Chapter 1
Beginnings
Her mother was French-Mexican, her real father, Mexican-Irish. Anyone looking at her could see she had that unique quality which often accompanies those of mixed races. Simply, she was just plain beautiful, five-foot-five, thin waist and hips, long dark hair, and a rather large bosom.
Her father died when she was three. Her mother took her and her older brother to live closer to their family in East Los Angeles. Her mother used what little money was left from her father’s life insurance and made a down payment on a house. It was the only house Gloria Maria Martinez would live in for many years to come.
Her mother worked in food service at the L.A. County General Hospital. Her income was just enough to pay for the house and buy food for the two children.
When Gloria was eight, her mother remarried, but their combined incomes didn’t improve their situation. Gloria went through her childhood wearing whatever clothes she could find, often from the Salvation Army Store or something her mother would bring home from a friend at work.
As a child, she knew she didn’t have the things some of the other children had; but she also recognized she had a lot more than many others did.
As a teenager, she worked part time and purchased her own clothes. Still, she was very cautious in her spending, buying only what she absolutely needed, giving the rest of her money to her mother to help buy groceries and other necessities.
In the first years of her life, she was taught right and wrong by her mother and something on the line of rules from school, but had little guidance elsewhere. Gloria grew up making her own versions of right and wrong and to her credit, set very high standards for her personal conduct.
Those standards sometimes alienated her from other children in the neighborhood. Often, she wasn’t invited to the variety of parties and social events the others were.
Gloria attended public schools and made a few friends, but just as she became close to one, the friend would move away, leaving her alone in a neighborhood, where people either stayed for generations or were in and out as quickly as they could.
Early in life, Gloria turned to herself for nearly every need, including her social life. She often lived in a fantasy world. She loved old movies; especially love stories and movies starring Humphrey Bogart. She would sit and watch them on the family, black and white TV set, whenever she could.
As a little girl, she believed somewhere in this great big world there was a knight, who would come for her, protecting her from all of life’s evils. He was her one true love. Someday he would find her, taking her away to his castle, where they would live happily ever after. She kept that belief locked in a corner of her heart, forever.
When Gloria was thirteen, a local evangelistic church acquired a sizable sum of money, designated for an outreach program for children. They offered a full week at camp to any neighborhood child who wanted to go and whose parents would permit it. She saw a chance to go somewhere she had never been. The camp was located in the San Bernardino Mountains. Gloria had never been outside of East L.A.
She made new friends and had a wonderful time. During the day, they would take hikes, swim, study nature, and learn about the Bible. At night, they sat around the campfire, singing songs and telling stories.
One of the last days at the camp, she made another friend. Gloria accepted Jesus as her personal Savior. She cherished the small Bible the camp counselors gave her and used almost every nickel she had to purchase a small silver cross to wear around her neck.
Her home was just inside the Los Angeles City limits. This was both a blessing and a curse to the residents of the area. It meant the LAPD and not the Sheriff’s Department patrolled the area.
In those days, the LAPD had a reputation for good service and there would most likely be more cars patrolling your neighborhood. It also meant that should you run afoul of them and gave the slightest provocation, you would end up on the thirteenth floor of the hospital where Gloria’s mother worked, the jail ward.
In her senior year of high school, Gloria’s life started coming apart. Her mother went away for a couple weeks to help her sister, who had fallen braking her arm and hip.
One rather dreadful night, Gloria had to work late at the local fast food shop. Getting home later than usual, she had just gotten out of the shower when her stepfather arrived, drunk.
He banged on the bathroom door.
“Get out I have to piss.”
Gloria wrapped a towel around her, went into her bedroom, and began drying her hair.
A few minutes later, her stepfather appeared at the door offering her a beer. She didn’t know how to respond, but temporized by telling him she wasn’t old enough to drink.
He told her he didn’t care.
“You want a beer or not?”
Gloria declined which seemed to anger him.
“Yeah I know. You’re too good to drink with your old man. You think you’re so much better than anyone else, you, and your damned Bible.”
He grabbed her arm and with his other hand slapped her on the face. She pulled away and as she did the towel fell off, leaving her completely naked.
Her stepfather pushed her. She fell back on her bed. He stood looking at her for a few seconds as she tried to pull a blanket to cover her. He got a sadistic smile on his face.
“I know what you need bitch,” reaching to his crotch, grabbing himself, “and I’m going to give it to you real good. See if your God will help you now.”
She didn’t have a chance of fighting him off. She weighed one hundred-ten pounds, and he weighed in at over two-fifty, although a hundred pounds over weight. He worked as a mechanic his entire life and had strong hands and arms. He unbuckled his belt, and dropped his pants as he started for her.
As he bent down to pin her to the bed, she managed to roll out and while getting to her feet, pushed him away, his head hitting the plaster wall. In his drunkenness, he was dazed just enough for her to get out.
The clothes she had worn earlier were lying on a chair. She grabbed them, pulling on her blouse and pants as she ran out of the house. She didn’t stop until reaching her friend’s home, three blocks away.
Her friend’s mother called the police.
Her friend lived in the area patrolled by the Sheriff’s Department; the deputies who arrived were less than concerned. They kissed off the incident, telling the mother this was the LAPD’s problem and left.
Her friends mother was irate, but managed to keep her cool long enough to explain to the LAPD operator the situation.
Four minutes later, a Black and White from the LAPD pulled up. Two rather young, lean, but extremely professional looking officers came inside and talked with Gloria.
They phoned her mother and received permission for Gloria to stay at the friend’s house for a couple nights until Gloria’s mother could come home. They radioed for another Black and White to take Gloria to the hospital to have her injuries cared for, as well as to document them.
The officers drove to Gloria’s house. Getting no response after knocking on the door, they went in the front door. Her stepfather was nearly passed out, drunk, on the sofa.
“Police officers, we need to talk to you, get up,” the officers told him as they tried to arouse him. They began asking him questions.
The older of the two officers had three years on the department and his younger partner just over two years. At the time, their tenure made them veterans. Both of the officers were single and thought Gloria was absolutely beautiful, despite her bruises. They were a little angry that anyone could treat her that way.
“What do you want?” the stepfather asked drunkenly.
“What are you doing in my house?”
“You want to tell me how you got that plaster in your hair?” The officer asked.
“I stumbled and hit my head, so what?”
“Your daughter told us something different,” the older officer replied.
“That little bitch. She was in here screwing around with some guy when I got home, I ran him off.”
“Well, that’s not her story, and from what I see here, I tend to believe her, you’re under arrest.”
The stepfather’s story about how he caught her with a boy when he got home didn’t quite fit the evidence and his explanation for the contusion on his forehead or the bits of plaster imbedded in the injury didn’t quite seem reasonable.
“Sir,” the younger officer told him, “you’re under arrest. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
At that moment, the stepfather made the biggest mistake of the night.
“Get the fuck out of here, rookie, I’m not going anywhere,” then stepped away from the officer who was about to handcuff him.
Resisting arrest is a crime almost anywhere, but Stepdad had committed another crime not found in most penal codes. Stepdad, as the officers contemptuously thought of him, committed Contempt of cop, when he referred to them as rookies and told them he was not doing as they directed.
The younger officer reached to take him by the arm and that was it. Stepdad pulled away, swinging at him. The officer hit Stepdad on the shoulder with an open palm, spinning him around so his back was toward the officer. In a single swift move, the officer put his forearm around Stepdad’s neck, locking him up and dropping him to the floor. He applied pressure until Stepdad stopped resisting.
As he was regaining consciousness, Stepdad flopped around on the floor, resembling a chicken that just had its head cut off. Stepdad was handcuffed and taken into custody.
After a brief stop at the Hollenbeck station, to get booking approval from their Watch Commander, he was transported to Central Jail, where he was booked for felony sexual assault.
The detective who filed the case, knew the unfortunate reality even before he presented it, but he tried anyway. It angered him the public was never told how the system works.
The District Attorney claimed publicly he had a very high conviction rate. That was true of the cases he filed. The problem was, unless the case was a dead bang, sure-fire conviction, he rejected it. The public didn’t know and nobody told them.
It irritated law enforcement officers, but that was the system they had to work with.
So it was with Gloria’s case, despite the officer’s excellent efforts, the DA rejected it for insufficient evidence. The DA felt this case was one person’s word against the other. The injuries to Gloria, the lump on her stepfather’s head and the plaster didn’t matter.
The same day Gloria’s mother returned home, the stepfather was released from jail.
Gloria was afraid to go home, but had little choice. She would only be there when her mother was around to protect her.
At best, it was a strained situation; her mother couldn’t always be home. On his seemingly more frequent drunks, Gloria fled. At first, she stayed at her friend’s home, but the girl’s father felt she shouldn’t involve them anymore.
“Gloria,” her mother told her, “If I can’t be here, you can stay with your Aunt Lupe, you know where she lives. Its only four blocks from here. I talked with her; she’ll take care of you.”
“Mom, you know what Aunt Lupe is like, isn’t there something else we can do?”
But there wasn’t. Her mom didn’t want to confront her husband with Gloria around; she wasn’t completely sure who to believe. When it was necessary, Gloria would stay with her Aunt Lupe, her mother’s youngest sister.
Aunt Lupe was only sixteen when she had her first and only child, a daughter. Complications at childbirth prevented her from having more. It was probably for the best, she had been through a small platoon of husbands and boyfriends. No one could remember the father.
There wasn’t really room for Gloria at the house, a small room off the back porch with a mattress on the floor, was as good as it got.
In late November, Gloria’s mother was walking home from work when a drunk driver ran a red light. She was pronounced dead on arrival at the same hospital where she worked.
Gloria had no one to protect her from her stepfather. She bought a couple bolts for her door and took the chance, but after one rather loud drunk, she decided to get out for a few days.
He hadn’t been able to get into her room, but it was just a matter of time. She went to her aunt’s home and stayed in the back room for a week. In a vain effort to show his concern, her stepfather reported her to the police as a runaway. The next day, juvenile authorities picked her up at school and detained her at the juvenile hall. She missed work that night and her boss fired her two days later.
The environment at her aunt’s house was not exactly Christian either. Her aunt was a junkie, a heroin addict, and paid for her habit by prostituting herself to young teenage boys for $20.00 a quickie. There was always a small group of boys hanging around the thirty-year-old woman, who wasn’t all that bad looking.
Gloria’s cousin was also a druggie. She preferred pills and cocaine to heroin; she didn’t like needles. Her drug of choice was Quaaludes or just plain “Ludes” in street terms. She liked to wash them down with alcohol, preferably vodka.
She loved the attention she received from the guys, and especially liked getting high and having sex with two guys at once. She was fourteen years old.
Gloria tried to avoid being around, going to the library, or where ever she could until the partying stopped. She tried, but it was inevitable, one day she would be unable to avoid being caught up in the folly.
Her stepfather was again on a good drunk, so she went to her aunt’s house on a Friday night, just one week before Christmas. Her cousin and aunt were entertaining.
“Is that your cousin,” one of the girls at the party asked.
“Yeah, she stays here sometimes, she thinks her stepfather has the hots for her, accused him of trying to rape her a couple months ago. The cops arrested him but nothing happened.”
“She’s a bitch,” the girl replied.
“She thinks she’s so much better than everyone else.”
It was cold and raining out, Gloria had nowhere else to go. She tried to keep out of the way in the back room, but that wasn’t going to happen. Gloria’s cousin never really liked her, just like her friend, she found her to be too much a goody-goody.
Drunk and high on Ludes, her cousin started calling for her.
“Come on out Gloria, its time to party. Get out here.” She called repeatedly, joined by her friends, coercing Gloria into her vicious scheme.
She really didn’t intended for anything to happen to Gloria, but as often is the case, it got out of hand. When Gloria refused and tried to leave, her cousin grabbed her.
“Hold her, see how she likes this,” her cousin told her friends.
Gloria struggled, but the two other girls were too much for her, they also knew Gloria and disliked her.
Her cousin poured a half bottle of vodka down Gloria’s throat, while she held her nose to make her swallow. To add to the insult, she dropped in a couple Ludes. In a few minutes, Gloria would be high as a kite, so intoxicated, she couldn’t take care of herself. The girls held Gloria on the sofa until they were sure the booze and Ludes were having their effect.
One of the guests at the party was Gloria’s former boyfriend; she broke up with him after his constant sexual advances. He watched the activities with great interest. With Gloria drunk and high on Ludes, he took advantage of the situation.
“You guys leave her alone, I’ll take care of her,” he told Gloria’s cousin with a sarcastic smile.
Pretending to help, he, and two of his buddies got her into the small back room and helped her lay down, what happened next was inevitable.
Unfortunately, Gloria felt, somehow, she was at fault. To make matters worse, rumors were running wild around the school and neighborhood, telling of the conquest of Gloria, the little girl who thought she was better than everyone else. No one seemed to be outraged at the violation, most acting as if it was a good thing. Nobody even mentioned the possibility of it being a crime.
The higher standard she set for her conduct, was not something her classmates embraced for their lives, they felt Gloria should live according to theirs. She couldn’t go anywhere without someone making a snide comment or crude suggestion toward her.
She still had nowhere to go and no choice but to stay with her aunt, her stepfather was violent when he was drunk. She was afraid of him more than she was her ex-boyfriend.
It wasn’t long before her ex-boyfriend showed up, wanting Gloria. Now that it had happened, he treated Gloria as if she was his property to do with as he pleased. Gloria tried, but couldn’t avoid him. She thought about reporting the incident to the police, but after the ordeal with her stepfather, felt there was no use. It was now her word against three, and who knows what her cousin might say.
Over the next few weeks, he used her whenever he wished and treated her like a plaything. Knowing what was going to happen, she pretty much gave up resisting. Though his actions constituted rape, it was early 1971 and the concept of, “date rape,” hadn’t been widely used. The usual defense was to get a bunch of guys to say they were there also and she willingly participated with each of them.
She felt as if she lost complete control of her life. Since it was inevitable, she was to be nothing more than a sex object, she would find a way to endure it. She was completely alone, no one to talk to, nowhere to hide. Although a Christian, she didn’t attend church, and never considered seeking their help. Her cousin always had Ludes around, and one day, Gloria found a big bottle and took it.
When she found herself in a situation where she was the subject of interest to her ex-boyfriend or worse, she would suggest some booze and Ludes would make it more fun. The guys always went for it. Gloria checked out of reality with drugs and alcohol. She felt as if just over night, she had turned into a druggie and a slut.
Whenever she sobered up, which in reality was most of the time, she prayed. Gloria knew most people in crisis wondered where God was and how he could let this happen to them, not her. In a thought, extremely deep for a seventeen year old, Gloria never gave up on God. She knew he was there and she just didn’t understand his plan for her.
Two months after the rainy night party, Gloria discovered she was pregnant. She felt as if she might as well give up completely and considered suicide more than once. Overdosing on the Ludes seemed to be easy enough and she contemplated other ways to end her life, but whenever she actually tried to kill herself, something stopped her.
She wasn’t sure who the father was, but believed it was her boyfriend. Telling him she was pregnant wouldn’t do any good. After two months of using and abusing her, he had just about abandoned her.
She was walking towards her house, thinking there was nothing worse her stepfather could do to her now, and with luck, he might kill her.
Her mind was running in high gear, trying to figure why her life seemed ruined before she was eighteen years old. She didn’t notice the car, slowly approaching.
Her ex-boyfriend, was a member of a gang, and had encroached on the territory of a rival gang; a young girl was shot. She lived, but retribution was the law of these people. They recognized Gloria, as the girlfriend of their enemy and that made her a target.
She was walking along slowly, her head down trying to determine the prospects for her life. The car pulled next to her, the passenger in the back seat fired.
“Damned gun, only one barrel fired. Get out of here.”
The shooter hadn’t planned it, but only one barrel from the double barrel shotgun went off. The second barrel misfired, but a 12-gauge loaded with buckshot, is a very potent weapon at close range.
The shotgun was cut about as short as it could and still function; however, the barrels were deformed in the process. The shot spread in a flattened out pattern as it traveled the 50 feet or so before hitting Gloria. Most of the shot missed, saving her life, but enough of the lead pellets hit her in the lower abdomen to throw her to the ground. The car sped off, its occupants hoping the girl was dead.
“That was a shotgun, close too,” the senior LAPD officer told his rookie as he accelerated his car toward the sound of the blast.
Within seconds they found Gloria on the sidewalk, bleeding.
“Forget the ambulance,” the senior officer told his partner, “Were taking her our self.”
The senior officer made a decision, putting her into the back seat of his Black and White. Their usual procedure would be to call an ambulance, but they were one block from the L.A. County Hospital’s Emergency room and she was bleeding profusely.
The officer knew County was one of the best places a shooting victim could go. The place was usually swamped, but their doctors and staff had more experience caring for shooting victims than anywhere else he knew of.
They were at the hospital within seconds, pulling their car into one of the ambulance unloading spaces. A city ambulance was just packing up to leave when the Black and White stopped.
“Hey, give me some help over here,” the officer, yelled.
The paramedics responded, and immediately went to work on Gloria. The senior officer stepped back, allowing the paramedics to work.
He had nearly ten years on the department; he also had a daughter not much younger than Gloria. He was very angry about the cowardly attack on the young girl. It angered him even more he didn’t have a description of the suspects to broadcast.
He grabbed his microphone, “4A25, requesting a clear frequency for a crime broadcast,” which he was immediately given. He put out a broadcast, telling all officers in the city a shooting occurred. He continued, advising that no suspects or vehicles were seen.
To the uninitiated, this would seem to be a waste of time, but the officer knew better. First, it was a matter of officer’s safety. The shooters knew they just committed a serious crime, maybe even murder. If they happened to get stopped by a police unit, their response could be disastrous to an unsuspecting officer.
More rightly, he knew every officer in the area would be stopping gang members who happened to cross their path. He also knew they would do so with a vengeance and extreme caution. This meant the occupants of any vehicle stopped, would have the privilege of laying face down on the pavement until the police were good and ready to let them up.
Their cars would be searched, and who knows, some officer might actually find something that would cause the occupants the privilege of spending a few hours in the “Glass House,” as Central Jail was known.
“Gloria,” the doctor told her after she was moved from the recovery room, “I’m sorry, we lost the baby.
There’s something else,” he told her.
“The shot caused too much damage; you’ll never be able to have children. There was nothing we could do, I’m sorry.”
The only good news was the shot was small enough as to not leave serious scars and the doctors didn’t need to cut all that much.
She spent two weeks in the hospital, and then went back to her stepfather’s house. He left her alone for the six weeks it took her to recover.
She finally returned to school, but had a tough time catching up. Her classmates and other people in the neighborhood, avoided her as though she had some sort of contagious disease. A few weeks before the semester ended, her class advisor called her in for a meeting, as she did all potential graduates.
“Gloria, you did very well in school right up until this year. I know what happened but I can’t change things, your senior year grades will probably keep you out of college, but you will graduate. There is an option if you want it, you can repeat this semester and graduate later.”
Gloria really hadn’t planned on college, but again she felt lost. The thought of being like her aunt or her cousin made her sick, but how to get out simply escaped her. The thought of another semester in school didn’t thrill her much either.
She knew she didn’t want the kind of life she had seen so many people stuck with. The big question was how to get something different, how to get out. She saw too many people just give up and resign themselves to a life of alcohol and drugs. People with a dead end job, barely making a living and hating it.
It was Friday; she was to graduate the next Thursday. She knew her stepfather would be at work. He was still leaving her alone, but he had been getting drunk more lately and that worried her.
As she arrived at her house, she saw an unfamiliar car in front; it was new and didn’t fit in. She saw the door of the house was open, and then saw her brother inside. She hadn’t seen him in well over a year.
She went in and found he was with three men and a woman, all looking like rather unpleasant folks. The woman was hanging all over one of the men. One of the guys and her brother looked like they were high on drugs. The other man took an immediate interest in Gloria.
Her brother came home to see what he could steal to get money for whatever it was he had in mind, probably to buy drugs. When it was obvious there wasn’t anything to take, they started to leave, but the man who had taken interest in Gloria suggested she go with them. She tried to get away, but couldn’t.
“Michael please” she cried, but her brother didn’t do anything to help her. The man had her sit in the back seat with him.
“Come on baby, you and me are going to have a good time.”
One of the men drove with the woman beside him. Her brother and the other man just walked away.
In the back seat, the man sat next to her and began pawing and forcefully kissing her, he seemed to enjoy it more as she resisted. He began trying to get his hands under her clothes.
Gloria didn’t know what to do, it was obvious what he intended, and she didn’t want anything to do with it. She tried one more ploy.
“Wait, please,” Gloria, cried.
“Why don’t we stop and get some booze. I’ve got some Ludes; we can get loaded, then do it.”
The man thought getting next to this little girl, while she was loaded, would make for a very interesting evening. They went for her plan, stopping at a nearby liquor store.
She hoped to get away when they got out of the car, but the men got out, telling the women to stay put. It was apparent the woman was to keep Gloria from leaving.
“Let me see those Ludes you say you’ve got,” the woman told Gloria.
When she did, the woman took them, putting them in her purse.
“Please, I need those,” Gloria asked.
She was desperate. If she had to endure another unwanted sexual encounter, she wanted to get as far away as she could; the Ludes were her way out.
“Don’t worry about it, well get you good and wasted, but then you’re going to be in for a long night.”
The woman gave her a look and a smile as she described the evening’s events. Shortly, the men returned and they drove off.
Less than six blocks away, an LAPD Black and White began following them, the men seemed very nervous. A second police car joined and she saw a third coming toward them. The third car passed, and then made a U-turn catching up with the others, then all their red lights came on.
For an instant, they considered running, but the traffic was heavy and they saw another police car a block up. They stopped. The police ordered them out of the car at gunpoint. All four were handcuffed and taken to the police station where they were questioned individually.
The car they were driving was stolen, and the two men robbed the liquor store.
Gloria, still being a juvenile was treated differently. The officers finished their questioning. The two men were booked for the robbery. The woman was taken to the woman’s jail at the Sheriff’s Department.
As she went down the hall, she was screaming the Ludes were not hers.
“They belonged to that little bitch.”
Gloria had to stifle a smile. The woman would have let the men rape her, would have probably encouraged it, and maybe even participated in it.
The police contacted Gloria’s stepfather, but he refused to get involved. Gloria was booked into Eastlake Juvenile Hall. She spent the weekend and that Monday in the hall, on Tuesday, she appeared in court.
She was brought into the courtroom, where she saw one of the arresting officers, in civilian clothing, come from the judges chambers. The probation officer, a detective, and the judge entered right behind him.
The juvenile court room looked more like a conference room, than it did a court. The hearings, much different from those in adult courts. The judge had already discussed the case with the officers and when he sat down, he went right into it.
“Well Miss Martinez, it looks like you’ve gotten yourself into real trouble this time.”
Actually, they didn’t have much of a case at all. The only thing they had was that she happened to be in the car with the suspects. From her statements, she didn’t want to be there. There was no evidence to indicate she had any knowledge of the robbery, nor that the car was stolen. The woman was charged for possession of the Quaaludes.
None of the officials involved in this case, not the officers, detective, probation officer, or the judge, believed Gloria was a criminal. The detective and the probation officer had interviewed her at length about the crimes and her life. They knew she needed to get out of her current environment, or she would end up like so many others they were unable to help.
The principle of juvenile justice was to reform the child, so they could grow into responsible adults. It was a great ideal to strive for, but the reality was something different.
Gloria was again a victim who hadn’t done anything illegal. She would be an adult in just over three weeks, the judge felt powerless. He didn’t want to send her back to the barrio without trying to help.
On a few occasions, the judge, had sent juveniles into the military. But they were all males and the Army and Marines needed recruits. To send Gloria into the military didn’t sit well with him, he didn’t think this little girl met the profile, but what to do escaped him.
One of the arresting officers made a suggestion.
“Your honor,” Officer Hughes, suggested.
“I have a friend who is a Coast Guard recruiter, right here in the local office.” Ron went on to explain.
The Coast Guard wasn’t doing much recruiting since the Vietnam War was still going; they had all the volunteers they could handle. Nevertheless, he could get her in, especially with the help of the court.
“Miss Martinez, Officer Hughes has a proposal that might be a good way for you to get a handle on your life. I want you to go with him and check it out. If you’re not interested, he’ll bring you back and we’ll decide what to do about you then. I’d give this some serious thought if I were you.”
The judge explained the option to her and that Officer Hughes and the Detective would escort her. If she didn’t want to try this, she could come back to court and they would make the decisions then. She would need to take some tests and pass a physical exam, but that could all be done today. What the Judge didn’t tell her was the decision would most likely be to drop the charges and release her.
She went with the officers, who drove her around in an unmarked, green, four-door, Plymouth. It was the detective’s car, but Ron drove, Gloria sat in the back seat. What really surprised her was how the officers treated her.
“Before we get to the Coast Guard Recruiter, we’re going to stop and get something to eat, are you hungry?”
They took her to a local hamburger stand. It was a place frequented by cops and the owner/cook knew Ron.
She told the officers she didn’t have any money, but they told her not to worry about that.
“Three double cheeseburgers, fries, and larges cokes.” Ron told the owner. The three of them sat down to lunch.
From there, they went to the recruiter, where Gloria spent the next two hours taking written tests. As she finished each segment of the exams the recruiter graded them, she passed with very high marks.
The only problem was she didn’t have her high school diploma. The officers solved that while she was taking the exams. They went to Gloria’s school and after some convincing and by producing a copy of the court order, making her a ward of the court, they were given her diploma, but she didn’t know it.
The officer’s drove Gloria to a medical building where Gloria took a physical exam. The Coast Guard contracted civilian doctors. She was pronounced fit for duty, although he had some concerns about her gunshot wounds. They were healing fine, but it hadn’t been more than three months. He told her to watch for problems, he also noted this on the forms.
They stopped at her house so she could pick up a few things as the recruiter suggested. There she was frightened. She saw her stepfather had not gone to work, as he should have. He had to much of a hang over to make it in that day and was lying on the sofa when Gloria and the officers came in.
“Excuse me sir, Police officers, your step daughter has been made a ward of the court. We’re here to pick up a few personal items.”
Stepdad didn’t care much about anything. He was actually still drunk and just reaching the borders of getting a hang over.
“Get the fuck out of my house and take that whore with you, she’s not taking nothing from here.”
Stepdad got up and started toward the room where Gloria was packing.
“Sir, please just sit down,” Ron told him.
“We’ll be out of here in a minute or two.”
Stepdad was a slow learner. He either forgot his encounter with the officers who arrested him a few months earlier or was just too drunk to know he was making another mistake. His reply was not in compliance.
“Fuck you pig, you don’t tell me what to do in my house,” he said drunkenly as he continued toward the room.
Ron was not a particularly big man, but he was strong and he was a Los Angeles Police Officer. Ron took two steps, spun Stepdad around, pushing the back of his head into and about two inches past the plaster wall. The wall crumbled, and then Ron held him there using a technique called a C-clamp.
It’s rather simple; just grab the suspect’s windpipe between your thumb and fingers, and then squeeze. Ron held him against the wall with his right hand and the more the stepfather resisted, the more Ron squeezed.
“Its ok, go ahead and finish packing.” Ron said, as he calmly leaned around the corner, while holding the stepfather’s throat with one hand.
She just about had, putting the last of her things into a paper grocery bag. She didn’t have a suitcase.
The detective led Gloria out of the house. When they were safely past, Ron released Stepdad.
“Thank you for your cooperation sir.”
Her stepfather dropped to the floor, trying to get his breath.
On the way back to the recruiter’s office, Ron stopped the police car in front of a combination surplus and general merchandise store. He parked in the red zone, the unofficial reserved parking spot for LAPD vehicles. He asked Gloria and the detective to wait, and minutes later returned, handing Gloria a zippered nylon duffle bag.
“Here,” he said, “you’ll be able to carry your stuff better in this.”
Gloria was astonished, she had grown up in a neighborhood where the LAPD was not well liked, yet these two officers were treating her better than her own family ever had. They amazed her even more when they pulled up to the recruiter’s office. Before getting out of the car, they handed her two twenty dollar bills, telling her she would need some spending cash before she got paid. She hadn’t given any thought to being paid. Gloria thanked them for helping her.
At the recruiter’s office, they were introduced to two other Coast Guard recruiters, a man and woman. Gloria couldn’t help but notice not any of them were more than three or four years older than she was, but they all seemed quite competent and professional. Even the police officers weren’t much older, not even the detective. She was already beginning to realize just maybe there was hope for her after all.
“All we need is for you to sign a few papers Gloria,” Ron’s friend told her. “These two recruiters will take you to the Coast Guard Station at Terminal Island. You’ll be sworn-in there, need an officer for that. You’ll stay there until Friday.”
The officers said goodbye wishing her well as she got into a Coast Guard van. Minutes later, it headed down the Harbor freeway.
Gloria had grown up in Los Angeles, but never came this far south. She sat quietly in the second row of seats looking at the sights in the harbor. They passed several oil refineries, and then she saw a couple large ships, docked in the harbor. The ships looked like some kind of working vessel, with cranes and cables; she had no idea what they were.
They got off the freeway and drove across an old bridge onto Terminal Island. Driving past the Navy base, the van turned into the Coast Guard Station, the guard at the gate waved them in without stopping. They pulled into a parking space reserved for the recruiter’s van.
“It’s time to decide what you want to do,” the recruiter told her.
“If you want to be with us, you’ll need to be sworn into the Coast Guard. That means you’ll come under those different rules we talked about. It’s still up to you, but if you choose not to stay, I have to call the police officers back.”
Gloria and the recruiter walked around the base for a few minutes talking. They were offering Gloria a job and even a career if she wanted it. Just a few hours ago, her life seemed hopeless, and then suddenly, almost like a dream, she had a future. This was a life she didn’t understand, but it had to be better than what she just left. Besides she thought, she already told the officers she would give it a try.
It was beautiful here and the salt air was so different from the smog she was used to. She was barely thirty miles from her house, but the world already seemed so different. There wasn’t much of a decision to be made. She could go back to the barrio, or swear in.
The recruiter offered her either a four or six year enlistment, but suggested the four-year tour for her first hitch. A Lieutenant, a female, talked with her for several minutes and told Gloria why she had joined. She also recommended the four-year tour; she could always reenlist when it was up.
“Ok,” Gloria told them, “I’ll try the four years.”
She raised her right hand repeating the oath as the Lieutenant led her through it. She listened to every word, it seemed to be important. When they were finished, the woman shook her hand.
“Welcome to the U.S. Coast Guard.”
Gloria had a strange, but somehow warm feeling come over her. Just like that, she belonged to something.
The recruiter took her to another office, where a group of young men and women were working. Her photo was taken and identification card made. She was escorted to another building, where she was assigned a room for her short stay.
The recruiter showed her around the base and took her to the dining facility for dinner. She couldn’t believe all she had to do was sign for her food. After dinner, the recruiter showed her the day room and explained its function. There was a pool table, ping-pong, TV and sofas where a person could just sit and read, although that didn’t happen much.
“You should try to get some sleep,” The recruiter told her, “We get up at 0500, that’s 5 am to civilians.”
She also found out about her first military rule, she was restricted to base as long as she was here. She didn’t mind that at all. First, she had nowhere to go, but mainly, she was already feeling safe here, something she hadn’t felt for years.
0500 came early. Breakfast was good and again there was plenty of it. After breakfast, she stood in her first formation. She met two other recruits, both males.
After the formation, the male recruiter took the three for some informal training. He liked his recruits to look good at basic training. He would spend as much time with them as he could. He taught the recruits the basics of close order drill and looking and acting like a service member.
“Listen up,” he told the group.
“You’ll be issued uniforms after arriving at Cape May, but I want to show you how to wear them so when you get there you’ll have a head start on your careers. I’ve only been in the Coast Guard four years, and on recruiting duty for two months. I still remember what it’s like being a recruit.”
He had just reenlisted for a six-year hitch.
The day flew by quickly and at bedtime Gloria was tired, she was also feeling a little bit depressed. Tomorrow she was supposed to graduate from high school. She really wanted her diploma; she had seen so many people attempting life without one. She wasn’t sure what to do about it and thought she would ask the recruiter in the morning. She didn’t know her enlistment forms already showed her as a high school graduate.
Gloria slept well that night in spite of her concerns; it was nice to feel safe. She had her own room, but had to go down the hall to the community bath and shower; a small price she thought. Everyone here had been so nice to her and treated her like they really cared about her; she was already feeling at home.
0500, Gloria was up and ready for her second full day in the Coast Guard. After breakfast, she “fell in,” a new term for the recruits. The female recruiter “fell in” to the front of them and reported all were present.
Then, something happened that would change the way she felt for the rest of her life. The officer in charge of the formation called them to attention.
“Recruit Gloria Martinez, front and center.”
Gloria didn’t have the slightest idea what to do. The recruiter quietly told her to walk up in front of the Commander and just stand there, she did.
The Commander announced to all present, it was his privilege to present Recruit Martinez her high school diploma. He explained, somewhat jokingly, she was supposed to receive it today at the school, but she had “other commitments.” He handed her the document, shook her hand, then whispered for her to turn around. The whole formation applauded and when it died down, he quietly told her to go back to where she had been standing.
After the company was dismissed, a whole bunch of people, whom she had never met in her life, congratulated her; they were all in uniform.
The male recruiter, Johnson, then took charge of the three recruits and introduced another, this one a female. She approached Gloria, congratulating her.
“I finally got my diploma last week, it’s a long story, I’ll tell you about it one day,” she added.
She was three years older than Gloria, but they became friends instantly. The female recruiter, Yeoman Brothers, also congratulated her and told her it was the LAPD who had gotten the diploma for her. They gave it to her so it could be presented properly.
She further pondered, “I’m not so sure they didn’t have to get it at gun point, we don’t always see eye to eye with school officials.”
They spent the rest of the day training. That night they were told to get a good night sleep. In the morning they were leaving in the van for the airport and their flight to New Jersey, right after breakfast.
-----------------
At about this same time, another career was in its beginning stages. He still had a couple more months before he would complete the one-year probationary period at his new job.
His boss let him use a couple days off he had accumulated from overtime. He combined them with some regularly scheduled days off so he could get married and have a short honeymoon.
He was a Los Angeles Police Officer, a young rookie, but already a good cop. Unlike most rookies who were assigned to a basic car with a training officer, he had immediately shown potential. He was assigned to a high profile watch that worked from about six at night until three in the morning.
He already worked several special assignments people of that watch were often called upon to do.
Starting his career when he was twenty-one years old, he was one of the youngest people in his academy class. Just back from Vietnam, where he had been a Sergeant in the U.S. Army, he was selected to be a squad leader in his academy class.
The title didn’t mean much, but made him have to be sure the diamond-shaped insignia were properly placed on his collars every time he changed the highly starched, khaki uniforms.
The job did come with a few responsibilities; mostly making sure his squad was at the right place at the right time. It wasn’t a big deal, except most of his life, he tried very hard at just being one of the crowd. He was the type of person who would always sit in the back row in class, never volunteer for anything and would be the first out the door.
But his first week at his new job, he was denied his usual routine. To make it worse, he was assigned as the squad leader of the first squad of the second platoon, of a two-platoon class.
This put him right in the middle of the front row of any formation, making him the recruit any instructor saw the most, especially the physical training instructors.
Because of his position in the formation, he did every push up, sit up, squat thrust and a million other various tortures, less he incur the wrath of a PT instructor, whose job it was to dispense wrath.
But that was a short period of his life. Like everyone else who made it; he was convinced his class had it tougher than any other. That made them just a bit tougher also.
After graduation, a life long friend considered applying for the department and asked about the academy. They had been about two weeks apart at Fort Ord for basic training, so they shared a common conception of pain. He told his friend the academy made basic training seem like Boy Scout camp; his friend chose another profession.
He spent the rest of his twenty-eight year career being a good cop and raising a family.
Several of his friends at the department were also Vietnam Veterans and later joined the National Guard. They joined mainly for the fun of it, but they got a small paycheck along with the good times.
He needed extra money for a purchase he and his wife wanted to make and the National Guard seemed to be a much better choice than working off duty as a security guard.
Twenty-years later, he retired at the rank of Sergeant Major, E-9.
To Ride a hurricane
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