NWAC - NorthWest Alternative Corrections

NWAC - NorthWest Alternative Corrections PROBATION OFFICE
Informational purposes only. YOU MAY NOT USE THIS PAGE to Report

HOURS:
Monday 9am to 11 am, 1pm to 5pm
Tuesday CLOSED
Wednesday CLOSED
Thursday CLOSED
Friday 9am to 11 am, 1pm to 5pm

05/27/2026
04/18/2026

‼️⚠️‼️⚠️‼️
Health officials and law enforcement have recently issued warnings about a powerful new synthetic opioid called cychlorphine (also known as N-Propionitrile chlorphine), which is currently linked to rising overdose deaths and is often undetectable by standard hospital drug tests.
Addiction Center
Key Characteristics of Cychlorphine
Extreme Potency: Preliminary laboratory data indicate that cychlorphine is approximately 10 times more potent than fentanyl.
Lethal Adulterant: The drug is frequently mixed with other substances such as methamphetamine or fentanyl, and it has been found pressed into counterfeit pills made to look like pharmaceutical Dilaudid (hydromorphone).
Geographic Spread: As of early 2026, it has been identified in drug supplies and linked to fatalities in Tennessee, Chicago, Oklahoma, and parts of Canada.
ABC7 Chicago

We work with them on a regular basis ** Come talk to us if you truly want to change.    You are not alone !!
03/21/2026

We work with them on a regular basis ** Come talk to us if you truly want to change. You are not alone !!

A couple of weeks ago I shared this story about Chris Smith about his recovery process and ultimate redemption. I spent about an hour and a half with him that morning. Listening to Chris talk about the advantages he didn’t have growing up was a very humbling experience. One that reminded me that my life could have very well turned out much differently. Here is the full text from that article:

Chris Smith Shares His Story of Recovery and Redemption

Ken Atkinson
Staff Writer

“It’s scary when you accept a life you weren’t created for,” said Chris Smith of Huntingdon. “Because you don’t know how to fight for the one you were meant to have.”
Smith talked about just that in an early-morning interview over breakfast at AJ’s AllStar Cafe where his wife, Tonya, works. His story today could easily be described as that of a successful motivational speaker, second chance advocate, mentor and recovery advisor. But he didn’t get there through conventional education methods. He did it through life experiences.
Smith grew up poor and cites his earliest memory as watching his father walk out the door when he was only four years old. A sense of rejection and desire to be accepted, Smith said, seemed to shape everything that followed.
“I had no identity,” Smith said. “So I found myself people-pleasing. My rebellion came from that lack of identity and just wanting to be seen.”
Smith said he was exposed to drugs and crime at a very young age, taking his first drink at just nine years old. By 11, he had already tried co***ne. He eventually dropped out of school and entered a cycle of addiction and incarceration that would dominate his early adulthood.
“I didn’t realize how much pain I was carrying,” Smith said.
Methamphetamine, he said, felt like the answer at first.
“It gave me pleasure and it numbed the pain,” Smith said. “I thought I found the love of my life.”
Instead, he said, it led him deeper into the criminal justice system. His sentences escalated from three years, to five years, to eight years, and eventually 16. He cycled through seven treatment centers and even spent time in a mental health institution.
“I tried and tried and tried,” Smith said. “But I couldn’t get it right. This was just my life. And the scary thing is, I had finally accepted it.”
Smith said help would soon arrive in the form of someone he had once done time with. When he first met the man while sharing a jail cell, the man told him he was going to change his life — that he was going to beat his addiction this time.
“I just started laughing,” Smith said. “Because I’d tried to do just that many times.”
Smith said he saw the man again about a year and a half later and immediately knew something was different.
“What’s crazy is that in addiction, you can tell when somebody is in it,” Smith said. “It’s just all over them. But you can’t hide sobriety either. You can’t hide a changed life.”
Smith said, unbeknownst to him, the man had been calling his wife, Tonya, and checking on him regularly.
“I was missing my PO meetings, I wasn’t coming in,” Smith said. “They were calling and texting, and I wasn’t answering.”
The moment of reckoning, Smith said, finally came on the morning of July 20, 2017. Smith was living in Huntingdon and washing dishes at that very same cafe where his wife works today. After 41 arrests, multiple overdoses, 13 felony convictions and a 16-year sentence, Smith was alone and running out of options.
Feeling humbled and broken that July morning at 5 a.m., Smith said he uttered three words: “God help me.”
“I never meant something so much in my life,” Smith said.
Smith said that not five minutes later, he received a knock on his window. It was the same man he had shared the cell with — the same man who had once told him he was going to change his life. That morning, the man said God had told him to come check on him.
“We had done time together, we had done dirt together,” Smith said. “I saw his change and it impacted me in a way that I had never been touched before. It gave me hope.”
Smith said the man helped him get into a rehab center that night in Columbia, Tennessee. Though Smith had been to rehab multiple times before, he truly hoped this time would be different.
Smith said he was two and a half months into treatment when something happened that would change the course of his life for good — a tent revival and identical messages from three different pastors that allowed him to truly feel what it was like to be broken, but also to have the opportunity to heal.
“That day, I truly surrendered my life to Christ,” Smith said. “That’s the day rejection left and acceptance came.”
From there, Smith said he had nothing material, but everything internally. He began working at the rehab center and later as a fitness instructor before returning home to Huntingdon.
Smith eventually joined the Tennessee Department of Mental Health and Substance Abuse Services as a Lifeline Coordinator, where he helped thousands of individuals access treatment, housing and support services. Over time, he helped create multiple reentry programs and support groups spanning several states.
Smith later served as director for the 24th Judicial District Recovery Court before returning to the department as a Faith-Based Coordinator, training congregations to better support individuals struggling with addiction and mental illness.
Today, Smith serves as Chief Growth Strategist for Alliance Housing in Milan, Tennessee, working with justice-involved men rebuilding their lives. He also serves on the board of the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) and participates on Tennessee’s Opioid Abatement Council advisory panel.
In 2024, Smith was recognized by the Governor’s Office for his work across the state and was asked to serve on an advisory council focused on justice-involved individuals and recovery policy.
“It’s surreal,” Smith said. “I went from being arrested by officers in this county to advising state leadership.”
Smith said if he could leave people with one message, it would be this:
“As long as there is breath in your lungs, there is hope — hope to overcome anything you may be facing. Because if I can do it, so can you.”

03/18/2026

So many do not make their appointment times then are inconvenienced when the lobby is full when they come in ..
* Office Hours and Reporting *
(Note - change in hours)

Monday 9:00 am to 4:00 pm or earlier
Friday 9:00 am to 4:00 pm or earlier
*walk-in / make-up appointments are 9 to 10:15 and 1 to 2:15 ******* Everyone is given an appointment time so if you dont make that, these are your make up window times.
*if all scheduled appointments are seen we close at 4:00 * or EARLIER**
Use the DROPBOX!! - walking it at closing time is not convenient for us **

(closed 11:00 am to 1:00 pm
lunch/Meetings/Attorneys/DA, etc))
**** (Our office is busy, so you may have to wait to have your business taken care of) **** Plan to wait !

* We are NOT available any other times as we are in court or at meetings. ***

*If you missed an appointment you need to come in on the next open reporting date. *******
‼️(3 missed = Violation)

We are CLOSED for all Federal / Government Holidays **

We have a DROPBOX (camera/video protected) by our door.

[email protected]
** We do not have a call # **

* We also may not immediately respond to your email because of court or we are seeing probationers - but if you contact us, it will be on record. If you have been text you can text on that line as well.
If it is about reporting, this post and your Appointment Agreement Policy you signed explains how to report if you miss an appointment.
It is YOUR Responsibility to contact us PRIOR TO your appointment to reschedule - we shouldn't have to contact you !!!! We will see your message and note accordingly.
*No Children or Visitors*
If you have a court balance you have to make a good payment every month ! Bring us the receipts!
Thank you,
NWAC Probation

03/07/2026

Stole from a friend...
EVERY DAY MATTERS ❤️

Yesterday a woman walked in at 4 PM. No appointment. Asked if I could squeeze her in.
“What do you want?” I asked.
She showed me a photo on her phone. Numbers. Just numbers.
“392. On my wrist. Simple. Black. Can you do it now?”
I looked at her. She’d been crying. Eyes red. Hands shaking.
“Yeah, I can do it. But can I ask what 392 means?”
She sat down in my chair. Took a breath.
“It’s the number of days my daughter stayed clean before she overdosed. I found her yesterday. I want to remember she tried. That 392 days mattered.”
I didn’t know what to say. Just nodded. Started setting up.
She kept talking. Needed to talk.
“Everyone’s going to say she relapsed. That she failed. That addicts always relapse. But they won’t say she was sober for 392 days. That she went to meetings. Got a job. Started painting again. That she was my daughter again for 392 days. They’ll remember one day. The last day. But I’m going to remember 392.”
Her voice broke.
“This tattoo is proof those days existed. That she fought. That she almost made it.”
I finished the tattoo. Simple numbers. 392. On her wrist. Where she could see it every day.
She paid. Tipped way too much. Started to leave. Then turned back.
“Can I ask you something weird?”
“Anything,” I said.
“Can you keep that stencil? The 392? And if anyone ever comes in here struggling with addiction. Or losing someone to addiction. Can you offer to do this tattoo for free? Any number. However many days their person stayed clean. 10 days. 100 days. 1 day. I don’t care. Just so they know those days counted.”
She left before I could answer.
I kept the 392 stencil. Put it in a frame behind my counter. Wrote under it:
“Days of sobriety tattoos — always free. Any number. Because every day counts.”
I didn’t think anyone would take me up on it.
Three days later, a man came in. Saw the sign. Started crying.
“Can you do 1,279?”
“Absolutely. Who’s it for?”
“My brother. He was sober 1,279 days. Died in a car accident last week. Sober driver hit by a drunk driver. The irony is killing me. He fought so hard. And some stranger took him out.”
I did the tattoo for free. He hugged me for five minutes.
Word spread.
I’ve done 23 sobriety number tattoos in three weeks. Free. Every single one. 47 days. 6 days. 1,823 days. 2 days. One woman got “14 hours” tattooed.
“My son stayed clean for 14 hours before he relapsed and died. Everyone says 14 hours doesn’t count. But it does. He tried. For 14 hours he tried.”
I tattooed 14 hours on her shoulder. She sobbed the entire time.
When I finished, she looked at it and whispered, “Now everyone will know he tried.”
Yesterday someone came in and asked for “0 days.”
I was confused. “Zero?”
He nodded.
“My daughter never got clean. She tried to quit so many times. Went to rehab four times. But never made it past a few hours before using again. She died at 23. Everyone says she didn’t try. But she did. She tried so hard. Zero days sober but a million attempts. Can you tattoo 0 with a little infinity symbol?”
Because her attempts were infinite even if her days weren’t.
I cried while doing that tattoo. Zero with an infinity symbol. For a girl who never stopped trying even though she never succeeded.
A teenager came in two days ago. Seventeen years old. With his dad.
“Can you do 91 days? For me. I’m 91 days sober. I want to remember.”
I looked at his dad. Dad nodded.
“He asked for this. I’m proud of him.”
I did the tattoo. 91 on his forearm. When I finished, the kid stared at it.
“Now when I want to use, I’ll see this. I’ll remember I made it to 91. I can make it to 92.”
His dad paid. Tipped $200.
“You’re saving lives with ink,” he said. “Keep doing this.”
The kid comes back every 30 days. I add a small tally mark next to his 91. He’s up to 151 days now. Five tally marks. He’s going to make it.
The original woman came back yesterday. The 392 tattoo.
“I wanted to show you something,” she said.
She pulled up her sleeve. Another number.
“1.”
Just the number 1.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
She smiled through tears.
“One year since my daughter died. One year I’ve survived without her. Someone told me I should get a tattoo for my own sobriety. From grief. From giving up. I’ve been sober from ending my own life for one year. Because of this.”
She pointed to 392.
“Every time I wanted to give up, I looked at this. If she could fight for 392 days, I could fight for one more. So I’m marking my days now too. One year. 365 days of choosing to stay.”
I have a wall now. Photos of every sobriety number tattoo I’ve done. 47 tattoos in two months. Numbers ranging from 14 hours to 6,247 days.
Every single one free.
Every single one a story of someone who tried. Who fought. Who stayed clean for as long as they could. Some made it. Some didn’t.
But every number matters.
Because addiction isn’t about the day someone relapses. It’s about all the days they didn’t.
And those days deserve to be remembered. Marked. Honored.
I started this because a grieving mother asked me to remember 392 days. Now I’m remembering hundreds of days. Thousands of days. Marking them in ink on the skin of people who refuse to forget.
Every number tells me the same thing:
Trying counts. Fighting counts. Even if you lose, the fight counted.
I’m a tattoo artist. But these aren’t just tattoos. They’re monuments. Proof that someone tried. And in a world that only remembers the last day, I’m making sure we remember all the days before it.

Do you have an EX VALENTINE that has a PROBATION WARRANT in Henry Co?Let us know where they are and we can give them a G...
02/11/2026

Do you have an EX VALENTINE that has a PROBATION WARRANT in Henry Co?
Let us know where they are and we can give them a Great Valentine's Weekend 😉 Free meals included!
[email protected]

12/14/2025

So, you finished rehab. You’re sober now. Living in a Sober Living house. Waking up early to catch the bus to a job that barely pays the bills. You’re splitting a fridge with three other addicts, listening to them fight over food or relapse excuses, trying to stay focused on your own lane — your own recovery.

You’re hitting your meetings. Three a week. You’re sitting in folding chairs under fluorescent lights, listening to other people’s pain, trying to believe that maybe… just maybe… one day, yours will turn into purpose too.

And I know there are nights when it doesn’t feel worth it. When you’re sitting on the edge of your bed staring at the same four walls, thinking, Is this really what I got sober for? When the silence gets so loud it starts screaming your name. When giving up feels easier than fighting through another day.

But let me tell you something — it takes a rare kind of strength to do what you’re doing.

Because anybody can self-destruct. Anybody can run. Anybody can hide behind a bottle, a pill, or a pipe. But it takes a fighter to start from scratch and rebuild their life one day at a time.

You’re not weak because it’s hard. You’re not broken because it hurts. You’re becoming. You’re laying the bricks for a life that’s going to mean something.

That bus you’re riding to that minimum wage job? That’s not humiliation — that’s humility. That’s faith in motion. Every mile is proof that you’re not who you used to be.

That sober house that smells like burnt ramen and resentment? That’s your launching pad. That’s where your comeback story is being written.

And those meetings you drag yourself to? Those are your classrooms — where pain turns into wisdom, and strangers turn into family.

Listen to me — what God is building in you right now, in this season that feels small and insignificant, is going to blow your mind when it unfolds. You’re not just surviving this chapter — you’re being prepared for the next one.

You might not see it yet, but you’re a walking miracle in progress. A warrior in transition. A Rockstar in recovery.

So don’t quit now. Not when you’ve already made it this far. The world hasn’t even seen what you’re capable of yet.

I see you.

I’m proud of you.

And I promise you — if you just keep going, it gets better.

Copy & Paste let’s keep reaching more, inspiration can come simply by a post.

Address

204 W. Blythe Street
Paris, TN
38242

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