DRUGS DRIVE STREET LIFE IN DOWNTOWN KELOWNA

Editor's note: Okanagan Saturday reporter Chuck Poulsen recently went for a
walk in downtown Kelowna with Kelowna RCMP Insp. Cam Forgues. What follows
are Poulsen's observations, written in a narrative, column-like style.

By CHUCK POULSEN The Okanagan Saturday

I didn't ask his name, but the name Rocky fits a face that has been pounded
into scars, fresh open wounds and a nose flattened by who knows how many fists

Rocky is heading down Leon Avenue in Kelowna to the park for lunch. His
lunch is riding on top of a small, twisted cart

Sustenance consists of two pieces of bread, a few fingers-full of peanut
butter in a discarded container and four strawberries well past their
expiry date. It has been a lucky morning of Dumpster diving for Rocky

"Look at these strawberries," says Rocky. "I'll put the peanut butter on
the bread and the strawberries on top." He abandoned his bigger shopping
cart two weeks ago when he heard -- incorrectly -- that the police would be
confiscating it and arresting him

His new cart, scrounged from a bin, is so small that he has to drag his
bottle collection beside it. The plastic bag holding the bottles is torn,
and, no matter how many new knots he tries to tie in it, the bottles keep
tumbling out like socks the rest of us might drop on the way to the washing
machine

You may hope Rocky gets some help, but that's a moot point

Rocky could get a place to stay, but he doesn't want one. Rocky could get a
job, but he doesn't want one. Rocky could get into counselling, but he
doesn't want it. Rocky could get into detox within a week, but he doesn't
want that either. He could then get into treatment, but that isn't one of
Rocky's wants

Kelowna RCMP Insp. Cam Forgues and I spent two hours on Leon Avenue,
talking to the people who have been making the news this past year and
scaring the bejesus out of Kelowna residents. Tourism industry people are
worried about the effect on visitors of a panorama of poverty and drug
abuse -- a very short stone's throw from their lake.

I didn't take out a note pad. I didn't tell them I worked for a newspaper.
Nothing spooks them like a camera or notepad. I didn't ask for names
because I didn't intend to use any of their real names. I handed out
cigarettes in exchange for conversation. They all smoke cigarettes.

When you ask how they can afford cigarettes, they will say they pick up
butts off the street. There are no butts on the street because no one who
can afford to buy cigarettes drives down to Leon and drops them on the
street. Forgues asks if they shoplift, break into cars, hold up gas
stations and convenience stores to get money for the cigarettes and the
drugs -- which are much cheaper than cigarettes -- but they say they don't.

Ask how they can support a $200/month cigarette habit when that is about
half of a monthly welfare payment, and they will insist they don't steal.
In fact, they all say they don't get welfare, but that is just one of the
many lies.

They tell bigger lies to themselves.

Forgues asks all of them what can be done to provide help for addiction,
and they all say that intervention and treatment are the keys. But they say
it while pointing to others who need help, not themselves. If there is a
word that applies to Leon beyond the word drugs, it is denial.

The people we spoke with admit they use drugs. During our stop in front of
the Gospel Mission, everyone we spoke with admitted he or she is a druggie.
Telling a cop they use drugs is of no worry. If the police were to arrest
everyone on Leon who was using drugs, they'd have to roll three Greyhound
buses down that street every morning to pick up all the offenders. The
druggies know they are not going to jail for using drugs and that it's a
safe subject, even for a cop to hear.

Last year at this time, the drug problem in the downtown exploded,
especially with summer. This year?

Says Forgues: "I'm waiting for the good weather to predict that. With the
good weather last year, it got a lot worse. We'll see what happens this year."

George, a veteran of this street who is driving a stolen grocery store
cart, is an addict, too, but he still views himself as a counsellor to
others. Again, there is that denial and sure belief that the problem
belongs to others, not to George.

Says George: "Crystal meth is big, but I still think the crack is bigger.
Then there is the crack mixed with opiates (heroin) that is now coming
around. That's the biggest nightmare of them all. That will twist and turn
anyone inside out." Marijuana is child's play to the Leon crowd.

I asked George what level of education he had received because he was very
articulate. I couldn't get that answer, but the two surprises for this
reporter was how friendly the druggies were when not threatened by any more
than conversation and how intelligently some expressed themselves.

"You noticed that too?" said Forgues. "Go figure."

There is a distinction between the hapless druggies and the dealers who
supply them. The druggies were friendly and cordial about talking with a
cop. But when the dealers -- who were otherwise strutting like cocks of the
walk -- saw Forgues's uniform, they scattered.

When you ask the druggies about dealers, they clam up in a panic. Forgues
says it's the street code not to rat, but it's also a fear that the dealers
might cut the supply if someone displeases them.

Kelowna RCMP Supt. Bill McKinnon has stated that soft-sentencing judges
thwart police efforts to remove the dealers and, therefore, the supply of
drugs from the street.

Forgues says he'd like to have a unit dedicated to dealers, but these guys
are slippery.

"They never have a large amount on them when they're dealing," said
Forgues. "If we get them, they swallow it, or they will have middlemen to
negotiate. They keep the large stash hidden in bushes or garbage cans.
There is a lot of work in busting a dealer, a lot of surveillance. We don't
have all of the resources we'd like for it. Then, when they get to court,
well, sometimes it's not worth it."

Frank says there is much anger on the streets. We found it inside the
Mission when three people spotted Forgues's uniform. They blasted by him
and out the door, muttering unpleasantries as they passed.

Says Karl, one of the managers at the Mission: "Things have improved with
the police presence, but there are still big problems. Those three are
examples of big problems."

Cindy sits on a blanket in front of the Mission. She says she is a mother
confessor to other girls on the street, though she is only in her early
20s. But she has a residence -- one of the homes for women -- so that gives
her some credibility with those women who are sleeping in alleys.

"I try to help them," says Cindy, who is using meth herself.

Standing next to her is Jane, an 18-year-old.

Forgues takes one look at her and says: "Meth."

He adds: "You're so young. You have your whole life in front of you. This
stuff will kill you."

Jane says her mother would take her back in, but not until she kicks the
meth. Jane sits down for a hug from Cindy. Cindy rocks her like a baby.

Bill likes crack, but he will take any drug he can get his hands on. He
makes a point that all the Leon habitues agree with: The drugs are so
prevalent that once you hit Leon, you may never get out.

"The war on drugs is lost," he says.

He and the others hang around all day long with nothing to do. Bill says
they are all "doing time" as if the street was a prison from which they
can't -- or perhaps won't -- escape.

Betty takes exception to Forgues's presence. She seems to be suffering from
paranoia and accuses Forgues of following her. Street nurses say 15 -20 per
cent of the Leon people are mentally ill and not on drugs. For lack of a
better term they are called the "truly homeless."

Police think that figure is too high. More likely, they say, 15-20 per cent
have both mental and drug issues.

Selena Stearns of the Drop-In Centre is a champion of the street people.
She bristles at my suggestion that the whole problem is about drugs and
that homelessness is just a side-effect. She says the truly homeless aren't
getting the help they need. But, even for the people with mental problems,
drugs figure in the picture.

"Mental issues often open the door to drug use," says Stearns.

Detox at institutions, such as Crossroads, are available. It takes about a
week for an addict to get in. It's a week during which a person can change
his or her mind, and often does.

Stearns and everybody else involved with helping addicts agree that once a
person comes forward in search of help, it needs to be available immediately.

Police are now regularly taking homeless to Kelowna General Hospital for
psychiatric assessment. The hospital doesn't seem to be ready for it.

Says Forgues: "They are eventually assessed by the doctors, but our members
are off the road with them for three or four hours. The doctors have to
treat those with more serious injuries first, but it's very time-consuming
for us."

Forgues said most of those who are assessed are deemed to be mentally fit.
They are released back onto the street, time wasted. The Drop-In Centre was
serving spaghetti for lunch. The centre appears to have a different
clientele than the Mission, although some people grab lunch at both places.

Many of the people in the Drop-in Centre are sincerely trying to beat their
bad luck.

Hank, a regular at the centre, is clean and sober, but he has diabetes,
which is making employment almost impossible. He has a home, but needs the
free meals.

Nothing burns Forgues more than drug dealers and squeegee kids with money
in their pockets, eating free meals that could better go to those who
really need them.

Chris Hartt, who operates the job placement program at the Ki-low-na
Friendship Centre on Leon, said it's a myth that people can't find work in
Kelowna. By summer, he'll have 200 job postings on the board for
construction labourers, landscapers and the likes.

"The job situation has never been better here," said Hartt. "People can get
work if they want it."

However, the scene on Leon is a deterrent in itself to those who want a job.

The Friendship Centre recently received a letter from the Rutland Community
Centre, which had referred two job-seekers to Hartt.

The letter said both people went to the employment office, but were scared
off by street people. They said they were too afraid to return. The Kelowna
RCMP were stung by media reports that they were going to begin confiscating
stolen shopping carts. The Globe and Mail and CBC happily picked it up
while many in the public clamoured about the heartlessness of Kelowna cops.

Forgues says none of it was true. Police will seize a cart if it's full of
drugs. They will impound a cart and its contents for safekeeping if a truly
homeless person goes in for drug or mental illness treatment. However,
Forgues said there was never a change in that policy nor the April 1
clampdown date that was widely reported. Forgues is an old street cop, but
he is also quite clearly a kind man with compassion for the addicts and
mentally ill. I think he purely despises the dealers.

I suggested that the public demands action and then complains when action
is taken.

"On the shopping cart story, are there days when you feel you can't win for
losing?" I asked.

Said Forgues: "It must have been a slow news day. Most of the letters we
get from the public are very supportive of what we're doing."

Forgues is all for the Four Pillars initiative. Immediate help has to be
available to those who need and want it. The police, he says, will look
after their pillar of enforcement, and he thinks others are sincerely
mobilizing to handle harm reduction, prevention and treatment. "In our
downtown core, there is a homeless issue -- those who are truly homeless
with mental illness," said Forgues. "But there are those who are drug
addicted, and they are here by choice.

"They get three meals a day in the downtown core. They associate with like
friends who are drug addicted. It's a culture of its own. "We seem to be
fostering that. If we keep feeding them without giving them any other
resources, we're not helping them." Forgues asked me what I thought of the
problem.

OK.

With the small exception of the truly homeless, it's all about drugs. Those
who rap the rest of us for not supplying enough resources for the truly
homeless usually have a vocational self-interest in pounding that drum.
They like to call themselves advocates.

There is no solution, but there is improvement. We all make choices in
life, some good, some bad. There is an old saying: You've made your bed,
and now you have to lie in it.

What's unfair to the rest of us is that their bed is on our streets.

Chuck Poulsen has covered the Leon Avenue drug scene for several years. He
has also been the reporter for The Daily Courier's Be an Angel fund, which
has dealt with the poor and poverty issues since it started nine years ago.
Poulsen also worked for The Province newspaper for three years on the night
police beat, stationed out of downtown police headquarters at Main and
Hastings streets.