ONE MAN'S ADDICTION FUELED SCORES OF THEFTS

RALEIGH -- For five months in 2003, Vernon Lee Brice kicked down
doors, smashed in windows and sneaked into more than 70 homes in the
University Park and Cameron Park areas, stealing everything from cash
and beer to jewelry and cars. His crimes -- fueled by a drug addiction
so powerful that it hurt his family and landed him in prison for more
than three decades -- haunted homeowners on the otherwise idyllic streets.

Their neighborhoods were under siege.

People canceled vacations, bought dogs, and reorganized a neighborhood
watch association.

"Almost everybody on our street ended up getting burglar alarms," said
Devin Lushbaugh, whose Rosedale Avenue home was burglarized by Brice.
"You feel like you've been violated. You feel angry that someone would
do that."

This summer, Brice, 37, accepted a plea bargain and pleaded guilty to
four counts each of breaking and entering and larceny, and one count
each of larceny of a motor vehicle, breaking and entering into a motor
vehicle and misdemeanor larceny.

If Brice had opted for trials in each of the 66 cases in which he
confessed, he could have faced nearly 600 years in prison. Instead he
is serving 34 to 36 years after pleading guilty to seven felonies. He
was convicted as a habitual felon, a legal designation that triggers
stiffer sentences. He will be about 71 when he gets out.

"Once you use crack, it's just a high. You'll skip everything else,"
Brice explained from behind a thick wall of Plexiglas and metal at
Central Prison in Raleigh. "You'll skip alcohol, you'll skip
marijuana, you'll skip the pills. Just the crack.

"What I did, I did without spite. I did it for my habit."

Victims, while sympathetic about Brice's addiction, thought punishment
was warranted.

"That's a stiff sentence," said Mike Gray, a Stafford Avenue burglary
victim, "but he deserved it. Because of the amount of emotional trauma
not only in our neighborhood, but also in the University Park area."

'Smarter' burglar

Brice's story -- stealing to support a drug habit -- is not unusual,
police said. But his impact on an entire neighborhood, and the tactics
he used to burglarize homes for months, made him a rarity.

"He was a little bit smarter than the average burglar in that he took
advantage of things that other burglars tend to ignore," said Raleigh
police Lt. John Lynch.

For example, Lynch said, Brice carefully picked houses he robbed and
never carried weapons such a crowbar to break in. He wore clothes that
helped him blend in with the surroundings. And he knew what times of
day worked best for his schemes.

One of three brothers in a family with nine children, Brice was the
exception, his sister said. His family watched in dismay as he became
the only sibling with a drug habit and a felony record.

Brice dropped out of high school after the 10th grade, according to
records at the Wake County Board of Education. After he left school,
he started working, first at a hotel dining room, then as a dishwasher
at Rex Hospital.

It didn't take long before he started "partying and drinking after
work," he said. So, in 1990, when a female "friend" suggested he try
crack, promising that the drug wouldn't hurt him, he figured: Why not?

Two weeks later, he hunted down the woman for another rendezvous.
Brice said he told her, "Let's go get some." And when she agreed, he
said, "It was on. There was no turning back."

Over the next decade -- as he continued abusing drugs -- Brice was
convicted of possession of cocaine, larceny, possession of stolen
goods and receiving stolen goods, among other charges, according to
the state Department of Correction.

Work got in the way of his three-day crack binges, so Brice quit his
job, he said. He moved in with his siblings and to supplement his
habit, he stole from them.

He was in and out of prison from 1991 to 2002. He tried joining
Narcotics Anonymous behind bars, but it wasn't for him, Brice said.
Family recalled that he won a brief reprieve to attend his mother's
funeral in handcuffs.

When Brice was released in March 2003, his youngest sister took him
into her Chavis Heights home, not far from where they grew up. Melissa
Brice was the only sibling who would allow Vernon to live with her,
she said; the others were tired of his drug abuse and thefts.

Vernon Brice started working, but it wasn't long before his sister
realized he was hooked again. "He was working with a guy doing lawn
stuff," Melissa Brice said. "And he would steal his equipment. I knew
it then."

He wasn't selective about whom he stole from. While he stayed with
her, he stole her infant daughter's rings and clothes, in addition to
money and DVDs.

Soon, the binges became more frequent and he couldn't work, Brice
said. He started breaking in to homes to help feed his habit.

Every morning he awoke and assessed his day: How much stuff did he
need to steal so he could buy enough crack? Then, he'd take a CAT bus
to University Park or Cameron Park where he scouted out homes.

Brice said he picked the neighborhoods because it had "expensive
stuff."

Police offered a different take.

"There are unique characteristics of that area," Lynch said of the
neighborhoods near N.C. State University. "People moving in and around
the area day and night. In some areas, that would seem unusual. But in
those areas it was not uncommon, and nobody took much notice."

After he stuffed stolen jewelry, DVDs or tools into his book bag,
Brice ferried the goods back to Southeast Raleigh where he sold his
wares or bartered for crack.

Neighborhood reacts

As Brice's thefts increased, so did residents' vigilance.

"We came together fairly quickly after the first theft," said Lee
Folger, president of the Cameron Park Neighborhood Association. "We
re-formed a neighborhood watch."

In addition, they kept up a Web site that alerted homeowners with
updates on break-ins and tips from police about homeowner safety.

"We were wary, always on the lookout," said Claudia Brown, whose
checkbook and jewelry were stolen from her Calvin Road home in July
2003, soon after the thefts began. "There was a lot of chatting about
it in the neighborhood."

When police stepped up patrols in an area, or put undercover officers
on the street, Brice shifted his target neighborhood, moving westward.

Finally foiled

Police never spotted him on the street. It was a cell phone theft from
a car that led to Brice's eventual capture.

Within an hour of the cell phone's theft, calls were made on the
stolen phone, according to a search warrant. Detectives traced the
calls and linked them to Brice. It was the second time cell phone
records linked Brice to a stolen phone, Lynch said.

In November 2003, officers went to Melissa Brice's apartment with a
search warrant, she helped them look for the stolen goods in her home.

Police seized a coffee can full of coins, men's clothes, a duck call,
hats, earrings, rings and tools, among other things, according to the
search warrant. Most of the goods stolen from homes -- jewelry, family
heirlooms and dozens of cameras -- were never recovered.

Court records show Brice was forthcoming about the crimes after his
November arrest and accompanied detectives to show which homes he entered.

"He told us he wanted to stop," Lynch said. "He knew he had an
addiction and he wanted help."

In prison, Brice didn't dispute his misdeeds, but offered
excuses.

Brice said he was gone from the apartment for days on a crack binge
and had smoked his last rock right before going home. Police greeted
him at the Chavis Heights home the morning of Nov. 5, 2003.

"If I had never came home, they would have never..." he said, letting
his voice trail off. "At first, they had had no idea who was doing it.
If I had never said nothing, I might not be here."

But detectives matched prints found burglary scenes with Brice's
prints. That's when Brice agreed to a plea bargain, he said.

Melissa Brice, said she's saddened by her brother's actions, but
relieved.

"Vernon is a good person, he knows what he did was wrong," she said.
"But now, I can sleep at night in peace. We'd rather have him locked
up in there than out on the streets."

And, his thefts, which frightened a community for five months, left an
unintended legacy.

"It brought the community closer," Gray said. "People went out on the
sidewalks and walked through the neighborhood sharing information. It
was like when Fran hit, people got out of their house and worked with
neighbors."