This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2008, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

This story originally ran June 8, 2008.

Ricky Jerome Green says nobody has to be afraid of him - least of all people visiting Pioneer Park.

"I don't know who created this facade that everybody down there is dangerous and is there to take your money," Green said from a seat in the Salt Lake County jail.

But to many who live in and visit the neighborhood, Green and others like him are a problem. The 36-year-old is chronically homeless, drug-addicted and helps others buy drugs in the park. Officers who have repeatedly arrested Green know him by name.

For half a century, Salt Lake City has debated how to fight crime in and around the 10-acre plot that was home to some of the first Mormon settlers.

Police and city planners now say crime eradication will come through gentrification as more park visitors, improvements and events push criminals out. Others argue the roots of crime in the Pioneer Park area are a lack of social services and a justice system that doesn't have enough resources to deal with people like Green.

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Bringing more people in: On a recent Friday night, a 48-year-old woman stood on the grass median on 400 West screaming in a pair of jeans and a bikini top. Her threat: She was going to kill everyone in Pioneer Park.

Police know her as "Lark," a homeless woman who frequently visits the park. An officer on patrol asks her why she's shouting but quickly realizes she is drunk.

Sgt. Clark Amott said alcohol is as common a problem as drugs in the park. A state liquor store is a block away, and Amott, a 13-year veteran, swears he can tell what brand of vodka a person is drinking based on his or her behavior.

Lark was arrested - marking the 16th time since 1991 she has been booked into the Salt Lake County jail.

Salt Lake City police Lt. Mike Ross, who oversees narcotics detectives, joins Chief Chris Burbank and city planners in saying arrests alone will not curb crime at the park. Ross said police find less crime in Pioneer Park during the farmers market and concerts held there.

"The longer we can keep legitimate use in the park, the less problems we have down here," Ross said during a recent walk in the park.

Rick Graham, the city's director of public services, said the city is focusing on bringing more people and events into Pioneer Park. Hours have now been extended to 11 p.m.

"This park is more than a downtown park," Graham said. "It has to be a community park."

As the owner of a condominium overlooking the park and as chairman of the Downtown Community Council, Christian Harrison said he is skeptical of the new park hours. He likes the broader strategy of bringing more people to the area.

Recently he has seen women jogging as they push strollers in the park, people playing with their dogs and the scene that makes him most enthused: children playing.

"We need to capture that enthusiasm [for the park] and translate it into something long term," Harrison said.

In some ways, Pioneer Park is catching up to changes in the neighborhood around it. After police handcuffed Lark, three women appearing to be in their early 20s walked past in cocktail dresses and heels, heading toward The Gateway mall.

Unfair blame on homeless: Once dominated by railroad yards and Greek and Japanese families, the neighborhood around Pioneer Park has become a chic spot for urban dwellers.

The Gateway development has extended downtown further west. Condominiums in the blocks around the park are selling for $282,000 on average, according to Urban Utah Homes and Estates. And a hub connecting regional rail and bus lines just 2 1/2 blocks from the park is expected to be a depot for 2 million commuters a year.

But the area is still home to charities assisting the homeless.

Homeless people are often unfairly blamed for the area's drug problems, said David Thurgood, who recently retired after 22 years with the Salt Lake City Police Department. Now he is the program manager at Bishop Weigand Resource Center, which sits across from the Road Home shelter and provides meals, showers and other assistance to the homeless.

While many of them use drugs, he said, few sell. Homeless people know possessing or selling drugs in the Road Home or nearby facilities will get them thrown out.

"I really doubt the dealers are staying at the Road Home or eating our lunch every day," Thurgood said.

Thurgood insists the park is a safer place and less of a drug haven than in the 1990s, when he says undercover officers would go into the park and have five or six people rush to sell them heroin or cocaine. He would like to see more additions to Pioneer Park, including store fronts, to discourage crime there.

Even so, Harrison thinks Pioneer Park gets a bad rap, in large part, only because crime there often occurs in plain view.

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Boosting social services: A rare but high-profile outburst of violence for Pioneer Park came in October when a man who recently had been living around the park stabbed two people, killing one of them, before he was shot by police.

Since then, police have conducted undercover drug purchases and strict enforcement of the trespassing and loitering ordinances around the park. A November operation resulted in 658 arrests or citations, and an April sting netted another 257.

In publicizing the results of the first sweep, some law enforcement officials made clear they weren't sure how much good it would do. A review shows at least 14 people, including Green, were arrested or cited in both the November and April operations.

Salt Lake County Sheriff Jim Winder cited a lack of jail space that prevents authorities from keeping frequent lawbreakers incarcerated.

"I'll go out on a limb and say [the sweeps have] almost a negative effect," Winder said, "because you're demoralizing the police, you're demoralizing the citizenry down there because they feel like the police aren't going to be effective. The criminal element doesn't have much of a deterrent, and you're throwing a hell of a lot of money at this."

The Salt Lake County jail offers a substance-abuse program in which inmates receive counseling for eight hours a day for three months, plus outpatient treatment when they are released from jail. That program can accommodate only 64 men and 32 women.

Patrick Flemming, director of the Salt Lake County division of substance abuse, said many inmates want residential drug treatment because it can be counted toward their jail sentences. But it's about a four-month wait to enter public-run residential drug treatment facilities in Salt Lake County.

Salt Lake City Prosecutor Sim Gill advocates a systematic approach to crime in Pioneer Park and throughout the city, crime often linked to substance abuse and mental illness. He suggests boosting the number of people who can enter mental health and drug court programs, where defendants are provided an opportunity to have their criminal charges reduced or dismissed in exchange for entering intensive, court-overseen treatment.

"If we think we can arrest and prosecute our way out of this situation, we're greatly mistaken," Gil said.

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Skepticism abounds: Over the last 15 years, Green has cycled through drug use and incarceration, racking up three felony convictions - two drug-related - and seven misdemeanors.

He became a regular in Pioneer Park beginning in 1997. The drugs were plentiful there and cheaper than anywhere else in the valley, said Green, and he earned money or drugs by acting as the middleman for those who wanted to buy.

One by one, Green rejects common suggestions for improving the area.

Move the liquor store and drunks will just walk farther to buy booze, he says. Filing restraining orders preventing criminals from returning to Pioneer Park won't work because no judge will be there to watch them, he says.

Move the homeless services?

"All you're going to do is move us somewhere else."