Language excludes vets with charged with more serious crimes
Jamie Smith joined the Army in 2003 when he was 33 years old, leaving behind a family in Bayonne.
"I went in because of 9/11," Smith said. "I didn't go in to get college benefits or job training. I went in for patriotic reasons."
By 2006, he was fighting in Iraq. When he speaks about the deaths he witnessed, he describes the victims as "kids."
"I saw a kid (a soldier) get shot in the face. He died right in front of me," Smith said. "It wasn't even in battle. We were just standing around and somebody's gun went off. They call it 'negligent discharge.' "
Another soldier he knew died in an I.E.D. explosion.
"It was in a convoy. We passed over the spot and the kid was behind us."
Then there was a kid who was really a kid. An Iraqi child "with half his face blown off. That really hit me hard because I had two little girls at home,'' Smith said.
Gregory Bowles was a kid himself when he joined the Marines right after high school during the Vietnam War , following in the footsteps of an uncle who fought in World War II and Korea.
"I'd see him in those dress blues and thought, man, that's it," Bowles said. "Nobody tells you about the other stuff."
The other stuff for Bowles was dragging body parts and body bags out of the bush outside of Saigon and Da Nang during the American evacuation.
"I'd never seen a dead body before that," Bowles said.
A member of his detail went missing and was found dead, barb-wired to a tree with a punji stake in his chest.
"There was a note. It said 'Americans Go Home,'" Bowles said.
Two servicemen. Two wars. Gregory Bowles is 67 now and has been wrestling with his post-war "demons" for 42 years. Jamie Smith is 47 and has been at it for 10.
But their symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder are hauntingly similar. Unexplained anger. Sleeplessness. A gnawing unease that could only be quieted with drugs -- first prescribed, then otherwise. Next came the arrests. And job loss. And the alienation of loved ones, the homelessness. The spiral down that led to desperation. Crime.
Both have multiple drug offenses. Bowles also has a conviction of robbery by force and Smith was charged with domestic violence. Both have been in jail and housing for homeless veterans.
A bill being voted on next week by the state Senate will create a "Veteran's Treatment Court Pilot Program." The bill, sponsored by Sen. Jeff Van Drew (D-1st District) and Sen. Diane Allen (R-7th District) will help troubled veterans who are arrested for minor offenses skirt the regular judicial system and instead get the counseling, healthcare and other assistance they need.
An Assembly bill, which was passed a month ago and had six bi-partisan sponsors, shares the exact language as the Senate bill.
"We can't have these people who served and sacrificed for us sitting in jail cells," Van Drew said. "Their problems are a cry for help. We want to get them the proper care and counseling and get them on the right track."
The bill establishes a three-year program to divert "nonviolent offenders" who served in wars "away from the criminal justice system and into appropriate treatment" for drugs and alcohol abuse and mental health issues.
Under that language, however, veterans such as Smith and Bowles would not be eligible.
"While I applaud the effort, which is long overdue, the bill leaves too many veterans out," said Thomas Roughneen, the leading attorney at Citizen Soldier Law, a Chatham practice that specializes in helping veterans and military personnel.
"The awful truth is that many of these people have offenses that are violent or serious, and they are the ones who need help the most," said Roughneen, who is a lieutenant colonel in the New Jersey Army National Guard and an Iraq War veteran.
"Domestic violence is more prevalent than we think among these veterans and it is the start of their downward spiral," he said.
To prove his point, he introduced the cases of Smith and Bowles, neither of whom would have been eligible for the new program, as examples of why the program should be expanded to include veterans who might fall outside the criteria, on a case-by-case basis.
"Their problems all stem from the service," Roughneen said. "The men who went off to serve their country were not the men who came home. Their families want them to get treatment, not thrown in jail."
Roughneen has a letter from Smith's estranged wife, Lisa, to the court after he was charged with drug possession in 2016 which said in part, "It's sad to watch a man you love so much change into someone you can't be around. It's heartbreaking ... all we ever wanted was treatment for Jamie."
He admits making threats but said he never struck or manhandled his wife, a statement supported by his wife's letter.
Bowles, who grew up in Elizabeth, said he came from a "law and order family. My father was a city cop. We were on the straight and narrow. I never even smoked a joint before the Marines."
But at the end of the Vietnam War, drug use was rampant in the military and that's when Bowles was introduced to heroin. The addiction led him to multiple jail stints on drug charges and a robbery where he encountered a security guard.
"I never hurt anybody in my life," he said. "I bumped the guy on the way out and got charged with using force."
Van Drew said the legislators "worked very hard" on the bill and the issue of violence was particularly sticky.
"This is a difficult line to walk," he said. "We have to be very careful when it comes to violent offenses. But this is just the first step. Let's see how it works."
Ocean County Prosecutor Joseph Coronato launched his own veteran's diversion program last year. It includes a mentorship program as well as counseling and other social services.
"We approach the violent offender in a holistic manner," he said. "Certainly the guy's service experience is taken into account. Just because he was in the service doesn't give him a pass. But if he has serious PTSD issues, we have to look at that."
Another problem, Coronato said, are weapons charges.
"These guys are taught to sleep with their gun, go to the latrine with their gun, do everything with their gun," he said. "Then they come out and we say, 'No guns.' Again, counseling, not jail, might be the way to go."
Roughneen, who is holding a press conference at 11a.m. today in Room 209 in the Statehouse, said he, Coronato and the state bar association all lobbied for wider inclusion of veterans eligible for the program.
In a letter to bill sponsors Lisa Chapland, head of the bar's government affairs arm, asked that the program not be limited to combat veterans and allow violent offenders to be evaluated on a case-by-case basis. The bar also wants veterans to have an appellate appeal if their local prosecutor deems them ineligible.
"Under these bills they're at the mercy of their local prosecutor. We owe it to these guys to give them every chance," Roughneen said.
Mark Di Ionno may be reached at mdiionno@starledger.com. Follow The Star-Ledger on Twitter @StarLedger and find us on Facebook.