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True, the dorms no longer peak at 87 degrees. The broken water pipe that flooded hallways and left 3 inches of water over dorm floors has been fixed. The ants bunking next to and biting teens in one dorm are gone. The teachers who last month left worksheets for students rather than face potentially aggressive students in hot, crowded classrooms are back. But the smell. That can't-help-but-crinkle-your-nose odor remains. Because case "staffings" and health screenings and classroom teaching must go on, the detention center guards and other professionals have to ... well, remain professional, which includes stifling the urge not to inhale. That probably explains why some who work there think the almost unbearable stench that greets them in the mornings has waned by the afternoon. It hasn't. Just ask the attorneys, counselors and parents who involuntarily gasp when entering the 28-year-old building, or sign in, then wait outside. Unsure, even after testing, of the source of the leak, state Department of Juvenile Justice officials explain it the way seniors explain body aches: comes with age. But that excuse is not good enough. The cause of the smell cannot be healthy. Surely, if such foulness greeted DJJ Secretary Anthony Schembri in his Tallahassee office, it would be cleansed, never to return. So, Mr. Schembri, when will the sewage leak at the Palm Beach County detention center be fixed? How much longer will the DJJ employees, 13 school district employees, more than seven dozen juveniles and numerous attorneys and visitors have to inhale the fumes? And if the problem can't be fixed, if funk is an unavoidable consequence of an old state building that has been poorly maintained, when will the building be replaced? Those are just a few of the questions Mr. Schembri should answer today as he meets with DJJ officials, judges and others during a Juvenile Justice Roundtable Forum, organized by Rep. Priscilla Taylor, D-Riviera Beach. The community is thankful but not satisfied that DJJ recently completed $531,000 worth of overdue maintenance and repairs to the building off 45th Street in West Palm Beach. What will be done, though, to ensure that the 93-bed facility remains under capacity, as it has in recent weeks, instead of growing so crowded that teens have to sleep on floors? And what is the state doing to prevent juveniles from ever entering the criminal justice system? Why has the state cut by more than two-thirds the money the Juvenile Justice Board receives for Palm Beach County programs aimed at prevention? And, with the underfinancing of the Martin County sheriff's boot camp and the Sheriff's Training and Respect centers statewide that were supposed to model that program, what is DJJ doing to improve the chances that children who have gotten in trouble with the law won't repeat criminal behavior? Also, what about the Legislature's plans to privatize the Palm Beach County detention center, where teens typically wait months to enter mental-health and substance-abuse programs? Mr. Schembri's department is charged with ensuring that the $4.7 million contract saves $100,000. Will DJJ also ensure that the for-profit company does not skimp on employee qualifications and training? And when is the state going to place as much of a priority on fixing juvenile justice problems as it does on trying to hide or perfume them? Consider DJJ's challenge of the Juvenile Advocacy Project of the Legal Aid Society of Palm Beach County. Lawyers with Legal Aid have been court-ordered to review conditions at the detention center. In hopes of convincing the 4th District Court of Appeals to stop the review, DJJ likens it to "fishing expeditions" with presumably ulterior motives of shaming the department. In fact, DJJ's attack is misdirected. To stop the negative publicity, DJJ has to stop the problems causing the negative publicity. Or, Mr. Schembri, is your department content to ignore the source and let the problems fester, pretending at the end of the day, that you don't smell the stench?
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