KENSINGTON'S KILLING STREETS

It doesn't seem like much to fight over: a narrow, block-long
Kensington street, strewn with trash and overburdened with boarded-up houses.

But law enforcement officials say the Latin Kings want to control the
drug trade in this section of Lippincott Street and the surrounding
neighborhood - and gang members on both sides are willing to kill to get it.

After a few quiet years, the Latin Kings are again making themselves
known in North Philadelphia, with new leaders seeking to make a name
for themselves, law enforcement sources say. The battle for
Lippincott has already resulted in the death of one alleged Latin
King and multiple shootings - and it could easily get worse.

'We're staying on top of it. It has the potential to be big if it's
not addressed,' said Capt. Charles Bloom, commanding officer of the
criminal intelligence unit. 'But we're taking a proactive approach.
There are a lot more police officers working this area, and we're
keeping an eye out on the developments.'

The Latin Kings, a Chicago-based gang, have operated in the
Philadelphia area since the mid-1990s. The group promotes itself as
an organization dedicated to promoting pride in Hispanic heritage.
Law enforcement officials say its members are really just drug dealers.

'They try to put a veneer of legitimacy on themselves,' said Richard
Norcross, president of the East Coast Gang Investigators Association
and a gang expert who works for the Camden County Prosecutor's
Office. 'They say they're more socially conscious and involved in
civic-type stuff, but they're just as ruthless as the other gangs.'

They are also smart, disciplined and extremely organized, more so
than many other street gangs, law enforcement authorities say.

They have a rigid hierarchy, one that was shaken in early 2005, when
reputed leader William 'King Homicide' Sosa and more than a dozen
other alleged Latin Kings were arrested on charges ranging from
murder to conspiracy.

In March, a federal jury found Sosa, 27, guilty of racketeering,
attempted murder and other charges, including weapon and drug
violations. He will spend the rest of his life behind bars.

The arrests and subsequent convictions created a power vacuum at the
top of the organization, officials said. But that void has been
filled, and newcomers are eager to establish themselves.

Lippincott Street is one area where they want to do that.

'The Latin Kings decided they wanted that particular street to
operate on, and the people who are there don't want to give it to
them,' Bloom said.

At least two other street gangs have staked a claim to the block.
Graffiti in the area give hints to their names.

A multi-pointed crown is one of the key symbols of the group, whose
members take aliases or nicknames preceded by the word king or queen.
At Sosa's trial, a former gang member showed how group members often
greet one another: with a raised fist with the thumb, forefinger and
pinky extended, a symbol of the crown.

One of those crowns is painted on a wall on F Street, near
Lippincott. That's across the street from where a high-ranking member
of the gang was gunned down in a drive-by shooting on March 21, a
killing believed to have been in retaliation for another shooting in the area.

Residents here say that things have been quiet in recent weeks,
meaning that their nights have not been filled with the familiar
'pop, pop, pop' of gunfire. They have also noticed more marked police
cars in the area.

But that doesn't mean the bad guys have gone away. One resident, who
gave her name only as 'L.B.' because she feared retaliation if her
name were published, pointed to one of the abandoned houses near her
home. One of the boarded-up windows had been kicked in, and a sheet
hung in a second-story window. Crack cocaine users who use the house
did that, she said, for easy access and more air.

'They had the nerve to put up curtains,' she said. 'It terrifies me.
If a spark flies, they're going to burn down the whole neighborhood.'

L.B. and her husband bought their rowhouse in Kensington, near her
childhood home, because they thought it would be safer than their
former street in Frankford. There, they said, a man had killed a
woman and ignited her and the car she was in.

'In my days there was drugs and stuff, too, but if you owed a drug
dealer money, he didn't shoot you. He just wouldn't give you drugs,'
L.B. said. 'Now they walk in like it's nothing. It's so pointless.'

Another neighbor, Jose Cruz, 42, said he and his two children - age 8
and 12 - live in virtual captivity.

'I drive the kids to school, bring them back, and they go to their
rooms and watch TV,' he said. 'You hear knocking at the door, you
don't open it. We don't go out no more.'

Antiviolence rallies are commonly held in the area, L.B. said. But
she's afraid to go.

'Nobody goes,' she said. 'I want to, but I don't want people to see
me, then shoot me while I'm walking my kids to school.'