‘This program changes lives’: How one court is giving veterans a second chance
- mdaviscvono
- May 28
- 6 min read
Published: May. 23, 2026, 5:00 a.m.
CLEVELAND, Ohio -- “What’s up, Mike?”
Veteran mentors clap as Cuyahoga County Court of Common Pleas Judge Andrew Santoli greets his “client,” Michael Williams. They talk sobriety and the struggles of going through the criminal justice system.
Santoli isn’t in a robe, but this is a normal day at Cuyahoga County Court of Common Pleas’ Veterans Treatment Court.
The dynamic reflects the court’s philosophy: treating addiction, trauma and mental illness rather than relying solely on punishment.
As these courts expand across Ohio and the country, advocates say they reduce recidivism and connect veterans with housing, treatment and benefits. But researchers are still trying to determine how effective the courts actually are.
How it works
Launched in 2015 by a Marine veteran who served in Vietnam, Cuyahoga County’s veterans treatment court convenes three times per month for veterans with felony cases – and addiction or mental health issues – who are eligible for probation.
It’s one of 12 specialty dockets in the county. At any given time, it has as many as 70 clients who typically spend up to 18 months in the program before graduating. By then, the participant will have shown progress in staying sober, addressing mental health issues and completing other requirements such as community service.
The system’s growing popularity is one sign of success.
Since 2024, Ohio has added four veterans treatment courts and plans to add another, to Chillicothe Municipal Court, later this year.
In total, Ohio has 29 such courts serving roughly 530 people, Colbert said.
The work isn’t cheap. In 2023, the U.S. Department of Justice awarded a four-year $950,000 grant for Cuyahoga County Court of Common Pleas to continue its veterans docket, courts spokesman Darren Toms said in an email.
That’s just one group’s contribution, which doesn’t include the many volunteers who make the program possible.
Is it effective? Research is limited
Anecdotally speaking, the clients, staff and Santoli said the program leads to better outcomes for participants. However, studies show some participants may still return to prison while others find housing stability and access to benefits for veterans.
In Cuyahoga County, individual stories are the evidence of the system’s work.
For Tylashza McFadden, a 28-year-old Army veteran who went from self-medicating her bipolar disorder with daily ecstasy use to being on track to graduate, the results are clear.
“This program works,” McFadden said during a May 14 veterans treatment court hearing. “I never thought I’d be here. This program works. Take it seriously. It could change your life.”
Services for those who served
The court does more than just make sure its clients stay out of jail and show up for court. On April 16, a Cuyahoga County participant who had pleaded guilty to cocaine possession appeared over video because his apartment had bed bugs.
The participant, Mark Cochrane, 65, said it was important for him to keep housing because he had experienced homelessness before. Cochrane, who has been in the program since July, said he was sober, reconnecting with his brother and exercising thanks to a free YMCA program for seniors.
“I’m a better person since I’m not drinking,” Cochrane said.
Before Santoli moved on to the next case, he asked court staff who specialize in navigating the bureaucracy of veterans benefits to put Cochrane in touch with legal aid to get his landlord to get rid of the bed bugs.
By May 14, Cochrane got a hold of an exterminator and was able to appear in person for his court hearing, where he remained on track to advance through the program.
Support can range from treatment and counseling through groups such as the National Alliance on Mental Illness to job training and placement assistance from state employment programs and help securing veterans benefits through county and federal agencies.
A local partner, the Cleveland American Veterans Association, gives furniture to participants who are often transitioning out of homelessness. Many of its volunteers are veterans who previously went through the court themselves, said president Molly Carlin.
“These are folks that have served our country and for whatever reason hit a hard time in life; now they’re rebuilding,” Carlin said. “We’re going to come in and we’re going to do the absolute best that we could possibly do for them.”
High standards
Parts of veterans treatment court may be informal, but it’s still court.
On April 23, James Amerson, 63, of Cleveland appeared in Santoli’s courtroom wearing an orange jail jumpsuit, where he was set to appear on felony charges after he was accused of strangling his girlfriend.
Amerson, an Army veteran, had yet to enter the program, so Santoli treated the case like any other defendant. Gone were the colloquial greetings and applause. Santoli sat on the bench and read through the required legal minutiae before accepting Amerson’s guilty plea.
“I’m ashamed of myself,” Amerson told Santoli during the hearing. “I hurt somebody I really love.”
Santoli then entered Amerson into veterans treatment court.
“As you can see, this is a very different court setting,” Santoli said to Amerson.
“It’s not to say that the program is easy,” Santoli said. “It’s not easy. It’s hard. We expect a lot from you.”
The details of one’s probation are determined by their risk score, but participants in veterans treatment court have to be randomly drug-tested twice per week and typically have contact with the court, their probation officer, the VA, etc. once per week.
Gary Kopchak, court’s administrator, said it’s more intense than the level of probation most defendants receive.
Some people don’t make it.
One of those people was Kenneth Thomas, 64, of Cleveland. Since he entered the program in November 2025, he had failed or dodged multiple drug tests, so Santoli ordered him to a drug treatment facility. But the same day Thomas arrived at the drug treatment center, he fled. The court responded by issuing a warrant for his arrest.
When Thomas stood before Santoli on a May 7 hearing, he told the judge he wanted out of the program. Santoli obliged his request, sentencing him to 75 days in jail with credit for time served for his initial charges: cocaine possession and resisting arrest.
“You know we’re willing to help you but you know we can only do so much,” Santoli told Thomas.
A wake-up call
By definition, charges in Cuyahoga County Veterans Treatment Court are felonies. Some are as serious as felonious assault, strangulation and domestic violence.
In spite of that, the entire point of veterans treatment court is to prevent its participants from ending up in prison, Santoli said.
But that doesn’t mean jail is off the table.
When clients continually fail drug tests, miss court appearances or otherwise fall behind in the program, Santoli will sometimes sentence them to community service or several days in jail.
For one defendant, Terence Bradley, a 66-year-old Marine veteran, that was the wake-up call he needed.
During an April 23 session of veterans treatment court, Santoli noticed Bradley had been making progress, such as staying sober, no probation violations since July and Bradley re-entering school at Cuyahoga Community College.
Santoli asked, “What helped you get here?”
“Being in jail,” Bradley responded bluntly, drawing some laughter from the volunteers and court staff present.
“Reality was my motivating factor to say, ‘Hey, man, these people ain’t playing with me no more,’” Bradley said.
When Bradley re-appeared on May 14 to check in with the court, he was still on track to enter the final phase of veterans treatment court.
Veterans helping veterans
One thing that sets veterans court apart from other special programs is the veteran mentors, Colbert, the supreme court spokeswoman, said in an email.
“These mentors, who are veterans themselves, play a central role in the veterans treatment specialized dockets model by providing guidance, support, and shared understanding to participants,” Colbert said.
While Santoli and veterans court’s coordinator Gary Kopchak are civilians, the lion’s share of participants – down to the courthouse deputies who work security for the hearings − are veterans.
After a May 7veterans treatment court hearing, U.S. Navy veteran Nicole Andrako told a reporter she chose to become the only female mentor for the county’s Veterans Treatment Court because it turned her life around.
Andrako entered the court in October 2024 after pleading guilty to attempted child endangerment and meth possession.
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At that time, Andrako’s son had stopped talking to her. She was drinking every day to cope with her post -traumatic stress disorder, she said. And even once she entered the program, she was “hesitant” at first.
But by the time she completed the program in November 2025, her life had changed. Her son, now 20, was enrolled in college and their relationship had healed enough that they live together again, she said.
“This program changes lives,” Andrako said. “Being in the military, punishment is something that you get used to...Well, this isn’t about punishment. It’s about growing and forgiveness and stuff like that. And you’re not used to that.”
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