By Nicki Escudero
By Amy Silverman
By Brian Palmer
By Chris Parker
By Troy Farah
By Lauren Wise
By Lauren Wise
Headlines that combine the words "Desert Sky Pavilion" and "drug bust" don't create the kind of PR a new arena craves. Having your customers repeatedly identified as likely drug suspects isn't good for business, either.
Yet it's not exactly prudent, in this day and age, to be too openly critical of antidrug forces. Promoters, while supporting ultraefficient law enforcement, must express some sympathy for their somewhat pathetic patrons. "The task-force concept is well-founded," says Allen Flexer, general manager of Desert Sky Pavilion. "Drugs are illegal in our country. People shouldn't do it. It causes a lot of social ills. "But they go out looking for people. They go out looking in the wrong places. They think by definition, if there's a concert, that everybody out there is getting drunk and smoking whatever the hell it is they smoke. If you take a cross section of any general mass gathering, a small portion of those people are gonna do drugs. They could go to a Suns game and work the parking lot. They could go to a Sun Devil football game. But it doesn't make good reading.
"And the kids are pretty much defenseless. They're not a part of the establishment." This is a theory that comes up often in Do-Do discussions. "Why don't they bust a country concert or a ball game?" ask the oppressed rockers. "Why are they picking on us?" Actually, says Jim Watson, a task-force commander and lieutenant with the Phoenix Police Department, the philosophy is raw numbers. Rock shows get popped, Watson claims, merely because they draw the largest crowds. A Suns crowd or a country-music crowd probably contains a corresponding percentage of bustable hopheads, he says, but the arrest numbers would be smaller because the total attendance would be smaller, and thus not an efficient use of task-force time. Concerts are just one of the task force's many arrest opportunities, Watson says. Most efficient are undercover drug operations in neighborhoods, during which task-force officers buy lots of drugs from a dealer, then bust the dealer, then set themselves up as dealers and sell look-alike drugs to the dealer's customers, then arrest them. The cops call this technique a "reversal." Least efficient have been sweeps of Salt River tubers and recreational boaters on nearby lakes, raids which disperse the task force over too much territory to do much good. Another well-publicized approach has been to arrest people for smoking pot and snorting coke in the parking lots of bars and nightclubs. The task force's sweeps of nightclubs peaked a couple of years ago, although Watson says his people haven't gone nightclubbing in more than a year. "By September of last year we were spending a lot of time and not arresting people at nightclubs," he says. "The word was out that you don't hang around the bar parking lots smoking pot and doing cocaine." In the case of clubs, people got the message. The message, however, has been slow to arrive inside the brains of concertgoers.
One reason is that recent arrests for smoking pot at concerts buck the trend concerning appropriate behavior at such events. In fact, promoters and security officials say that it long has been policy not to arrest (or otherwise officially hassle) pot smokers inside local concert facilities, where private security forces are hired to keep order. This policy has not changed, the promoters say.