Pubdate: Sat, 10 Feb 2007
Source: Calgary Herald (CN AB)
Copyright: 2007 Calgary Herald
Contact:  http://www.canada.com/calgary/calgaryherald/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/66
Author: Sarah Chapman, Calgary Herald
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/coke.htm (Cocaine)
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/youth.htm (Youth)

BEAT COPS GETTING THEIR HANDS DIRTY DOWNTOWN

You would expect blistered feet to be an occupational hazard for 
officers walking the downtown beat.

But Const. Andy Wilkinson's red hands, rubbed raw, are a telltale 
sign the officer is on the special duty team.

Though he carries a handgun, a Taser and handcuffs to protect himself 
from the gritty reality of some downtown streets, Wilkinson relies 
most often on the small packs of antiseptic handwipes he carries with him.

Cleaning up the streets requires subjecting himself to a multitude of 
viruses and diseases from addicts who can't keep themselves clean.

Wilkinson is one of about 25 police officers who spend their shifts 
patrolling the most troubled areas of the downtown core, particularly 
7th Avenue, Stephen Avenue and the Beltline neighbourhood.

Later this year, police expect to expand the special duty program, 
deploying beat officers to other troubled spots in the city.

On a daily basis, the downtown teams shake hands with business owners 
who know them on a first-name basis, check on the homeless to ensure 
they're warm and watch for addicts and dealers bold enough to flaunt 
their lawlessness in plain sight.

Over the next nine hours, Wilkinson and his partner will find 
themselves tearing open a dozen of the alcohol and lemon-scented wipes.

Walking the beat is literally a hands-on job.

In the middle of a sunny, Thursday afternoon in January, police radio 
chatter directs Wilkinson and partner Const. Kevin Whitley to the 
corner of 7th Avenue and Centre Street S.

A rough-looking middle-aged man with his neck covered in faded 
tattoos is being handcuffed by an officer.

He's lifted off the ground and marched up against a brick wall.

The contents of his pockets spill onto the street, exposing three 
tiny white clumps -- rocks of crack cocaine worth $20 or $30 each -- 
a Bic lighter and a lollipop.

Another officer bends down and cautiously sifts through the items 
with a gloved hand.

The scene draws a few stares from passersby, but, within seconds, 
everyone moves on. It happens here all the time.

Officers charge the tattooed man with possession.

Seizing narcotics from addicts isn't always as easy as emptying 
pockets. The officers may have to pry open the mouth of a resisting suspect.

"They usually try to stick them in their mouths," says Whitley, 
explaining crack cocaine isn't water-soluble, so addicts will often 
store rocks in their cheeks to conceal them.

If need be, they can be swallowed and fished out from excrement later on.

Directly above the scene of the arrest, on the roof of the Art 
Central building, elementary schoolchildren run in circles and play 
games in their own concrete jungle.

The students from W.H. Cushing Workplace School, who spend their 
recess atop the building on 7th Avenue S.E., can only see concrete 
and sky. They're too short to peer over the ledge where junkies in 
hooded sweatshirts wobble down the street, looking for their next fix.

Only metres away, in the Art Central building where businessmen and 
women eat lunch, a chemical odour permeates the air.

"Do you smell that?" asks Whitley, lifting his nose slightly in a 
hallway where addicts have been known to hunker down to get high.

"That's crack."

The stark contrast between the innocence of the children and the 
worldliness of the addicts isn't lost on neighbouring business owners.

"It's surreal to stand out here and hear children playing up there. . 
. . Then you look a little further and it's a different planet 
altogether," notes Fred Konopaki, who owns the Palomino restaurant at 
7th Avenue and Centre Street S.

Even before he opened the restaurant, Konopaki knew that choosing the 
location among a crack-pipe-littered parking lot, the convenience 
store next door -- which boasts a collection of weigh scales, knives 
and butane lighters -- and a pawnshop that advertises "Cash for 
almost anything" was a risky endeavour.

"There's a church on one end of the street, an art gallery on the 
other, and in the middle, it looks like the Wild West.

"They don't even clean the blood off the street. It's like we're forgotten."

Outside the Palomino, pedestrians skip over a discarded yellow rubber 
glove smeared with blood on the sidewalk.

On the restaurant windows, signs read "No public washrooms" and "All 
liquor locked up nightly."

Konopaki says most of the addicts who stumble into his restaurant 
move along when they're told they aren't welcome, but he worries 
about the potential for violence.

"Nine out of 10 will move if you ask them to move. But there's that 
one guy who's reaching in his pocket," he says.

"They come in to use the bathroom, but you know what they're doing in 
there. You can just hear the Bic lighter flicking on."

Palomino has become a popular spot for corporate clientele, including 
Mayor Dave Bronconnier. The owner credits some of his success to the 
beat officers he sees every hour.

"The idea of the beat cop is the best thing for me," he says.

The concept of the modern beat cop is still relatively new.

Approved in May 2006 by city council, 18 officers joined an 
additional six last fall. Whether by bike or foot, in uniform or 
plainclothes, they devote their time to a few designated areas -- 
including the 7th Avenue corridor, the Stephen Avenue Walk stretch 
and Olympic Plaza.

Ald. Druh Farrell said she hopes the beat cop initiative won't fizzle 
out any time soon.

"As someone who takes transit, sometimes fairly late at night, I feel 
safer," says Farrell.

"I'm certainly hoping this is a long-term commitment."

City council has approved funding for at least 18 more officers this 
year. On Feb. 27, the police chief and police commission will meet to 
discuss where additional officers will be allocated.

Deputy Chief Peter Davison says the timing of deployment will depend 
on recruiting levels. Based on available officers, the service will 
determine where in the city the teams are required.

Farrell expects 18 officers to be assigned to special duty posts 
downtown. She said the attempt to evenly distribute officers through 
the city is "like spreading icing evenly over a very bumpy cake."

Insp. Bob Ritchie, who oversees the downtown district, says while it 
would be beneficial to have more officers to walk the downtown beat, 
there are other areas of the city with crime issues that could be 
addressed by similar special duty teams.

He said, so far, beat officers are disrupting and dismantling illegal activity.

"There's no other area of the city that is as densely populated at 
given times of the day," Ritchie says.

The teams face unique challenges, however.

"We're seeing a transition in the city," he says. "Three or four or 
five years ago, in the downtown district, at the end of the business 
day, there was a mass exodus of people. Now, people stay."

Another challenge is keeping an eye on where the criminal activity is 
most concentrated.

With high-visibility officers stationed on the streets, the service 
has to make sure the drug activity and related crimes aren't simply 
shifting to other areas.

In the upper floor of the Art Central building, Wilkinson and Whitley 
stop for a coffee near one of the best vantage points in the building 
to see crime.

Staring through the windows is like watching a television. And 
Wilkinson predicts some action is about to come on screen.

"Look at the guy who will walk into your eye line in a few seconds," 
he says. "We know that person is a user, probably going to do a 
hand-to-hand (drug deal)."

As the young man casually strolls through the parking lot on Centre 
Street -- somewhat notorious for criminal activity -- two special 
duty officers seem to appear out of nowhere and stop him before he 
has a chance to score.

Part of the job requires spotting trouble before it happens. Paying 
attention to details -- what someone is wearing, how they are walking 
and how many times they circle the block -- is key.

Wilkinson notices a man in a "I AM Canadian" jacket has walked past 
the window three times since the officers sat down. It's an obvious 
sign he's looking to sell or score.

A few hours later, in the same parking lot, a stolen vehicle is 
located and an addict whose hair has fallen out is handcuffed up 
against the trunk of the silver Toyota. On the hood, officers rest a 
confiscated tube attached to a pipe for smoking drugs, a butane 
lighter, gum and change.

Wilkinson and Whitley continue their patrol, moving their boxy van to 
the Beltline area, where a phone booth outside a restaurant on 17th 
Avenue is the "epicentre" of the area's dial-a-dope operations.

At 12th Street and 12th Avenue S.W., Whitley spots an elderly couple 
hurrying to their car from an insurance company. They are trying to 
avoid a vagrant hounding them for cash.

Whitley bolts across the street and taps on the window to make sure 
the seniors are OK. Panhandlers who use intimidation to feed their 
habit are a constant frustration.

"It's almost extortion," says Whitley, noting many pedestrians would 
prefer to hand over cash than risk a confrontation.

"If you give them money, you're keeping them here."

Years ago, the only pedestrians on the 12th and 12th block had 
shopping carts in front of them, but "there weren't groceries in 
them," says Brad Bell, owner of the Crush restaurant and bar, with a laugh.

"Last summer, I was always asked for change, always harassed," adds 
Crush general manager Cory Banks, who says he's noticed the area has 
improved since officers began foot patrols.

"I used to regularly keep my eye on the door, but in the last three 
months, I've seen a real reduction in it."

As the shift draws to a close and the officers wipe their hands one 
last time, Wilkinson and Whitley realize they face an ongoing battle 
- -- one police work alone won't win.

The two agree it's up to police, city, business and social agencies 
to work together.

"You can only do so much, and you're not going to solve all the 
social evils," Wilkinson laments.

"But this place is fixable. It's not lost." 
- ---
MAP posted-by: Beth Wehrman