DEA ACTION IN TV SPOTLIGHT A DIM SUCCESS

KINGSTON, Jamaica -- It's a made-for-television moment in the war on drugs.

Braving oppressive humidity and a somewhat wooden cast, cameraman Scott
Sandman stamps about Kingston's international airport recreating the
arrival of American drug fighters who link up with local police and head
off to burn a marijuana field.

"We're going to have you guys walking over from the hangar," he instructs
the four Drug Enforcement Administration agents stationed in Jamaica. "Walk
out briskly, act natural, don't look at the camera, look serious."

Then he turns to two agents who have just flown in who, like the others,
wear tiny microphones. "When we get to the plane, you two are going to open
the door and come out and shake hands and whatever . . . and then you'll
all talk about what we're going to do today."

What they're doing is Operation Libertador -- the DEA's latest battle in
the war against narcotics trafficking. The U.S. government, shedding usual
secrecy, decided to show this one off. A crew from the syndicated
reality-based TV show Arrest and Trial and a few reporters have been
invited to tag along for three days.

The first stop, in Trinidad, went poorly for the TV folks.

A series of news conference-style encounters with a Trinidadian general, a
DEA agent and the U.S. ambassador yielded effusive praise for the DEA-led
cooperation efforts -- but not "the kind of visuals we can use," Sandman
laments.

ON TO KINGSTON

Jamaica holds more promise.

The first stop is the headquarters of the police narcotics unit for a
meeting with U.S. Embassy staff and Jamaica's chief narcotics officer.

Housed in a dilapidated cement building amid western Kingston's slums and
shantytowns, the parking lot teems with people, livestock and vendors
selling everything from cigarettes and gum to a diversity of drugs.

Just a few feet away, a lanky young Rastafarian brushes long dreadlocks
from his face and offers a reporter "a little ganja," or marijuana.

"Me just run over there to get it," he says, pointing to a row of
cinderblock and aluminum shanties across the street from the narcotics police.

`HIGH-GRADE'

"Good high-grade ganja," he promises with a smile.

After a gut-churning, three-hour dash from Kingston down narrow country
roads, a convoy of four-wheel-drive vehicles comes to a stop behind a
beat-up truck.

In its open bed about two dozen ragged workers fiddle with machetes.

They seem little pleased when Sandman and two reporters hop in to join them
for the 10-minute ride to the marijuana field. "Don't put my face in the
camera," shouts Kevin Lawnmower as everyone crouches to avoid low-hanging
tree branches. "They see me on TV, and they send gunman to check me, and
that's it."

At the marijuana field, there is giddiness in the air as weed-whacking
machines whine, machetes slash and flames crackle from piles of marijuana.

American agents in polyester jackets emblazoned with "DEA" joke with local
cops in plain clothes. The U.S. Embassy's new narcotics affairs officer
walks about the muddy field in a khaki suit and shiny cordovan loafers. Two
police officers in blue jumpsuits stand watch, bearing no badges or
insignia as they tote their M-16s.

The two-acre field is vanishing quickly and Sandman struggles to catch it
all on tape. "This is great stuff," he says, grinning.

There are things the viewing audience probably won't notice.

"This ganja already been harvested," says Lawnmower slyly, displaying the
remains of a five-foot plant whose destruction may have come a little too
late. "See -- no buds."