From Newsday - March 1, 2000

BREAKING THE CYCLE

A program helps shoplifters find the source of their self-destructive habit

By Patricia Kean

CLAIRE NEVER GOES to the supermarket alone. The 33-year-old Nassau County woman always makes sure she takes her mother or a close friend with her whenever she goes shopping. It's not only that she enjoys their company. It's that their presence ensures
that an ordinary trip to the supermarket will not turn into the stuff of nightmares. Without someone by her side, Claire is terrified that she will walk into a store and begin shoplifting again.

It's happened many times before. She would feel "belittled and degraded" by a co-worker. "Then I would go shopping on my lunch hour and do strange things." While in the store Claire would get what she called an "urge."

"Something pops into my head ... I would blatantly walk out of the store with a whole cart full of stuff."

"I didn't get any joy out of it," said Claire who asked that her real name not be used.
"It was like a jail in itself. I'd sit in the car with the items and go 'Oh my God!'
The food would rot. I wasn't eating it. It was so senseless."

Other times, she never even made it out to the parking lot. Claire has been arrested
more than once ("Police officers tell me r m not very good at it," she observed, with a wry smile.), served some jail time and, because her most recent shoplifting arrest violated her probation, faces the harrowing possibility of being jailed once again.

It's one thing to hear these facts and quite another to reconcile them with the person that Claire seems to be. Slim and blonde, stylishly dressed in black pants and a handknit sweater, she wears a string of expensive-looking pearls. Money has never been a problem for this Long Island native, who was raised in a tight-knit religious family and now holds a job as a secretary. So why does she continue to do something she knows is wrong?

There's no simple answer. People like Claire otherwise law-abiding adults who take things they don't need, don't want and could easily pay for - represent something of a paradox. Very few of them can be considered kleptomaniacs in the strictest sense
of the word. But a growing number of psychologists and criminal justice professionals are beginning to believe that this kind of habitual, yet "nonprofessional," shoplifting represents another kind of psychological disorder-one that is linked to stress
and may be a manifestation of anger, loss and other emotional problems that must be resolved if the stealing is to stop.

These are not your usual suspects. "I've had dentists, psychiatrists, people from all walks of life. I've even had police officers," says Gary Witkin, a psychologist who evaluates shoplifters as part of his job as clinical director at Court Intervention Projects, a private, nonprofit advocacy group based in Mineola.

For nearly two decades, the Education and Assistance Corporation (EAC), a nonprofit community service organization located in Hempstead, has run a full-day workshop for shoplifters in Nassau, Suffolk and New York City called "Shoplift," aimed largely at what EAC division director Robyn Schneider calls shoplifters "early in their career." But for about a year now, some judges and advocates in Nassau County, along with a small number in Suffolk County, have begun referring people like Claire to Shoplifters Alternative (SA), the educational arm of Shoplifters Anonymous, a national nonprofit program founded in 1977 to help people with shoplifting problems.

Judge Ira Raab, presiding judge of Nassau County District Court, use the program. "The ones I refer to SA are those who are second- or third-time offenders or those who I see have a real problem. The first-timers I send to Shoplift - that's really all
they need. But when it's the second or third time and you see there's a psychological problem, then you send them to something more intense - which is what Shoplifters Alternative is."

Part of what makes SA "intense" are the support meetings for shoplifters in various stages of recovery. On a recent evening Claire joined a group of four people from the metropolitan area around a conference table at SA's headquarters in a nondescript building in Jericho, just down the road from the Broadway Mall in Hicksville.
At first glance, it looked more like a real-estate closing than a self-help group. Two of the participants were grandmothers who looked like they should be swapping recipes instead of chatting about probation. Peter Berlin, SA's executive director, who also works as a consultant on retail theft prevention, presided over the meeting, taking notes, offering advice, encouragement, and at times, some not-so-gentle prodding.

But the group members themselves did most of the talking, speaking in turn, describing their general state of mind, and most importantly, telling the group if and when they had been tempted to steal again.

ONE THING was immediately clear: They didn't let each other off the hook. When a young man confessed that he was once again hanging out with the cousin who had gotten him in trouble in the first place, Mary, one of the older women who asked that her real name not be used, reacted as though she were dealing with a recalcitrant child of her own. "He's bad news! You know he's bad news! You know he has influence over you! Have you done anything with him? Are you in control?"

Then it was her turn. "In department stores, I wasn't totally bad. I don't want to get caught. But in the supermarkets I was a horror." After stealing everything she needed to throw her New Year's Eve party, Mary, who lives in New York City, decided to stop. "I thought to myself what a great New Year's resolution that would be for me: to try to get some control back into my life. So you'll be happy to know I haven't shoplifted in a month."
That doesn't sound like much. But for someone accustomed to stealing nearly every single day, it was enough to bring on a major bout with depression. "It was a tremendous loss for me," Mary said. "Because this has been my best friend. It's brought me a lot of heartache and anxiety, but it's also brought me a lot of satisfaction and made me happy."
Nearly everyone at the meeting seemed to consider shoplifting an "addiction" just like excessive drinking or compulsive gambling. "The thing that is so destructive about ours is that we pay through the law," said Mary. "People can drink in the privacy of their homes, and unless they get behind the wheel they're OK. Or they can do drugs. But society does not accept this as an addiction. It's very shameful."

How does shoplifting turn into an addiction? For some, the answer may lie in the thrill that comes with beating the odds and making it past security. "It's the rush, the high. It's a form of self-nourishment that's actually very self-destructive," says Berlin. In the end, Berlin believes, it's this high, rather than the stolen merchandise itself, that becomes the habitual shoplifter's reward.

When otherwise law-abiding people shoplift, they are often at a loss to explain their own behavior. But with some prodding they usually reveal the trigger that led to the shoplifting. "The fact is that most people who are atypical theft offenders are very angry," says Dr. Will Cupchik, a Toronto psychologist who has written a book on the subject. That anger, he argues, is what separates the "atypical theft offender" from the true kleptomaniac.

Compulsive shoplifters may be angry for any number of reasons, some serious, others seemingly trivial. In his own research, Cupchik has found that in 29 percent of the cases he studied, there had been a recent diagnosis of cancer, either in the shoplifter himself or in a loved one. A divorce, a death in the family, serious illness, as well as eating disorders and other addictions, may also play a part.

On Long Island, where in many communities the mall has replaced Main Street, the problem is particularly acute. "I can't tell you how many times a woman having marital problems uses the malls ... to distance herself from the family for a few hours," Witkin said. "And then she finds herself being walked off into the basement of Macy's for booking."

Nationwide, shoplifters cost businesses close to $9 billion a year, according to Bruce Van Kleek. vice president of member services for the National Retail Federation, a nonprofit trade group in Washington, D.C. A large map of the United States,
studded with the kind of pushpins used to mark an army’s advance, hangs over the copy machine at SA headquarters. Currently, courts and other agencies in 44 states refer shoplifters to this program. Shoplifters pay an average of $65 to enroll, which, according to Berlin, represents the bulk of the group's funding.

As part of the course, participants must complete a psychological survey, which SA uses to rank their risk of shoplifting again and come up with a "personal plan" that will help them break their shoplifting habit. Those deemed to be at high risk of repeating the behavior may also be referred to a local therapist.

INMOST COMMUNITIES, the homestudy portion of the course is combined with a seven-hour workshop conducted by teachers, social workers and other professionals. But other times SA is run as a correspondence course. Participants, who may be self-referred, or referred by courts either as an alternative to incarceration or as a condition of probation or parole, receive a kit containing a workbook, two cassette tapes and an SA wallet card that includes a toll free number they can call when they feel tempted to shoplift again.

They also have the option of joining a support group by phone, if one is not available in their area. On the evening of Claire's meeting, a woman called in to the group from her home in California and poured out her heart via speakerphone.

At first, there were a few awkward moments. "Am I coming into the beginning of a meeting?" she asked, sounding nervous. "I'm not quite sure of the format of your meeting ... Is it like AA?"

After being reassured, she got on with her story. Kay, who also didn't want her real name used, is 44, and had moved three times in three years. By joining AA, she had overcome a dependence on painkillers and alcohol. But along the way she picked up other problems.

"What happened is the shoplifting thing seems like an offshoot of my addiction," she said.

As Kay speaks, the group listens intently, shaking their heads, sighing, nodding in agreement. But when she describes the night she was arrested, the room becomes totally still. Ironically, I had the SA number on me," she said, finishing
up her story in a quavering voice. "So I shared that with the police officer. He was very kind. I didn't have to be handcuffed or taken in."

"How can we help you?" Mary wants to know.

What she'd really like, Kay said, is to be able to talk to someone who understands what she's going through. As the meeting breaks up, some group members agree to stay in touch with her.

Many therapists who work with habitual shoplifters use cognitive-behavior therapy to help patients challenge the irrational thinking that fuels their addiction. But Witkin who sees shoplifters in his private practice as well as in his work with Court Interventions, believes that SA can do certain things a therapist can't. "They know the tricks, they know the cons, they know the deceptions. They're able to pierce the denial." he said.
As with other addictions, denial seems to be a big part of the problem. Most "first-time" offenders have actually stolen many times before they are caught, it is only when they are actually arrested and led off in handcuffs that their shameful secret is exposed.

SA's curriculum is studded with stories. What seems to make it effective, judging from the written comments of those who have taken the course, is that shoplifters themselves speak on the tapes, telling their own tales in their own words.

The tapes also give voice to the victims. A great deal of time is spent trying to convince shoplifters, most of whom would never steal from another individual, that their crimes harm other people. "Willy's Story" describes how shoplifting losses nearly cost one store manager his job.

"I never took anything from a person,” said Claire. "So when I started the course and got one of those kits, I learned a great deal. You never think about the manager of the store and his family. It was really an eye-opener."

Perhaps most important, the program attempts to get participants to focus on their own triggers. According to Berlin. SA's workshop forces clients to focus on the one. thing most of them would rather forget: the day they were caught. "What was going on in your life that morning? How did you get to the mall? How did you get the idea to take that item? ... The family consequences. The court consequences:'

Because a shoplifting problem can seem overwhelming, the SA wallet card breaks it down into simple steps recovering shoplifters must take before and after they enter a store. For example, the card warns that they should not enter a store if anything has upset them in the last 24 hours-if they feel depressed, angry, frustrated or if they have suffered any kind of financial loss.

Once they have decided to enter the store. recovering shoplifters are advised to "attract attention to yourself in a positive way” That may mean making small talk, asking about which items are on sale. informing a sales clerk that they are going to try things on-all things that go against a shoplifter's natural instincts.

In an age where every character flaw seems to have been redefined as a "disease," some are skeptical that shoplifting is really an "addiction" at all. Most of those arrested for shoplifting still fall into two groups: teenagers, who are usually responding to peer pressure, and "pros” often drug addicts, who resell what they steal for profit. So it's not surprising that some retailers raise an eyebrow when shoplifters plead "addiction" as a courtroom defense. But, says Berlin, a growing number of stores are expressing interest in his program. Some arc even reducing the civil damages they are entitled to seek if a shoplifter agrees to complete an SA course, he said.

That may be because SA's combination of home study, workshop, support group and therapy referrals seem to be working for many of its participants. Various studies show a recidivism rate (SA participants who are arrested again) (hat ranges from 1.3 percent to 2.7 percent nationally.

Raab, for one, says he's never had one of his SA graduates reappear before him. Claire, who has been receiving intensive therapy in addition to attending SA groups, hasn't stolen anything in seven months. "I find the support group really helpful” she said. "You know you’ve got to come and sit here before all these people and tell them honestly how you're doing:'

To Judge Raab, the program offers a viable alternative to the maximum sentence for a petty larceny: a year in prison.

''The taxpayers save $25,000,” Raab said. "And I save a soul.”

Patricia Kean is a freelance writer.

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