Monday, Dec. 07, 1998
Busted for Possession
By TAMMERLIN DRUMMOND
Savoring the last drag of his cigarette, Josh Randall, a stocky 17-year-old Miami high school senior, nonchalantly flicked the butt to the curb. As he headed back inside the mall, four undercover police officers wearing Miami Dolphins T shirts bailed out of a black sedan with tinted windows. They wrote the teen a citation to appear in court, then ordered him to hold still while they snapped his mug shot. The charge? Being a minor in possession of one Marlboro cigarette.
Incredulous, Randall ignored the summons. Six weeks later, he got a notice in the mail that his driver's license had been suspended for his failure to show up in court on the smoking charge. Randall grudgingly paid a $53 fine to get his license back. "It's so stupid," he said, pulling the crumpled summons from his jeans pocket. "My dad had to leave work and bring me all the way up here for smoking a cigarette?"
When 46 states signed the tobacco deal two weeks ago, in which they agreed to drop their smoking-related Medicaid lawsuits in return for $206 billion from the cigarette companies, kids like Randall were a chief consideration. A large chunk of the money will be used to combat teen smoking, which, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, jumped 73% from 1988 to 1996. So a lot of attention may soon be focused on Florida, home of the most aggressive, get-tough campaign against teen smoking in the U.S.
In 1997, Florida passed a law penalizing minors under 18 caught buying, smoking or possessing tobacco. Funded by money from an earlier $11.3 billion state settlement with the tobacco industry, special police patrols now scour public parks, malls and other places where teens light up. A first offense carries a fine of $53 or eight hours of community service. Kids caught smoking a third time automatically lose their driver's license. Some 800 young smokers have been ticketed so far.
The offenders are required to attend smoking court, presided over once a month by Broward County Court Judge Steven Shutter. On a recent Monday, more than 100 teens, parents in tow, waited to plead their cases. Nerdy kids in starched white shirts and ties stood next to parents who seemed poised to throttle them. A teen with a pierced chin and purple hair sneaked out to the parking lot during a break for a quick smoke. Instead of intimidating the youths, Judge Shutter tried to keep the mood light. "Don't come back and visit," he joked to some before moving on to the next case. After meting out punishment, Shutter ordered the teens to watch a grisly video showing an autopsy on an emphysema victim.
Florida's smoking judge concedes that criminalizing tobacco use could make it more glamorous. "That's a major concern when you're dealing with people this age," he says. But even if 15% to 20% of kids are persuaded to quit, he contends, the program will be a success. "I don't know what works," he admits. "But I figure that for a teenager, losing your license is like the death penalty."
Yet many Florida teens are having trouble taking the crackdown seriously. "I got caught four times in one day," says Marissa LaMonica, 16, who has been smoking since she was 11. "It's really ridiculous." Others insist the new laws won't have any effect on them or their friends. "My parents were pissed off, but it really doesn't do anything," says Marie Hernandez, 16. "People just go behind a bush."
Indeed, a cat-and-mouse game has evolved between smoking teens and the special patrols (who cruise for smokers during overtime hours). "They 'make' the car," says an agent. "They see us coming and spread the word." Sometimes the agents double back when the kids think the coast is clear and catch them red-handed. Police cruised past a public park in Broward County one recent evening and spotted two boys swinging on a set of parallel bars. "Is that a cigarette that he's holding?" asked a sheriff's deputy. The officers approached the boys and confiscated half of a Black and Mild cigar. Jesse Lee, 13, who was holding it, got a ticket. His companion, also 13, responded by mumbling obscenities at the cops. "I could see if we robbed somebody or stole a car and killed somebody," he said. "This don't make no sense." To the antitobacco crusaders, however, neither does smoking.