Decoy Police Catch Thieves and Some Flak Too

In the tunnels under Broadway, undercover officer Carlos Herrera begins his act.

He clutches a railing along a subway passage and retches over a drain, coughing up saliva colored by green Life Savers. Around his neck dangles the bait: a gold chain.

It takes just minutes for the hit. A skinny 18-year-old wearing a T-shirt and baggy running pants looks quickly from side to side, then snaps the chain.

“Police! Freeze!” shout the eight other plainclothes officers who have blended in with the crowds rushing past Herrera.

“I didn’t take nothing,” the youth protests, just as they pull the chain from his pocket.

It was bust No. 124 this year for the Transit Police Decoy Unit, whose unconventional tactics have sent hundreds of thieves to jail but have angered civil rights advocates.

In 1987, the original decoy team was disbanded following allegations that some officers collared bystanders or encouraged crimes to boost arrest totals. The district attorney’s office found insufficient evidence to prosecute the officers, but critics of the program contend that little has changed.

“To sustain itself, the unit must come up with the numbers. They have to keep making arrests no matter how questionable,” said Ivar Goldart, an attorney at the Legal Aid Society, which represented dozens of suspects who had decoy unit arrests dismissed in the mid-1980s.

But authorities contend that past problems have no connection with the new unit, re-established in August, 1991 as the only full-time mass transit sting team in the nation. They say many of those arrested are repeat criminals who prey on subway riders.

“We become the victims--not the passengers. I think that’s a lot better,” said Sgt. Thomas Downes, who heads a decoy team. “There are a lot of people out there with larceny in their hearts.”

Other team members sat on the cheap desk in their crowded headquarters, where the tan linoleum floor long ago was scuffed of its shine. The latest addition to the bulletin board was a Polaroid photo of officer Michelle Court dressed as an old woman during an attempt to catch a purse snatcher.

A small radio played ‘70s hits. “I been searching for a heart of gold . . .” cried one tune as Herrera got into character: drunk and disheveled.

He loosened his tie and wrinkled his shirt. His watch was traded for a cheap model. Decoys leave their wallets behind.

“The idea is to appear as weak and vulnerable as possible,” said Herrera. “People will come up and pat me on the back and say, ‘Hey, you all right, buddy?’ When they think I’m totally out of it--bam!--the chain’s gone.”

“Like sharks to a wounded seal,” said Detective Carl McLaughlin, a former decoy unit member.

Herrera was out for only a few minutes before the 18-year-old was arrested for stealing the chain. He was a prize catch: two previous robbery convictions and on parole for a third.

Officers say most of the suspects arrested are repeat offenders, and more than 95% plead guilty. One suspect even was arrested twice by some of the same officers.

“We said, ‘Nino, don’t you ever learn?’ ” said Sgt. John Cornicello. “And you know what he said? Get this: ‘I knew it was you guys, but I just couldn’t resist.’ Go figure that out.”

Overall, transit crime is down more than 13% for the first half of the year, officials say. There were 6,552 felonies during the six-month period, down from 7,562 for the same period last year.

Decoy officers vigorously defend themselves against the criticism that they run roughshod over civil rights and use methods bordering on entrapment.

“We’re getting crooks off the street. Am I right?” asked Officer Ken Cardone. “We don’t tell them to take the chain. Stealing is their way of life.”

Jahmel Daise is considered one of the best.

He rearranges his clothes until he’s satisfied with the look: belt unbuckled, shirt askew and sticking through his open fly. It’s a warm afternoon and he likes the way sweat beads on his forehead.

Daise stumbles down a subway ramp, swatting at invisible demons and muttering to himself. Even hardened subway riders give him a wide berth. He zigzags back up the ramp and a couple moves in.

“Mister, we’re going to help you. Hey, you, mister,” says the woman, waving over her male companion.

She takes Daise’s arm, then in a quick move plucks his watch. The man puts his arm around Daise. The chain is snapped, and the officers close in.

As she is being led away, the woman turns back to Daise, who is still in character.

“He’s a cop, right?” she says. “Come on, tell me.”