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One teen says Debra Johnson, here, could lead an army.
One teen says Debra Johnson, here, could lead an army.
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Debra Johnson made it to the other side of the tracks and decided she didn’t like the view.

So she went home.

“I used to think if I could get out of Cole and across the boulevard, I’d be set. And I got there. I made it. But I ended up back in Cole,” she says of northeast Denver’s Cole neighborhood.

And Johnson couldn’t be prouder.

The single mother of an adopted baby girl – “my heartbeat,” she says – and a rising star in the local community justice scene, Johnson has a lot going for her.

But it is not the dreams come true that Johnson counts when she measures her own worth, it’s the dreams she keeps alive.

“Looking back on advice I give to these kids, it’s like a little echo in the back of their heads that hopefully affects the way they live,” she says.

As the community service coordinator at the Denver Community Court, Johnson does service projects with juveniles from northeast Denver who receive tickets for small violations such as shoplifting, vandalism or school fighting. Cases are redirected from regular juvenile court to the neighborhoods where the crimes occurred.

The concept is called restorative justice, and Johnson has a saying to explain it.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again … If you bust up Miss Jones’ fence, we get hammers and nails and fix Miss Jones’ fence,” she says.

The court takes cases involving juveniles in seven northeast Denver neighborhoods in the 80205 ZIP code.

At first glance, Johnson is not an imposing person. But as teenagers who have occupied the chair on the other side of her desk know, Johnson does not take lip and she is not a softy.

“She’s the kind of person who could lead an army,” 19-year-old Brandon James says.

James is a court success story. The teen was caught with tobacco before he was 18 and received a ticket for lying to a police officer about his age.

After eight weeks with Johnson’s Crew UNIQUE program, doing projects for the court with organizations such as Project Angel Heart and the Denver Arts Festival, James was on a new path.

“I truly believe Deb saved my life,” he says.

James says he has a future now. He wants to work in construction or be a music producer, but first, at Johnson’s urging, he is going to get his high school diploma.

“She makes me feel like I can do anything,” he says. “She’s got me feeling like she’s my mom.”

When James’ cousin was found shot to death in an alley from suspected gang violence several weeks ago, he was crushed. Two days later his cousin’s little brother was found dead. James felt lost, so he called Johnson.

“She told me, ‘Go ahead and be strong. That’s a loss, but you still have a life,”‘ he says.

Johnson wants young people to realize they are not alone and not at war with the community.

“We try to block the road off. We say, ‘You’re not destined to go to the joint,”‘ she says. “It’s sad to think kids have to find out about survival at an early age.”

Steve Reemts manages subsidized housing in northeast Denver. He met Johnson when he employed her as a resident manager at one of the complexes.

Reemts says Johnson became very involved in crime and safety issues, which led to her involvement with the community court. She also took great interest in family issues, he adds.

“Debra really tried to have a very safe environment for the kids to grow up in,” he says.

Johnson opened her door one day to a 3-week-old girl on her doorstep. Years ago, her family took in wayward children only to have them snatched away by the very parents who left them in the first place. With Kiara, Johnson wasn’t taking any chances. She adopted the girl when she turned 3.

“The Lord did two things when he brought her to me. He answered my lifelong prayer for a child and he saved her life,” Johnson says.

At home, life is good for the Johnsons. At community court, things are a little rocky.

The court, which started as a pilot project in 2003 and has handled more than 1,000 cases, will run out of city money by 2006. While contracts for Johnson and Sandy Douglas, another court leader, have been renewed, the court needs to find more than $150,000 to stay afloat for one more year.

“It’s like they’re putting my fire out. It’s like they don’t understand the meaning of community,” Johnson says.

People like James do not want to see the court system that changed their lives collapse.

“Community court is a water fountain for 80205,” he insists.

Staff writer Abbe Smith can be reached at 303-820-1201 or at asmith@denverpost.com.

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