DRUG DENS FAIR GAME

Unique Program Cranks Up The Heat

The police car slows as it rolls past the house, which from the
street is utterly unremarkable. It's a standard, three-bedroom
bungalow on a street full of bungalows.

But looks can be deceiving.

"This place has been a nightmare to the neighbourhood for years,"
explains Sgt. Maurice Brodeur.

"We're making a difference, though. He's still there, but we've
pretty much shut down the drug activity."

The owner of the house is known to cops as a wife-beating drug addict
and small-time dealer.

His neighbours have endured years of ear-splitting noise and
fighting, sketchy people coming and going at all hours and epidemics
of petty thievery.

KIDS USED AS LOOKOUTS

"The neighbours say he's even used his kids as lookouts on the street
when he was doing business," Brodeur says, his eyes darkening.

The middle-aged man, Brodeur says, is likely on the "downward side"
of his criminal career, but his personal drug use and part-time
dealing still attracts other druggies to the neighbourhood.

It would be hard to justify pouring a lot of already-thin police
resources into a major investigation into him, which would likely
only yield minor charges and take years to prosecute.

That's where the Edmonton police's Report A Drug House program comes in.

Designed by Brodeur, it uses any legal means necessary to shut down
drug houses in neighbourhoods, including working with landlords,
health and fire inspectors, even animal control, to make life so
miserable for petty dealers and party houses that they pack up and leave.

Often, all it takes is for cops to show up and let them know
neighbours are complaining.

He swings the patrol car into the alley, where he calls out to a man
cleaning his gutters.

"Things quieter?" Brodeur calls.

The man turns, recognizes Brodeur, smiles broadly and replies that
things are much quieter.

"Let us know if he starts up again," Brodeur says, "and we'll be back."

He looks at the next address from the stack of papers beside him.
This one is nearby, and whoever called the program has provided a
list of licence plate numbers of cars seen coming and going from the house.

"This is gold," Brodeur says as he punches numbers into the computer
mounted on the patrol car's dashboard. "It gives me a lot of
information going in. Lets the people know I mean business."

Several of the vehicles are registered with people known to police -
petty thieves, minor drug dealers, a few with more serious criminal
records and gang connections.

"Gold," Brodeur repeats with a sly grin. "This doesn't prove
anything, but it certainly has all the makings of a drug house. I
think I should go introduce myself."

The home has a solid, six-foot fence surrounding an unkempt yard
littered with vehicles.

As Brodeur pulls into the back driveway, a face appears at the back
window. A second later the door swings open and a man in greasy,
baggy sweats emerges and comes to the back gate.

Smiling disarmingly, Brodeur offers his hand. The man gingerly
accepts it, suspicion and a trace of fear etched on his face, as if
he's just been handed a grenade.

"Some of your neighbours say there's a lot of people coming and going
at all hours, making noise," Brodeur says, still smiling warmly.
"They're worried that there's drugs being sold out of this house."

The man shakes his head emphatically. Certainly not, he says.

Brodeur inquires about one of the junkers in the yard. It's owned by
a known criminal with drug convictions, whom Brodeur mentions by name.

LICENCE SUSPENDED

He's just storing it here until his licence is no longer suspended,
the man replies.

Brodeur drops a couple more names gleaned from licence plates, asking
if they come around just because they're friends.

After a few minutes of back-and-forth, Brodeur hands him a business
card and climbs back into his cruiser. The man waits until the police
car is almost out of sight before heading back inside.

"I've made contact," Brodeur says. "If it's a drug house, then he
knows we're keeping an eye on him."

Now, he'll contact other neighbours to find out what they've seen.
Often people are afraid to report drug houses out of fear, but
Brodeur says dealers and drug users are just as afraid of getting caught.

Once they know they're being watched, they almost always leave.

"That's what the program's all about," he says.