‘Dirty’ Cop Risks Life, Image to Unmask Gang : Chicago: Detective was so tainted that fellow officers he once considered friends reported him to Internal Affairs. But Internal Affairs knew all about him--and savored his successes.

For three and a half years, police Detective Bobby Drozd roamed the city’s wretched back alleys, accepting firearms, money and favors from the drug lords who laid claim to a forlorn pocket of urban America.

Drozd was dirty; so dirty that cops who were once his friends reported him to Internal Affairs. But Internal Affairs knew all about Bobby Drozd, a burly officer who was risking his life and reputation to bring a gang of thugs to its knees.

“This guy is brave,” said his partner, Ronald Korzeniewski. “To me, it was unreal that he would walk into the dark by himself, that he would have the courage to walk out and deal with these guys.”

On April 20, about 100 Chicago police officers and federal Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms agents rose early to put the “Traveling Vice Lords” out of business.

Twenty-one gang members were indicted on federal firearms and narcotics delivery charges and charges of conducting a criminal enterprise. If convicted, 14 face life in prison. Seven other gang members face state drug and gun charges. All but two, who remain at large, have pleaded not guilty.

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On West Flournoy Street, April 20 meant the end to a block that operated like a bank drive-through for illegal drugs.

“It was drive-up service,” said an ATF officer who worked on the investigation and asked to remain anonymous. “Sometimes it looked like Sox Park was letting out. There were no race barriers, no sex barriers. They sold drugs to everybody.”

The locale was well suited for dealing drugs. Easy access from Interstate 290 made the three-block trip into what is arguably the city’s worst slum more palatable for city residents and suburbanites alike.

The one-way street also meant easy control for lookouts, who would shout “five-oh,” then walk toward the approaching police car to alert their gang colleagues of the officers’ direction.

Crumbling brick apartment houses, an outdoor “antique” store overflowing with worthless junk and an outdoor auto parts store made ducking police an easy game.

It was an atmosphere that festered openly and profitably, capturing up to $30,000 a day in heroin and cocaine sales until Drozd (pronounced “Drohz”), assigned to the city’s gang investigations unit, began the methodical work of shutting it down.

In July, 1991, a gang member offered Drozd a shotgun if he would steer his fellow officers away. In that simple move, the 20-year police veteran saw an opportunity.

“They figured if they could buy me, I would take care of them,” said Drozd, who took the gun directly to his superiors, along with a plan to infiltrate the gang’s top echelon, a time-consuming and dangerous occupation.

Chicago police asked federal ATF agents to join the investigation, since federal guidelines provided the possibility of much stricter sentencing.

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For the next 40 months, while fellow officers continued routine arrests in the area, Drozd played the part of cop on the take. To better fit the role, the paunchy officer went unshaven for days on end and rarely bathed. His wife, also a police officer and wise to her husband’s investigation, sometimes asked him to sleep on the couch.

“There were times when he wasn’t too pleasant to be around,” the ATF officer acknowledged.

Borrowing an idea from a television cop show, Drozd threw candy and food wrappers on the floor of his unmarked squad car to make it appear that his dedication to his job had faltered.

“Bob gave the impression his life was falling apart,” said Korzeniewski, who also knew the truth. “They figured he was a mess.”

So did some of his colleagues, who told their commander Drozd was corrupt.

“I took the complaints and said I’d forward them to Internal Affairs, but IA already knew all about the investigation,” said Cmdr. Donald Hilbring.

Drozd, now on another investigation, was always aware of the danger and prepared to think fast. He wore a wire in his jacket to record his dealings, and once, when a gang member asked to search him, threw the jacket to the ground in feigned disgust to avoid detection.

“Sometimes,” Drozd said, “I could hear my heart beating boom, boom, boom.”