T
The420Guy
Guest
Big numbers don't add up to success in Texas war on drugs, critics contend
The numbers are almost staggering: Nearly 2 million pounds of dope valued
at more than $6.6 billion; $194,273,312 worth of seized assets; 189,586
arrests.
That is the haul of the 49 regional narcotics task forces that have
operated in Texas -- supported by $331 million of mostly federal funds --
on the front line of the state's war on drugs since 1987.
But those efforts have critics, and recently their complaints have become
louder. Even some law officers agree that it is the nonviolent users and
addicts who are sent to prison, while the drugs continue to flow almost
unabated and suppliers reap larger and larger profits.
The regional task forces focus too much effort on street users, who would
benefit more from treatment than incarceration, and only occasionally bag a
major shipment of narcotics or nail a major dealer, critics contend.
The Texas Department of Public Safety, which participates in several drug
task forces, shrugs off such criticisms.
"That's the whole point," says spokesman Tom Vinger. "They target local
street-level dealers -- the kind that deal with kids. Without these task
forces, the demand would be even higher than it is now."
The debate over task forces in Texas ratcheted up last summer when the U.S.
Justice Department, the NAACP and the American Civil Liberties Union began
asking questions about an undercover drug sting in the tiny Panhandle town
of Tulia, where 15 percent of the black population was sent to prison on
the testimony of one itinerant undercover agent.
Tulia not only resulted in civil rights lawsuits, protests outside the
state Capitol and a federal investigation, it also provided a smorgasbord
of arguments for those who see the war on drugs as ineffective, even
destructive.
Although initial announcements proclaimed that the sting had netted 43
major drug dealers, all turned out to be street-level crack users.
The undercover officer had limited law enforcement experience, a checkered
past (criminal charges were filed against him in another county while the
sting was in progress) and he apparently was hired without a thorough
background check.
None of the offenses he logged was supported by audio or video
surveillance. Defense attorneys have alleged that he faked some evidence
and lied on the witness stand.
Some defendants -- including first-time offenders who might have been
eligible for probation -- received sentences of 20 and 30 years or more.
"It's a joke," says Southwest Texas State University professor Harvey
Ginsburg, who was an outspoken critic of a similar undercover sting in Hays
County last year.
If the Tulia sting did anything, it cast a light on the otherwise secret
workings of drug task forces. Critics became aware of the use of "gypsy
cops," who work undercover for a few months and then move on to another
county, and their methods, which defense attorneys claim amount to entrapment.
There are other examples of questionable law enforcement techniques.
In Woodville, a decade ago, an undercover officer and an informant posed as
representatives of a seismograph company and lured young men to a makeshift
office in a motel room with offers of $12-an-hour jobs. There, the "boss"
asked the young men if they could get crack cocaine for him and told them,
"If you want the job, you'll do it." Those who did were busted for dealing
drugs.
In Wimberley, in the spring of 1999, a drug task force rented a room at a
local resort for four months and paid an informant to throw parties. The
task force supplied alcohol and drugs for teen-agers as young as 14 -- all
in the interest of making cases against them. One young man was killed in
the ensuing roundup of offenders.
In Silsbee, a couple of years ago, an undercover officer showed up at a
motel to help some "friends" -- actually targets of his investigation --
move their belongings. He complained of aches from the lifting and asked
them for a pain reliever. They gave him a prescription pain pill and he
busted them for delivery of a controlled substance.
In Liberty, in 1997, an undercover officer was fired by task force
officials after she complained that a paid informant falsified reports that
were the basis of dozens of arrests.
"It's a numbers game," says Barbara Markham, the former undercover officer
for the Chambers County Narcotics Task Force, which also covers Liberty
County. "Most of them just go after the easy targets to pump up their
numbers."
Markham says she was assigned to work with a paid informant who, on three
occasions, filled out false reports about drug buys. The informant, she
says, made buys outside of her presence and then stated in his reports that
the drugs had been sold to her.
"I told him that I had to witness the transaction," she says. "He just
told me that wasn't the way he had done things with his previous partner."
Markham says she reported the incidents to her superiors. A week later,
she says, they presented a list of grievances against her and fired her a
week after that.
She later sued the task force for wrongful termination and the matter was
settled out of court. Officials of the task force say they are under a gag
order not to discuss her case or her allegations.
Surprisingly, the most severe criticism of the task force system sometimes
comes from within.
"My complaint from the inception is that there are too many opportunities
for problems," says Gary Buchanan, police chief of Brenham and director of
the Independence Narcotics Task Force that includes Washington and Burleson
counties. "They go for volume, not impact. They are going to get the
easiest targets. They have not had a positive impact on drugs in
Texas. Heroin is coming back. The age of users keeps getting younger."
Before taking over the Brenham Police Department in 1995, Buchanan was the
police chief in Fort Stockton, where a task force predated his arrival. He
didn't like what he saw.
Using "gypsy cops" as undercover agents -- a practice some lawmen say is
necessary in rural areas where local officers or deputies would be
recognized -- "is fraught with difficulties and temptations," Buchanan
says. "That kind of work requires very credible people."
He quickly pulled out of the task force.
When he moved to Brenham, he performed a radical overhaul of the operation
there. He hired a retired Texas Department of Public Safety investigator
to run it, banned journeyman undercover cops and redirected the focus of
investigations.
"We don't have hired guns," he says. "We use local officers. They can
change their appearances."
Also, the easy targets -- the users -- were given a lower priority and
Buchanan insisted that undercover transactions be tape recorded.
"We do more search warrants," he says. "We work higher up the ladder. That
was a distinctive shift in how this task force operated. We emphasized the
quality of arrests, not the numbers. We're getting more higher-ups, more
drugs with fewer arrests."
Consequently, Buchanan's task force usually ranks low in productivity,
compared to the others. That does not bother him, he says.
"Our numbers are not as high, but I think our impact is greater," he
says. "If (state officials) want their money, they can come and get it. I
would give up this task force."
Task forces are ranked quarterly and annually by the Texas Narcotics
Control Program, and productivity (number of arrests, asset seizures and
amount of drugs confiscated) is the basis for renewed funding.
Mike Jones, a spokesman for the program, says there is an incentive for the
groups to go after major dealers and not just street users.
"They are not just rated on the number of arrests but also on the amount of
drugs and assets seized," he says. "The larger dealers have more
assets. To be successful, they have to interrupt large-scale dealers."
Tucked inside those seemingly staggering numbers racked up by the task
forces since 1987 is evidence that the narcotics control program has been
most successful in seizing the one drug that is slowly being decriminalized
in other states.
Of the 1.9 million pounds of dope seized in 13 years, nearly 1.7 million
pounds of it was marijuana.
Across the country in the past few years, possession of marijuana has been
treated as no more serious than a traffic offense.
New Mexico Gov. Gary Johnson has called for an end to the drug war and the
legalization of marijuana. Other prominent voices -- former U.S. Secretary
of State George Schultz and the Rev. Jesse Jackson among them -- have
joined that chorus. Recently, four towns in Massachusetts essentially
decriminalized marijuana possession.
Since 1996, according to The Lindesmith Center-Drug Policy Foundation,
there have been 19 proposed initiatives or referenda calling for drug
policy reform, and 17 of them have passed.
In November, California approved Proposition 36, which requires treatment
instead of jail for drug use or possession. Oregon and Utah ended the
police practice of seizing and selling assets of suspected drug offenders
without proof of guilt.
While all this was going on, the Hays County Narcotics Task Force conducted
its marijuana sting in Wimberley. The investigation conducted in the
spring of 1999 resulted in a string of dismissed felony cases, the death of
a 25-year-old man and community outrage.
The informant was a large part of the problem.
Roy Parrish, described by the San Marcos Daily Record as "a 48-year-old
habitual felon and ex-con," was recruited to conduct the operation.
Set up in a cabin at the 7-A Ranch Resort, Parrish lured teen-agers and
young adults with parties featuring alcohol, pills and marijuana. He
invited his guests to bring marijuana to him and paid for it with funds
provided by the task force.
After four months, warrants were issued and 21 people were rounded up in
early morning raids. When the police went to the home of Alex Windle, who
was accused of twice delivering half-ounce bags of marijuana to Parrish,
they were met at the door by the suspect holding an assault rifle.
Windle was shot and killed.
Local residents appeared more outraged by the behavior of the paid
informant than by the shooting.
When the San Marcos City Council met to review the incident, Councilman
Louis Doiron Jr. said, "I think there are a lot of people in our community
who are very upset that we have paid informants possibly doing very bad
things."
David Morris, who represented two teen-agers whose cases were dismissed,
agreed.
"When you have an informant out there on the street actually contributing
alcohol and drugs to minors, it goes way beyond law enforcement," he told
the local newspaper.
In the end, the entire operation was a bust. Fourteen felony charges were
filed. Ten of the cases were later dismissed or reduced to misdemeanors
and another was expected to be dismissed because Parrish, the key witness,
lacked credibility.
"The problem is these vagabonds roll into town, make their busts and
leave," says Ginsburg, the Southwest Texas professor. "They leave a lot of
damage behind."
Jerry Epstein, president of the Houston-based Drug Policy Forum of Texas,
says the stings that are common to the war on drugs "have no meaning" in
terms of curbing drug traffic and use. Epstein's organization supports
treating the drug problem as a public health issue, rather than criminal
justice issue.
"We have three measuring devices," he says. "The first is price. In the
last 30 years, the price of illegal drugs has dropped 75 percent
(suggesting that supply is staying ahead of demand). Next are annual
surveys of kids. They tell us that drugs are still plentiful. Then there
is the illegal market itself. It is now $400 billion and growing."
Buchanan, the Brenham police chief, agrees.
"Enforcement," he says, "is not the answer to the social drug problem."
_____________________________________________
Distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in
receiving the included information for research and educational purposes.
---
MAP posted-by: Jo-D
Newshawk: Art Smart <ArtSmart@neosoft.com>
Pubdate: Sun, 24 Dec 2000
Source: Houston Chronicle (TX)
Copyright: 2000 Houston Chronicle
Contact: viewpoints@chron.com
Address: Viewpoints Editor, P.O. Box 4260 Houston, Texas 77210-4260
Fax: (713) 220-3575
Website: Home
Forum: https://www.chron.com/content/hcitalk/index.html
Author: Jim Henderson
The numbers are almost staggering: Nearly 2 million pounds of dope valued
at more than $6.6 billion; $194,273,312 worth of seized assets; 189,586
arrests.
That is the haul of the 49 regional narcotics task forces that have
operated in Texas -- supported by $331 million of mostly federal funds --
on the front line of the state's war on drugs since 1987.
But those efforts have critics, and recently their complaints have become
louder. Even some law officers agree that it is the nonviolent users and
addicts who are sent to prison, while the drugs continue to flow almost
unabated and suppliers reap larger and larger profits.
The regional task forces focus too much effort on street users, who would
benefit more from treatment than incarceration, and only occasionally bag a
major shipment of narcotics or nail a major dealer, critics contend.
The Texas Department of Public Safety, which participates in several drug
task forces, shrugs off such criticisms.
"That's the whole point," says spokesman Tom Vinger. "They target local
street-level dealers -- the kind that deal with kids. Without these task
forces, the demand would be even higher than it is now."
The debate over task forces in Texas ratcheted up last summer when the U.S.
Justice Department, the NAACP and the American Civil Liberties Union began
asking questions about an undercover drug sting in the tiny Panhandle town
of Tulia, where 15 percent of the black population was sent to prison on
the testimony of one itinerant undercover agent.
Tulia not only resulted in civil rights lawsuits, protests outside the
state Capitol and a federal investigation, it also provided a smorgasbord
of arguments for those who see the war on drugs as ineffective, even
destructive.
Although initial announcements proclaimed that the sting had netted 43
major drug dealers, all turned out to be street-level crack users.
The undercover officer had limited law enforcement experience, a checkered
past (criminal charges were filed against him in another county while the
sting was in progress) and he apparently was hired without a thorough
background check.
None of the offenses he logged was supported by audio or video
surveillance. Defense attorneys have alleged that he faked some evidence
and lied on the witness stand.
Some defendants -- including first-time offenders who might have been
eligible for probation -- received sentences of 20 and 30 years or more.
"It's a joke," says Southwest Texas State University professor Harvey
Ginsburg, who was an outspoken critic of a similar undercover sting in Hays
County last year.
If the Tulia sting did anything, it cast a light on the otherwise secret
workings of drug task forces. Critics became aware of the use of "gypsy
cops," who work undercover for a few months and then move on to another
county, and their methods, which defense attorneys claim amount to entrapment.
There are other examples of questionable law enforcement techniques.
In Woodville, a decade ago, an undercover officer and an informant posed as
representatives of a seismograph company and lured young men to a makeshift
office in a motel room with offers of $12-an-hour jobs. There, the "boss"
asked the young men if they could get crack cocaine for him and told them,
"If you want the job, you'll do it." Those who did were busted for dealing
drugs.
In Wimberley, in the spring of 1999, a drug task force rented a room at a
local resort for four months and paid an informant to throw parties. The
task force supplied alcohol and drugs for teen-agers as young as 14 -- all
in the interest of making cases against them. One young man was killed in
the ensuing roundup of offenders.
In Silsbee, a couple of years ago, an undercover officer showed up at a
motel to help some "friends" -- actually targets of his investigation --
move their belongings. He complained of aches from the lifting and asked
them for a pain reliever. They gave him a prescription pain pill and he
busted them for delivery of a controlled substance.
In Liberty, in 1997, an undercover officer was fired by task force
officials after she complained that a paid informant falsified reports that
were the basis of dozens of arrests.
"It's a numbers game," says Barbara Markham, the former undercover officer
for the Chambers County Narcotics Task Force, which also covers Liberty
County. "Most of them just go after the easy targets to pump up their
numbers."
Markham says she was assigned to work with a paid informant who, on three
occasions, filled out false reports about drug buys. The informant, she
says, made buys outside of her presence and then stated in his reports that
the drugs had been sold to her.
"I told him that I had to witness the transaction," she says. "He just
told me that wasn't the way he had done things with his previous partner."
Markham says she reported the incidents to her superiors. A week later,
she says, they presented a list of grievances against her and fired her a
week after that.
She later sued the task force for wrongful termination and the matter was
settled out of court. Officials of the task force say they are under a gag
order not to discuss her case or her allegations.
Surprisingly, the most severe criticism of the task force system sometimes
comes from within.
"My complaint from the inception is that there are too many opportunities
for problems," says Gary Buchanan, police chief of Brenham and director of
the Independence Narcotics Task Force that includes Washington and Burleson
counties. "They go for volume, not impact. They are going to get the
easiest targets. They have not had a positive impact on drugs in
Texas. Heroin is coming back. The age of users keeps getting younger."
Before taking over the Brenham Police Department in 1995, Buchanan was the
police chief in Fort Stockton, where a task force predated his arrival. He
didn't like what he saw.
Using "gypsy cops" as undercover agents -- a practice some lawmen say is
necessary in rural areas where local officers or deputies would be
recognized -- "is fraught with difficulties and temptations," Buchanan
says. "That kind of work requires very credible people."
He quickly pulled out of the task force.
When he moved to Brenham, he performed a radical overhaul of the operation
there. He hired a retired Texas Department of Public Safety investigator
to run it, banned journeyman undercover cops and redirected the focus of
investigations.
"We don't have hired guns," he says. "We use local officers. They can
change their appearances."
Also, the easy targets -- the users -- were given a lower priority and
Buchanan insisted that undercover transactions be tape recorded.
"We do more search warrants," he says. "We work higher up the ladder. That
was a distinctive shift in how this task force operated. We emphasized the
quality of arrests, not the numbers. We're getting more higher-ups, more
drugs with fewer arrests."
Consequently, Buchanan's task force usually ranks low in productivity,
compared to the others. That does not bother him, he says.
"Our numbers are not as high, but I think our impact is greater," he
says. "If (state officials) want their money, they can come and get it. I
would give up this task force."
Task forces are ranked quarterly and annually by the Texas Narcotics
Control Program, and productivity (number of arrests, asset seizures and
amount of drugs confiscated) is the basis for renewed funding.
Mike Jones, a spokesman for the program, says there is an incentive for the
groups to go after major dealers and not just street users.
"They are not just rated on the number of arrests but also on the amount of
drugs and assets seized," he says. "The larger dealers have more
assets. To be successful, they have to interrupt large-scale dealers."
Tucked inside those seemingly staggering numbers racked up by the task
forces since 1987 is evidence that the narcotics control program has been
most successful in seizing the one drug that is slowly being decriminalized
in other states.
Of the 1.9 million pounds of dope seized in 13 years, nearly 1.7 million
pounds of it was marijuana.
Across the country in the past few years, possession of marijuana has been
treated as no more serious than a traffic offense.
New Mexico Gov. Gary Johnson has called for an end to the drug war and the
legalization of marijuana. Other prominent voices -- former U.S. Secretary
of State George Schultz and the Rev. Jesse Jackson among them -- have
joined that chorus. Recently, four towns in Massachusetts essentially
decriminalized marijuana possession.
Since 1996, according to The Lindesmith Center-Drug Policy Foundation,
there have been 19 proposed initiatives or referenda calling for drug
policy reform, and 17 of them have passed.
In November, California approved Proposition 36, which requires treatment
instead of jail for drug use or possession. Oregon and Utah ended the
police practice of seizing and selling assets of suspected drug offenders
without proof of guilt.
While all this was going on, the Hays County Narcotics Task Force conducted
its marijuana sting in Wimberley. The investigation conducted in the
spring of 1999 resulted in a string of dismissed felony cases, the death of
a 25-year-old man and community outrage.
The informant was a large part of the problem.
Roy Parrish, described by the San Marcos Daily Record as "a 48-year-old
habitual felon and ex-con," was recruited to conduct the operation.
Set up in a cabin at the 7-A Ranch Resort, Parrish lured teen-agers and
young adults with parties featuring alcohol, pills and marijuana. He
invited his guests to bring marijuana to him and paid for it with funds
provided by the task force.
After four months, warrants were issued and 21 people were rounded up in
early morning raids. When the police went to the home of Alex Windle, who
was accused of twice delivering half-ounce bags of marijuana to Parrish,
they were met at the door by the suspect holding an assault rifle.
Windle was shot and killed.
Local residents appeared more outraged by the behavior of the paid
informant than by the shooting.
When the San Marcos City Council met to review the incident, Councilman
Louis Doiron Jr. said, "I think there are a lot of people in our community
who are very upset that we have paid informants possibly doing very bad
things."
David Morris, who represented two teen-agers whose cases were dismissed,
agreed.
"When you have an informant out there on the street actually contributing
alcohol and drugs to minors, it goes way beyond law enforcement," he told
the local newspaper.
In the end, the entire operation was a bust. Fourteen felony charges were
filed. Ten of the cases were later dismissed or reduced to misdemeanors
and another was expected to be dismissed because Parrish, the key witness,
lacked credibility.
"The problem is these vagabonds roll into town, make their busts and
leave," says Ginsburg, the Southwest Texas professor. "They leave a lot of
damage behind."
Jerry Epstein, president of the Houston-based Drug Policy Forum of Texas,
says the stings that are common to the war on drugs "have no meaning" in
terms of curbing drug traffic and use. Epstein's organization supports
treating the drug problem as a public health issue, rather than criminal
justice issue.
"We have three measuring devices," he says. "The first is price. In the
last 30 years, the price of illegal drugs has dropped 75 percent
(suggesting that supply is staying ahead of demand). Next are annual
surveys of kids. They tell us that drugs are still plentiful. Then there
is the illegal market itself. It is now $400 billion and growing."
Buchanan, the Brenham police chief, agrees.
"Enforcement," he says, "is not the answer to the social drug problem."
_____________________________________________
Distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in
receiving the included information for research and educational purposes.
---
MAP posted-by: Jo-D
Newshawk: Art Smart <ArtSmart@neosoft.com>
Pubdate: Sun, 24 Dec 2000
Source: Houston Chronicle (TX)
Copyright: 2000 Houston Chronicle
Contact: viewpoints@chron.com
Address: Viewpoints Editor, P.O. Box 4260 Houston, Texas 77210-4260
Fax: (713) 220-3575
Website: Home
Forum: https://www.chron.com/content/hcitalk/index.html
Author: Jim Henderson
