IN AN EVOLVING DRUG MARKET, OFFICER CONTINUES TO FIGHT

Former FBI agent Mike Shanahan dresses well and doesn't drink or smoke. His
gold cufflinks clash with his only obvious weakness -- fingernails chewed
to the quick.

Some days he feels like chewing them to his elbows.

The south Kansas City man works out of a secret headquarters in eastern
Jackson County on a job that never ends. Shanahan, 57, is the officer in
charge of the Jackson County Drug Task Force.

In a drug war marked by modest successes, he and the task force helped
notch a solid victory: People no longer call Jackson County the
methamphetamine capital of the nation.

They did in late 1996, when Shanahan left the FBI to lead the task force.
The next year, its 22 officers from 13 law enforcement agencies outside
Kansas City busted 119 meth labs. They busted less than half that the next
year and fewer every year since. Last year, they raided only 14.

Plenty of Jackson County residents still use meth, Shanahan said, but most
of it is made in other counties or south of the U.S. border.

"This unit has done an outstanding job," Shanahan said. "There's nothing
wrong with saying we've had an ounce of success."

He credited his officers. David Baker, an assistant county prosecutor
involved with the task force for many years, also credited Shanahan's
organization and management.

But no one has time to bask in credit.

Now Mexican drug cartels pour powdered cocaine into the area, Shanahan
said. Local cocaine prices have tumbled from a minimum of $1,200 an ounce
to $850.

Welcome to the latest drug threat. Expect another after it.

"There's a sea of drugs out there, and the waves keep coming up to the
shore and going away," Shanahan said. "They never stop coming."

He doubts they ever will.

"Our culture demands it. We're demanding the drugs," he said. "That's what
is so sad."

Asked why he has spent much of his life fighting this, Shanahan stepped up
to what he calls his soapbox. He spoke of drugs, values and children, and
he told his story:

Shanahan is married to a federal probation officer, and they have a
4-year-old son. Maybe it's the children who get to him the most.

He remembered a meth lab in Lee's Summit where a mother was carrying a baby
on her hip, smoking a cigarette and cooking meth. The cigarette could have
ignited the poisonous fumes and caused an explosion. That did not register.

Or there was the Raytown meth lab, where a hungry toddler crawled to eat
food out of a dog's bowl. The dog growled at the child, who cringed and ate
the food anyway.

The mother just watched. Meth can do that to people.

Quelling a threat

Before learning about meth, Shanahan spent 27 years in the FBI dealing with
other crimes.

His federal cases ranged from a Las Vegas skimming investigation that put
Kansas City mafia leaders in prison to the Oklahoma City bombing.

From 1992 to 1996, he led the FBI drug unit in Kansas City. Its most
famous case ended with the conviction of Bolivian drug dealers captured in
Germany. The sophisticated dealers created briefcases that appeared to be
plastic but were made of cocaine. They planned to ship cocaine hot tubs to
Kansas City. They went to prison instead.

Five years ago, Shanahan wanted a new challenge and started with the task
force. He took his customary first step: Learn the problem.

Outlaw bikers in Independence started feeding a local market for meth
decades ago. They carried it in from California in the crankcases of their
bikes, so people called it crank. Heavy users of the powerful stimulant,
called "tweakers," stayed awake for days and became irritable, paranoid and
dangerous. A law enforcement fact sheet warned: "Detaining a tweaker alone
is not recommended. Call for backup."

At first, meth came mainly from complex labs in Mexico and California. But
about 1992, someone invented an easier way. Cookers used the
pseudoephedrine found in nonprescription cold medications, which they
bought by the case. They cooked it with a poisonous mix of red phosphorus
and black iodine and shook the results in a solvent such as paint thinner.

Cooking techniques soon were in books and on the Internet. By 1996, labs
had spread throughout eastern Jackson County.

The cookers lacked the smooth skill of the Bolivian chemical experts who
had turned cocaine into briefcases. The meth labs left hazardous waste,
spawned poisonous fumes and sometimes exploded.

"It was a Beavis and Butt-head mentality applied to a science they had no
experience with," Shanahan said.

Step two: Attack on all fronts. Shanahan worked with prosecutors to toughen
laws. They arrested and prosecuted store owners who sold cold medicines by
the case -- 144 bottles for about $400.

The task force, which is financed by the Jackson County anti-drug sales
tax, trained landlords, store clerks and others on how meth is made and how
to spot labs or cookers.

More and more tips came in. The task force kept busting labs and taking out
meth leaders. They arrested so-called meth king Michael Duncan seven times.
He posted $3.4 million in bonds and kept cooking. Finally one of his meth
labs blew up. One man died and Duncan suffered burns on 30 percent of his
body. A federal judge in 1997 sentenced him to more than 19 years.

Now Duncan serves as a warning. Shanahan and his officers show three
pictures of the meth king taken at different times in his drug career.

In the first, he appears healthy, 6 feet tall and more than 200 pounds. In
the last picture, he looks about half that weight and his eye sockets are
like caves.

"There are no old meth addicts," Shanahan said.

What lies ahead

As meth labs ebbed, meth and other drugs were always there.

Last year, the task force worked with federal agents to convict two of
Kansas City's most prolific marijuana dealers. A wealthy Brookside couple,
Vince and Mary Sanders, pleaded guilty in federal court to bringing about
11 tons of marijuana into Kansas City since 1988.

They are awaiting sentencing. Federal authorities are taking about $2.5
million of their property, including a vacation home in California, a
Mercedes, a Corvette and expensive jewelry.

Shanahan said he had learned of the couple when he worked for the FBI but
never had evidence against them. That changed with a tip from a task force
informer.

"The drug gods look down on you once in a while and throw you a crumb to
keep you going," Shanahan said.

Then they throw more drugs. Sophisticated Mexican drug cartels shift
products to suit local markets. They are trying to tap a cocaine market in
the Kansas City suburbs, and they sell meth to users who no longer get it
from Jackson County cookers.

And now, the meth-lab problem seems to be returning to eastern Jackson
County. The task force has busted 17 labs so far this year, three more than
all of last year.

So the fight goes on, Shanahan said. "What's the alternative -- let chaos
prevail?"

No one wants twisted addicts damaging children or turning neighborhoods
into danger zones, he said. During one raid on a Raytown drug house,
neighbors stated their position: They stood in their yards and clapped and
cheered his officers.

Prevention programs, treatment, education and prisons all will continue to
play their roles, Shanahan said, but his own role is almost over. He plans
to retire by January.

"It's a young man's job," he said. "It takes someone with a lot of endurance."