VTC Photography Project
Veterans Treatment Courts (VTCs) are the latest innovation in the problem-solving court movement and the U.S. Justice Department estimates that there are 463 VTCs nationwide. Modeled after drug and mental health courts, VTCs offer treatment in lieu of incarceration to men and women who served in the United States Armed Services. The mantra of VTCs is “serving those who served” and teams of legal, clinical, and judicial professionals who understand military culture and are knowledgeable about Veterans Administration (VA) benefits help participants to reclaim their lives.
A small segment of the veteran population becomes involved in the criminal justice system, estimated by the Department of Justice at 700,000 or 3.2% of all veterans. This group of former soldiers faces a number of hardships, but we know little about the relationship between their criminal justice history and military service.
To better understand how veterans experience these specialty courts, I used a research method called photo-elicitation interviewing (PEI). I gave disposable cameras (with 27 exposures each) to VTC participants (all men) and asked each person to take photographs of his experiences with court-mandated treatment.
The collection of veterans’ still images offers a much bigger picture about why they enlisted in the military and what happened after they separated from service. Importantly, veterans’ photographs revealed that the unspoken nature of their injuries placed them at increased risk for institutional involvement. In the face of hardships, however, the pictures also illuminated veterans’ tremendous strength and commitment to change their lives while helping other veterans along the way. The lens of this small study revealed that the camera became a powerful tool for telling their story.
Please contact me (ursulacastella@gmail.com) for more information on the PEI method and findings from this research project.
All Roots Gone
Where are my roots? They’re gone. I don’t even have anywhere to go back to and say, ‘This is where I grew up.’ It’s sad. This is all over [this area]. People abandoned [homes] or couldn’t pay the mortgage. This is just one of many stories in my life before I ever went to the military.
- Knucks, a veteran of the Army Rangers
Ending is Just the Beginning
My father died in 1966. Mother remarried and that’s when a lot of my problems started. I got into the military in Norfolk, Virginia; I tried to erase the past. It didn’t work. I wind up coming back here, wind up going to jail. Everybody in my family said, “You are your father’s son. You’ve got his attitude. You walk like him, talk like him, drink like him, smoke like him, anger like him.” So although [the cemetery] is the end of life, it was the beginning of life for me.
- Paul, a veteran of the Navy.
Last Look
I got mixed feelings about that building. It’s there to help me, but it also there to hurt me. So, that buildin’ means a lot to me. I look down the street there, I say, “Okay, this is my last glimpse, of bein’ out here in the fresh air, and lookin’ at the sky because when I go up these stairs, I don’t know what’s gonna happen. The judge could send me off to jail. This would be my last look for a while.
- Randall, a veteran of the Vietnam War
Last Look
These are places where I used to go [but] I stay away from. This area [has] more influence on me about drugs. I still know people down there and I holler, and I wave at them, and I keep on going.
- Richard, a veteran of the Vietnam War
Ankle Bracelet
I sit back and make sure this is charged. The house phone is there in case something’s wrong. They did call me [once] and said the thing wasn’t charged up. If I hadn’t [answered], I’d have been in trouble. Even when I go outside, I have the telephone with me.
- Bobby, a veteran of the Vietnam War
The Grunt
You can be a POW on the streets. I had PTSD from running the streets of Ohio. I was never in war but I’ve had bullets go by my head. I’ve had guns put to my head by cops and by drug dealers. I’ve been in situations where I could have been dead, ten times over.
- Phoenix, a veteran of the Army
New Beginning
[The] judge said, ‘Either do what I tell you or go to jail.’ The judge isn’t going to wait. Part of being trained by the military is to think ahead; if you’re in trouble, work it out. [The SOR] is a new chapter; it’s time to let the old stuff go because it ain’t working.
- Marshall, a veteran of the Navy