Chip Atkins enjoys strolling Ybor City, from its eclectic shops in decades-old buildings to the colorful locals he meets along Seventh Avenue. The 28-year-old Brandon resident imagines himself as just one face among the thousands that visit the entertainment district every year. And he is. But Atkins is far from anonymous. As he lazily makes his way down Seventh Avenue, block by block, several eyes will watch his tall, stocky figure saunter by. When Atkins passes by Club Hedo, between 16th and 15th streets, his movements may be observed by a Tampa police officer. That same officer might see Atkins as he passes the Amphitheater. Once he comes upon Centro Ybor, stopping to smoke a cigarette, anyone with a connection to the Internet can spot him lingering. When he stops to look at the cigar shop next door to Tom Martino's mortgage company, another pair of eyes may check him out, and several more may track him as he passes by the avenue's ATMs.
By the time Atkins makes it from Seventh Avenue and 15th Street to Seventh Avenue and 21st Street, at least 18 surveillance cameras will have captured his image.
Atkins is no criminal. His profession — bartender — hardly makes him a security risk. But he's being watched nonetheless, and the thought doesn't exactly please him.
"I think it's a little excessive," he says, stopping to smoke another cigarette. "I don't really think the cameras are exposing anything that can help anyone."
Atkins is not the only one being watched. At any given time, someone, somewhere, is watching the majority of Tampa Bay residents go about their daily business — walking through downtown Tampa, driving on U.S. 19, eating lunch in a gated community's park, enjoying beer with a co-worker, buying groceries or just relaxing at a local beach. Even children, from the moment they step off school buses until their last class, are followed by school-operated surveillance camera systems. And as the technology becomes cheaper, the use of cameras to peer down at residents only seems to be increasing. Could Tampa ever become another part of Oceania, the totalitarian dystopia described in George Orwell's 1984?
Proponents of the surveillance net say it's necessary in a metropolitan area of 2.5 million to keep the peace and deter crime. Others say hogwash.
"Tampa Bay has become a model of how not to conduct surveillance," says Bill Brown, a frequent critic of surveillance cameras and co-founder of the New York City-based Surveillance Camera Players, which has mapped thousands of cameras in cities across the country for the last 10 years, sometimes giving prankster performances in front of them. "People need to educate themselves about how the cameras work, how they don't work and where they are."
In a small low-lit room, Corporal Michael Morrow's eyes dart between nine monitors. The Tampa police officer uses a small joystick on a video editing board to zoom in and out, rotate the lens and switch between the 36 cameras placed in Centro Ybor and along Seventh and Eighth avenues. It's mid-afternoon on a weekday, and there are few pedestrians to watch, so Morrow looks for suspicious characters near delivery trucks and aggressive panhandlers by ATMs. To demonstrate the power of the camera, he rotates the camera 180 degrees and zooms in on a man holding a can of Diet Coke. You can read the warning label on it.
"If it can be seen by the public, we can view it," he says. Morrow, a 28-year veteran of TPD, has worked with the cameras ever since the surveillance system was introduced in 1996. That year, Tampa became the first American city to install a permanent surveillance camera system on public streets and the target of "Big Brother" accusations from civil liberties groups across the country. Tampa hit another milestone in 2002 when it added face-recognition software to all the cameras in an attempt to identify criminals with warrants, the extension of a pilot project at the 2001 Super Bowl held at Raymond James Stadium. The American Civil Liberties Union protested the system every step of the way, as did local privacy advocates. The city abandoned the face-recognition software in 2004, after failing to catch a single wanted person through the program but triggering several false alarms.
Morrow has long since stopped explaining the benefits of the cameras to most people. "I can't change somebody's mind," he says. But to him, the cameras have a dramatic effect, reducing crime and catching criminals. Saddling up to the room's lone computer, he clicks on a saved video taken during a busy Friday night. An officer is approaching an SUV pulled over in front of Centro Ybor. A large man inside the SUV is rummaging through his glove compartment. The camera zooms into his vehicle; Morrow says the camera operator was looking to see if the man flashed a weapon. The video ends with the man receiving a ticket. While clicking through other videos showing fights breaking out in the middle of Seventh Avenue, Morrow explains that the cameras' most valuable function is to direct officers to volatile situations before they get too out of hand.
"For the police department, deployment of your men is critical," he says. "If you're able to monitor the streets by putting one person here, you don't have to put so many people out on the street."
All the video recorded from TPD's surveillance cameras is digitally rendered and kept for 30 days. Special-event videos are kept for one year. But the video taped by TPD doesn't always stay with the police; through open records laws, any member of the public can request the videos.
"I get a lot of requests from attorneys, public defenders, prosecutors and whatnot," he says.
Morrow loads another weekend video showing a young woman in a short black skirt holding a sign, directing people to a club. The camera zooms down on her, past her face and onto the sign and her bare legs under it. Morrow says this type of advertising is illegal and the video was used to admonish the club owner the next day. He dismisses any questions of surveillance abuse.
The government owns more than just police cameras. At major intersections and interstates, you may have noticed another type of camera perched atop light signals or 80-foot poles. These traffic cameras, white-and-black dome-shaped devices resembling R2D2, are closed-circuit TV cameras operated by local, county or state departments of transportation.
Pinellas County's DOT operates 23 cameras along U.S. 19 and State Road 60. Twenty-five cameras dot Hillsborough County roads. The city of Tampa maintains 33 cameras, not counting the 23 on the Crosstown Expressway. FDOT has only 11 cameras on a 9-mile stretch of I-275 between the I-4 junction and Bearss Avenue. Those numbers will increase significantly during the next three years, according to officials at each agency.
"We'd like to have a camera every mile," says Bill Wilshire, who heads FDOT's Intelligent Transportation Program that calls for cameras to line I-275 through Pinellas and Hillsborough counties, sections of I-4 and I-75 and all major roadways and intersections in between.
Officials say the cameras help identify accidents, alert emergency authorities and help the public avoid long delays.
"It's another way to help people trim their time off their travels," Pinellas County DOT traffic engineer Ken Jacobs says from a camera control room in Clearwater. "With the system we had before, we couldn't see anything. There would be an accident right here at Drew and U.S. 19, and we'd be the last to hear about it."
As far as surveillance of people or even enforcement of traffic laws, transportation officials say it's just not possible. For one, none of the agencies record the video from their cameras.
"We're only interested in real-time information," says Wilshire. "We don't care who the driver is, and we're not monitoring it to see if you're going too fast or anything like that."
Mike Scanlon, traffic design engineer with the city of Tampa, agrees.
"Just the data collection and data storage would make it impossible," he says. "These are not NASA-capable cameras. They can't read the hairs on your hand. They can't read license plates unless someone is sitting completely still. I just need to see cars moving or not moving"
Jacobs points to Florida's Sunshine Laws as another reason.
"We don't want to get into a situation where after every accident every lawyer in town calls us," he says. "That's not our job."
Then why do local governments need high-tech cameras that can pan, tilt or zoom, wonders Brown, the surveillance critic.
"If you need to passively observe traffic flows at an intersection, you don't need a camera with pan, tilt or zoom — you can use a fixed camera," he says by phone from his New York City home. "It exceeds what they're trying to do with it. If the Department of Transportation wants to see if there's a traffic jam at a certain intersection, that is OK, but it seems that they should be limited to what kinds of cameras they're using, especially if they can peer into automobiles."
Jacobs says the zoom allows them to see a half-mile down a roadway, helping them to gauge how far traffic is backed up in any one place. But he doesn't discount that as the cameras become more integrated with communication systems used by emergency personnel, the video could one day be used for enforcement.
"One of the complaints we get in terms of traffic control is not enough enforcement out in the street," Jacobs says, directing the camera operator to zoom in on cars at an intersection. "I suppose at some point in time it could be used for enforcement."
Some cities are already considering it. According to the St. Petersburg Times, a St. Petersburg City Council subcommittee has already met twice to talk about adding cameras to various city intersections that would take pictures of drivers running red lights. Redflex, an Arizona-based company specializing in the cameras, gave a presentation to the group. No proposal left the subcommittee.
Cameras are already used for enforcement at area tollbooths.
"The cameras we use are to detect violators who are trying to evade paying tolls on the Florida Turnpike," says Florida Turnpike spokesperson Joanne Hurley. She quickly adds, "We're very narrowly focused on license tags, and we discard those photos immediately if they are not violations."
But she did concede that video from other cameras located around the tollbooth plaza may be kept for a short time. Police or the courts could obtain it as part of an investigation, too. However, the public would not be able to obtain the video through Florida's open records law, she says, due to an exemption granted by the state legislature.
Even if citizens forgo their cars, Tampa's bus system won't guarantee anonymity either. Within the next year, all Hillsborough Area Regional Transit (HART) buses will have a security camera to provide protection to drivers and passengers, and prevent graffiti.
"More than anything they are meant to be a deterrent," spokeswoman Jill Cappadoro says about the $9.2 million program, which also calls for GPS systems in buses. That is in addition to cameras that already watch the city's busier bus terminals.
Although local governments have hundreds of surveillance cameras trained on Tampa Bay streets, they are a small player in the world of surveillance. Private cameras make up the majority of surveillance in any area, from thousands of ATM cameras to Wal-Mart's parking-lot security cams, which reach to the street. But just because the cameras are privately owned doesn't mean they can't be used in the public sphere.
In one of the most common and accepted examples, police regularly subpoena private security tapes to investigate crimes.
"People are always willing to give us the tapes," TPD spokesperson Andrea Davis says. "And if they're not willing to give us the tape, we can still get it through the courts."
Davis says most business owners care about the crime in their neighborhoods and will jump at the chance to help an investigation. In the past few years, private security cameras at car washes or ATMs have led to leads on top cases, like the kidnapping and murder of 11-year-old Carlie Brucia in Sarasota.
TPD robbery detectives Jeannette Hevel and Mark Dinsmore say they frequently tell business owners to install surveillance cameras for this very reason.
"It's getting a lot cheaper now," Dinsmore says, adding that a good digital system costs as little as $800. "If you don't have good video and you don't have good witnesses, you don't have a case."
But as long as you don't rob a bank or steal a candy bar, you don't have to worry about private cameras, right? Not exactly, says Richard Price.
From his second-story office in downtown St. Petersburg, Price runs a successful private investigation business. News articles and awards line the walls of his office, detailing the children and property he's recovered for his clients. As a 30-year veteran in the profession, and with several years' experience as a police officer, Price knows how to conduct surveillance. He recently wrapped up a child support case where his target claimed he was broke and could not pay alimony. Price used a special camera — the kind that can fit inside a tie or a hat — to photograph the man at a Caribbean casino with a girl on his arm and a huge stack of black chips.
"Video is great," he exclaims with a wide smile. "It tells a story. "It reads everything and makes a difference on who is lying and who is not. And it's perfect for the courts."
Although Price has been involved with high-profile kidnapping cases that have taken him all over the world, most of his local work involves domestic cases recovering property or money. Obtaining video is usually the first and last thing he does.
"In Florida we can video anything in public view without sound," he explains. "There are ways to work it legally and get what you need."
In addition to standard private eye tactics like setting cameras up in trees or conducting the car surveillance, Price says he also relies on private security cameras.
There are two ways to access private security cameras, he explains. If the video reveals a crime, he lets the police request the video. But if the video shows a more benign offense, such as lying in a custody case or slandering someone, he uses a little-known legal tactic called a "friendly suit."
It works like this: If a company will not give up a surveillance video, usually for liability reasons, then he kindly informs them he will file a lawsuit to obtain it. Once the lawsuit gets to court, Price can then depose or subpoena the records or pictures he needs. He filed three friendly suits this last year.
He describes a case involving a woman who was attempting to gain custody of a client's son. The woman had a history of DUI, but swore under oath during a custody hearing that she had stopped drinking. During his investigation, Price followed the woman into a 7-Eleven gas station where she bought two beers. (He then followed her and filmed her drinking them in her car with the son inside.)
"The police would not go and get the surveillance video, so we had to go to the courts," he says.
Once he obtained 7-Eleven tapes, he showed them in court, and his client won the case.
"The video made all the difference," he says. "She's lucky the judge didn't put her in jail for perjury."
Price shares another investigation in which a man was faxing slanderous messages about his client from a local business. The store happened to have video cameras, so he filed a suit to obtain them.
"I've never been turned down by the courts for a video," he boasts.
What's in the future? Price says smaller cameras, more satellites and, at least for him, webcams.
"Have you seen Sloppy Joe's webcam in Key West?" he asks. "Everybody wants to get in front of them. I thought, 'This would be great for domestic cases!'"
If the future is webcams, then Mark Ballance has a head start. As the owner and operator of Yboreye.com, he has more public webcams in Tampa — five — than any other citizen.
"I thought it would be cool for a little kid that couldn't come down for the parades to see them online," he says, sitting on a bench in front of his headquarters at Islands Flowers on Seventh Avenue. "I thought it was a great way to deter crime and theft, too."
Ballance began setting up webcams in Ybor City in 2004, convincing clubs and restaurants to let him place cameras in their establishments. Several of his cameras have come and gone, but three still remain along Seventh Avenue. One camera resides in the Channelside Bennigan's and another at the Cuban Club.
"I figure if I get one on every corner then maybe I can do something about the crime," he says. "Maybe I'll stop a guy from being shot or robbed or beaten up by the cops."
Ballance dismisses any privacy concerns. He doesn't tape the images — it would take too much memory, he says — and he insists people don't spend a lot of time on it.
"If you are halfway intelligent you'll only watch it for one or two minutes," he says. "Maybe a few hours if you're real lonely."
Yboreye.com receives about 100 hits a day, he claims. The site's counter displays just over 47,000 hits.
Besides Yboreye.com, other webcams have become popular in the Tampa Bay area, raising the question of whether you can ever escape someone's eye, even in remote locations. Several hotels along Pinellas County beaches feature webcams, which can be trained on the establishment's pool areas and the public beach itself.
Up until mid-2006, Tampa Electric maintained a webcam on top of its downtown building that had the ability to zoom in on individuals walking down the street. Spokesperson Rick Morera says the camera, up for nearly two years, also had recording abilities. TECO still maintains another webcam at its manatee-viewing center in Apollo Beach.
But Brown of Surveillance Camera Players has no love for webcams.
"That seems to be almost a reverse of 'Peeping Tom' statutes," he says. "A Peeping Tom cannot stand outside your window and photograph into your window, and the same thing seems to apply that someone shouldn't shoot out of a window indiscriminately for the purpose of entertaining people."
Brown's surveillance maps show only a small number of webcams. But he guesses there will be more as the technology's price lowers.
TPD's Morrow says if residents don't like surveillance cameras, they have a choice.
"Don't come down here [to Ybor City]," he says. "Don't go to the mall. Don't come to the bank. Don't go to the convention center. Don't go to the hospital. If you don't want to risk being on camera in a public street, then stay home."
Does this mean we are headed toward a society where personal privacy outside of the home is nonexistent? Where you can't go out for a beer with an old girlfriend or skip work without someone producing a tape of it? What does this mean for lawyers or reporters meeting with anonymous sources? How long will it take before all of our embarrassing moments in public end up on YouTube?
Citizens expecting reasonable levels of privacy will be disappointed. While critics like Brown liken surveillance cameras to "unreasonable search and seizure" prohibited by the Constitution, the courts have not felt the same way. In response, the Surveillance Camera Players try to spread a message: Allow people a reasonable expectation of privacy in public places under the Fourth Amendment. The group cites case law that states people are entitled to privacy, even in public places, if there is a "reasonable" expectation of privacy. Courts have already ruled that this "reasonable expectation of privacy" exists in phone booths, rock concerts and sports arenas. The SCP asks: "Why not on a sidewalk or public park?"
For those citizens not worried about the proliferation of cameras, Brown shows indignation.
"People who tend to say, 'I'm not doing anything wrong, why should I worry,' are liars," he says. "Or at least they are putting themselves on a moral plane above others. Even though these are public spaces, there are definitely areas in our cities where privacy is demanded."
Surveillance cameras afford some inarguable benefits in the areas of law enforcement and traffic control. And the idea that all of the cameras in a city could be linked together and used for nefarious purposes smacks of paranoia. But Brown says the prospect is not that far-fetched — already police, often without even consulting a judge, can persuade private security camera operators to hand over tapes. TPD's Morrow says the Mayor's Office asks for video all the time for use in zoning controversies. In an increasingly connected world, who's to say traffic cams wouldn't face the same fate?
"This isn't just a nightmare of leftists; this is a nightmare of people left, right and center," Brown says. "The person who claims to be our president has removed the constitutional requirement for habeas corpus.
"If that is possible, 1984 is possible."
Check out our guide to cameras along Seventh Avenue.
This article appears in Feb 7-13, 2007.
