Corruption in the New South Wales police has become legendary and, despite valiant reform efforts, the poison of drug dealing continues, as BILLY ADAMS reports.

When a royal commission was set up to investigate corruption within Australia's biggest police force, cynics suggested finding the cops who weren't bent would be the real challenge.

The subsequent inquiry laid bare a rotten culture that exposed police involvement in, among other things, drug trafficking and violent crime.

Four years later, after a huge shake-up, the British copper brought in to clean up the mess maintains New South Wales police is a changed organisation.

But a sensational new case in Sydney has highlighted the tough task still facing its commissioner, Peter Ryan, and brought back stark memories of the now legendary inquiry headed by Justice Wood.

This week the Police Integrity Commission (PIC) was told that some of its officers effectively ran the illegal drug trade in one part of Sydney.

The witness box was filled with a series of dealers who claimed crooked detectives had blackmailed them and stolen their illicit goods and cash.

Coming from men of questionable character, the truth of their testimony might be questioned. But in this case it has been backed by hundreds of hours of secretly recorded conversations featuring police and dealers, the result of a marathon undercover investigation codenamed Operation Florida.

The names of two plain-clothed officers - Detective Senior Constables David Patison and Matthew Jasper - came up most frequently. They operated out of the station in the beach suburb of Manly, but catching criminals appeared to be far from the top of their priority list.

The commission was told that for eight years they, along with their supervisor, Sergeant Ray Peattie, ran the drug trade on the affluent North Shore.

They demanded bribes in exchange for downgrading charges. And dealers were "green-lighted" to continue their activities if they paid weekly protection money.

Vincent Caccamo, who is believed to be one of the North Shore's biggest heroin suppliers, first met Patison and Jasper early last year when they came looking for him over outstanding drug supply charges.

He says they stole $A24,000 in drug money from a friend, and took a further $A8000 from a bedroom before arresting him on the earlier supply charge.

Caccamo claimed the officers arranged bail for a bribe of $A10,000, and later offered to drop the supply charge from 1.5kg to 42g for a payment of $A80,000. They would allow him to continue selling drugs if he also paid them $1000 a week.

In an 11-month period Caccamo estimated he paid the two officers $92,000, but couldn't be sure of the exact amount. "I gave them so much money that I really can't remember."

It was a source of frustration captured by police tapes as Caccamo complained about the bribes to an acquaintance.

Caccamo: "I said [to the detective], 'Look, if I was doing the business that I was doing back then I'd pay you two grand a week and I'd make two grand a week, right?' I said, 'But I'm not doing it'.

"But he doesn't believe me. He goes, you know, 'If you don't sell half an ounce a day, I'll cut your dick off.' Every cent I make f ... in' goes to them."

A: "You're gonna have to renegotiate it with'em."

Caccamo: "Twenty-eight grand they've got off me already. No wonder I'm f ... in' so behind in my bills and shit."

While Caccamo did nothing to disguise his discussions, the detectives, unaware they were being overheard let alone filmed, were more slippery in attempts to disguise their conversation topics.

They reverted to fishing terms. A "slimy mackerel" referred to $A1000, "tackle" was smaller change.

Not content with their drugs dealings, the commission was told they arranged meetings between dealers to increase business.

A cannabis dealer - codenamed B5 - who was also on the detectives' pay roll had lost his supplier. So the officers introduced him to Caccamo. At a meeting arranged by the police, B5 discussed the racket with Caccamo and his acquaintance.

B5: "I was gonna, you know, just completely quit. But he's given me the green light. He'd let me know if anyone around my area would get done."

Caccamo: "You either pay him or you gotta quit cause he will pinch ya."

A: "It's like paying rent, it's like having a shop and paying rent, that's all it is."

B5: "Being taxed, tax. Ya reckon I'm all right paying two grand a month? I mean, I can afford it, I can afford it."

A: "You're laughing, mate. That's chickenfeed."

C: "I'm paying a grand a week."
 
B5: "That's a lot, f ... , he's making heaps."

B5 came to Patison and Jasper's attention in a raid on his home last May. As officers burst in he threw 1.8kg of marijuana into a neighbour's yard. There was $A40,000 hidden in a dirty sock in a laundry basket.

But he received only a small possession charge. The reason revolved around a conversation which B5 claims took place in the car.

"We can either split the money four ways, you will get some back," Patison allegedly told him. "Or we can go back and you can get arrested for the marijuana in your next-door neighbour's yard."

His share, $10,000, was given back when he was being driven home.

Another raid a few months later, on the dealer's car, yielded a haul of $A12,000 of drugs and $A31,000 in cash. But this time it was properly confiscated, thanks to the presence of "honest cops".
But Patison allegedly told B5 the money could still be retrieved, and put him in touch with a long-time friend, solicitor Martin Green.

The meeting was taped and played to the commission which heard that Green was party to a scam to produce false receipts that would indicate the seized money was not criminal proceeds.

B5 is said to have turned informer when the detectives made further bribe demands.

Similar patterns ran through the testimony of other dealers who gave evidence about officers from Manly and other commands on the North Shore.

One security guard working at last year's Olympics was found with more than 10 boxes of steroids.

On the journey to the station a listening device picked up Patison saying that he had found $A30,000 in a bedroom drawer, but had left it there.

"What I'm trying to say to you is that we'll be fairly negotiable with all this too," Patison told the suspect. "We can write a lot of this stuff off ... "

The dealer was charged with possession, rather than supply, of restricted substances. After being granted bail he was driven home, where police returned some of his steroids and took $A23,000 from the bedroom. He later pleaded guilty and received an 18-month good behaviour bond.

Caccamo, who has allegedly been a heroin user since 1985, is in jail today facing several charges, including supplying 1.5kg of heroin and 1kg of marijuana.

He claims Sergeant Ray Peattie first stole from him in 1989, a bribe apparently used as payment to downgrade a supply charge to one of possession.

When asked to explain how he knew one dealer was on the pay roll of police, he replied: "He's been dealing for 20 years, open house. You can't do that without protection."

Jasper and Patison, who were arrested and charged last December with soliciting bribes of more than $20,000, are two of six officers named as being involved in the activities being considered by the commission.

Twenty-two people have been summoned to appear at the hearing, including a suspected corrupt detective turned informer - codenamed M5 - who has been operating undercover since 1998.

There is little doubt that the bad apples stretch far beyond the tranquil surrounds of the northern beaches.

The Wood Royal Commission's findings in 1997 of widespread corruption throughout the NSW force merely confirmed the huge problem that many had long suspected.

The burgeoning drug trade of the past 30 years has provided ample funds with which to lace the greasy palms of susceptible and unscrupulous cops.

They reaped the rewards of the bribes, and often used information from their dealer to quash competition. That had the added bonus of keeping arrest rates high.

The establishment of the PIC commission was just one part of a shake-up aimed at rooting out not only hundreds of corrupt officers, but a mindset which saw nothing wrong with the corruption in the first place.

Removing the old guard has been far from easy. Last year a PIC audit found that internal police investigations are "biased", and pursued with less vigour than criminal investigations. Another audit of the service said that while "some real progress had been achieved", the reform process was "systematically limited", fragmented, patchy, slow and in some areas had come to a complete halt.

Ryan rejected the findings, arguing the service was a changed organisation. But while he admits weeding out corruption could take a generation, he believes the success of Operation Florida - which is expected to continue through most of next year - proves police are on the right track.

"I mean, this is terrible, but it's choices they are making," he told the Australian Broadcasting Commission.

"All the systems and procedures in the world and supervision in the world isn't going to stop these people doing that.

"It is almost like they are traitors in our midst, they are giving up the police service, they are giving up their colleagues to the hands of criminals. They are embarrassing us beyond belief."