By Michael R. Addams
Inside the RISE26 Conference
Every year when I attend the annual All Rise conference, I feel a bit like I’m not in Kansas anymore … I mean Cheney. The sea of RISE26 name tags tells their own story: Alaska to Florida, big cities to small towns, judges, prosecutors, public defenders, probation officers, counselors, treatment providers, and more, all moving in the same general direction.
All Rise is the national training, membership, and advocacy organization for treatment courts and other justice system responses to substance use and mental health disorders.11 www.allrise.org Formerly known as the National Association of Drug Court Professionals, it supports courts, treatment providers, and justice professionals through research-based standards, training, technical assistance, and events like a massive annual conference.
And it really is massive, this year with more than 7,000 people in attendance. Some parts can feel a little over the top. The general sessions feel a bit more like a concert than a conference, as we wonder if celebrity spokesman Martin Sheen is going to drop in this year, as in years past. (In 2026, he was a no-show.)
As one of the founding members of the Cheney Therapeutic Court, I have attended the All Rise conference four times now. This year, there were more than 200 sessions and topics. I chose sessions that focused on evidence-based practices, courtroom leadership, and updates on various drug trends, topics I can use to improve my roles as a prosecutor or a judge pro tempore.
After several days in Nashville, Tennessee, listening to speakers, collecting swag, mingling in crowded hallways, and enjoying some Nashville-style brisket, I am reminded of why Cheney, Washington, offers a therapeutic court model.
What Therapeutic Courts Actually Are
In plain terms, therapeutic courts are specialized court programs that combine accountability, treatment, supervision, incentives, and sanctions for people whose legal cases are tied to substance use, mental health, trauma, homelessness, or related needs.22 www.courts.wa.gov/tc/intro.cfm Some people call these programs “Hug a Thug,” and I get it. It is a total paradigm shift from the traditional process. It doesn’t work for every defendant, but when it does, it can change a defendant’s trajectory while improving public safety.33 https://allrise.org/about/treatment-courts/.
These courts are not a separate justice system. They are not a way of pretending criminal conduct did not happen. In my experience, they work best when the court is honest about both parts of the equation: accountability and change.
Judge Richard M. Leland, presiding judge over the Cheney Municipal Court, describes the strength of the therapeutic court as an individualized approach: “Each participant brings a different set of challenges. The therapeutic team must be patient, caring, and not expect immediate results. Change in most cases is not linear. There are ups and downs. In the end, seeing life-changing results is very rewarding.”
That patience is part of what makes the work meaningful. The life-changing results, when they happen, are rewarding not only for the person appearing in court, but for the community that benefits when someone becomes more stable, accountable, and less likely to return to the same detrimental cycle.44 Ojmarrh Mitchell, David B. Wilson, Amy Eggers, Doris L. MacKenzie; “Assessing the effectiveness of drug courts on recidivism: A meta-analytic review of traditional and non-traditional drug courts,” Journal of Criminal Justice, Volume 40, Issue 1, 2012, pages 60-71. But it takes time.
Instead of moving through the traditional process, these programs build a structured plan around treatment and supervision. The participant completes an assessment and is determined to have a particular risk level; then a recommended plan is given to the attorneys and the judge. If the participant enters the therapeutic court, the individual still has to do the work: Come to court, engage in treatment, follow conditions, test when required, and be honest when things go wrong. In fact, participants often have more requirements in the therapeutic model.
While the data is convincing, what really matters are the people: the lives that are actually changed through the court. I want to introduce you to two of those people. Both are graduates from the Cheney Therapeutic Court who demonstrate why we do this. Both of these individuals came into the court with a deep-rooted alcohol addiction. They recently allowed me to sit down with them and talk about their experiences. With their permission, I share their stories.
When It Works: Two Graduate Stories
Daniel
Daniel first appeared in the Cheney Municipal Court for an arraignment on a Thursday afternoon, a few days after being released from jail.
Daniel had been drinking heavily for days after his marriage fractured and his wife left with their child. Angry, ashamed, and drunk, he went to a bar. “Realistically, I think I was going out to go find a fight,” he told me. After he was bounced from the bar, the police report described him punching car windows, trying to get back inside, and refusing to go home. He vaguely remembers leaving his house, fragments from the bar, and waking up in the Spokane County Jail after being charged with disorderly conduct and resisting arrest.55 RCW 9A.84.030, RCW 9A.76.040.
After his release, the pull of alcohol was immediate. He took a bus back to Cheney and bought a pint of vodka. But then he had a moment of clarity. Instead of drinking it, he poured it out. “I had reached a point where I couldn’t do that anymore,” he said. The arrest became his rock bottom, and the last night he drank.
One of the tools in the prosecutor’s toolbox is the “deferred charge.” This allows the prosecutor to offer a defendant a chance to follow certain requirements in order to have a charge dismissed in the end. These are not solely available for therapeutic court, but they are a good incentive for therapeutic court participants. The deferral offer through therapeutic court got Daniel’s attention. His public defender explained that the court had resources to help him stabilize his life.
Daniel said he arrived at his assessment for the program feeling like “a drowning man reaching for a life raft.” The team talked with him about getting his license back and treatment that could fit around work and parenting, assist with business goals, and provide rental and food assistance. “It was overwhelming,” he said. But the court was genuinely there to help him.
Daniel still had temptations to drink, and he says he still has them. But over time, I saw him respond differently. Once, walking to court, he took the long way around so he would not pass a restaurant that was a trigger for him. He attended therapeutic court dockets and noticed how the court treated another participant who stumbled: not as a failure, but as a person who needed more help. To him, that felt like “acceptance and understanding.” To me, it showed he was beginning to see himself differently, too.
Finally, he completed all of the requirements, and his graduation stayed with me. He was hopeful. He wanted everyone who attended to know that even a “bottom barrel drunk” (his words) could change. He then said something that still defines his recovery:
I used to come to, but now I wake up. I used to pass out, but now I go to sleep. I used to have a tomorrow, but now I have a future.”
I still get goosebumps when I think about that moment. The air in the room suddenly felt different. It was awesome.
After graduation, the charges were dismissed per the agreement, but Daniel’s work did not stop. He continued building a different life. He now has more than three years of sobriety, primary custody of his child, a healthier co-parenting relationship with his ex-wife, and work he enjoys. He still uses meetings when he needs them and watches for the old thinking that tells him he has earned a drink. These days, he replaces the ritual with ginger ale, water, and the reminder that he is happier sober.
His change did not happen all at once, or because a court told him what to say. It happened gradually, through accountability, support, and the decision Daniel made to keep moving forward. Now on a different path from that really bad night, he says he is grateful that the arrest happened.
Without that arrest and the program that followed, he says, “I’m not sure I would still be alive.”
Jeff
Then, there was Jeff. His path looked very different from Daniel’s. Jeff did not come into the Cheney Municipal Court already convinced that he had a problem. In fact, until he saw the DUI body camera footage from his arrest, he did not believe he had done anything wrong. His public defender presented the option of Cheney Therapeutic Court, and at first Jeff understood it in practical terms: “It was a chance to stay out of jail.” But once his attorney explained the circumstances and what the program would require, he knew sobriety was part of the deal.
By the time Jeff entered the program, he had a second DUI in only a few months, and alcohol had taken over much of his life. He had lost his housing and was sleeping in his car or “out in the woods.” He described himself during that period as “constantly intoxicated.” Jeff remembers thinking that the way he was living could not continue. “Something had to be done,” he said. “I knew it. I knew I was out of control.”
I do not want to make Jeff’s process sound easy, because it was not. He agreed to enter therapeutic court, but he did not move through recovery in a straight line. He started in outpatient treatment, struggled, and resisted inpatient treatment. He later admitted, “I was stubborn.”
I will add that he was very stubborn.
He also had a significant relapse during the process. But those setbacks were not the end of his story. Court staff kept pushing him toward the help he needed, and eventually inpatient treatment helped him regain stability. Afterward, outpatient treatment through Courage for Change gave him structure, accountability, and consistency. Looking back, Jeff called that approach “very strict, but effective.”
The program connected him with treatment, housing, and support, and Jeff began to build a life that no longer revolved around drinking. His recovery included relapse, course correction, support, and time. This demonstrated to me that sometimes the court has to stay with someone long enough for recovery to take root, and it doesn’t always work on the first try.
When Jeff graduated from the program, he described life before treatment and a version of himself that was not the man standing in the courtroom that day. He now had stable housing in Cheney, rode an e-bike and took the bus to get around, and enjoyed creative projects like writing and painting. At graduation he presented a gift to the Cheney Municipal Court: a painting of Cheney Main Street in its “hay day.” It was a quiet but powerful way of showing that he was no longer simply trying to survive. He was creating, adding to his community, and leaving something good behind.
Jeff told me, like Daniel, that if it hadn’t been for therapeutic court “there’s a very good chance I would have been dead.”
His advice to someone considering the program is direct: “You have to take control of your life, and you have to let [therapeutic court staff] help you.” Change did not happen for Jeff because he was easy to help, and it did not happen because he was ready from the first day. It happened because accountability, combined with treatment and support, stayed in place long enough for him to choose and develop a different life.
From left: Jeff, Cheney Therapeutic Court graduate; Dave Lucas, Cheney Court administrator; and Megan Cain, public defender.
AT RIGHT: “Hay Day” painting by Jeff. Courtesy photos
The Balanced Truth
Therapeutic courts aren’t magic. They work when the right participant hits the right structure at the right moment. Not before, not after. When that alignment happens, you can watch a life pivot in real time.
Not every case is a Daniel or a Jeff. Sometimes it doesn’t work. Like with traditional sentencing, sometimes you see them back again. And maybe again. When someone tries the therapeutic court route and isn’t successful, it can actually weigh heavily on the court staff. The extra time, effort, and focus can be really tiring for those involved in the process. So when it doesn’t work, plain and simple, it just sucks. But the effort put into these cases is worth it. Being a part of the process when it is successful, plain and simple, is amazing.
Not everyone is ready for change. Not everyone wants accountability. And not every defendant should be in a therapeutic court. Pretending otherwise may set someone up to fail in the program. The credibility of these programs depends on proper screening and risk assessment before opting a defendant into the program.66 https://allrise.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/All-Rise_Adult-Treatment-Court-Best-Practice-Standards_January-2026-4.pdf.
The outcomes people like to brag about—sobriety, stability, employment, reunified families, lower recidivism—don’t appear out of thin air. They come from a positive and supportive approach to supervision, from staff who supervise relentlessly, treatment providers who show up, monitoring that catches relapse early, and basic supports like bus passes and phone minutes that keep people connected. Beth Earl, Cheney Therapeutic Court Compliance Clerk, described it well: “It’s been my privilege to be a part of the therapeutic court and witness the significant personal growth that can occur.”
But these courts aren’t handing out freebies. They demand hard work, honest accountability, and real change. Or at least, they should. Without the requirements, without expectations, they stop being therapeutic courts and become little more than well-intentioned shortcuts around consequences.
When all the pieces line up, therapeutic courts do exactly what they’re supposed to do: reduce recidivism, strengthen public safety, and send people back into the community more equipped to handle life’s challenges. Seeing people engage with the support offered, move forward in life, and get free from harmful behaviors is inspiring. And as Beth put it, “Our communities are safer and healthier because of therapeutic courts!” That’s the whole point.
And it’s worth getting right.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael R. Addams is the prosecutor for Cheney and faculty at Eastern Washington University. He serves as a Judge and Commissioner Pro Tempore in Spokane County District and Superior Courts, respectively. A military retiree, he also provides pro bono legal assistance through the Office of Military and Veteran’s Legal Assistance (OMVLA).
NOTES
1. www.allrise.org.
2. www.courts.wa.gov/tc/intro.cfm.
3. https://allrise.org/about/treatment-courts/.
4. Ojmarrh Mitchell, David B. Wilson, Amy Eggers, Doris L. MacKenzie; “Assessing the effectiveness of drug courts on recidivism: A meta-analytic review of traditional and non-traditional drug courts,” Journal of Criminal Justice, Volume 40, Issue 1, 2012, pages 60-71.
5. RCW 9A.84.030, RCW 9A.76.040.