SKIRMISHES IN THE DRUG WAR

"It'll be a chase," says Sgt. Sophia Teague of the Tampa Police
Department's QUAD squad. "It's always a chase." There is both
anticipation and resignation in the 17-year police veteran's voice as
her antidrug unit prepares for action. That her officers will have to
sprint after dealers is a given. Street peddlers always flee. Far
less predictable is what occurs when officers chase suspects through
dark streets, weedy lots and fenced yards. This makes the squad's
nightly outings exciting - and dangerous.

The thunderclouds that threatened earlier have blown over. So on this
sweltering Friday evening, drug vendors can look forward to a
prosperous evening, one the QUAD squad - Quick Uniform Attack on
Drugs - intends to disrupt.

Hitting The Drug Holes The police gather at a parking lot for a quick
rundown of the night's agenda. The 17 men and women will be hitting
drug "holes" throughout the city, and they leave in unmarked - some
unsightly-cars and trucks.

The officers, most in their 20s or early 30s, are in street clothes
but wear net vests on which "Police" is boldly printed. The vests,
bearing the identification required to make arrests, are a
much-appreciated gift from the Friends of the Tampa Police
Department. Until recently the squad wore police Windbreakers, which
were suffocating on nights like this.

The first target is the North Boulevard housing complex, not far from
Blake High School and downtown's skyscrapers, gleaming in the fading
sunlight. Two dealers are standing on the corner, awaiting customers.

The operation, repeated throughout the night, unfolds quickly. A
disguised officer and a confidential informer in a shabby car drive
up to the dealers and buy drugs - crack or marijuana - with marked
bills. As they leave, they radio the location and description of the
sellers to a network of officers who have positioned their vehicles
nearby.

As soon as an officer jumps out of his car, the dealers, just as
Teague predicted, sprint in different directions. Other officers join
the chase. Some of the many residents gathered outside help out,
pointing out the dealers' trail. A few years ago, officers say, the
crowd in the housing project might have been throwing rocks. But now,
more and more residents are fed up with criminals ruling their
neighborhoods.

The officers talk about drug "holes, " but they know these are
communities - places where children play while drug peddlers brazenly
do business in their midst.

And these dealers are viciously sly. To retaliate against those who
help the police, they have called state officials to accuse people of
child abuse. Still, more and more residents are fighting back.

With the neighbors' aid, several officers chase down the suspects in
the night's first bust. One is 15; the other, 16. They are handcuffed
without much of a struggle, read their rights and placed in a paddy
wagon that follows the team to the scene.

Children on bicycles gather around the commotion. Seeing drugs
peddled and dealers arrested is an all-too-familiar diversion. But
they enjoy the police's attention. A precocious 8-year-old boy points
to another street and tells Teague, "People over there been doing
[selling] it."

"But you'll never do that, will you? See what happens? the officer
asks, motioning to a scowling teen in handcuffs.

"Oh, no," the youngster says. Other officers joke with the children
and hope that the arrests will make a impression. But they've seen
too many follow older siblings into crime and on to prison.

The dealers themselves, Sgt. Jill Ramsten explains, may indulge in
marijuana. But most avoid expensive and highly addictive crack
cocaine, which costs $20 for a piece smaller than a pencil eraser.
Addicted prostitutes may spend $500 a day on crack. Ramsten adds
another obvious fact: Most of the sellers are black, most of the
buyers, white. QUAD targets both, but tonight it's the sellers' turn.

On To Robles

After the paperwork is completed, the convoy moves to Robles Park
housing complex on Central Avenue, a few blocks south of Dr. Martin
Luther King Boulevard, to repeat the drug-buy maneuvers in lingering
twilight.

As soon as a policeman gets out of a car, one dealer bounds over a
10- foot fence. The other runs in the opposite direction. The housing
project is now a swirl of action. An officer scales the fence, while
others run between buildings. Vehicles speed down back roads.

The radio crackles with location reports. There are some false leads.
Residents watch with amused interest. Within 10 minutes, both are
captured, but just as things appear to calm, there is more turmoil.

A uniformed officer assigned to the neighborhood, not part of the
operation, sees a man wanted for questioning. When he approaches, the
man darts off. The policeman pursues and squad members join the
chase, sprinting and swerving cars to block escape routes.

The posse eventually corners the suspect in an overgrown lot. But the
hulking, shirtless man is not intimidated. He punches and writhes as
the officers wrestle him to the ground, then there is a howl and the
stinging scent of pepper spray.

A dose directly in the face takes the fight out of the suspect, who
lies on the ground now, handcuffed and grimacing. Police bring him
water and wipe his face. As the pepper wafts through the air, some of
the officers, too, are coughing and their eyes are burning. The spray
is effective but not precise.

As the suspects - all in their early 20s - are processed and put in
the wagon, Teague deals with another complication. During the chase
an officer ran full-speed into a passing car. He:is OK; the car is
not. He has left two deep dents where his fists smacked the car.

As other officers buy water at a nearby grocery store, Teague
inspects the damage. The occupants are understanding and friendly,
and everyone makes over the toddler in the car, allowing her to pet
Kilo, the drug- sniffing labrador retriever that accompanies one
officer. (The day before, the dog sniffed out $7,400 worth of dope,
the officer boasts.)

Teague gets the driver's name and assures her the car will be
repaired, and the unit makes its way to a working-class neighborhood
not far from Busch Boulevard and Nebraska Avenue.

Dealers are casually conducting business on a residential street
corner. Some houses are in disrepair, but others are nicely
maintained, and one can imagine how the families who live here must
be tormented by the lawlessness.

QUAD puts a quick end to the dealers'reign - for this night, at
least. One seller almost runs into a police vehicle as he flees. Two
young men are arrested within a few minutes, though police have to
hurtle a fence to capture the one hiding in a dark back yard.

As they are processed and put into the wagon, an officer reluctantly
approaches Teague. He thinks he may have broken his hand during the
scuffle at Robles. She tells him to go to the hospital, but he's
hesitant.

"Let me hit one more hole," he says. QUAD members do not like to give
up the hunt.

The Word Gets Out

The next "hole," though, is strangely quiet. Friday is usually a hot
night for drug deals at the Sulphur Springs neighborhood, not far
from the dog track. But tonight, no one offers to make a sale. Teague
quickly sees why. The paddy wagon has followed too closely.

"These Sulphur Springs dealers have a network like you wouldn't
believe, " Teague says. "Once the word is out on the street,
everything shuts down."

So now it is on to Riverview Terrace, a housing project between
Florida avenue and Interstate 75, north of Sligh Avenue. The police
"buyer" promptly finds an apparent vendor. He radios that he is going
to make the buy.

Squad members await his next transmission. When it comes, it's ominous.

"It's a rip-off. He's got a gun. He's got his shirt off and a silver revolver."

This happens occasionally to QUAD members and frequently to drug
users. A robber will pretend to be a pusher and then steal the
buyer's money at gunpoint.

If officers are worried about chasing a gunman through the dark, it
does not show. Tampa police are still mourning the death of Lois
Marrero, who was shot to death by a bank robber in July. Yet officers
spring into action without hesitation, running through the project,
searching for the robber. Curious residents come outside to watch.

After about 10 minutes, police locate a suspect who fits the
description - no shirt, baggy shorts worn low. (This fashion is
helpful to police, Teague says, because it is hard to run when one's
drawers are falling down.)

The officer who made the buy identifies him. But the young man
insists he is innocent. "Hey, dog, look at me again," he demands.

Police find marijuana on him but no gun, and he pleads, "You can't
arrest me. I was just sitting on my porch, waiting for a Domino's
pizza."

Another officer tells Teague, "I don't feel right about this. Look at
him. He's hardly sweating. And look at us after all that running.
We're drenched." Teague also is uneasy.

As an officer searches for the gun, she finds a man hiding under a
car. He flees but the police knock him down and subdue him. Left
under the car is a loaded, steel-plated .38 revolver.

The man is brought next to the original suspect. Both men are
shirtless, are roughly the same size, have goatees and wear similar
shorts. Even the exposed boxers have the same pattern. It is easy to
see how the mistake was made, particularly since the buyer saw the
man only briefly and had a gun in his face at that time.

The misidentified man is to be disappointed, though. The marijuana
police found on him is still evidence for a drug charge.

He and the sullen gunman are taken away, and after a short break for
processing paperwork, the squad goes out for its last bust of the
evening. It is pushing midnight, a time when Ransom says dealers are
more likely to be found in the clubs than working the streets.

But the squad hits pay dirt on busy East Hillsborough Avenue, where
two men are openly selling drugs in the bright fight of a convenience
store parking lot.

Another Buy, Another Chase

This time, instead of heading for back streets, the dealers run to a
waiting car with two occupants. It doesn't wait long. One dealer
manages to get in, but as soon as the driver sees the police, he hits
the gas and leaves the other man behind.

Police vehicles quickly hem in the getaway car, whose driver is
pulled out, laid on the pavement and handcuffed. The car reeks of pot
and contains a jar of crack

In the driver's pocket is $688 in cash. Police say he might make $10
a rock calling the shots for the street peddlers, who might pocket $5
per deal. There is quick money but no riches in the street drug trade.

One of the small-timers, handcuffed in the back seat of a police
cruiser, understands the economics. He tries to get officers'
attention through the window, nodding his head toward the driver.
"I'll talk," he mouths.

The last bust of the evening has gone well but not painlessly. The
officer who earlier ran into a car without injury this time is not so
fortunate. He landed on broken glass while tackling the dealer in the
parking lot, and blood is flowing from a nasty cut on his leg. He
earns a trip to the emergency room.

With money, drugs, suspects and a car now in hand, the squad faces a
lot of paperwork. Various officers grab forms and begin filling them,
using the suspect's car as a desk. They virtually cover it.

A Measure Of Success

It's been an eventful night. Two officers have gone to the hospital,
and a citizens' car will go to the body shop. But given the hazards
of the job, things have gone well. The squad has made 13 arrests, and
its roving operation - more sweeping than usual - surely has soured
one night's drug trade in Tampa.

The 30-member squad conducts operations almost every night. Through
the summer, the team had made more than 1,100 arrests and seized more
than 1,200 grams of cocaine - with a street value of close to $100,
000 - and about 14,000 grams of marijuana - valued at $140,000.

No one on the team believes its efforts will extinguish street drugs.
But QUAD members can see that their efforts do help people.

Teague likes to think of a grandmother in a housing project plagued
by intimidating drug dealers. She and other residents complained to
police and assisted investigators. QUAD mounted a major bust and
cleared the streets - at least for a time - of drugs. Later that
night Teague got a call on a cellular phone. She thought it was an
emergency. It was the grandmother.

"I just wanted you to know that me and my friends are all out here on
my front porch eating doughnuts. That's what we've been wanting to
do. And now that's what we're doing. "

It may not seem much, but for Teague and members of the QUAD Squad,
the freedom to enjoy one's front porch without fear of dealers or
addicts makes all the difference in the world.