better option. It wasn’t something we were trying to avoid. It was the light at the end of the tunnel. The headlights of an oncoming train.
It took about a year for that train to catch up to Uncle D.
He got busted for possession, and not long after he was locked up, I was arrested myself. Not for counting his money. Or crossing the border with drugs in a trunk. Or for sneaking my homies into the law office most nights. No, the train that came barreling down the tracks at me had big-ass lights. I was arrested for attempted murder.
3
Felon
was hanging with a bunch of idiots, four guys named Dante, Lewis, T.J., and Bernard. These were friends of mine. At least, I thought they were. We were all young, not out of our teens. I was eighteen, Bernard and T.J. were seventeen, and Lewis and Dante were nineteen. Dante and Lewis had the ugly habit of robbing people. That was their thing. Not mine. I had saved enough money working for Uncle D. that I didn’t need to rob anyone, and even if I’d needed the money, I wouldn’t have robbed someone for it.
The only reason I ran with Dante and Lewis was ’cause they had a truck. I had a 1978 Monte Carlo that was a piece of shit. It used a broomstick as the stick shift, and I had to crawl out the passenger-side window ’cause neither door would open, and the window on the driver’s side wouldn’t roll down. The car looked like it had survived a demolition derby. It wasn’t street legal, so having access to wheels via Dante and Lewis was a plus.
One night, the guys picked me up at the law firm. We had our usual boardroom meeting to discuss the night’s party, but I didn’t know that Dante and Lewis had been on a robbing spree for the past couple of days. I got in the car with them, and we started our usual shit, hanging out, chasing women. It was a typical night until Dante and Lewis decided to drive to an area called Southgate.
Dante and Lewis had attitude problems. They’d gangbang on anyone they saw, without thinking of the consequences. There was a guy there, from a Southside gang, the East Coast Crips. I didn’t know him, but Dante did. He started an argument with the guy. After the gangbanger walked off, Dante turned around and robbed an innocent bystander just for the hell of it. I was in the truck, looking at Dante, thinking, “What an idiot. We’re in the middle of the fucking street. Why would he rob someone in the wide open like that?” Next thing I knew, the gangbanger had come back with his crew. Ten of them. Dante was so busy beating the bystander, he didn’t even notice.
There were five of us: me, Dante, Lewis, Bernard, and T.J. We were outnumbered two to one. We got into it. Right there, in the middle of the street. Dante drove a green, old-style Chevy truck with a mattress in the bed, and it was loaded full of guns. That was how we always rolled. Next thing you know, one of the Crips pulls out his gun. They did not realize our firepower. I was standing on the bumper and when they started shooting, I jumped and hit that mattress and grabbed my guns. We shot back. It was just
bang-bang-bang-bang-bang
.I don’t know how many shots were fired. I had three guns. I was shooting a .25, a .32, and a .22. It seemed like an eternity passed.
The Highway Patrol just happened to be driving down the street when they heard the shots fired. They hadn’t been called. What the hell the Highway Patrol was doing on a side street, I don’t know, but here they came. Bernard and Dante took off on foot, but T.J. and Lewis jumped in the truck and we took off in a high-speed chase. They clocked us at 110 miles per hour. I was being bounced around the back of the pickup truck like a fucking Ping-Pong ball. The Highway Patrol called in reinforcements, and then we were being chased by the LAPD and the County Sheriff’s Department. I couldn’t see nothing at all. I couldn’t get a grip on nothing. I was being tossed back and forth, but nobody was shooting at us, so I thought
It took about a year for that train to catch up to Uncle D.
He got busted for possession, and not long after he was locked up, I was arrested myself. Not for counting his money. Or crossing the border with drugs in a trunk. Or for sneaking my homies into the law office most nights. No, the train that came barreling down the tracks at me had big-ass lights. I was arrested for attempted murder.
3
Felon
was hanging with a bunch of idiots, four guys named Dante, Lewis, T.J., and Bernard. These were friends of mine. At least, I thought they were. We were all young, not out of our teens. I was eighteen, Bernard and T.J. were seventeen, and Lewis and Dante were nineteen. Dante and Lewis had the ugly habit of robbing people. That was their thing. Not mine. I had saved enough money working for Uncle D. that I didn’t need to rob anyone, and even if I’d needed the money, I wouldn’t have robbed someone for it.
The only reason I ran with Dante and Lewis was ’cause they had a truck. I had a 1978 Monte Carlo that was a piece of shit. It used a broomstick as the stick shift, and I had to crawl out the passenger-side window ’cause neither door would open, and the window on the driver’s side wouldn’t roll down. The car looked like it had survived a demolition derby. It wasn’t street legal, so having access to wheels via Dante and Lewis was a plus.
One night, the guys picked me up at the law firm. We had our usual boardroom meeting to discuss the night’s party, but I didn’t know that Dante and Lewis had been on a robbing spree for the past couple of days. I got in the car with them, and we started our usual shit, hanging out, chasing women. It was a typical night until Dante and Lewis decided to drive to an area called Southgate.
Dante and Lewis had attitude problems. They’d gangbang on anyone they saw, without thinking of the consequences. There was a guy there, from a Southside gang, the East Coast Crips. I didn’t know him, but Dante did. He started an argument with the guy. After the gangbanger walked off, Dante turned around and robbed an innocent bystander just for the hell of it. I was in the truck, looking at Dante, thinking, “What an idiot. We’re in the middle of the fucking street. Why would he rob someone in the wide open like that?” Next thing I knew, the gangbanger had come back with his crew. Ten of them. Dante was so busy beating the bystander, he didn’t even notice.
There were five of us: me, Dante, Lewis, Bernard, and T.J. We were outnumbered two to one. We got into it. Right there, in the middle of the street. Dante drove a green, old-style Chevy truck with a mattress in the bed, and it was loaded full of guns. That was how we always rolled. Next thing you know, one of the Crips pulls out his gun. They did not realize our firepower. I was standing on the bumper and when they started shooting, I jumped and hit that mattress and grabbed my guns. We shot back. It was just
bang-bang-bang-bang-bang
.I don’t know how many shots were fired. I had three guns. I was shooting a .25, a .32, and a .22. It seemed like an eternity passed.
The Highway Patrol just happened to be driving down the street when they heard the shots fired. They hadn’t been called. What the hell the Highway Patrol was doing on a side street, I don’t know, but here they came. Bernard and Dante took off on foot, but T.J. and Lewis jumped in the truck and we took off in a high-speed chase. They clocked us at 110 miles per hour. I was being bounced around the back of the pickup truck like a fucking Ping-Pong ball. The Highway Patrol called in reinforcements, and then we were being chased by the LAPD and the County Sheriff’s Department. I couldn’t see nothing at all. I couldn’t get a grip on nothing. I was being tossed back and forth, but nobody was shooting at us, so I thought
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