BEAT COPS GETTING THEIR HANDS DIRTY DOWNTOWN

You would expect blistered feet to be an occupational hazard for
officers walking the downtown beat.

But Const. Andy Wilkinson's red hands, rubbed raw, are a telltale
sign the officer is on the special duty team.

Though he carries a handgun, a Taser and handcuffs to protect himself
from the gritty reality of some downtown streets, Wilkinson relies
most often on the small packs of antiseptic handwipes he carries with him.

Cleaning up the streets requires subjecting himself to a multitude of
viruses and diseases from addicts who can't keep themselves clean.

Wilkinson is one of about 25 police officers who spend their shifts
patrolling the most troubled areas of the downtown core, particularly
7th Avenue, Stephen Avenue and the Beltline neighbourhood.

Later this year, police expect to expand the special duty program,
deploying beat officers to other troubled spots in the city.

On a daily basis, the downtown teams shake hands with business owners
who know them on a first-name basis, check on the homeless to ensure
they're warm and watch for addicts and dealers bold enough to flaunt
their lawlessness in plain sight.

Over the next nine hours, Wilkinson and his partner will find
themselves tearing open a dozen of the alcohol and lemon-scented wipes.

Walking the beat is literally a hands-on job.

In the middle of a sunny, Thursday afternoon in January, police radio
chatter directs Wilkinson and partner Const. Kevin Whitley to the
corner of 7th Avenue and Centre Street S.

A rough-looking middle-aged man with his neck covered in faded
tattoos is being handcuffed by an officer.

He's lifted off the ground and marched up against a brick wall.

The contents of his pockets spill onto the street, exposing three
tiny white clumps -- rocks of crack cocaine worth $20 or $30 each --
a Bic lighter and a lollipop.

Another officer bends down and cautiously sifts through the items
with a gloved hand.

The scene draws a few stares from passersby, but, within seconds,
everyone moves on. It happens here all the time.

Officers charge the tattooed man with possession.

Seizing narcotics from addicts isn't always as easy as emptying
pockets. The officers may have to pry open the mouth of a resisting suspect.

"They usually try to stick them in their mouths," says Whitley,
explaining crack cocaine isn't water-soluble, so addicts will often
store rocks in their cheeks to conceal them.

If need be, they can be swallowed and fished out from excrement later on.

Directly above the scene of the arrest, on the roof of the Art
Central building, elementary schoolchildren run in circles and play
games in their own concrete jungle.

The students from W.H. Cushing Workplace School, who spend their
recess atop the building on 7th Avenue S.E., can only see concrete
and sky. They're too short to peer over the ledge where junkies in
hooded sweatshirts wobble down the street, looking for their next fix.

Only metres away, in the Art Central building where businessmen and
women eat lunch, a chemical odour permeates the air.

"Do you smell that?" asks Whitley, lifting his nose slightly in a
hallway where addicts have been known to hunker down to get high.

"That's crack."

The stark contrast between the innocence of the children and the
worldliness of the addicts isn't lost on neighbouring business owners.

"It's surreal to stand out here and hear children playing up there. .
. . Then you look a little further and it's a different planet
altogether," notes Fred Konopaki, who owns the Palomino restaurant at
7th Avenue and Centre Street S.

Even before he opened the restaurant, Konopaki knew that choosing the
location among a crack-pipe-littered parking lot, the convenience
store next door -- which boasts a collection of weigh scales, knives
and butane lighters -- and a pawnshop that advertises "Cash for
almost anything" was a risky endeavour.

"There's a church on one end of the street, an art gallery on the
other, and in the middle, it looks like the Wild West.

"They don't even clean the blood off the street. It's like we're forgotten."

Outside the Palomino, pedestrians skip over a discarded yellow rubber
glove smeared with blood on the sidewalk.

On the restaurant windows, signs read "No public washrooms" and "All
liquor locked up nightly."

Konopaki says most of the addicts who stumble into his restaurant
move along when they're told they aren't welcome, but he worries
about the potential for violence.

"Nine out of 10 will move if you ask them to move. But there's that
one guy who's reaching in his pocket," he says.

"They come in to use the bathroom, but you know what they're doing in
there. You can just hear the Bic lighter flicking on."

Palomino has become a popular spot for corporate clientele, including
Mayor Dave Bronconnier. The owner credits some of his success to the
beat officers he sees every hour.

"The idea of the beat cop is the best thing for me," he says.

The concept of the modern beat cop is still relatively new.

Approved in May 2006 by city council, 18 officers joined an
additional six last fall. Whether by bike or foot, in uniform or
plainclothes, they devote their time to a few designated areas --
including the 7th Avenue corridor, the Stephen Avenue Walk stretch
and Olympic Plaza.

Ald. Druh Farrell said she hopes the beat cop initiative won't fizzle
out any time soon.

"As someone who takes transit, sometimes fairly late at night, I feel
safer," says Farrell.

"I'm certainly hoping this is a long-term commitment."

City council has approved funding for at least 18 more officers this
year. On Feb. 27, the police chief and police commission will meet to
discuss where additional officers will be allocated.

Deputy Chief Peter Davison says the timing of deployment will depend
on recruiting levels. Based on available officers, the service will
determine where in the city the teams are required.

Farrell expects 18 officers to be assigned to special duty posts
downtown. She said the attempt to evenly distribute officers through
the city is "like spreading icing evenly over a very bumpy cake."

Insp. Bob Ritchie, who oversees the downtown district, says while it
would be beneficial to have more officers to walk the downtown beat,
there are other areas of the city with crime issues that could be
addressed by similar special duty teams.

He said, so far, beat officers are disrupting and dismantling illegal activity.

"There's no other area of the city that is as densely populated at
given times of the day," Ritchie says.

The teams face unique challenges, however.

"We're seeing a transition in the city," he says. "Three or four or
five years ago, in the downtown district, at the end of the business
day, there was a mass exodus of people. Now, people stay."

Another challenge is keeping an eye on where the criminal activity is
most concentrated.

With high-visibility officers stationed on the streets, the service
has to make sure the drug activity and related crimes aren't simply
shifting to other areas.

In the upper floor of the Art Central building, Wilkinson and Whitley
stop for a coffee near one of the best vantage points in the building
to see crime.

Staring through the windows is like watching a television. And
Wilkinson predicts some action is about to come on screen.

"Look at the guy who will walk into your eye line in a few seconds,"
he says. "We know that person is a user, probably going to do a
hand-to-hand (drug deal)."

As the young man casually strolls through the parking lot on Centre
Street -- somewhat notorious for criminal activity -- two special
duty officers seem to appear out of nowhere and stop him before he
has a chance to score.

Part of the job requires spotting trouble before it happens. Paying
attention to details -- what someone is wearing, how they are walking
and how many times they circle the block -- is key.

Wilkinson notices a man in a "I AM Canadian" jacket has walked past
the window three times since the officers sat down. It's an obvious
sign he's looking to sell or score.

A few hours later, in the same parking lot, a stolen vehicle is
located and an addict whose hair has fallen out is handcuffed up
against the trunk of the silver Toyota. On the hood, officers rest a
confiscated tube attached to a pipe for smoking drugs, a butane
lighter, gum and change.

Wilkinson and Whitley continue their patrol, moving their boxy van to
the Beltline area, where a phone booth outside a restaurant on 17th
Avenue is the "epicentre" of the area's dial-a-dope operations.

At 12th Street and 12th Avenue S.W., Whitley spots an elderly couple
hurrying to their car from an insurance company. They are trying to
avoid a vagrant hounding them for cash.

Whitley bolts across the street and taps on the window to make sure
the seniors are OK. Panhandlers who use intimidation to feed their
habit are a constant frustration.

"It's almost extortion," says Whitley, noting many pedestrians would
prefer to hand over cash than risk a confrontation.

"If you give them money, you're keeping them here."

Years ago, the only pedestrians on the 12th and 12th block had
shopping carts in front of them, but "there weren't groceries in
them," says Brad Bell, owner of the Crush restaurant and bar, with a laugh.

"Last summer, I was always asked for change, always harassed," adds
Crush general manager Cory Banks, who says he's noticed the area has
improved since officers began foot patrols.

"I used to regularly keep my eye on the door, but in the last three
months, I've seen a real reduction in it."

As the shift draws to a close and the officers wipe their hands one
last time, Wilkinson and Whitley realize they face an ongoing battle
- -- one police work alone won't win.

The two agree it's up to police, city, business and social agencies
to work together.

"You can only do so much, and you're not going to solve all the
social evils," Wilkinson laments.

"But this place is fixable. It's not lost."