Behind Oak Hill's Fences, Violence and Uncertainty
But last month there was a setback. City officials, who had courted Leonard Dixon, a nationally known juvenile justice expert in Detroit, could not reach an agreement to bring him to the District to head the Youth Services Administration.
"We have moved on," Bobb said, noting that there are new prospects. "I'm more than certain that we will find another talented professional to lead" the administration.
A Card Trick
Teenage chatter filled the inside of the one-story building where about 40 juveniles ate lunch on a recent day. Like any other school cafeteria, the boys sat shoulder to shoulder with plastic foam trays and dug into turkey with gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet peas and biscuits. As they talked and laughed, some split their biscuits by hand and used spoons to slather on grape jelly. No knives here.
At the back of the room, four officers watched the group. They had patted down each youth before he entered the dining facility.
A 19-year-old ate his lunch silently. He wore green, the color of Unit 8A, where everyone is 16 and older, aggressive and has committed violent crimes.
The young man, his hair in short braids, reached down for something under the lunch table. He pulled out and unfolded a small red square, apparently made of paper.
It was a playing card, the 10 of clubs. Visible were two "roaches" -- the ends of spent marijuana cigarettes .
"That's how we get this in here," he bragged, flashing the contents.
A nearby Oak Hill official looked shocked. She glanced around the room, as if searching for another witness, then pulled out her cell phone.
More security officers arrived, and the 19-year-old was quickly taken away. Officers marched the rest of the unit outside to the courtyard, hands again behind their backs. They were sent to their single rooms so correction officers could perform a lockdown and strip search.
They found nothing.
Staff researcher Bobbye Pratt contributed to this report.
© 2004 The Washington Post Company
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The District of Columbia has been embroiled in an 18-year legal battle over its treatment of young delinquents at Oak Hill Youth Center in Laurel.
(Bill O'leary -- The Washington Post)
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