Annotations for Subject-headings: Weapons

In Los Angeles, the Latino community suffered heavily and has still not recovered from the effects of the disturbances of April of last year. Latinos are half of those who live in the areas most affected by the disturbances. A third of those who lost their lives in the violence were Latino. Hispanic men made up more than half of those arrested and 40% of the businesses damaged in the riots were Latino owned. Reporter Alberto Aguilar recently visited one of the hardest hit Latino neighborhoods in South Central Los Angeles. He prepared this report.

[Faint voice in the background]

Very little has changed in Pico-Union, west of downtown Los Angeles in the last year, since hundreds of small and large businesses were looted. Here at the swap meet, the radio may be playing happy rhythms, but to the residents of the mostly Latino neighborhood, the road to recovery has been anything but happy.

Nosotros perdimos todos los negocios que teníamos. Teníamos tres negocios en la Union y todo fue perdido…[transition to English dub] We lost all our business. We have three little shops here and everything was lost, and we haven't really been able to recover anything.

María Elena Mejia sold children's clothes at the swap meet. The single mother of two teenage girls lost her life savings when the old theater, that housed dozens of swap meet stalls, was set on fire.

Lo que a nosotros nos ayudaron de parte del gobierno de la ciudad solamente fueron tres meses de renta. Lo que nos quedó a nosotros de eso solo fueron como… [transition to English dub] What the city government helped out with was three months’ rent, and after that, all we had left of our investment of five years was something like 14 or 10 dollars. I don't even remember now. We suffered so much because you know, being without work in this country is hard, and we were left without work and without anything… [transition to original audio] trabajo, porque nos habíamos quedado sin trabajo y sin nada.

This was a gift by a student, but it's called The Day that Los Angeles Cried, and you have an angel trying to turn off the fires and slow down the riots and above the Angel…

Mike Hernandez is a member of the city council. His district includes Pico-Union, the area hardest hit by the riots of '92.

Pico and Alvarado, for example… it’s one corner where we had the four corners demolished by fire. And so, in terms of intensity, it was the hardest hit area in the city.

What has happened since then? And a lot of people are now saying that perhaps the City does not have the leadership to bring the city of Los Angeles to where most people want it to go?

I think if you talk about community leaders, if you talk about the organization leadership, they very much want to bring the city together and start improving. If you talk about the political leadership, I think the political leadership hasn't displayed that well. They're out of touch with what's really going on in the city. See, the city of Los Angeles is not just the buildings. A lot of the buildings destroyed were empty. What the city of Los Angeles is, it's people from all over the world, and what we got away from is building people.

The building involves encouraging people to become citizens. Hernandez estimates this process can take as long as 10 to 15 years. He also says the City has to improve the educational level of city residents.

Over the age of 25, we have 2.1 million people. 900,000 cannot claim a high school diploma, and of the 900,000; 600,000 cannot claim a ninth-grade education. So that's 150% of the entire student body of the LA Unified School District. So, we have a tremendous amount of building of people to do.

[Transitional sounds]

Those who work with the residents of Pico-Union agree with Hernandez about the work that remains undone.

We're seeing families with multitude of problems… economic, social, relationship problems…

Sandra Cuevas works with battered Central American women in South Central Los Angeles. She has seen a decrease in the social services available to people in the area's hardest hit by the destruction. Despite all the publicized good intentions, little action and little resources are being allocated to the solution of the root causes of poverty and unemployment.

There seems to have been a lot of lip service. Little committees forming coalitions, but when you look at Rebuild LA, you have people that are coming from outside the community, very removed from the reality of Los Angeles and particularly of South Central and Pico-Union, that have excluded Latinos, by and large.

Cuevas is not the only Angelino critical of Mayor Tom Bradley's effort to bring back the city from massive destruction. His Rebuild LA has been described as a misguided effort to create job opportunities according to county supervisor Gloria Molina.

Very frankly, I don't want to be critical. I think they're doing their own thing, but I think that the mayor missed the boat in the beginning. I think he could have called many of us together to sort things out because it isn't just in South Central, it's throughout the community. And it isn't just a corporate effort and isn't about giving. It's about putting together a lot of institutions that have been unjust to minority segments of our community. And it isn't going to happen by a corporation coming together and putting together programs. It's about making the system much more responsive to the needs of people in this community.

I’m a member of the board, but it's hard among 80 people. A lot of those are corporate people and I’m… I guess, the only immigrant, it's really hard sometimes.

Carlos Vaquerano is one of a handful of Latinos on Rebuild LA's board.

We need to not only to rebuild LA physically, but to rebuild the soul of the city, the soul of people here. We need to make changes in terms of our morality, political changes, because that's one of the main issues in the city. Not only the city, but in the country.

[Transitional sounds]

Police helicopters assist uniformed officers on the ground in the search for gang members in the Pico-Union district. Longtime resident, Raúl González has been in this blue-collar neighborhood for 20 years.

It's kind of scary going out lately. Plus what you hear on the news and people… after the rioters start getting guns and bigger guns and you know what's going to happen in the street. Now you have to carry your own gun for protection… and you have to be careful lately…you know. And it's terrible, it is terrible because we are not supposed to be like this.

Um…but if everybody's armed and everybody's afraid…um…. what are you going to do?

Well, you know…to tell you the truth, if you're carrying a weapon, you have to know how to use it and when to take it out.

In Los Angeles, I'm Alberto Aguilar, reporting for Latino USA.

[Transitional Music]

May I present Gloria Romero: She played a vital role in the police reform movement in Los Angeles in the wake of the Rodney King beating. The title of her talk is Todavia Ando Sangrando: A Chicana's Perspective on the Fires This Time…Gloria.

[Clapping sounds]

April 29th, 1992, less than three hours after the verdicts were released, I stood at the intersection of Adams and Hobart in South Central LA. In reality, I stood at much more than the intersection of Adams and Hobart. I stood at but one of many intersections of race, class, and gender in America. Breathing in all I saw, even as light dimmed on America, the reaction in my guts at the intersection of life in America in the shadow of lies of an afterlife as light faded out on America, felt like the full velocity of the bricks hurled through the pane of that liquor store, which on an hourly basis, markets pain to Black and brown men and women in south central LA. Addiction, alcoholism, unemployment, a 50% dropout rate, incarceration, but a chance to win the lotto.

We stood at the intersection on April 29th in an America that has bled for too long, from too many unjust verdicts that Simi Valley merely symbolized, any one of which could have sparked fires at any intersection in America. And I believe a riot takes place on a day-to-day basis in LA, but nobody notices. Todavia ando sangrando, even as our trial continues.

This is Latino USA, a radio journal of news and culture. I'm María Hinojosa. Today on Latino USA, what it's like to be Latino and gay.

It's very, very difficult just to be lesbian or gay and be Latino, but I guess that at the same time, it's very beautiful.

A conversation with a music man named Dr. Loco.

We decided to take a cultural position in saying, “we're pochos and proud of it.” You know, somos bilingües. So what?

And a commentary from the streets.

I can't join a crew. I just renounced one, but I've got to protect myself. So the only thing left for me is to get a gun, or is it?

All this, here on Latino USA, but first: las noticias.

Bullets, guns, violence, and gangs are a fact of life for an ever-growing number of young people in this country…white, Black, Asian, and Latino. Many Latino kids know this reality only too well and too early in their lives. John Guardo, who came to New York City when he was 12 years old, was a member of a crew for most of his teenage life. Crews are what gangs are called in New York City. Now, Guardo is trying to leave that life behind, but as he tells us in this commentary, leaving his crew may be easier than escaping the violence of the streets.

Last night, I was speaking to my girl on the phone, telling her how bad things were getting around my block and that I decided to buy a gun. She got mad, raising her voice and asking me, "How could you be that ignorant? You know what would happen if you got caught with one?" I said to her, "Yo, I ain't going to be carrying it around and showing it off. Imma keep it at home in case someone tries to break in or mess with my family." She got quiet then.

I was searching for a better answer. I realized what a vicious cycle I was willingly getting into. You see, around my neighborhood, things ain't no joke. I'm a former gang member, so I know what dangers roam the streets. Drug dealers, stick-up kids, crackheads, the whole nine. A glance is reason enough to get jumped. Having outgrown that lifestyle, though, I'm trying to live a regular life, working and going to school. Unfortunately, that also means my family's been taken off the untouchables list. We have all become prey to these urban predators.

Now, under this new set of rules, what am I to do with this trouble? Call the cops? Ha! No one I know, including myself, would do that in case of an emergency. In my eyes, cops are more interested in filling their quota than in serving their community. Dialing 911 has simply become taboo. At this point, I am sandwiched between two problems. Number one, I don't trust the police. The only times they've been there for me was to ram flashlights into my skull while cursing me out. If not that, they've stopped me in front of my building to frisk me as my neighbors watch. Number two, if I remain vulnerable for too long, something bad may happen to my loved ones.

What can I do? I can't join a crew. I just renounced one, but I got to protect myself. So the only thing left for me is to get a gun. Or, is it? You see, I really believe if the cops got their act together, there wouldn't be so much static in the streets. What I mean is not that we lack police presence but that it doesn't matter if there's cops in every corner when they're going to be there to magnify the distrust we already have for them.

Policemen should figure out who the real criminals are, I know, and go after them instead of treating all of us like such. They're the ones who have to change since the problems of the street are always going to be there; there's always going to be crime, and we need protection. These issues may be the bigger picture, but I'm still unable to answer my girl. Every day, I have to deal with these problems, and although I may forget about them, what worries me is that it might be one of my friends who falls into the cycle and goes out to buy the nine. In street slang, that's a nine-millimeter handgun. I'm John Guardo, speaking for the street.

Bullets, guns, violence, and gangs are a fact of life for an ever-growing number of young people in this country; white, African-American, Asian, and Latino. Many Latino kids know this reality only too well and too early in their lives. John Guardo, who came to New York City when he was only 12 years old, was a member of a crew for most of his teenage life. Crews are what gangs are called in New York City. Now, John Guardo is trying to leave that life behind, but as he tells us in this commentary, leaving his crew may be easier than escaping the violence of the streets.

[Hip hop music]

Having outgrown that lifestyle though, I'm trying to live a regular life working and going to school. Unfortunately, that also means my family's been taken off the untouchables list. We have all become prey to these urban predators. Now, under this new set of rules, what am I to do with this trouble? Call the cops? Huh, no one I know, including myself, would do that in case of an emergency. In my eyes, cops are more interested in filling their quota than in serving their community. Dialing 911 has simply become taboo. At this point, I'm sandwiched between two problems. Number one, I don't trust the police. The only times they've been there for me was to ram flashlights into my skull while cursing me out. If not that, they've stopped me in front of my building to frisk me as my neighbors watch. Number two, if I remain vulnerable for too long, something bad may happen to my loved ones.

[Hip hop music] Last night, I was speaking to my girl on the phone, telling her how bad things were getting around my block and that I decided to buy a gun. She got mad, raising her voice and asking me, "How could you be that ignorant? You know what would happen if you got caught with one?" I said to her, "Yo, I ain't going to be carrying it around and showing it off. I'm going to keep it at home in case someone tries to break in or mess with my family." She got quiet then. I was searching for a better answer. I realized what a vicious cycle I was willingly getting into. You see, around my neighborhood, things ain't no joke. I'm a former gang member, so I know what dangers roam the streets. Drug dealers, stick-up kids, crackheads, the whole nine, a glance is reason enough to get jumped.

What can I do? I can't join a crew. I just renounced one, but I got to protect myself. So the only thing left for me is to get a gun. Or is it? You see, I really believe, if the cops got their act together, there wouldn't be so much static in the streets. What I mean is, not that we like police presence, but that it doesn't matter if there's cops on every corner when they're going to be there to magnify the distrust we already have for them. Policemen should figure out who the real criminals are. I know. And go after them instead of treating all of us like such. They're the ones who have to change since the problems of the street are always going to be there. There's always going to be crime and we need protection.

These issues may be the bigger picture, but I'm still unable to answer my girl. Every day I have to deal with these problems. And although I may forget about them, what worries me is that it might be one of my friends who falls into the cycle and goes out to buy the nine. In street slang, that's a nine-millimeter handgun. I'm John Guardo, speaking for the street.

The recent murder of a Roman Catholic cardinal in Guadalajara, Mexico is being linked to a gang in San Diego. Law enforcement officials say at least six members of the Calle Treinta gang were the hired killers for a Tijuana drug cartel led by the Ramon Arellano family. From San Diego, Marie Araña has more.

Cardinal Juan Jesus Posadas Ocampo and six other persons were accidentally killed when gunmen hired by a Tijuana drug cartel mistakenly opened fire on the cardinal's limousine. Law enforcement officials say that members of the Calle Treinta gang were hired by the Arellano brothers to kill a rival drug lord, Joaquin Chapo Guzman. Guzman was believed to be the target when Cardinal Posadas was shot last May 24th. For Latino USA, I'm Marie Araña in San Diego.