A DEAL FOR DRUG DEALERS

Last Of Two Parts.

San Francisco has the lowest bails in the Bay Area -- a legal soft spot
that out-of-town drug dealers cite as an incentive to do business here.

An Examiner review of bail schedules shows that for most suspected drug
dealers, it is easier to get out of jail while awaiting trial in The City
than in any of the four nearest counties.

Between arrest and sentencing, many dealers are found to be selling drugs
again. A few have been caught making deals on the street within minutes of
release from preliminary hearings at the Hall of Justice.

Ronald Quidachay, the presiding judge for the Superior Court in San
Francisco, said he was unaware that San Francisco's bails were the lowest
in the region until it was pointed out to him by a reporter.

But he defended San Francisco's bail system, saying judges impose it only
to make sure defendants show up for court, not to hold them in jail. And
judges often exceed the guidelines if they consider a defendant dangerous.

"The district attorney can demand 10 times as much," he said.

In a subsequent interview, Quidachay said that he is in the process of
forming a new committee of judges to work on updating the bail schedule.

One dealer, who spoke with The Examiner on the condition that she not be
named, said she took notice when bails were raised in 1998. But she and
others know that The City still is the Bay Area's best bail bargain.

Bail for sale of heroin or cocaine was raised to $15,000 from a mere $5,000
- -- still short of Alameda and San Mateo counties, which set the minimum
bail at $20,000. Marin and Contra Costa counties use a sliding scale that
could ratchet up to $5 million, depending on the amount of contraband.

Getting sprung from jail after a drug sale with a prior drug conviction
will cost you $15,000 in San Francisco -- a steal compared with $20,000 in
Alameda County, $30,000 in Marin County and $50,000 in San Mateo County.

"Everybody knows that if you get caught in San Francisco you get less of a
punishment," the dealer said. "They're trying to get a little harder, but
they're not really there yet."

DA The Whipping Boy

Critics of the justice system say the public pays too much attention to
issues of enforcement and not enough to simple black-market economics.

"I would suspect that it's more of a supply-and-demand issue," said Jeff
Adachi, The City's public defender-elect. "If you have demand here, and
you're able to sell, you're going to come to San Francisco. But there
haven't been any objective studies."

Reports from recent police crackdowns in neighborhoods close to BART
stations indicate that as many as 40 percent of drug dealers arrested came
from outside The City. The big question is why.

For years, San Francisco police have been haranguing District Attorney
Terence Hallinan for being soft on so-called "quality-of-life" and minor
drug offenses.

"The perception among criminals is that San Francisco is liberal,
prosecutions are low," San Francisco Police Chief Fred Lau said. "What we
want them to know is that this isn't the place to play."

It is a criticism of which prosecutors have grown weary, and which they say
is outdated.

Even the most critical police officials say the District Attorney's Office
is making strides. Lt. Mark Swendsen of Southern Station, which covers
SoMa, agreed that Hallinan's lax policies have changed.

"You go to jail for even small amounts of dope," Swendsen said. "It's not
as liberal as people think anymore. The community has said, 'We're tired of
this stuff.' "

The independence of judges, who serve six-year elected positions but rarely
face opposition at the polls, occasionally frustrates police and other
branches of the justice system in San Francisco. Perhaps none more than Lt.
Kitt Crenshaw.

In 1997, Crenshaw, then captain of the citywide narcotics division, went
before the Board of Supervisors to report that the bail schedule was
dangerously low. He found that three-quarters of the people arrested by his
department were involved in recidivistic drug dealing -- repeatedly getting
arrested on the same or similar narcotics charges. Oftentimes suspects were
out on bail when they committed their next crime.

Worse, Crenshaw said, someone arrested in San Francisco for possession of a
pound of cocaine back then could, according to the bail schedule, get out
on just $5,000 bail. (The street price of that much cocaine, sold as crack
at $125 for a quarter ounce, would yield a profit of $8,000 -- enough to
post bail and buy another 1,276 BART tickets to Oakland.)

Crenshaw reported to the supervisors that one drug dealer told customers to
cross to the San Francisco side of Geneva Avenue from the San Mateo side to
buy from him -- just to make sure that if he were arrested he could post
the lower bail.

Under pressure from the supervisors, a committee of judges convened and in
October 1998 increased the bails.

Crenshaw believes they are still too low. He repeatedly hears horror
stories of people out on bail several times committing the same crime.

"I still believe it's inadequate," he said. "The dealers aren't stupid.
They know what they're doing. They know San Francisco is far more lenient."

Crenshaw said he faced so much resistance from "the system" that he
abandoned his reform efforts for his own peace of mind.

"I gave up on trying to solve The City's problems," he said. "I ride a
motorcycle now. People respect you, kids wave at you."

Inexplicable Sentences

Assistant District Attorney Liz Aguilar-Tarchi took over the narcotics
prosecution team a little more than a year ago, following a protracted
attack on Hallinan's record by TV stations and newspapers. She said she
wished that San Francisco judges at least would impose the minimum bail.
Many of those who reoffend while awaiting trial have their bail waived
altogether and are trusted to return.

"When people are out on their own recognizance, they tend to reoffend --
they can pick up two or three cases at a time," said Davin Merin, an
assistant district attorney for narcotics. "Sometimes it might be in the
defendant's best interest to remain in custody in order to receive
treatment for whatever got them to prison in the first case."

Three weeks ago a young woman was arrested for selling 20 rocks of crack
cocaine to an undercover officer on Sixth Street. The 19-year- old was
called before a judge on Feb. 13 on her first serious criminal charge.

Because she had no record, the judge let her out on her own recognizance.
The judge called a recess from his courtroom at the Hall of Justice at
Bryant and Sixth until 1:30 p.m. At about 1:25 she was arrested again for
selling crack to an undercover officer at Sixth and Market.

"Shows you how much they're afraid of us," said Ross Laflin, a narcotics
investigator who helped arrest the young woman both times.

Judicial discretion is not just measured in bails. Judges also frequently
flout sentencing guidelines. In the last four narcotics trials, the judge
either reduced the sentence to below what the prosecutor requested before
the case went to trial or has refused to sentence altogether.

In one case, Jose Flores, 32, was caught selling crack at Van Ness Avenue
and O'Farrell Street. Before the trial, Assistant District Attorney Mishon
Martin offered the standard three years probation and the statutory minimum
of six months in jail.

Flores rejected the offer and the case went to trial. He was found guilty
and Martin recommended a year in jail.

Instead, Judge Kay Tsenin sentenced him to probation, 26 days in jail (the
time he had already served awaiting sentencing) and 90 days in the
Sheriff's Work Alternative Program.

Martin said she was dismayed that the defendant got almost no punishment
after refusing a plea bargain and going to trial.

"It's difficult to negotiate a case if the defendant is going to get a
lighter sentence after trial," Martin said.

No More Jail Crowding

Quidachay said that in 1998, the last time bails were raised in San
Francisco, judges may have been a little cautious about bringing them up to
par with other counties, for fear of exacerbating jail overcrowding.

The City's jails used to be under a federal consent decree to let people go
if the sheriff tried to cram in too many prisoners. That order was lifted
in 1996 when The City opened 440 beds at the Seventh Street jail.

The bail schedule may need some adjustment to keep up with inflation,
Quidachay said. But he was reluctant to endorse the notion that San
Francisco's low bail acts as a magnet for crime.

"San Francisco is a city that has handled drug problems in a progressive
way," he said. So many defendants charged with drug possession were getting
treatment instead of jail before Proposition 36 took effect that when the
statewide initiative began to mandate such diversions for people who plead
guilty, San Francisco had few cases left to divert.

Bail has to be reasonable, he said. If not, an appellate court will find it
to be "cruel and unusual," and order the person released.

Sandy Feinland, a deputy public defender, echoed Quidachay's skepticism. He
said The City is one of the only places in the region that has been able to
resist irrational and conservative law-and-order reforms: "Just because
other counties are brutal, and just because we're more humane here, doesn't
mean San Francisco should be portrayed as an oasis for criminals."