Specialty Probation Officers as Street-Level Bureaucrats: Exploring How Discretion Is Perceived and Employed on a Mental Health Caseload

Abstract

This study explores the perceptions of specialty mental health caseload probation officers and their use of discretion in day-to-day supervision of individuals with mental illness in one large jurisdiction in the United States. Scholars have examined overall effectiveness of specialty probation programs, probation officers’ roles as street-level bureaucrats, and the impact of the mental health caseload probation officer and probationer relationship on successful completion. Less attention, however, has been placed on examining how the officers supervising these specialty caseloads perceive their roles as mental health probation officers and how they use discretion in their caseload management. The current study examines the narratives of 24 specialty mental health caseload probation officers and supervisors to understand how discretion is used on a problem-solving caseload and how discretionary decision-making may impact probationer outcomes.

Keywords

mental ilness problem solving caseloads specialty probation street level bureaucracy discretion

Introduction

The criminal justice system is now the leading mental health care provider in the United States (Torrey et al., 2010) as roughly one in six individuals in the system have a mental illness (Steadman et al., 2009). Although limited information is available for specific prevalence rates of individuals with mental illness on probation, estimates suggest that 15 to 18% of probationers have a mental health problem (Adams & Ferrandino, 2008; Beck & Maruschak, 2001; Ditton, 1999; Geraghty & Kraus, 1998; Lamberti, 2007; Lurigio et al., 2003) and over one-half million probationers have a serious mental illness (SMI) (e.g., schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, major depression) (Crilly et al., 2009; Epperson et al., 2017).

As a partial result of the prevalence of individuals with mental illness coming into contact with the criminal justice system, mental health courts (MHC) and specialty probation caseloads have become common, attempting to assist individuals with mental illness cycling in and out of the criminal justice system (Wolff et al., 2013). Although programs vary considerably in size, make-up, and services provided, probationers on mental health caseloads and specialty courts normally participate in a variety of treatment conditions as part of the terms of their probation that include: regular urinalysis, substance use and mental health treatment, adherence to psychotropic medication (when appropriate), increased contact with the courtroom workgroup and probation officers, refraining from illegal behavior, and paying monetary restitution when necessary (Epperson et al., 2017).

The probation officers who supervise individuals in these SMI criminal justice programs serve as the system’s “front line” to work with probationers with mental illness on a day-to-day basis. These probation officers operate as agents of change through the principles of therapeutic jurisprudence in order to achieve rehabilitation with criminally involved individuals (Slate et al., 2004). Scholars have noted that this can often be an extremely challenging endeavor as officers are tasked with both “enforcing compliance” to help ensure public safety, but also to “provide direct and supportive services” to help in the treatment of this group (Epperson et al., 2014, p. 474). In addition to having the general concerns of standard officers, SMI caseload officers are commonly trained in areas specific to helping individuals with mental health need. Probation officers working with individuals with mental illness can be imperative to the probationer’s successful completion as “the relationship between probation officer and probationer has been identified as an essential factor in achieving successful probation outcomes” (Epperson et al., 2017, p. 189).

To date, little empirical work has considered SMI caseload probation officers’ perceptions of their work, and how these officers use discretion in their day-to-day activities working with probationers with mental illness. In the current paper we explore this topic by examining the extensive narrative accounts of a sample of 24 SMI caseload officers who all completed semi-structured qualitative interviews during a 14-month period at Maricopa County Adult Probation (Phoenix, Arizona metro region) in the United States. SMI caseload officers in the current sample ultimately function as “street-level bureaucrats” (SLBs), defined as “workers who interact with and have wide discretion over the dispensation of benefits or the allocation of public sanctions” (Lipsky, 2010, p. xi) for the probationers with mental illness on their caseloads. In their role as SLBs, SMI caseload officers in the current study served as the primary agents of multiple forms of social control in the lives of probationers and exerted varying forms of control, largely at their own judgment, over the lives of the SMI caseload probationers. The discretion SMI caseload officers employed may not only impact the relationships they establish with probationers on the SMI caseload, but also influence who is accepted to mental health caseloads, treatment opportunities and availability, and can even potentially impact life-course outcomes beyond SMI probation completion.

Literature Review

Mental Illness in the Criminal Justice System

Social science research has consistently concluded that individuals with mental illness are overrepresented within all areas of the criminal justice system (James & Glaze, 2006; O’keef & Schnell, 2007; Steadman et al., 2009). These rates of criminal justice involvement have increased since the policies of the deinstitutionalization movement in the latter half of the last century, as well as the “get tough” era (Brown & Scheid, 2010; Goldkamp & Irons-Guynn, 2000). Overall rates of individuals with mental illness in the criminal justice system vary considerably across studies and are often difficult to specify (e.g., see Prins, 2014). This is largely due to the unknown amount of unreported and undiagnosed cases of mental illness within the system, differing methods used to diagnose mental illness, and how mental illness is conceptualized within empirical studies. One recent estimate has placed the overall prevalence rate of mental illness in correctional populations to be at 14% for incarcerated individuals in prison and 26% for individuals in jail (Bronson & Berzofsky, 2017). Other researchers have approximated that 20% of individuals being released from prison have a mental health problem (Wolff, 2005). While empirical research on the amount of individuals with mental illness who are on probation is difficult to determine as a result of multiple limitations, the best estimates range between 15 and 18% (Adams & Ferrandino, 2008; Beck & Maruschak, 2001; Ditton, 1999; Geraghty & Kraus, 1998; Lamberti, 2007; Lurigio et al., 2003).

Mental Illness and Specialty Probation

The overwhelming majority of individuals with mental illness on probation are initially placed on standard probation caseloads where they are primarily supervised based on their criminogenic risk. Standard probation officers, however, are not able to provide the specialized supervision and treatment that some individuals with mental illness on probation need to be successful (e.g., individuals with significant mental illness, individuals with significant addiction issues) (Deschenes & Greenwood, 1994; Nechemias, 1957). As a result of this need, in addition to the “pendulum swing” of the field back to rehabilitation as opposed to only punishment (Miller, 1993), significant structural changes have been put into place in a multitude of probation departments across the United States to step away from punitive objectives only. Perhaps this is most evident with the advent of specialty courts/caseloads focused on assisting criminally involved individuals with these specialized needs.

Wexler and Winick (1991) argued that the traditional court model could be anti-therapeutic, and thus scholars concluded that laws needed to be changed in order to act as a more therapeutic agent for criminally involved individuals with certain needs (Rottman & Casey, 1999). Problem-solving courts and caseloads were largely created from this foundation that emphasized therapeutic jurisprudence, addressed the factors leading to criminal activity, and worked to reduce the rates of recidivism for probationers by providing them with the necessary services to be successful. The first court of this type began in Florida in 1989 with the implementation of the drug court model (Belenko, 1990; Dorf & Fagan, 2003). Based on the popularity and perceived success of drug courts, other specialized caseloads, such as MHCs, began to work with probationers with mental illness in the subsequent decade (Goldkamp & Irons-Guynn, 2000). Individuals placed on specialty probation programs were able to receive the services they need (e.g., mental health and substance abuse treatment, housing) and work more closely with a probation officer trained specifically to help with these issues (McNiel & Binder, 2007).

As mental health caseloads have become more popular, the differences from standard courts/probation caseloads have become more apparent. Skeem et al. (2006) suggested that there are five key features of specialty mental health caseloads that differ from standard probation caseloads. First, normally there are smaller caseloads for probation officers on specialty probation. Second, specialty probation officers are trained in relevant issues regarding mental health need, substance abuse, and other risk factors that are particularly prevalent in this group. Third, specialty officers more actively combine internal resources, such as probation, and external resources, such as mental health treatment, in order to ensure the resources are being allocated properly. Fourth, specialty probation officers emphasize problem solving in addition to only providing threats of sanction. Finally, these programs seek to establish a firm, fair, and caring relationship with each probationer (see Skeem et al., 2006 for full review).

While research on the effectiveness of SMI probation is in its infancy, the studies that have been conducted demonstrate generally positive results for these problem-solving caseloads (Manchak et al., 2014; Skeem et al., 2006; Wolff et al., 2014). In fact, researchers have reported that the problem-solving aspect is one of the most important factors for managing individuals with mental illness on probation (Skeem et al., 2006). This approach has been shown to yield significantly lower rates of violations among individuals with mental illness on probation than traditional probation supervision (Manchak et al., 2014). The decreased violations are largely attributed to increased meetings between probation officers and probationers, a willingness to problem-solve, an increased likelihood to discuss the probationer’s mental health needs on a regular basis, as well as better relationships between the specialty probation officers and each individual probationer (Burnett & McNeill, 2005; Skeem et al., 2006). Along with the positive social outcomes of SMI probation, research has also shown that these mental health interventions in the justice system are cost effective (Aos et al., 2011).

Today, specialty courts and caseloads continue to proliferate. In 2016, there were over 3,000 specialty courts in existence (Strong et al., 2016). Among those programs, mental health accounted for nearly 350 (11% of all problem-solving courts). Similarly, at the start of the last decade, there were already over 100 U.S. probation agencies that had implemented a specialty mental health caseload within their respective department (Eno Louden et al., 2012). Given the popularity of the problem-solving specialty court model, at the same time as continually shrinking correctional budgets, it is assumed that the number of specialty caseloads working with individuals with mental illness has only continued to increase over the last decade.

Role of the Probation Officer

The role of the probation officer is critical to the success of a probationer and as a result probation officers have been referred to as the “gatekeepers” between the community and the carceral setting (Epperson et al., 2014). Probation officers are agents of the court who supervise offenders who have been placed on probation who manage their caseloads through multiple forms of social control (coercive and beneficent) and caseload management techniques, doing so with a vast amount of discretion. Derived from Glaser’s (1964) research on the role of probation officers, Klockars (1972) delineated two major conflicting roles of the standard probation officer, the law enforcer and the social worker. The law enforcer style of probation supervision focuses more on the control aspects of supervision and the social worker style of probation supervision traditionally focuses on treatment/rehabilitative aspects. Officers who encompass both the law enforcer and the social worker styles are referred to as synthetic officers.

Generally, probation officers are expected to be engaged in the parallel tasks of supervision and treatment for probationers on their caseloads (Seiter & West, 2003). First, they are expected to protect the public’s safety by implementing compliance standards and probation conditions for all probationers on their caseloads (e.g., mandatory court dates, random urinalysis). Second, they are expected to provide supportive services (e.g., case management, relapse prevention) in order to properly achieve individual rehabilitation and reintegration in society (Klockars, 1972; Miller, 2015). The synthetic style of probation has been noted as a suitable form of probation philosophy, geared toward the fulfillment of the two primary duties of a probation officer (Miller, 2015).

As noted, the role of the probation officer is critical to the success of the probationer. Miller (2015), however, argued that the current practice of probation is rather ambiguous. Despite having a clear understanding of what a probation officer’s job entails, there are discrepancies in the role of the current probation officer. Customarily, the roles of probation are clear, but the lack of uniformity across agencies and officers are not. Purkiss et al. (2003) argued that despite the risk-based supervision models that probation officers often use, they still are endowed with an enormous amount of discretion toward the level of enforcement of probation conditions they use, when they use it, and how they use it. This discretion is largely considered to be necessary so that the probation officer can create individualized treatment plans for probationers on their caseloads.

Role of Officers as Street-Level Bureaucrats

Lipsky (2010) defined SLBs as “workers who interact with and have wide discretion over the dispensation of benefits or the allocation of public sanctions” (p. xi). Based on the ambiguity of their jobs, and the power of benefit allocation, SLBs are generally permitted a great deal of discretionary power and inherent autonomy (Lipsky, 2010; Portillo & Rudes, 2014). Hupe et al. (2015) noted that exploring the work of SLBs through interviews is paramount to understanding their roles interacting specifically with citizens, in public service endeavors, and because these individuals are trained in specific tasks—thus serve as direct “policy co-makers” while also using a “certain craftmanship” in completing their work (p. 16).

Due to the nature of their daily activities, working the frontlines with clients, probation officers are well suited as SLBs. They often choose which specific agency policies they will strictly abide by in their work, how often they will employ control over their clients, and in what capacity. Lipsky (2010) further stated that there are many restrictions (e.g., lack of resources, social control) within the community corrections system that make it difficult for a probation officer to complete both tasks set forth for them—to protect the public’s safety and to provide supportive services to achieve rehabilitation. These restrictions can put strain on the officer, the probationer, and their relationship which, as noted, is important in the role of successful probation completion. A growing body of literature has specifically examined ways in which community corrections officers serve as SLBs in their daily tasks (e.g., see, Kras et al., 2018, 2019; Slate et al., 2003; Steiner et al., 2011).

Despite the empirical research illustrating how most probation officers function in the tradition of street level bureaucracy, few studies have explored how discretion and autonomy impacts the work of this group, and how SMI caseload officers use discretion and social control in their work. This is even more pertinent to explore among SMI caseload officers as they may play a particularly important role in helping the probationers on their caseloads be successful while in the criminal justice system (Epperson et al., 2017; Manchak et al., 2014). Ultimately the specialized work of the mental health caseload probation officer, coupled with their discretionary power, largely utilizing resources how they want, when they want, and with whom they want (Lipsky, 2010) makes the perceptions of these specialized probation officers an interesting point of analysis in the study of the experiences of people with mental illness in the criminal justice system. As such, the current study explores the following research question: How do SMI caseload officers use discretion and exert control over probationers on SMI caseloads?

Methods

Setting and Data Collection

The current study is based on semi-structured qualitative interviews completed with 24 probation officers over a 14-month span at Maricopa County Adult Probation Department (MCAPD). MCAPD is one of the largest probation departments in the United States, serving roughly 52,000 individuals and over 1,000 employees across 19 offices at the time of data collection (Maricopa County Adult Probation Department, 2013). Each officer interviewed was employed on the Seriously Mentally Ill (SMI) caseload. At the time of data collection, the SMI caseload had the ability to serve up to 680 SMI probationers at capacity (Maricopa County Adult Probation Department, 2013). Probationers on the caseload were assigned to 1 of 17 different SMI caseload officers who each supervised an individual caseload under the direction of two supervisors (Mulvey, 2013). The sizes of the SMI unit caseloads were capped at 1:40. At this time, the SMI caseload had an average successful completion rate of 73% (Maricopa County Adult Probation Department, 2013).

To become part of the SMI caseload, probation officers normally screened probationers deemed to be a good fit. The MCAPD SMI probation caseload had two very specific requirements that must be met for eligibility. First, all participants must possess a diagnosed Axis I mental health disorder according to the DSM-IV-TR.¹ In rare circumstances, individuals with traumatic brain injury, severe dementia, or other profound mental impairments were considered for the caseload (Maricopa County Adult Probation Department, 2013). Second, in addition to a diagnosed major mental health disorder, all participants must also have a significant functional impairment (e.g., the probationer’s mental illness limited the ability to complete life activities, to work, or the ability to fully care for oneself on a daily basis and/or legal capacity).

Generally, there were two ways in which an individual could be screened onto the SMI caseload. The first occurred at sentencing when the presiding judge referred an individual to be screened based on mental health terms in the initial intake assessment or based on the specific details of the case. The second, and much more common way, was for a standard probation officer to refer a probationer on their caseload for an additional SMI unit screening. After referral to the specialty caseload, a SMI caseload officer would conduct a screening to determine if the probationer was an appropriate candidate for the SMI caseload. Ultimately, the screening probation officer working on the SMI caseload had primary discretion in determining who was admitted onto the SMI caseload.² After completion of the screening, this officer (sometimes in consultation with their supervisor) made the decision to either: (1) accept the individual on the SMI caseload, (2) suggest a more appropriate specialty caseload, or (3) deem the probationer to be inappropriate for the SMI caseload. Once accepted onto the SMI caseload, each individual completed a comprehensive mental health probation court contract, overviewing the requirements of probation set by the court (e.g., must take medication as prescribed, must stay in contact with probation officer, must not consume alcohol or illegal drugs, etc.).

All SMI caseload probation officers received some specialized mental health training after being assigned to the SMI caseload. Supervisors noted that most SMI caseload officers started in other departments before being assigned to the SMI caseload (e.g., standard officers, presentence officers). Most officers interviewed applied for internal transfers to work with probationers on the SMI caseload when positions opened. Decisions were based on previous experience, or individual interest in working with this population. In rarer instances, a few SMI caseload officers were hired directly on to the SMI caseload because of a specific background in management of individuals with mental illness, or prior careers in the area.

Where most mental health caseloads in the United States operate like a more traditional drug court model, MCAPD is unique in that the SMI probation program is designed to work as part of a problem-solving caseload. In this specific model, SMI caseload officers have significant discretion over determining when, and in what capacity individuals on their caseload will appear before a judge at the MHC. For instance, a probationer on the SMI caseload might make an appearance in court for both negative and positive reasons (e.g., as a result of a sanction, a missed treatment appointment, missed probation meetings, a new charge, a positive drug screen, etc.) However, sometimes the probationer might also appear in court as a reward (e.g., acknowledgement of advancement in the program, acknowledgement of sobriety, etc.) or just for a check-in with the treatment team.³ Normally, there were no predetermined dates at which probationers on the SMI caseload appear in the MHC with a specific referral or petition to revoke (PTR) probation instituted by the supervising SMI caseload probation officer.

Sampling, Participants, and Procedure

The current project was originally introduced to the MCAPD SMI caseload team during a monthly staff meeting. After being provided information of the purpose of the study, each probation officer was given an informational flyer and was asked to contact the researcher if they were interested in participating. A follow-up contact (either via email or phone) was completed with each SMI caseload probation officer to invite them to be a part of the project. During the data collection period, each time a new officer began working on the SMI caseload, they were subsequently invited to participate in the research project after working on the SMI caseload for a few months. This resulted in a sample of 24 separate SMI caseload officers participating.⁴ Each interview was conducted in person with the SMI caseload officer in their office, or in a private conference room at a probation field office.

All participants interviewed agreed to be audio recorded and were assured confidentiality as being a part of the study. Interview lengths ranged from 45 minutes to 2.5 hours. Interview questions were designed to inquire about the SMI caseload officer’s management of their caseload and the perceptions of their work. Questions focused on broad topics like, “What are the most rewarding parts about working with individuals on the SMI caseload,” “What are some of the most challenging parts about working with individuals on the SMI caseload,” and “How do you personally use the MHC when working with individuals on your caseload?” The questions were designed to allow for the participants to elaborate on personal management style, as well as perceptions of the individual officer’s work in a way to ask follow-up questions based on individual responses. These follow-up questions evolved over time, and were elaborated on, based on grounded theory (Glaser & Strauss, 1967) to account for information that emerged in earlier interviews. All interviews were transcribed and reviewed by a second individual in order to ensure an accurate word for word account of the interview that was originally transcribed.

The analysis in the current paper is inspired by the tradition of grounded theory in qualitative research, and the authors took an inductive approach to analyze the current interviews building upon specific observations and emergent logic within the narratives put forth by the probation officers (Bachman et al., 2017). Charmaz (2006) has considered how grounded theory can be used as a method of explanation and emergence. By taking a systematic, inductive, and comparative approach to research, using grounded theory as a method of observation, offers the researcher several open-ended approaches for conducting emergent analysis. This allows the researcher to create their own methodological strategies to handle questions of inquiry, as they arise—to “create emergent theories from the data that account for the data” (Charmaz, 2008, p. 157).

Using NVivo qualitative analysis software, each interview was reviewed, and emergent themes were then created based on the information provided by the SMI caseload officers. NVivo provided the ability to compile narrative data by each author to assist in creating summaries of the material and cross-referencing coded interview content (Bachman et al., 2017). After initially coding each interview in NVivo, the authors discussed and compared the different text descriptions of emergent themes, coming to an intersubjective agreement of which themes would be explored in subsequent analyses involving the data. Each interview was then analyzed a second time to provide narrative examples of the different themes. Upon completion of coding, the authors cross-referenced individual coding in order to examine any areas of disagreement in the thematic content coded in each individual interview.

When considering the demographic make-up of the sample, 7 men and 17 women completed interviews as part of the project. The ages varied among the officers from the early 20s to over 60 years old. Four (17%) of the officers were in their 20s, six (25%) in their 30s, eight (33%) in their 40s, and six (25%) were 50 or older. Nineteen (83%) of the officers identified as white and five (17%) of the officers identified as a racial/ethnic minority. Every officer had earned a 4-year college degree. Multiple officers were pursuing graduate school education at the time of their interview. Furthermore, nine officers had completed a graduate degree by the time of their interview. The tenures of the officers on the SMI caseload varied considerably, ranging from a few months of experience working on the SMI caseload, to multiple officers who had been employed on the SMI caseload for over a decade.

Findings

Perceptions of SMI Caseload Officers & Discretion

As SLBs, discretion played a fundamental role in the duties of the SMI caseload officers in the current study. Every officer interviewed discussed differing aspects of discretion in their work, and each considered how their discretion impacted the probationers on their caseloads in one form or another. All officers agreed they had more freedom in making decisions over that of standard probation officers. Courtney discussed this difference in detail during her interview:

Yeah cause in standard I mean, you committed a crime, now I have to do this. . .I’m going to do a warrant and then you come to court. . .you responded you did this, and you did that, and it’s so like robotic. Versus here [SMI probation] it’s like okay well he did this and, you know, I thought maybe he could go to like. . .and do you know, and it’s more. . .sitting around kind of brain storming. What we could do so that he doesn’t really get into more trouble. . .It just, it works.

This style of management “just works” for so many SMI caseload officers because they had a less formulaic process to follow than standard officers and could insert more of their own professional choices to assist probationers on their caseloads. Like Courtney, Juan also considered the differences between SMI caseload officers and others:

Now I have the ability to really feel I do a little more for my probationers. For instance, in the standard caseload I can’t just look at their money and say “hey, this person can’t afford to pay anything.” Um, you know they’re stuck with a $65 probation service fee. In the mental health caseload I’m allowed to be able to petition the court and be able to say this person is on a fixed income from maybe SSDI that they can’t afford $65 a month, in fact it would be counterproductive for them to pay that amount.

In this narrative, Juan explained how possessing the ability to use his professional discretion in what might be perceived by many to be a very small thing, could make all the difference in the life of a probationer on his caseload. These decisions in turn could also assist the probationer with being more likely to successfully complete their probation sentence.

Aside from considering how their ability to make choices in their general work was unique, SMI caseload officers discussed several other specific discretionary decisions they made on a daily basis. Three particular aspects of discretion in the narrative descriptions of their work are considered below. First, before an individual was even accepted onto the SMI caseload, the officers had a substantial amount of discretion in deciding who was admitted onto the SMI caseload. Second, once on the caseload, officers had a wealth of discretionary power over their use of the MHC. Lastly, SMI caseload officers discussed discretionary power in relation to gender, and how discretion was often employed differently for men and women supervised on the SMI caseload. Each of these different themes equated to aspects of power over probationers’ lives, and the very few mandates SMI probation officers had on how to best execute that power.

Discretion in SMI Caseload Acceptance

In the current analysis, the admission process onto the SMI caseload was a highly flexible one where SMI caseload officers were responsible for completing referral screenings that determine if referred probationers qualified for admission onto the SMI caseload based on an in-house created assessment coupled with the officer’s clinical judgment. Furthermore, after probationers were accepted onto the SMI caseload, specific officers would occasionally be targeted to work with individual “types” of probationers on the caseload due to certain criteria (e.g., specific diagnoses, different genders). In the instances when it was possible to match probationers on the SMI caseload with a particular probation officer it was believed the individual would work well with, this was normally seen as a positive situation for both the officer and the probationer. For example, in discussion of probationer placement on the SMI caseload, Audrey noted:

…there is the other trend that was done on purpose. I get more often, than it seems anybody else, I get a lot of. . .any men that I have usually suffers from the antisocial personality diagnosis. [My supervisor] felt that I handle that population better for some reason, so I seem to get a lot of them.

Individuals who were dually-diagnosed with a personality disorder and with an DSM-IV-TR Axis I serious mental illness, in addition to having functional impairment, were seen by most SMI caseload officers as especially difficult to work with. As a result, placing a probationer with a personality disorder on an officer’s caseload who was better equipped to deal with these individuals was perceived as increasing the probationer’s chances of successful SMI caseload completion. In a similar fashion to Audrey, Jack also described how decisions were made informally about caseload placement in his field office. He described the other SMI caseload officers he worked with as “a very cohesive group” and they often freely discussed cases like, “you know I think you’d be better with this person, rather would you mind taking this case and we can trade a case?” In this way, some officers were able to partially choose the make-up of their caseloads.

Unlike Jack and the SMI caseload officers in his office, Mary was the only officer working on the SMI caseload in her specific field office. She actually explained during her interview how she made decisions differently than many screening officers stating, “[I’m] a little more lenient in the criteria for me to accept a case [to the SMI caseload].” She described her process as often having “no rhyme or reason” and sometimes based her decision on a “gut feeling.” Mary rarely rejected someone that was referred to her. This was frequently a result of her believing she would be more successful in working with the probationer than a non SMI caseload officer.

Other SMI caseload screening officers employed greater discretion in who they accepted on their caseloads, with the most common reason for denial of acceptance being the SMI caseload screening officer perceived that substance abuse was the only reason for the probationer’s symptomology of mental illness. Carrie stated, “usually the reason for rejection is there’s a drug issue. . .you got to weed those out because they can be confusing.” SMI caseload officers frequently noted they needed to “weed out” substance abusers whose addiction presented as significant mental illness as these individuals were especially difficult to work with and were not well suited for the specialized programming intended for the SMI caseload specifically. Rhonda, another SMI caseload officer with substantial knowledge in this area, explained that while in a “drug induced psychosis, individuals will be ‘acting crazy.’” She recounted a specific instance where someone was running naked in a busy intersection in the city. “They got picked up and put on probation” and quickly sent for a SMI caseload screening. Once sober, however, the individual was rejected from the caseload because their mental health symptoms also subsided.

SMI caseload screening officers also discussed employing discretion in order to save space on their caseloads for probationers most in need of their services. During her interview Nichole stated that SMI probation officers must maintain an attitude in which they can only take, “the worst of the worst.” At the time of data collection, she estimated that as many as 2,500 people on probation might have “mental health terms”⁵ but the SMI caseload could only serve 680 individuals at one time. Accordingly, officers chose probationers in need of the SMI caseload by unofficially ranking who required services most.

Discretion in the Use of Mental Health Court

Perhaps the largest use of discretionary power that SMI caseload officers had at their disposal was how often they mandated probationers on their caseload to report to the MHC, and for what reasons. Some SMI caseload officers required probationers they supervised to report frequently to the court, while others rarely used it. Frank, for example, explained the substantial range SMI caseload officers had in their decision to use the MHC, “we use it pretty much for who we want to.” Carrie further elaborated by stating, “specialty court is really fabulous because the standard officers don’t have that [discretion], it’s either [the probationer] is compliant or non-compliant.” She further explained:

We’ve got that intervening factor that we can take them in, round them up and it’s nice. “Here’s your wakeup call. Now we’re going to do this and then if you don’t, you can go to prison.” But we have this little piece [the mental health court] that usually turns it around.

SMI caseload officers believed possessing the ability to bring probationers on their caseloads to the MHC as they wished to be particularly helpful in encouraging compliance and addressing small problems before they became more serious violations.

SMI caseload officers who were champions of the MHC also often used their time in court to gain knowledge and to understand how other SMI caseload officers were working with probationers on the SMI caseload. Jeruel, for instance, referred to himself as a “big believer” in the MHC, and felt it extremely important to assist in his daily work. He stated:

…[it’s] like the university of mental health. I just learned so much from listening to the other officers and listening to the judge and listening to the supervisors. I mean there’s a lot of wealth of knowledge out here and it’s free. So, that’s another good reason to utilize Mental Health Court.

Jeruel was in court almost every week, bringing probationers on his caseload for frequent check-ins with the judge, to ask the judge to hand down admonishments and formal sanctions, and to also have the court celebrate successes and congratulate probationers for special accomplishments.

While all officers utilized the MHC in some capacity, especially when they needed to file a PTR for a probationer on their caseload, a few worked diligently to avoid sending probationers on the SMI caseload there. Concerns addressed by SMI caseload officers were that the MHC often dragged on and was not efficient. Others resented that the judge would sometimes undermine the individual officer’s authority in front of probationers on their caseload. Some officers just felt it was too far to go to if they were working in the outlying probation field offices in the county, and not worth the substantial time out of a workday. In considering time management and the subsequent constraints that choosing to go to the MHC placed on a SMI caseload officer Frank stated:

[Court] is kind of a hassle, it takes a lot of time. You have to be there all day usually. They hear cases in the morning and the afternoon; you may have to be in two separate courts. . .the preparation time and, you know, getting cases ready. All this information you have to have together for the court you have to be, you have to be ready for that. . .it does take time away from seeing your people at their residences or seeing your people in the office.

Similarly, Dave felt that choosing to send probationers to the MHC to receive acknowledgment for something positive, or to receive a reward, was a waste of time. He noted:

Some people do when they want to give somebody a gift card, but I figure it’s a 50-mile round-trip for me to go to and from Mental Health Court and I don’t want to go, and it takes up the whole morning to do. So, I don’t want to do it unless I got a good reason and I’d like to have two or three people on the docket, you know, so that it is more time effective.

As a result, SMI caseload officers like Dave would only go to the MHC if they could have several probationers on the same docket. Others noted, however, that officers who managed their caseload in this manner also contributed to back-up of the MHC because dockets for each week would occasionally fill up well in advance, making it quite difficult for SMI caseload officers with unexpected, yet immediate need to get one of their probationers on the MHC docket in short notice.

SMI caseload officers also employed discretion in choosing not to use the MHC because they felt it undermined their individual authority. The judge had final say over all sanctions and rewards in the court and officers occasionally noted that they feared the judge might disagree with how they were choosing to manage the probationers on the caseload. This was especially concerning for a few officers as one of the two judges assigned to the MHC had only recently started their work on the MHC docket and the probation officers were unfamiliar with the way this judge generally ruled over their courtroom. Some officers had decided to stop using the court as a result. Sally, an SMI caseload officer who had traditionally used the MHC quite frequently in the management of probationers on her caseload, felt the judge regularly undermined her. She explained that “the judge’s way of dealing with things; it’s created problems for me.” At one point she had used the court for up to 7 to 10 probationers weekly. As a result of being unable to acclimate to the new judge, and becoming frustrated with the situation, she had only used the court recently for a single probationer and only because she needed to file a PTR on that person. She believed in the end this would have a damaging impact on her work:

…which probably means my petitions to revoke will start going up since I can’t utilize the court the way I, you know, before I’d been so successful which is [what I am doing now is] detrimental to success, but it’s the shift that had to be made.

Similar to Sally, Tonya had also altered her use of the MHC after she felt she had been undermined and unsupported by a MHC judge. As a result, she only used the court as a last resort, and even then, quite reluctantly. She described her feelings:

Comments were made [by the judge] about my ability to work in this field and my empathy, and I’m like, “I’ve worked here with this population my whole entire adult life and if I did not feel passionate about this population, I would not be here!”

As a result, Tonya managed many aspects of her caseload that she once did with the help of the MHC to avoid a confrontation with that particular judge that she believed had been disrespectful.

Discretion and Gender

Another key area in which SMI caseload officers discussed using discretion in varying ways involved how men and women were treated differently on the SMI caseload. Many SMI caseload officers discussed how gender impacted their decision-making surrounding decisions of management style, and even specific sanctions for men and women in varying ways. During her interview, Amber described commonly held perceptions on the part of SMI caseload officers when she stated, “the females have a lot more problems and take a lot more time because sometimes families are involved.” Familial relationships, unhealthy romantic relationships, and children were discussed as issues more frequently impacting women on the SMI caseload. Mikela mentioned:

Unfortunately, most of the women on my caseload are in unhealthy relationships and they’re also struggling with no income and caring for children and multiple family members and that’s a big difference. It’s a set of challenges that come with the females that doesn’t seem to come with the males.

Because women were perceived as bringing more complex need to the SMI caseload, many probation officers perceived them as more difficult to work with, yet less aggressive and violent than men on the SMI caseload. As a result, several officers chose to sanction men and women in different ways. Edwin, for example, noted that he was less likely to sanction women harshly on his caseload due to their unique pathways to the criminal justice system:

You excuse that behavior. Well, you would not excuse it, but you definitely wouldn’t sanction that behavior. So yeah, I’d say there’s a difference. Oh, absolutely, yeah for between the genders. If you took two criminal histories and put one on a female and one on a male and I took the same mental illness factors, it completely. . .you completely have two separate cases even though they read identical.

It was also perceived by some SMI caseload officers that women on their caseloads required more attention, as building a therapeutic relationship with them was paramount. Andrea stated, “I think the females are more needy” and the assumption about men was that they “just want to get in and do what they have to do and leave.”

Sometimes, discussions of discretionary decisions on the part of the SMI caseload officers was less direct, but still evident. For example, individuals who were diagnosed with DSM Axis II personality disorders (specifically borderline personality disorder) were often considered the most difficult probationers on the SMI caseload to work with. Previous research has noted that at least 70% of individuals diagnosed with borderline personality disorder are also female (Torgersen et al., 2001). SMI caseload officers were more likely to view these individuals as manipulative, resistant, and less compliant with the conditions of probation. As a result, officers were more likely to take punitive approaches in their work with probationers who had a personality disorder in addition to a major mental illness. In her interview Tameika explained her rationale:

They’re borderline and that is a real challenge because right out of the gate you’ve got a problem because it is very. . .they do not want to be told what to do. And this is probation. They don’t want to be told to take their meds. They don’t want to be told what they need to take. They know more than the doctors. It’s not their fault that they are on probation. That is a difficult one [disorder] because they never take responsibility for the fact that they are there.

Autumn provided a similar example when she discussed how “women with borderline personality disorder” could be particularly manipulative:

Sometimes they can be manipulative and then they try to take I don’t know. . .Sometimes they try to it seems like they try to make you feel like you don’t know what you’re [doing], you’re crazy. . . I mean, then and then too they’ll play on, you know, what I might have told them. They’ll say well I talked to this person and they said this and that it’s totally not, you know, not true.

Autumn noted that occasionally these individuals would “split staff” by telling two different stories, one to her and one to the case manager in an attempt to believe she was doing what they wanted. Antony, another probation officer working on the SMI caseload referred to this as a “smoke screen” or “smoke screening” on the part of the SMI caseload probationer.

As a result of this difficulty with compliance on the part of probationers diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, some officers noted that they chose to use the MHC more often with women who were diagnosed with borderline personality disorder because those women felt threatened by having their freedom taken away. This specific type of control, where the officer chose to have the probationer on the SMI caseload regularly report to the MHC, and to use the threat of jail time or a PTR from the court, it was believed, would help get the SMI caseload probationer back on track. Overall several of the SMI caseload officers interviewed believed this to be a viable choice to working with many of the women on the caseload who were particularly difficult to supervise because of their personality disorders. As Amber noted in her interview, “there are many fewer women on the caseload, or even in the criminal justice system.” She ultimately perceived this to be the result of the SMI caseload seeing “the sickest of the sick” where most women were diverted away from the SMI caseload, and thus those who did make it to the caseload, needed specific aspects of control over them.

Discretion and Aspects of Control

In the deployment of their judgments, SMI caseload officers varied between two classic forms of social control—beneficent and coercive (Liska, 1992). In this way, SMI caseload officers discussed making decisions around having case staffings, providing medication management, and referrals to treatment all in ways they believed to benefit probationers. SMI caseload officers, however, also chose to use a myriad of more coercive measures including increased office and home visits, urinalysis, MHC visits, and PTRs as needed to ensure probationer compliance.

Discretion and Beneficent Control

SMI caseload probationer officers frequently discussed situations where they chose to deal with probationer non-compliance by initiating actions to help influence probationer success. As a first line of defense, SMI caseload officers would often schedule a “staffing” where all participating parties in the care of the probationer (e.g., probation officer, case manager, therapist) would convene to develop a plan of action to help the probationer become more compliant with their terms of probation. For instance, Audrey noted she “loved” staffings:

I’m notorious for scheduling staffings as a preventative measure for just, you know. This is the team that’s involved in that person’s life, it’s the probation officer, it’s the case manager so that person gets to sit down at the table and with these two people that are going to be the most involved in their life and we get to all make sure we’re on the same page. . .We need to come to the table with the problems and then the solutions. It’s in my opinion, it’s much more time effective and um you know it just makes so much more sense to do all that instead of you know over the phone with twenty different people. I love staffings.

Audrey also explained that there were multiple reasons for calling a staffing. As well as a preventative measure, staffings could also be used as a sanction:

You know, I have clients that I do use it as a bit of a sanction. Okay if you don’t want to tell me the truth about what’s going on, and you don’t want to communicate with me about what’s going on, then we’re having a staffing.

While technically considered a sanction, it is a very therapeutic form of control in the sense that it created a platform for individuals to come together and convey to the probationer how they must proceed to continue on a successful path, as opposed to requiring the probationer to attend court for formal admonishment by the judge, or filing a PTR.

As previously considered, the use of the MHC was not only a primary point of discretion for SMI caseload officers, but also a place to enforce beneficent control over these individuals. During her interview Julia explained in detail how she used court as a way to engage SMI caseload probationers in their treatment:

[I use it] for engagement purposes, and for compliance with people who are just, you know, skimming by; not really doing anything but not really ruffling any feathers either. Just to kind of get them in there just for the judge to be like, “I really need you to work with the team or work with your probation officer.” And then also [to engage] those people who you know are capable of doing it, but just aren’t, just to kind of give them that little nudge.

Officers also discussed using the MHC as a way to link services together for probationers on their caseloads. Some officers discussed sending probationers before the MHC judge so the judge could see first-hand how in need of services the probationer was. Frank explained one such situation where he exerted beneficent control in order to advocate for probationers on his caseload:

…people who I think have a need who aren’t getting the services they need, you know, so I can bring them into court and say “look you know this person has a team but you know I think they need this, this, and this and they’re not getting it.”

In this way Frank decided to use the MHC as a platform to show the courtroom workgroup how the lack of treatment and lack of resources were directly impacting probationers he worked with on the SMI caseload. He posited that this extra attention frequently helped get probationers in the right treatment programs and also helped create more successful outcomes.

Discretion and Coercive Control

While most officers did not choose to use more coercive measures as a first form of sanction, it did occur (and extensively with a few officers). Autumn described her decision to use the MHC as a more coercive measure as opposed to a beneficent one stating:

If we need them you know to try to get them to comply, it’s a good, good tool to bring them in front of a judge and just say okay, this is serious. You need to do this. So, it’s kind of you know, I think of a little eye opener for um, for our people.

As a sanction in the MHC, the court also had the ability to sanction someone on the SMI caseload for up to 120 days of jail time without permanent revocation of the probation sentence. A few officers discussed the use of jail as a “shock sanction” or the threat of such a sanction as particularly effective in getting probationers on their caseload to be compliant. During his interview, Dustin spoke about this type of sanction as a last resort before filing a PTR:

I’ll use mental health court like if, if we’re, if we’ve (officer, case managers, treatment team) been working with this client over a period of time and we’re not getting anywhere with that client. [If] I feel like I need to start doing paperwork to revoke their probation, then I’ll use mental health court too. I’ll use mental health court like as a last-ditch effort [to force change before having to file a PTR].

Dustin further noted that he would request jail days at the MHC and use them on some probationers in order to reprimand the individual, as well as let them “cool out” for a few days and get them back on track. In the end the choices made on the part of the SMI caseload officers, and the different ways they used discretion to control probationers on their caseloads, impacted the SMI caseload probationer’s daily lives in quite significant ways with potentially long-lasting impact both positively and/or negatively.

Discussion

For individuals with mental illness on specialty probation, the SMI caseload officer serves as a foundational component of their successful completion of probation. It is well established that discretion is a core element of human service positions, like those of probation officers (Lipsky, 2010; Purkiss et al., 2003). Furthermore, probation officers working on SMI courts/caseloads normally function as SLBs by shaping policy for their agencies autonomously, while they make individual decisions regarding SMI caseload probationers (Lipsky, 2010; Portillo & Rudes, 2014). Consequently, it is critical that scholars and professionals further explore the multiplicity of considerations that guide SMI caseload officers in their work. In accordance, the primary objective of the current study was to explore the narrative perceptions of SMI caseload officers, how they use discretion, and ultimately exert control over probationers on SMI caseloads.

The findings in the current study of 24 SMI caseload probation officers reveal that officers have specific perceptions of their work that guides professional decision making in varied ways. For example, all officers discussed in varying capacities how they enacted specific decisions in their work with probationers on the SMI caseload. Overall, probation officers discussed ways they built therapeutic alliances to collaborate with other team members and the probationers on the SMI caseload. The probation officers generally recognized that surveillance and a law enforcement only approach to supervision, without also building a therapeutic alliance with an SMI caseload probationer, could lead to less successful outcomes when dealing with a group of individuals with such dynamic and unique risks/needs. This finding largely supports previous studies that have highlighted that specialty probation officers who work with individuals with mental illness, and are able to build therapeutic relationships with the probationers on the SMI caseload, are more successful in regard to recidivism, especially when these officers are able to create a “firm, fair and caring” relationship (Kennealy et al., 2012; Skeem et al., 2007). SMI caseload officers who also embrace these important nuances are subsequently better equipped to work with a variety of needs probationers on SMI caseloads/courts present (e.g., co-occurring mental illness and substance abuse, fragmented/churning romantic relationships, psychotropic medication). Furthermore, community corrections departments in general, must also continue to train and provide opportunities for all probation officers on staff to learn more about mental illness in order to provide programming in all facets of probation departments that best assists probationers with significant impairment due to mental illness.

The narratives of the SMI officers in the current study further illustrate that discretionary actions had significant impacts on SMI caseload probationers from the original screening assessment for admittance onto the caseload all the way to the point of program completion. Overall, SMI caseload officers managed their workload with specific types of sanctioning, in varying ways with colleagues on the MHC, and sometimes utilizing unique methods with specific probationers on their caseloads. The narratives of SMI caseload officers often described limited governance over their decision-making processes in many of these decisions. For instance, SMI caseload officers discussed how one field office might “swap” cases among SMI caseload colleagues in that same field office based on which officers were perceived as being best suited to work with certain types of SMI caseload probationers. SMI caseload officers also varied considerably in how they did and did not utilize the MHC, how they sanctioned SMI caseload probationers differently, and even how some perceived men and women on the SMI caseload in unique ways. These gendered perceptions also sometimes led to different forms of control and sanctioning in the MHC as described by the SMI caseload officers.

Overall, the current study supports existing literature (e.g., Epperson et al., 2017) on working in specialty community corrections programming, especially for probationers with mental illness, by continuing to showcase the importance of the SMI caseload officer in the success of probationers on their caseloads. The decisions these professionals make on a daily basis can impact the short- and long-term success of SMI caseload probationers based on the strength of their relationships with colleagues, their willingness to seek out the best treatment for individuals on the SMI caseload, and their ability to build therapeutic alliances with probationers on the SMI caseload in profound ways. Functioning as SLBs (in this case SMI caseload officers), the decisions they make often result in significant changes in the lives of the SMI caseload probationers they work with. Future research should continue to consider what personality characteristics of SMI caseload probation officers, when matched with specific characteristics of SMI caseload probationers, lead to the most successful outcomes for the longest duration of time. In the end, the probation officer an individual on the SMI caseload is assigned could help determine their overall likelihood of desistance.

Although the current study provides unique consideration into the dynamic decision making that guides SMI caseload probation officers in the current sample, the study is not without limitations. First, the current analysis is limited to a non-generalizable population of mental health caseload officers in a single jurisdiction. We cannot conclude that the MCAPD SMI caseload and MHC are generalizable to other mental health caseloads and courts around the United States. Furthermore, this MHC model is unique in that it operates specifically as a problem-solving court as part of the overall SMI caseload, and not as a program that occurs in stages over a series of time like many specialty probation programs around the United States. Second, SMI caseload officers in the current study may have heightened discretion to those in other programs due to the nature of the program design as there are no set stages or predetermined dates that participants appear before the MHC. Instead, appearance dates (other than PTRs or new charges) are largely determined by the individual probation officer. Third, the perceptions of SMI caseload officers in their current work discussed during the face to face interviews, and what the individual officers do in practice, could diverge considerably as both social desirability and recall bias can impact self-report data. Fourth, the current sample is only 24 probation officers over a 14-month span. Although every officer working on the caseload during a specific timeframe was interviewed, there is no guarantee that the perceptions and decision making discussed during that time is what has occurred historically or most commonly across the years of the SMI caseload before and after data collection on the current project. Finally, this study is solely focused on the perceptions and decision-making processes of probation officers working with SMI caseloads/courts. It leaves out the important perceptions and experience of probationers on the SMI caseload, in addition to the perceptions and feelings of the MHC judges, case managers, peer support specialists, attorneys, and other members of the MHC team. Future research should also explore the perceptions of probationers on the SMI caseload as well as professionals other than probation officers who are working as part of the SMI caseload/court team.

In conclusion, this study furthers our understanding of the perceptions that SMI caseload officers have of the probationers they work with, as well as the SMI caseload program in general. The current analysis revealed that (1) SMI caseload probation officers operate with an immense amount of discretion over the lives of the individuals they work with on a daily basis, and (2) these decisions have the potential to impact the lives of SMI probationers in significant ways. Ultimately, clinical orientation on the part of the officer, their ability to build therapeutic alliances with probationers on their caseloads, and their ability to form strong working relationships with other actors in the specialty SMI caseload workgroup may play a detrimental role to the success of probationers on mental health programs in community corrections.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

*The authors would like to thank Maricopa County Adult Probation Department for providing the data analyzed in the current project. Points of view in this document are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the official position or policies of the Maricopa County Adult Probation Department.

** Pieces of this article appear in the first author’s original graduate thesis work.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

ORCID iD

Philip Mulvey

Notes

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