THEIR 'GAME': DRIVING OUT DRUG CRIME

For Officers In The Tampa Antidrug Unit Called Quad Squad, Everyday Work Is
Matching Wits With Drug Dealers And Users.

TAMPA - Eyes and hands tell Ron Graham a lot about a person. He rolls a
burgundy Ford Taurus along 29th Street after dark, watching for glances,
people holding his gaze. Their eyes ask whether he wants to buy. Their
hands seal the deal.

"That's the first part of the body that's going to move - if he's going to
run, if he's going for a gun, if he's going for the drugs," says Graham, a
Tampa police sergeant on the Quick Uniformed Attack on Drugs squad.

The street-level antidrug unit, known as the QUAD squad, tackles what he
calls "the in-your-face problem."

"It's like a game," he says. "Those guys play the game to win, and we try
to outsmart them because they're sure trying to outsmart us."

Graham, 37, patrols south of Hillsborough and east of Nebraska avenues. He
knows this game well. A month ago, he chased a suspected dealer and ran
into a quarter-inch cable strung between two duplexes. The suspect got away.

"They set booby traps sometimes," Graham says. "I ended up with five
stitches inside my mouth."

What hurt wasn't his pride, but seeing neighbors stand by and watch him
bleed, he says. "Getting hurt a little bit is the price of doing business.
What I'm most upset about is that nobody in that area would bring me a
towel or water to wipe the dirt and blood off my face. It's like nobody
seemed to care."

The squad has company lately because of Operation Commitment, Mayor Pam
Iorio's initiative to renew east Tampa. For about two weeks, until
Saturday, teams are targeting code enforcement issues, drugs, traffic
violations and more.

The officers were busy at first, but now the dealers are hiding. This
night, Graham and Officer Sean Davis, 35, drive to 15th Avenue at 16th
Street and other haunts where, they say, people cluster on stoops, corners
and sidewalks.

For hours, they find no one.

"Most of the players aren't going to be out now because they know we're out
here," Davis says.

"They know all our cars," Graham says. "They're sitting inside houses
watching us go by."

He has seen this happen in other crackdowns. "It'll pick back up again.
They have to sell the stuff sometime."

Most Dangerous Corner In America

At 29th Street and Lake Avenue, the Ford passes two uniformed officers
frisking a man outside a packaged-goods store. Across the street, people
watch in the darkness.

"When I first came to Tampa, they told me about this dope hole as the most
dangerous corner in America. It made national news," says Graham, a 14-year
veteran.

"If you go up to 29th and [Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard], it's busy
there too," Davis says. A native of Baltimore, which also has drug
problems, Davis has a personal stake in his work. "A lot of my friends,
some of them went astray and wound up either in the grave or the
penitentiary," he says.

The dealers have lookouts and friends. They barter drugs with users, who
put out word when the squad is on its way, scattering a crowd in seconds.
In exchange for a fix, the users hold drugs for the dealers or sell drugs,
Davis says. The police use addicts too if they agree to be informants on
other buys. The squad rents cars the dealers are less likely to recognize,
goes undercover to buy drugs and tries other tactics.

"One rock of cocaine would bring joy to us," Graham says. "It's a felony.
We could put you in jail for that."

Many don't stay jailed long. "Your drug dealer's not stupid. He cares about
what kind of time he's going to get. He studies that. The first thing out
of his mouth is, 'I got a problem. I need help,' " Graham says.

Many wind up in treatment programs for reduced sentences, he says. "Your
drug dealers saturate that service and render it useless."

In some neighborhoods, dealers run into stranger's houses at the sight of
the squad, Graham says. The residents won't allow police inside.

"You don't get much cooperation," he says. "I don't know if they're scared
that guy's going to do something to them, or they just have a nasty taste
in their mouth about the police."

The officers try not to take this personally. "You can't take anything
these people do personally - drug dealers, anybody," Davis says. "Most drug
dealers respect us. They know it's a game. Sometimes they're caught on the
wrong side of the ball and they say, 'You got me.' "

Hiding Out

The two drive to Lee Davis Health Center, 3402 N. 22nd St., where six other
squad members sit on outdoor picnic tables.

"We just drove by 35th and Chelsea and it's dead," one says.

"What about 18th and Columbus?"

"They hit them all day yesterday so I think they're starting to get the
message," says Officer Frank Kelly, a Tampa native. "Ultimately, the goal's
being attained. We're getting them off the street."

The officers say they are sometimes frustrated to keep arresting the same
people. "It's irritating because somewhere someone's dropping the ball,"
Officer Kellie Daniel says. "But it's good because I get to know who [the
dealers] are."

The team splits up and drives around more. Someone radios Graham that he
saw something exchange hands at 22nd and Chelsea streets. The seller is
northbound on a bicycle, the officer says.

"He's got white tennis shoes, a white tank top, about four-inch dreads,"
the officer says, referring to dreadlocks.

"Cayuga and 24th. Cayuga and 24th. Eastbound. He's going eastbound."

Graham and Davis turn down side streets and spot a young man matching the
description. A marked patrol car swings around the corner. "Stop! Police!"
an officer yells.

They jockey their cars around the teen to block his path. He ditches the
bicycle and runs. Davis jumps out after him. In a moment, another officer
radios that he has caught the teen on East Osborne Avenue. Graham drives to
where two officers have the teen handcuffed in a driveway.

"I'm sure he dumped the dope," Graham says. "You can tell by the way he ran
that he was into the game."

The officers ask the boy his name, address and date of birth. He is 17.
"I'm going to see my girlfriend," he tells the police.

Making A Find

Davis walks alongside the house and spots a wadded-up paper bag in the
grass. K-9 Officer Carlene Monsalve walks a German short-haired pointer
named Jager, a drug-detecting dog, around the yard. Jager sits when he
finds the bag, which contains marijuana in eight plastic bags, each less
than an inch square, holding about 9 grams total.

They will charge the teen with possession with intent to sell, one of about
50 arrests the squad makes each month, Graham says. But the problem must be
tackled on other levels, the officers say: education, treatment, giving
people better options and role models than the dealers, giving people
reasons to have pride. If they take pride in the neighborhood, they won't
let the dealers gain ground.

"We're in their neighborhoods for very short periods of time. We can't do
it alone," Davis says.

"They just gave up on the system," Graham says. "They're poor and there's
really no hope - not unless they seek it."