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Brothels ply a seasonal business in Hillsborough

Deputies have raided five houses of prostitution since September in operations that parallel picking season.

TAMPA - They traveled a long way to become prostitutes.

Denise Collazo-Tejada told authorities she was working in a restaurant in Atlanta. One night last year she went to a Hispanic nightclub, where a woman named "Becky" told her she could make $1,000 a month working as a prostitute in Florida.

It wasn't much money, but for some reason, the 29-year-old woman said she was interested.

Before long, someone handed her a plane ticket to Miami. A man picked her up there and drove her to a run-down house in Wimauma, where she made $10 for each man she had sex with.

Eugenia Diaz-Nova was 44-years old and working in New York when she heard the same tale: Go to a particular hotel in Miami. Someone will pick you up. You can become a prostitute and make money.

She flew down, found the hotel, met the cab driver she was told to meet. He drove her more than 250 miles to a house in a quiet Hispanic neighborhood in Dover. She paid him $200 for the trip.

The story of these two women, which turned up in sheriff's reports and court documents, offers a glimpse into a business that investigators say thrives in Hillsborough County each picking season - brothels that cater to migrant workers.

Sheriff's deputies have raided five such houses since September, and they seem certain that more exist.

From the street, the prostitution houses look like any other home.

But behind each set of doors exists a distinct set of characters, with distinct roles. Each has a strict protocol and charges similar prices.

Still, plenty of mystery remains about who's behind it all.

Guillermo Azize, a trim, gray-haired 76-year-old man from Kissimmee, delivered the condoms.

He told deputies he would traverse Florida in a borrowed car and make his deliveries to various prostitution houses.

But he was in the wrong place at the wrong time on Sept. 12 when Hillsborough sheriff's deputies raided a brothel at 3269 Hillsborough Road, a fenced-in double-wide home in Wimauma.

According to sheriff's reports, each house had characters like Azize.

There were men like 29-year-old Javier Ruiz, who told investigators he was working construction when a guy named "Dennis" promised he could make $300 a week running a brothel.

At most houses, the manager collected the money from the male customers, or "johns," who then chose the women they wanted.

In some cases, the men paid $20 for the service. More often, they paid $26 - $25 for the sex, $1 for the condom.

There were people like Jorge Cruz, 21, who served as a lookout at a house in Dover, authorities say.

Then, of course, there were the prostitutes.

Every customer they saw handed them a ticket. At the end of the week, they traded in their tickets to the house manager for $10 each.

According to sheriff's reports, the women worked at each house about a week before being transported to a new location to start all over again.

For all their similarities inside, the Hillsborough brothels looked entirely different from the outside.

One was a Ruskin apartment sandwiched between a coin laundry and a game room. One was a fenced-in, single-wide mobile home in Plant City with sheets for drapes.

A couple were down dirt roads. Several sat in residential neighborhoods. One sat near a Tampa apartment complex.

But nearly all had this much in common: They were located in heavily Hispanic communities. Most were run-down or dilapidated. Most sat near fields where migrant workers labored.

Deputies said they appeared most active during the picking season, September to April.

"That's the high time for these houses to operate," said special operations Sgt. John Herring, who oversaw the investigations. "But there are some that are all yearround."

Between September 2002 and April 2003, Hillsborough deputies arrested 18 people at the five homes they raided. That included only the people working there, not the johns.

It's not surprising that prostitution is prevalent within migrant communities.

A Yale University study published in January highlighted the psychological factors that migrant workers face: isolation, stress, loneliness, boredom, cultural dislocation, separation from loved ones, crowded living conditions. Prostitution and alcohol abuse serve as escapes from such everyday stresses that bombard migrant workers.

The Hillsborough brothels also had this similarity: The women working as prostitutes chose to be there.

"They come on their own free will and know what they are getting involved in," Herring said. "That's the first thing I always ask. Every one we have (raided) over the years has been the same. It's not like they are coming here and being forced into prostitution."

Finding the brothels and shutting them down has been tough.

"It's hard to go by and say, "That looks like a house of prostitution,"' Herring said. "They can be in houses, in mobile homes. They spring up in various locations."

He said deputies count on neighbors to alert them.

"Someone's got to let us know," he said. "We could drive by there all the time and wouldn't know what was going on unless a local citizen calls."

According to sheriff's reports, deputies closed down the houses by sending in a wired informant to pose as a john. The informant would say he wanted sex, hand over the fee and - just before the act took place - signal for deputies to raid the home.

It did the job, at least temporarily. But records show none of the 18 people arrested are still in jail. Some were released within hours.

Even after their court hearings, most escaped with probation, then vanished like smoke. Hardly anyone who lives at the houses now claims to know them. And every phone number they gave authorities no longer works.

"They're never seen again," said Herring, adding that deputies have had only one repeat arrest in years of busting the brothels.

He agrees that there probably is a mastermind behind many of the brothels. He has heard rumors, which also appear in reports, that a man in the Dominican Republic oversees the houses.

But between the language barrier and the transient nature of the migrant population, proving that has been nearly impossible.

Neighbors near the brothels say they are glad the raids happened.

"No more of that kind of business here," said Irinel Jaimes, who speaks no English. He and his wife, Soledad, operate a pool hall and small restaurant and live in a walkup apartment beside one of the old brothels.

"Fortunately, all of that is gone."

Neighbors near other houses, who declined to be quoted, weren't so optimistic. Some said they believe the brothels will return.

- Times researcher Kitty Bennett contributed to this report.