Elevating the war on speed

Thursday, April 19, 2007 | 6:54 a.m.

Frankly, catching speeders from the Nevada Highway Patrol airplane is like fishing with dynamite - sick simple.

In the cockpit, Sgt. Tony Sabino is flying while writing - while clocking speeders - while radioing two troopers positioned below. He's scanning a stretch of Interstate 15 outside Overton. He's wearing a blue pilot's jumpsuit and a black cop's belt: baton, handgun, Taser. That's just what troopers wear patrolling midair.

Sabino usually catches 10 to 12 speeders an hour. On a good day, he nabs 60 or 70 an afternoon. He flies several missions a month. You do the math.

"If it opens up in flight," Sabino says, pointing to the passenger door of this four-seat Cessna, "you're not going to fall out or anything. It will just be a little drafty."

Sabino admits it's easy to pluck speeders from the sky. So easy, in fact, that he has more work than he can handle. It's a buffet of speeders, Sabino says. "It's a blast."

"We go out there, and we have some fun."

The system for catching speeders at 1,500 feet is straightforward, although not at all straight. Sabino flies the plane in tight circles over a mile-long stretch of highway. The pilot has been flying since age 14 and doesn't get dizzy. He joined the Highway Patrol in 1996 with the hopes of flying for the department, and after pushing around a patrol car for two years, Sabino took flight. Now he tries to spend at least 500 hours a year in the air.

A white truck weaves through traffic, dodging and passing.

"Here comes another guinea pig," Sabino says.

Below, unsuspecting drivers are racing through white hatch marks the Highway Patrol has painted every quarter-mile on the asphalt. With a little math, the time it takes for a car to enter and exit a quarter-mile mark indicates the driver's speed.

Sabino can eyeball speeders but confirms his suspicion with a speed-calculating stopwatch.

When a car's front bumper touches the first hatch mark, Sabino flicks a switch on the small black device strapped to his clipboard. When the car exits the quarter-mile, Sabino flicks the switch again. A screen flashes the car's speed. If it's too fast, Sabino radios troopers waiting below.

Near mile marker 88 on Monday, two troopers take turns swooping out from under the Hidden Valley offramp. Lights flashing, they write tickets and release.

Trooper Joe Lawrence is instructed to pull over a black PT Cruiser clocked at 97 mph. There is a crucifix hanging from the rearview mirror and dents in the back bumper.

Lawrence leans into the passenger-side window and points into the air, explaining the airplane apprehension. The driver looks up and accepts a $360 ticket.

"He didn't fight me about it," Lawrence says.

There are so many speeders on this stretch of the interstate that Sabino usually shoots for only the most egregious, the people moving though the 75 mph zone at 90 or more. It's not uncommon to see people traveling at over 100, which is considered reckless driving - a $1,130 ticket.

The validity of the aerial speed clocking has been challenged in court, by attorneys who argue that the system isn't precise . The Highway Patrol hasn't lost a case yet.

"We're not in the business of being wrong," Sabino said.

Over the CB radio, troopers listen to long-haul truckers tip off one another about the air patrol.

The side of Sabino's plane reads N222HP, the last two letters standing for Highway Patrol, although the sergeant suggests instead Hot Pursuit.

Still, pilots for the law enforcement agency don't search for speeders in the air space above Las Vegas. It's too congested with air traffic - helicopter tours, four airports, aviation hobbyists and everything else that flies. That limits the Highway Patrol's three planes to more remote stretches of pavement, where drivers keep pilots busy all the same.

Sabino descends low over the troopers below and says, "This is when you get your water balloons ready."

When the planes are not used for traffic enforcement, the Highway Patrol uses them to transport prisoners, who are flown up and down the state for less than the cost of driving.

Convicts, like all passengers, either stand the small plane or get airsick. It happens often enough that Sabino has plastic bags at the ready, tucked into baby blue envelopes that say "Sic Sac" on the side.

Traffic enforcement flights - flying in circles for hours, essentially - are an assault to the inner ear.

"Don't be embarrassed," Sabino tells a reporter. "We call them souvenir bags."