Meth, Shattered Lives, Part 2C

AS SUN GOES DOWN, WAR ON DRUGS HEATS UP FOR POLICE ON SOUTH SIDE

Dusk is settling in across the south side, and the motels along Interstate
35 are starting to fill up.

In a couple of hours, the concrete embankments that separate Oklahoma City
from the rest of the high-speed world will be cool to the touch. That means
the methamphetamine war will start heating up.

And when it does, the "methbuster" will be ready.

Oklahoma City Police Department patrol officer Craig Engles has been on
duty since 4 p.m. Early in his shift, he helped arrest a 17-year- old on
methamphetamine who beat his mother with a hammer.

But in an area of the city where crank accounts for much of the crime,
Engles knows there's still meth to be made and cranksters to be caught.

"A lot of guys go after armed robbers, but I guess meth is my thing," he
says. "You take a crankster off the street and you're often taking a
burglar, a hot check writer and a child and wife abuser down as well."

Engles swings his new Ford Crown Victoria into a motel parking lot and
starts eyeing license plates. Many of the vehicles belong to travelers and
hard-working people. But Engles suspects that some might be driven by "meth
cooks," who have set up shop inside a motel room.

"It seems like so many people are making it these days that I don't know
who's left to sell it too," he said.

His instincts about the illegal meth trade often are right, which is why
most of the other officers in the Santa Fe division rely on him as their
meth encyclopedia.

"I call it my dope hairs," he said. "Some things make my dope hairs go up
and some don't."

Born and raised on the southwest side of town, Engles is at home in the
"Edward 1" precinct and thrives on his fellow officers proactive approach
to police work.

Now 30 years old and four years into the job, he hasn't lost his sense of
humor, which isn't a guarantee given the scruffy appearance and volatile
nature of many meth users.

After getting teased for having three windows in his scout car kicked in by
agitated cranksters in the past four years, Engles got a priest to bless
his new pool car last month.

Fifty miles later, a woman he arrested for crank shattered another window.

The more serious the meth problem becomes on the streets, the less their
antics surprise him.

"Cranksters are so stupid, they're smart," Engles says. "They say they take
crank so they can stay up longer, work more and get more done.
Unfortunately, it turns them into monsters and eats them inside out."

Among law enforcement officers, it's known as "stinkin' thinkin'."

Meth cooks are getting smarter about one thing: they're not cooking at home
as much, Engles said.

The hotels along Oklahoma City's interstate highway maze offer them privacy
and a quick escape once their batch is finished.

Halfway through the motel parking lot, Engles puts the brakes on the
cruiser and punches a local tag number into his computer.

He's not checking to see if the car's stolen; he running the tag to see if
it previously has been impounded for a drug-related crime. It might give
him a clue as to who's coming and going from each motel.

Old Chevrolet Camaros and Pontiac Firebirds also attract Engles' attention,
because they seem to be preferred by cranksters.

"They like them because they're fast, even when the windshields are cracked
and they're full of dents," he said.

Engles has been taught the hard way not to underestimate his adversaries.

Finding nothing amiss on motel row, he is now cruising a nearby
neighborhood when he passes a house where one of the occupants has been
busted three times for manufacturing meth in the past year.

A moment later, a car pulls into the driveway behind the house.

"Sonofagun, that's the guy," Engles said. "He must have posted bond again
and is back out on the street."

For Engles, who estimates that he has helped convict at least 40 people on
meth-related charges, seeing that driver, who bonded out, behind the wheel
was a minor defeat.

So too was the rest of the shift.

He cruises the motels a couple of more times. The "vacancy" lights flash,
but they don't seem to be calling Engles.

"The humidity must be too high tonight," he says. "That sometimes affects
the quality of the cook."

But that doesn't mean Engles won't be back tomorrow to see what's cooking.