An officer clad in black combat boots, pants, and a long-sleeved, black polo shirt motions to a map of the city on his wall that is riddled with map pins. It’s reminiscent of something from a war movie. As he motions to the map, his shirt pulls tight against his bullet-proof vest. There are about 60 pins inserted on the map, all clustered primarily in two areas. "The different colors," he says, "represent different crack-related problem areas." The analogy to a war map is all too accurate.

One of the programs that was formed specifically to address the growing drug problem is the Street Crime Apprehension Team. It was formed by the Bryan Police Department in October of last year as an aggressive step toward wiping out a relatively new enemy: crack cocaine. Within three years of crack’s arrival on the local scene, Bryan had witnessed an incredible increase in street-level drug dealing. The increase was tied to crack’s cheap price tag: the average cost of a "rock" is $20. A smaller dose of the drug – a "dime" – can be purchased for just $10.

"So many people started selling on street corners to drive-up traffic that one guy in a patrol car wasn’t enough," says Sergeant Mark Ricketson of the SCAT team. "He’d have to make calls and handle all arrests, and that would take him off the street."

While the Brazos Valley and the Department of Public Safety Narcotics Task Forces had been in place a number of years, their primary focus was on the mid- to upper-level drug dealers – those dealers who would bring the drugs into the county and those who would purchase the drugs in surrounding areas and bring them into Bryan and College Station for sale. The search for a solution to the propagating street-level drug sales led Bryan Police Department to Tampa, Florida, where their QUAD (Quick Uniformed Attack on Drugs) team had success in tackling such problems. Bryan sent five officers for training and, on October 24 of 1991, the SCAT team hit the streets.

Since their appearance, SCAT has made nearly 300 arrests. Those have produced nearly 400 misdemeanor charges, 150 felony charges, and they have seized six cars and approximately $8,122 in cash. And the tote board changes almost daily.

"I’d say that 90 percent of the days or nights that we go out, we’re going to end up with an arrest or two," Ricketson says.

What makes this team different, Ricketson says, is that SCAT is a pro-actionary force. Traditionally, law enforcement has been "reactionary" – the police wait for the crime to happen. SCAT is out looking for the guys committing the crimes as they are occurring. To do that, they use several techniques, one of which earned them the street name "The Jump Out Boys." Officers are dropped off to conduct surveillance; when enough evidence of drug activity is witnessed to warrant a probable cause search, the officers move in. Other methods include undercover buys, informants, condemnation of crack houses and nuisance abatement suits to close down establishments that have a long-documented history of drugs and violence.

A Bird’s Eye View

Steve Jones shakes his head with saddened frustration. He knows all too well about the drugs and violence that pervade his neighborhood. He points to his home that borders Martin Luther King Street and then makes a zig-zag with his callused hand, motioning up and down the street. The midday sun shines overhead.

"They will park over there by my shrubs and exchange crack," he says. "No one tries to hide it. It goes on all day … naturally, at night it’s more common. But you can see people picking the ladies (prostitutes) up all day long. And they’ll block the streets to take care of their drug deals."

Over the past 11 years, Jones has dedicated an infinite amount of time volunteering to help turn his community around. Most recently, he was instrumental in getting a neighborhood garden established on the corner of M.L.K. and Logan Streets to beautify the area and to create a positive message for the residents.

The 47-year-old man who describes himself as poor, Jones seems to be rich in other ways. Just a few hours away from having his degree in business, he works odd jobs to support himself and his elderly mother. "I have problems trying just to make ends meet," he says. But he resists the temptation that others have fallen to of turning to the streets for quick cash.

"The temptation creates just as much of a demand as addiction does. But a quick buck here will cost them more in the long run."

It’s a difficult dilemma facing the parents in his neighborhood. Many face poverty and see the money that comes in from the street as necessary for the family’s survival. "As a parent, you don’t have a positive solution. You can address the issue and tell them that it’s wrong. But as that child starts to grow up and take care of himself, how can you keep him from going out and getting money that, at times, may be the only method to pay the light bill?

"When he stops, there isn’t a job that will enable him to provide for his basic needs. A job at a fast food place paying minimum wage won’t do it."

So, the problem compounds itself. Teens turned on by a chance to end their personal poverty turn to the streets dealing drugs or selling their bodies. Many end up with a $40 to $200 addiction to satisfy each day.

"I’ve seen them leave their small children at home alone to go out and do rock," Sergeant Ricketson of SCAT says. "I’ve seen them sell all their furniture and have their families go without food to buy rock.

"Those are the people who are the innocent victims, and they’re the reason we’re out there."

">SCAT’s presence has made some waves in Jones’ neighborhood. He says that since SCAT hit the streets, the dealers have moved off some of the busier streets and more to the side streets. They’ve also become more organized and have developed hand signals to let each other know when the officers are out. "It makes them virtually impossible to get caught," Jones says.

Catch as Catch Can

Meet 17 year old Brandon Walton. He’s one of those who did get caught. The t-shirt and sweat pants he wears now show his muscular build more than the military-style uniform he wore a few days earlier at his GED graduation. His eyes shine bright with enthusiasm for life, and he seems full of promise. He makes you wonder what he could have possibly done to land himself behind the cold steel doors that enclose him in Brazos County’s Minimum Security Jail. Plenty.

His police record, though short, is disturbingly long for someone who isn’t even an legal adult. He may not know your name, but he knows your world, and there have been places where the two different realities have crossed. Violently. At 17, Brandon has been convicted of theft from $20 to $200 and aggravated robbery. The latter charge came about after he stopped a woman at gun point at an Appletree grocery store one morning and robbed her of her car and money. His car had broken down in another town, and he needed a way to pick it up.

Then, there is this present conviction: possession of a controlled substance with intent to deliver. SCAT officers caught Walton on a day when, he says, he got careless. Normally, he leaves his drug dealing to his runners, but sales were going well, and he figured he would get in on it. A girl had approached him and offered him a trade: sex for a rock of crack. He agreed, and they went to a nearby abandoned building. But before the trade could be consummated, a SCAT officer rounded the corner and made the arrest. Flustered, Walton was not able to unload all of the crack in his possession before the officer reached him.

One of 14 children, at the age of 11 Walton ran away from home. His family life had been far from the norm in our world but, for him and others like him, it was reality. His sister had shot and killed his father, in self defense, before he was born. Staying here, there, and everywhere, on the streets or with a friend, he says, "I conned my way through the years."

He had started selling marijuana when he was 13, but after crack made its debut, he saw the easy money his friends made selling it. "They used to come over to the house all of the time and throw big wads of money on the table."

>Walton, now the father of four, had two children to support at the time and figured selling crack would enable him to give them things he never had. And, by the time his third child was born, he had a profitable organization in place. He had four runners selling drugs for him and, at one time, he says, he had six prostitutes working for him. His fourth child was burn during his present incarceration.

Now in the sixth month of his jail term, Walton is faced with time to think about his future, maybe for the first time. As Sergeant Ricketson says, the problem with people who fall into the drug scene is they live for the day. But now, Walton says he wants to go to college and get a job, maybe using some of the computer skills he has been introduced to through Brazos County’s Boot Camp program. But he knows he will have a hard time making as much as he did on the streets.

"When I think about it, I start shaking and stuff," Walton says as he crosses and uncrosses his arms and grabs at his knees. He says he’s asked his friends not to talk too much about the money and try to tempt him.

Although jail was something Walton says he was prepared for – "It’s considered to be part of the business to them," says Ricketson – Walton hadn’t quite planned on having to stay so long.

Where’s The Fire?

Occupational hazards. Talk to a local paramedic about that. The men at both Bryan and College Station’s Central Fire Stations stand ready for the worst to happen. And, when it does, they roll, uncertain exactly what waits for them at the end of their call.

Bryan Assistant Fire Chief Mike Donoho arches hi eyebrows and shakes his head with worry. "The last couple of months, we’ve had a lot of drug-related violence calls," he says. "That makes our job as a rescuer more difficult. If someone is hurt, he was meant to be hurt and stay hurt. And, if our paramedics show up to help, there’s a chance someone might attempt to injure our crews." Policy now is to wait for the police to show up on violence calls before rendering aid.

"We stay especially busy in this area of North Bryan," he adds. "We see things that we’ve never seen before." He uses the recent crack-related bludgeoning of a Bryan man and the murder of a woman who was mowed down with a car as examples. Those calls came during the same week in June.

With just two ambulances in both cities and calls on the increase, it has become a common occurrence to call on an agreement between Bryan and College Station that allows a city with all of its ambulances tied up to call the neighboring city for aid.

Occupational hazards. Talk to a local paramedic about that. The men at both Bryan and College Station’s Central Fire Stations stand ready for the worst to happen. And, when it does, they roll, uncertain exactly what waits for them at the end of their call.

Bryan Assistant Fire Chief Mike Donoho arches hi eyebrows and shakes his head with worry. "The last couple of months, we’ve had a lot of drug-related violence calls," he says. "That makes our job as a rescuer more difficult. If someone is hurt, he was meant to be hurt and stay hurt. And, if our paramedics show up to help, there’s a chance someone might attempt to injure our crews." Policy now is to wait for the police to show up on violence calls before rendering aid.

"We stay especially busy in this area of North Bryan," he adds. "We see things that we’ve never seen before." He uses the recent crack-related bludgeoning of a Bryan man and the murder of a woman who was mowed down with a car as examples. Those calls came during the same week in June.

With just two ambulances in both cities and calls on the increase, it has become a common occurrence to call on an agreement between Bryan and College Station that allows a city with all of its ambulances tied up to call the neighboring city for aid.