Hennepin County hosts first treatment courts graduation ceremony since pandemic

Danielle Powe has been on probation since she was 12. Struggling to get her help, her mom took her onto a syndicated talk show hosted by Maury Povich and sent her to boot camp.

But by 19, Powe was a felon. Methamphetamine addiction left her feeling purposeless, and she lost custody of her children. Her mother, Danita Garza, never gave up hope, though, and on Friday she proudly watched Powe give the keynote speech at Hennepin County District Court's treatment courts graduation ceremony, where 20 other graduates received diplomas for completing more than a year of sobriety and recovery programming.

"I knew she could do it," Garza said. "Sooner or later God was gonna get ahold of her. I just kept praying for her in the nights I thought she was dead, lying somewhere — she looked like death."

Holding her daughter's diploma after the crowd's applause, she looked at the document and nodded with a smile. "But this is my Dani," she said. "This is my Danielle, my daughter today."

Powe, now 37, is working on her next diploma to become a licensed drug counselor.

"All you guys did was kept pointing me in the right direction," she said. "I finally took hold of the rope and got in my own way and here I am, on my way to success."

It was the first graduation ceremony since 2019, after the pandemic derailed the annual tradition. Treatment court staff pivoted to virtual meetings to carry out the work, and 345 people still graduated the past three years — with 57 never having an in-person review.

More than 400 participants are in the treatment courts. It takes about a year or more to complete the program, which requires sobriety and treatment for mental health or substance use. Participants are connected with housing and employment resources, as well as psychiatrists and counselors.

District Judge Sarah West, who presides over all of the county's treatment courts, said for participants to graduate during the pandemic "is nothing short of a miracle and really speaks to their strengths and their dedication."

Participants are closely supervised with biweekly reviews and significant programming demands, West said.

The biggest benefit of treatment courts is the support participants get from sitting together and sharing their stories. West said graduates still managed to build that community during the pandemic while "just little boxes on a screen."

Lisa Gagnier, 50, shouted, "I love you, Dani" after Powe's speech. They spent years together in drug treatment court and went to RS Eden, a residential treatment in Minneapolis formerly known as Eden House.

After being in the criminal justice system for 25 years, Gagnier said, she's off probation in four other counties thanks to Hennepin County's drug treatment court. She remembered attending the last drug court graduation ceremony in 2019 on the advice of Judge Luis Bartolomei.

"When I saw the graduation, I wanted to be in drug court," Gagnier said. "I didn't know how hard it was going to be at first. It was hard for me at times. But when times hit, the support came in.

"I have met the most amazing people, so I'm grateful. They worked with me; they loved me; they listened to me. They reprimanded me, but it was tough love."

She's a certified peer recovery specialist through AmeriCorp and will continue doing that work to stay connected and give back. So will Powe, who plans to work at RS Eden after graduating from Colorado Technical University in 2026.

Treatment courts manager Lisa Keller said she sees participants enter the programs at their lowest points in life and on days like Friday leave with a new lease on life.

"When people come in, they might not necessarily be happy to see us. They see us as part of the criminal justice system," Keller said. "But by the time they leave, they know the team members on a first-name basis."

Keller's staff works with other justice partners that provide services in-kind "because they see how important this program is" at reducing recidivism and helping people get back on their feet.