THE ORDER IS GIVEN
While the truce between the Crips and Pirus was happening, the Latino gangs were still at war with each other. Most of the ones in Southern California followed the lead of the so-called Mexican Mafia, aka La eMe (“The M”), a network of Latino prison-based gangs known to be the most powerful within the prison system.
All the gangs aligned with the Mexican Mafia adopted the number 13 (“M” was the thirteenth letter of the alphabet) added to their set name to show their allegiance. These gangs shared drug profits, did hits for the Mexican Mafia, and abided by their rules. The gangs that didn’t do so could see their members “greenlighted” - killed in prison or the streets by the gangs loyal to La eMe.
Around this time there were several meetings of Latino gangs taking place in the Compton and Los Angeles area. La eMe had a new set of rules to be implemented. Effective immediately, all Latino gangs were ordered to do the following:
- Black members who claimed Latino gangs were to be removed.
- All taggers had to join a local Latino gang or leave the area.
- There were to be no more drive-by shootings. All shootings had to be walk-up and there were to be no innocent victims as collateral damage.
- All neighborhoods shared with Black gangs were to be taken over by any means necessary.
- All narcotics dealers in the neighborhood were to be taxed.
The prison gangs had an astonishing amount of power over the street gangs, but there was logic to their ability to control the streets from behind bars. Most gang members were criminals, many of who were often caught and sent to prison. Choosing to ignore the orders of the Mexican Mafia could work for a little while on the outside, but once a gang member was arrested and sent inside, they had to deal with the prison gangs. That’s when the reckoning would happen. There was nowhere to hide.
Latino gang member.
Latino gang members and graffiti.
This edict by the Mexican Mafia would introduce a very violent time for law enforcement that still continues two decades later.
In Compton, every area claimed by a Black gang had always been shared with a Latino gang. Blacks and Latinos had lived side-by-side in the city, growing up together, going to school together. The same applied for members of their gangs. They shared the same turf. Black gangs and Latino gangs sold drugs on the same street. This had been going on since the early seventies with few conflicts. Occasionally Black and Latino gang members would have beef, but it would be quashed quickly by the OG’s and the Veteranos.
Latino gang graffiti.
It didn’t take long for the Mexican Mafia’s new orders to hit the streets of Compton. The first real drama began between the Setentas, who were the Compton Varrio 70’s (the CV70’s, also called the Seven O’s), and the Acacia Blocc Crips. Both gangs had turfs in the middle of the city, just south of the Compton police station. The Seven O’s were a large Latino gang formed in 1970, thus the “70” in their name. When the Mexican Mafia’s edict was handed down, the Seven O’s told the Black gangs they had long shared the turf with to get out. They were going to take over the neighborhood and the drug market.
The Acacia Blocc Crips were also well-established and didn’t take well to being told to give up their share of the drug game. Violence commenced immediately. Fighting. Shooting. Suddenly these two groups who had grown up together and shared the same neighborhood were now killing each other.
***
One afternoon, Tim and Bob were patrolling the neighborhood south on Acacia from Alondra. As they passed Raymond Street, they saw Seven O’s gathered in the 200 block. This wasn’t unusual. It was their hang out. Tim and Bob continued one block south, past Reeve Street. There they saw a large group of Acacia Blocc Crips hanging out in front of a house. It was the home of G-Ray, one of the most notorious gangsters in Compton. G-Ray had already killed two Seven O’s who tried to sneak up on him and shoot him while he was in his own yard. Those two Seven O’s bodies were found with guns in hand. G-Ray claimed self-defense. No other witnesses came forward, so G-Ray got away with both killings.
Tim and Bob had dealt with G-Ray throughout their careers. The two dead Seven O’s were not the first time his name had come up in relation to murders. It was well-known that G-Ray was not afraid to pull the trigger and Tim and Bob had arrested him many times.
G-Ray was a tall Black man, around six feet, with a strong medium build and big infectious smile. He was quite charismatic and very well-spoken. G-Ray always carried a gun and never fucked with the police. He would run from them, but never fight. Despite all the arrests, Tim and Bob had a good rapport with him.
Once G-Ray was hanging out on the corner with several of his homies when Tim and Bob pulled up. No one ran, so Tim and Bob got out to talk with them. It was during the feud between the Acacia’s and the Seven O’s. G-Ray was cool as they talked.
After chatting for a few minutes, Tim asked him, “You don’t have any guns on you, do you?”
“C’mon, Blondie,” G-Ray said. “You know I got one. It’s in my back pocket.”
Tim pulled a 9mm semi-automatic handgun from G-Ray’s back pocket.
“C’mon, Blondie! C’mon Ladd!” he said, frustrated and more than a bit pissed. “You know I need this for protection! The Seven-O’s are always trying to kill me.”
He was right. They were.
Tim and Bob took the gun that day, but didn’t arrest G-Ray. Not arresting him could be hard for some to understand. Here was a known killer and Tim and Bob had the chance to take him off the streets, but that wouldn’t have solved much. Plus, G-Ray could have run from them when he first saw them. He could have shot them if he’d wanted, but he didn’t. He was straight up with them, admitting to having the gun when asked. That kind of forthrightness meant a lot in the streets. It meant there was mutual respect.
So now, many afternoons after the gun incident, here Tim and Bob were patrolling the neighborhood, having first seen the Seven O’s gathered at their hangout on Raymond Street, and now seeing the Acacia’s posted up at G-Ray’s house. They knew both groups gathering didn’t bode well.
Tim and Bob continued to cruise the neighborhood with the intentions of coming back around to check on them again. After about ten minutes of patrolling, they headed back to see how things were with the Seven O’s and Acacia’s. They were driving west on Tichenor Street toward Acacia. Tichenor was two blocks south of Reeve Street, where G-Ray lived.
As they approached Acacia, a large Buick with about four Seven O’s inside was driving north very fast. Tim and Bob raced after them, and as they turned onto Acacia, they saw G-Ray and his group of about ten Acacia Blocc Crips standing on the northeast corner of Acacia and Reeve.
As the Buick entered the intersection, a yellow school van with about twenty special needs kids on board was also entering the intersection. The Buick slammed into the school van.
Tim and Bob drove up and hopped out of their car. The four Seven O’s in the Buick jumped out and ran right into the thick of the G-Ray and Acacia’s and started swinging. They all fought, right there in the middle of the street. The Seven O’s Tim and Bob had seen hanging out on Raymond Street earlier heard the crash and rushed over, joining the melee. The scene was pure mayhem.
Several of the special needs kids who’d been in the school van were wandering in the street, injured and bleeding. All the while, twenty plus gang members were going at it, and it was guaranteed there were guns among them.
Racist CV70 graffiti.
Racist graffiti targeting Latino gangs.
They radioed for help, then joined in the fighting. One of the gangsters tried to run past Tim. Tim stuck his arm straight out to the side and clotheslined him. The guy’s feet flew up in the air and he landed on his head. Tim and Bob ran into the throng and started swinging batons, their fists, flashlights, anything to stop what was happening. The fight felt like it went on for at least five minutes and didn’t stop until the sound of approaching sirens grew closer. Then both sides dispersed, taking off in all directions. Once the troops arrived, Tim and Bob looked at each other, catching their breaths. They couldn’t begin to figure out how they were going to explain what had just happened. They had seen a lot in their careers, but this was one of the craziest things they’d ever experienced.
***
The violence continued to escalate between the Acacia Blocc Crips and the Seven O’s. Graffiti began to appear around the neighborhood that chronicled their conflict. The Seven O’s tagged walls with the words “Fuck Niggers.” The Acacias responded with walls tagged “Fuck Tacos.”
Their gang beef had turned into a race war.
***
One Sunday afternoon, two Seven O Veteranos, Boxer and Bull, were driving in their Chevy Impala. They pulled up to a mailbox at Tamarind and Alondra to drop off mail they were sending to some homies in prison.
A maroon van pulled up alongside them. The van’s side door flew open and two Acacia Blocc Crips jumped out holding AK-47’s. According to witnesses, the two men walked up to the Impala and shot Boxer and Bull at point-blank range, instantly killing them. Boxer and Bull’s bodies were riddled with bullets. Brain matter was splattered everywhere. It was a bloody, horrible scene.
Acacia Blocc Crip graffiti taking credit for the murders of CV70 Veteranos Boxer and Bull.
Tim and Bob handled the case and ended up arresting two Acacia Blocc Crips. Their only eyewitness was a scrawny woman who was a heroin addict and knew the two suspects from the neighborhood. She turned out to be a terrible witness. She was high during the trial, and was sick and going through withdrawals just prior to her testimony. They lost the case. To this day, then-District Attorney Phil Glaviano still makes fun of Tim and Bob for bringing him a heroin addict as a witness. He still remembers her, but he was to be commended for attempting to make the case with her as a witness. Many other D.A.’s wouldn’t have even tried.[21]
***
The feud between Latino and Black gangs continues today, having branched out to many other gang feuds in Compton beyond just the Seven O’s and the Acacia Blocc Crips. Violence upon violence, a seemingly endless cycle.
This violence, spurred on by the Mexican Mafia, had all begun right after the L.A. riots. People had been outraged that fifty-four murders had occurred as a result of those riots. They were outraged at the assaults on innocent citizens, and over the thousands of buildings and structures that were burglarized and burned to the ground. The outrage was palpable. It was outrage born of that verdict. And even though the chaos was over, the fires had been put out, businesses were trying to recover and regroup, and a gang truce had happened, people still wanted someone held accountable.
Enter the F.B.I., which started the ball rolling to assuage that public outrage and find accountability, someway, somehow. They indicted the L.A.P.D. officers involved with the Rodney King beating. Most cops felt this was double jeopardy - trying someone for a crime for which they’d already been tried and acquitted - all because the verdict in the earlier trial had been so devastatingly unpopular.
While this was going on, the leaders of the so-called truce between the Crips and Pirus were making appearances on television demanding that jobs and money be filtered to their cause… “Or else.”
A task force of L.A.S.D., L.A.P.D., Long Beach P.D., Inglewood P.D., Compton P.D., and the F.B.I. - along with the District Attorney’s Office and the State Attorney’s Office - was formed to investigate riot-related crimes. Tim was sent as the representative from the Compton P.D. This was his first task force, and he learned that it was a lot of “hurry up and wait.”
Tim divided his time between his regular job of investigating ongoing shootings and murders in Compton and conducting investigations for the task force. Thousands of hours of video were reviewed. Hundreds of gang members and others were identified in numerous crimes. Many arrests were made. A good number of those arrested appeared in front of a Long Beach judge, who decided to give everyone probation.
That pretty much ended the task force.
The F.B.I. hung around for a while, though, seeking a joint investigation into a murder in Compton during the riots of a Korean businessman. The Compton P.D. gang unit assisted with what they could, but at the time were very limited because the unit consisted of just Tim and Bob. The truce between the Crips and Pirus was over and shootings and murders were once more on the rise.
One day, several F.B.I. agents came to the gang unit office wanting to canvas an area in Fruit Town. They wanted Tim and Bob to go with them, but the two were overwhelmed investigating several gang shootings, with more shootings coming over the radio. One of the F.B.I. agents grew impatient and kept interrupting as Tim and Bob tried to coordinate responses to the ongoing shootings. The phone kept ringing and they kept answering, while simultaneously manning the radios. The impatient agent wanted them to stop to accompany them as escorts. The F.B.I. agents were all armed, but they felt they needed someone to watch their backs, even though it was daylight.
“Don’t be scared,” Tim said. “You’ll be okay. We’ll give you a radio.”
“Can we borrow your raid jackets?” the agent asked.
She meant the jackets with “Compton Police Department” on the back. She was worried that the F.B.I. raid jackets they were wearing wouldn’t get any respect in the streets.
“No,” Tim and Bob both replied.
“It’s the person, not the jacket, that commands respect,” said Bob.
The impatient agent and the others left the gang unit office in a huff.
Tim and Bob never saw them again.