ASHLAND — Hear ye, hear ye. Today shall be listed in the annals of the court of last resort. Our Frankfort juris shows no prudence.

It’s Kentucky courthouse worker furlough day — the first of three days without pay Commonwealth court workers will tolerate the rest of the 2012 fiscal year. I regard this move an undemocratic means to balance the teetering scales of the mounting judicial system budget. This morning, court services are officially closed for business.

I object.

Teens looking forward to your driver’s test — Mommy will chauffeur you a wee bit longer. Pray tell your burglary trial was on the Aug. 6 docket, well, you’re granted a get out of jail free card. Don’t rip me off.

Suing an employer? Cheers to one more day of pain and suffering.

Court designated workers: Get some R&R. Graffiti or breaking curfew never hurt us much. Delinquency will wait.

Computer CourtNet crashes. Judicial geek squad won’t fix it. They’re on unpaid leave.

Oh, so you got locked up last night? Our regrets. Enjoy the slammer and your new friend, Bubba; no deputy clerks on duty to deal with jailhouse release or collect bail money. Pretrial officers won’t visit county detention centers to unlock your cell bars either. Ordinarily they meet with defendants within a 12-hour window of the time they’re remanded to custody. Not so today.

Justice isn’t so swift in the bluegrass. Do the crime. Do the time. No legal recourse.

If your kid’s in the drunk tank, don’t call the courthouse for answers. No one’s answering.

It’s a trial run. For the first time in my life, the court system took a vacation day. Hang a “gone fishin’” sign on the front door of our county seats and tell taxpayers to deal with it.

Furloughs happen again on Sept. 4 and Oct. 15. This suspension is a carry-over of a statewide budget plan to hack mushrooming judicial branch finances. Life-changing, beneficial juvenile programs are purged, 282 court worker jobs already lost, and, in the next fiscal year, state justice will again bite the bullet, losing $25.2 million.

Furloughs are part of our law-making tribunal’s strange master plan — and, rumor has it, such days might be increased again next year. Maybe even a six-day furlough in January.

Although the jury’s still out on the judicial embargo, I’m sure the Constitutional penners wouldn’t be pleased about this.

Remember that diagram in elementary school civics class teaching it takes three branches of government to make a democratic system succeed and thrive? If Kentucky courts try 1.1 million cases annually, evidently, there’s a basic need for the little courthouse and handcuffs in that textbook drawing.

Through these layoffs, aren’t we just clogging the judicial system more? Denying basic rights to citizens?

To me, living in a state overwrought with drug abuse, the biggest cutback proves to be in our drug courts, with the General Assembly reducing the numbers of recovering addicts the program serves by 33 percent – people who wish to get off dope, become better parents, find a job, and live life again.

It’s a helpful, valuable curriculum which saves drug-besieged lives, but it costs money to pay counselors. Does it add up to safer streets? Apparently lawmakers say no.

You’re wrong. I present my case.

The National Association of Drug Court Professionals cites drug courts reduce crime as much as 45 percent. For every $1 spent on the program, we’re all saved $3.36 in criminal justice fees for drug offenders. The U.S. Government Accountability Office also issued a report with results from 30 studies involving more than 50 drug courts, confirming drug courts reduce recidivism and save money.

In 2009, the Kentucky Legislative Research Commission said 42 percent of state penitentiary inmates were incarcerated for drug and nonviolent property crimes.

So, what happens today in our Greenup-Lewis Drug Courts as they face furlough?

For starters, there are 10 people waiting for admission due to recent state drug court slicing. On a typical Monday, like this day off, there are three therapy group sessions offered at 10 a.m., 1 p.m., and 5 p.m. which direct and provide foundation to 38. That’s canceled.

If participants schedule off work to attend this regularly planned class, they must make other arrangements this week because class presence is mandatory and will be made up.

With the office closed, no drug testing done; no one to guide, answer questions, or help if she’s struggling, wanting to pop a pain pill this afternoon.

“I fully understand we aren’t winning the ‘war on drugs,’ but do we really think it’s cost effective to start shutting down the battlefields?” countered Julie Ilhardt, the Greenup-Lewis Drug Courts recovery coordinator and program supervisor, speaking of the furlough. Her program is nationally recognized since its 2002 launch.

In 2009 Ilhardt was bestowed the “Above and Beyond” award for Kentucky Drug Courts, increasing community awareness and involvement in recovery through outstanding service and dedication. She was honored by the Ky. Coalition for Women’s Substance Abuse Services for outstanding achievement in developing and improving services for Kentucky women and their families in 2010. She won drug court of the year and even is a national mentor drug court – helping other programs off the ground. She appeared on a magazine cover for her work.

“What does all this mean? Nothing, if the drug court program is given a death sentence,” she said. “Anyone who knows me will tell you I worked hard to build this program up. I wanted it to be fair but change people’s lives forever. I wanted it to change not only the addict’s life, but that of the addict’s family and the community surrounding the addict.”

For Ilhardt, this adjournment is devastating. Emails and phone calls continually roll – concerned parents, drug court members calling to report-in, information on random drug testing, or a halfway house leader with concerns.

“Today I got a call from a participant who just delivered a healthy, drug-free baby and wanted us to know she’s happy and only taking Tylenol. She was so proud and wanted to tell me. …What if I wasn’t here to answer her phone call?”

Crime restitution fees won’t be paid to counties today. No community service missions or helpful, therapeutic interaction when pressures of addiction attack drug court members.

The long arm of (in)justice hits Ilhardt personally, in her heart — while punitively damaging her pocketbook.

The furlough adds up to a 1.8 percent cut in the woman’s pay — and raises are now non-existent for judicial workers. She drives 57 miles each way from her Lewis County home to downtown Greenup to work — and gives 1 percent of her salary back to the city’s payroll tax. Gas prices are rising.

“The average person won’t be able to survive. I’m not even including the increases in healthcare, the cost of food and living, and all the expenses we already learn to live with,” added Ilhardt, explaining her husband worked only 12 weeks since 2009. His unemployment ran out. It’s hard for all state employees to make end’s meet.

She trusts fellow state judicial system workers are in a rough patch this week, facing the first furlough, while juggling fixed family budgets.

“While they usually consider the wife just a supplemental income, mine has been the main income for several years now. I don’t think I’m alone. I think I’m the average,” she said. “If we weren’t good with our money and saved and paid bills rather than charging them, where would we be?”

Today Ilhardt is at home — but she’s still working. She’s appealing area businesswomen rally for a brainstorming, fact-finding session, a united front of planners to reach out to state government in hopes of ending this furlough trend — in her drug courts, and across the board to all state departments.

Her thought: It we can’t keep government agencies open, it’s time for new ideas.