crime was committed."

That's not all. In some Alabama counties, prosecutors also oppose probation and community corrections for pre-trial intervention dropouts, which may make it more likely that some people who fail the program get sent to prison.

Kennedy said requiring defendants to plead guilty into the program could violate defendants' rights to due process. He also said the practice of opposing probation or community corrections rarely happens in other places.

"Very few prosecutors will oppose probation for someone who had been in pre-trial intervention," Kennedy said.

In Tuscaloosa County, prosecutors often oppose probation for people who flunked out of pre-trial intervention programs, said Shelley Rawlings, executive director of the Second Chance Program in Tuscaloosa County.

"We think that it helps ensure compliance for the person to know up front what the consequences are," she said. "They know beforehand that they are going to prison if they don't complete."

Pre-trial and prison reductions

Montgomery District Attorney Daryl Bailey presides over the oldest pre-trial intervention program in the state. Started in 1978, he said the program strives to leave participants better off than they were before they started. Defendants are required to complete educational programs and improve their employment situation with the assistance of pre-trial intervention staff.

Montgomery District Attorney Daryl Bailey

"This is more about changing lives and changing behavior," Bailey said. "These programs are changing people's lives and giving them that second chance."

Brian McVeigh, district attorney for Calhoun and Cleburne Counties, said most people in the program are highly motivated to graduate and stay out of trouble.

"They are people that are one bad decision away from having a good life," McVeigh said. "So you're giving them another chance."

The state pre-trial intervention law was passed the same year as sentencing guidelines and has helped reduce the prison population by more than 20 percent, said Barry Matson, executive director of the Office of Prosecution Services.

High price of a second chance

White said pre-trial intervention can work well for many defendants, but he has grave concerns about the costs for participation. Before Morgan County created pre-trial intervention, he said courts would often defer prosecution for a year and dismiss charges if the defendant did not reoffend. Now similar defendants must enroll in expensive pre-trial intervention programs.

Cleburne and Calhoun County District Attorney Brian McVeigh

Every dollar spent on court fees is money not spent on groceries, housing and other necessities. He said that can force people who are already probably struggling financially to choose between paying court fees or bills.

"Pre-trial intervention is a revenue source for courts," White said. "I criticize it as a policy."

District attorney offices collect the revenue from pre-trial intervention. In 2016, pre-trial diversion programs across the state collected $1.7 million, according to Matson.

Administrative fees, which are due at the time of enrollment in the program, can range from about $350 to $1,000. Some programs charge monthly supervision fees and others only bill for drug tests and classes.

The 2013 law states that people cannot be excluded from pre-trial intervention programs if they are unable to pay. Some courts may waive fees for low-income participants, but others may require installments until the full amount is paid.

Still, the daunting costs may keep some defendants out of the program, Rawlings said.

"I'm sure that the money deters some people from pleading in," Rawlings said.

Judges will work with defendants who do not have $1,000 to enroll in the program, Rawlings said, either putting them on a payment plan or waiving fees in some cases. Defendants may not know it's an option, she said.

Errek Jett, district attorney for Lawrence County, also said he won't exclude defendants who cannot pay $500 up front.

"They can just do the program and we're just out that money," Jett said.

Prosecutors say most of the fees help defray the costs of running the program, which may require extra staff and resources.

Matson said the pre-trial intervention law created standards for prosecutors and judges to follow. He said the rules are intended to prevent bias or favoritism.

"If Johnny on one side of the tracks is a bank vice president and Tommy on the other side of the tracks is unemployed, they should both have the same list of instructions and ability to get into a diversion program," Matson said.

Pre-trial intervention programs typically include first-time, non-violent offenders - often those accused of drug or property crimes. Requirements vary, but participants may be subject to random drug tests and searches, may be required to complete GED or other classes and must seek or maintain employment.

Prosecutors have wide latitude to tweak fees, requirements and the length of supervision. The shortest programs last just a few months, but offenders in Baldwin County can remain in the program for up to five years.

New moneymaker replaces old moneymaker

Jett said fees from pre-intervention generate between $70,000 and $75,000 a year for the district attorney's office in Lawrence County. Robert Wilters, district attorney for Baldwin County, said the program brings in about $400,000 a year.

State funding for courts has decreased steadily since 2008, forcing officials to rely more heavily on fees from offenders. In 2016, the statewide budget for Alabama's district attorneys was $94 million, and only $26.2 million of that came from the general fund, Matson said.

"The legislature requires the district attorneys to support its remaining budget through other sources such as local court costs, fees or grants," Matson wrote in a statement. "The largest source of local funds has been fees generated from the prosecution of fraudulent negotiated instruments or 'worthless checks' which have all but vanished in recent years."

Prosecutors in several counties have struggled with the loss of worthless check fees. Wilters said income from the bad check unit in Baldwin County dropped $40,000 in one year. The fees from pre-trial intervention have become critical to the county.

"With the cutbacks that the state has made, and the decrease in the other income streams, we've got to have those PTI fees," Wilters said.

Matson said courts have also suffered cuts to bail bond fees and other sources of income. That has made it harder to deal with cuts from the general fund.

"I put it this way: In our right arm, I've got an IV called the general fund," Matson said. "In our left arm, someone has cut our wrists and we're bleeding out."

Fees for pre-trial intervention and other programs are the only way courts can make up the difference.

"I wouldn't even profess that this is the best way to fund a court system," Matson said. "It is just the system we have."