DELRAY CRIME PREVENTION PROGRAM FIGHTS FOR NECESSARY FUNDING

Delray Beach -- The corner of Southwest 14th Avenue and Southwest
Second Street was once a thriving open-air drug market.

Kids on bikes would approach cars and slip into customers' back
seats, and the deal would go down as they cruised around the block.

That was five years ago, before the area became part of the federally
funded Weed and Seed program.

"It's left our radar for one of [the] top ... drug markets," Delray
Beach police Capt. Craig Hartmann said.

Also going away is the federal money that came with the Weed and Seed
program, a U.S. Department of Justice initiative aimed at weeding out
crime and seeding social programs.

Here's how it works: Cities apply for official recognition, then seek
federal money. Each year for five years, Delray Beach got $225,000 in
federal money that was supplemented with more than $1 million in
grants and partnerships. Delray Beach received its official
recognition in 2000.

As of Sept. 30, the five-year recognition for the current site,
bordered by Lake Ida Road to the north, Linton Boulevard to the
south, Interstate 95 to the west and Swinton Avenue to the east, will
expire. The city's plan to keep the program going by applying for a
new site designation was denied.

"That's what sent everybody into a panic," said Sharon L'Herrou,
program manager for Delray Beach Weed and Seed. Officials have ideas
about keeping the program going, though she admits, "We're still
[patching] it together."

The plan involves the Police Department picking up the tab for the
program's administrative costs and weeding out criminals.

It's not clear how much that will cost, but during the 2003-2004
fiscal year, Weed and Seed gave the Police Department more than
$60,000 for overtime, training, equipment and undercover work,
according to city documents.

The undercover work included a February sting, when officers and a
confidential informant went to various gas stations and convenience
stores to see who would sell them alcohol before noon on a Sunday. As
early as 10 a.m., store clerks were handing out bottles of Corona,
Heineken and Budweiser.

The city is still trying to figure out how to fund the seeding --
intervention and crime prevention -- aspect of the program.

L'Herrou has also applied for several federal grants and went on a
small speaking tour among local officials, community groups and the
Criminal Justice Commission, trying to drum up financial support.

"What we wanted to do was to make sure our community officials, our
county officials, understood the significant impact this project has
had on our community," she said.

To prove that the investment in the community has paid off, she cites
police statistics and success stories.

When compared to the baseline year of 1998, robberies in the area
decreased 59 percent, aggravated assaults fell 78 percent, and
crackhouse closures increased 92 percent, according to city documents.

Last summer's educational project with the city's Park's and
Recreation Safe boosted the reading and math scores of the 247
participants 30 percent to 49 percent.

"The city is committed to everything we've done in the community and
don't want to let it go away because Weed and Seed is going away,"
Hartmann said. "We've invested so much. ... If you stop those
efforts, you're going to revert back to what it was."

In the late 1990s, there were drug corners, crackhouses and crime-
ridden properties in what was a blighted West Atlantic Avenue
corridor from Swinton Avenue to Interstate 95.

But with the creation of the West Atlantic Avenue Task Force police
unit and a community prosecutor, things have turned around, officials said.

The community prosecutor was a crucial piece of the puzzle, Hartman
said. The Criminal Justice Commission will fund the position,
Director Diana Cunningham said.

Unlike other assistant state attorneys who have to juggle cases from
all over the county, Delray Beach's community prosecutor only deals
with cases within the city.

Uriel Neto's caseload averages 70 to 80 cases instead of the 150 to
300 his colleagues juggle, allowing him to work a case from start to finish.

Examples explain it best, Neto says. Anthony Stephens, 44, along with
his girlfriend, aggressively panhandled near the South County
Courthouse near the free parking spaces along Atlantic Avenue.

As people parked, his girlfriend told them they had to pay, Neto
said. When people refused, Stephens would appear, screaming and
cursing, he said.

"It wouldn't be a robbery but it would be an assault because you felt
threatened," Neto said.

Instead of each arrest looked upon as isolated incidents, Neto was
able to determine that Stephens had a pattern of nuisance behavior.
Stephens was sentenced to probation, provided he stay away from the
area and go to drug rehabilitation.