HOMELESS MAKING DRUG RUNS

Mexican Cartels Using Desperate People As Couriers To Cross Border

SAN DIEGO -(AP)- Philip Ginder was living on the streets and in homeless
shelters when he met a recruiter with a tempting offer.

``He said, `You want to make some money running drugs across the border?'
and I jumped at it,'' Ginder, 41, recalled. ``Now, I wish I hadn't done
it.''

U.S. Customs Service agents arrested him with nearly 226 pounds of marijuana
as he returned to San Diego from Tijuana, Mexico, in a stolen 2000 Ford
Expedition last month. The Iowa native, who said he has been homeless since
he was 16, faces five years in prison.

No one knows how often homeless people are used as drug couriers, because
Customs and the other federal agencies that patrol the nation's borders
don't keep such statistics. But Ginder was at least the sixth person
arrested in less than a month at crossings in Southern California.

The reason is simple. Mexico's drug cartels look for couriers who are
desperate enough to risk prison for the $500 to $1,200 typically paid to
smuggle the contraband, said Larry Latocki, assistant special agent in
charge of the San Ysidro office of the Customs Service.

Men like Ginder are ideal candidates. Unable to read or write, he has few
job prospects. He had been living in San Diego, sometimes staying at the
Saint Vincent de Paul shelter, for three months when he met the recruiter on
a downtown street.

At the time -- a day before his Aug. 22 arrest -- he was in an area
frequented by the homeless.

Ginder is vague about the details. The recruiter was in his 40s, clean-cut,
spoke fluent Spanish and English, and gave his name as Butch. He offered
$1,000 for the job. ``I had no idea how much I'd be bringing or what
type,'' Ginder said. ``I knew it was drugs.''

The scenario sounds both plausible and familiar to law enforcement officials
and people who work with the homeless in San Diego.

Counselors at Saint Vincent de Paul last year even posted signs warning
residents about the offers, said Al Cook, the shelter's director of support
services.

Even the risk of prison isn't that intimidating to someone who sleeps
outside, said Bob McElroy, president of a homeless assistance agency called
the Alpha Project.

``Some of these guys are living in the canyons,'' McElroy said.

``They're thinking, `Hey, if I get busted, I'm going to get three hots and a
cot for a year or so.' There's no risk,'' McElroy said.

Last year, Customs made 4,300 seizures of marijuana, cocaine, heroin and
methamphetamine at the five crossing points along the state's 140-mile
border with Mexico. The marijuana alone totaled 385,000 pounds; the cocaine
nearly 10,000 pounds.

Between Aug. 10 and Sept. 4, agents arrested six homeless couriers carrying
545 pounds of marijuana. Five were in San Diego and one was in Tecate to the
east, according to court records.

Contraband is hidden in secret compartments in gas tanks, or in the roof or
sides of cars and sport utility vehicles. But it's become harder to pull it
off: Agents have become proficient at detecting hiding spaces; they can
monitor how often a vehicle crosses the border; and dogs that can detect the
scent of narcotics are in use at every port of entry.

Often enough, it's the driver who gives it away with shaking hands or other
signs of stress.

That's what happened to Ginder. The recruiter took him to Tijuana the night
before the job, paid for a haircut and bought him new clothes. It was his
first time in Mexico.

``I was nervous, real nervous. I was up the whole night the night before,''
he said.

That apparently showed when he reached the San Ysidro Port of Entry, an
often chaotic, 24-lane complex that is the world's busiest border crossing.
A Customs inspector was suspicious enough to check the Expedition in a law
enforcement database to learn it was stolen.

After a search turned up the marijuana, Ginder confessed. He was charged
with one count of smuggling and bond was set at $25,000, which he can't pay.
He's awaiting his fate at a federal jail in downtown San Diego and a public
defender told him to expect a five-year sentence.

``I'm depressed. I'm mad,'' he said. ``I want to get out of here in the
worst way.''