Grant program: Justice and Mental Health Collaboration Program Grant Type: Planning and Implementation State: Arkansas Grantee: Crittenden County Program Name: Mental Health Court Program / Project Second Chance Christian had become convinced that an anarchist cult had planted bombs in his attic. At 42, he had a long history of mental illness, dating back to a psychiatric hospitalization as a teenager. His wife—with whom he lived, along with their three young children—was alarmed by his behavior and called the police. When the police decided to take him to the emergency room for a psychiatric review, Christian resisted; he kicked out the window of the squad car and dented the frame. At the hospital, he tested positive for amphetamines and marijuana. He admits that he regularly smoked pot and inhaled bath salts. “I’ve tried everything,” he said. Christian was arrested and charged with two counts of criminal mischief and disturbing the peace. This wasn’t his first arrest; he’d previously been arrested for drug and firearm possession and had served five years of probation. After almost two months in jail, he chose to plead into Crittenden County’s Mental Health Court Program / Project Second Chance (MHCP / PSC) and received a six-month commitment (which was about twice as long as the jail sentence he would have had if he hadn’t pleaded into the program). He met the program’s criteria: past hospitalizations and incarcerations and a dual diagnosis of bipolar disorder and amphetamine and cannabis abuse. When he pleaded into the program, Christian did not have a place to live. His wife of ten years wanted a divorce, and his mother (who lived nearby) was concerned for her safety and did not want him to live in her home (where she lived with Christian’s father and two of his children from an earlier marriage). MHCP / PSC staff helped negotiate a compromise, as he couldn’t enter the program unless he had an established residency. Christian would sleep in an old van on his parent’s property. They allowed him to use the house bathroom and shower and eat in the house. He slept in the van for four months, or the bulk of his time in the program. Because of the program, Christian is succeeding. He regularly attends counseling—the first time in his life he has participated in talk therapy. He’s using the counseling to explore his troubled relationship with his mother. He has complied with all of the program’s treatment aspects, and every drug and alcohol screen has been negative. A case manager helped him apply for and earn disability, which allows him to rent his own apartment. He better understands his bipolar disorder. He’s now able to see his children via supervised visitation, and recently started working part-time as a mechanic. Now that he has completed the program, he volunteers to help orient and provide transportation to participants and run peer-led cognitive behavioral therapy courses. Christian considers his recent arrest as a positive. If it wasn’t for the program, he said he would almost certainly be homeless, divorced, and a drug addict. “If I hadn’t kicked out those windows of the police car, I wouldn’t be here today,” he said. He describes the months prior to his entering the program as the most tumultuous period of his life—comparing it to the tsunami in Japan. “That’s how I felt. My life was destroyed, that quickly and that devastatingly.” He’s now been clean and sober for almost a year, but admits it’s a daily struggle. “I plan on doing nothing more than bettering myself in order to share what I’ve learned with other people.” All names and other identifying details have been concealed to preserve individuals’ privacy.