True Crime Blog
Very few people are killed by strangers while at home with their families or even enjoying an evening out with friends. But when you stay out all night—or into the wee hours—you increase the odds of becoming a victim of violence. The older I get, the more I have come to appreciate that.
The 8200 block of South Hooper Avenue in Los Angeles was plenty wide to withstand the traffic but felt a little crowded at night when both sides of the street were lined with parked cars and Hooper Mae could be found dancing in the street, her triple-Ds untethered beneath her muumuu.
NOTHING LEFT TO PROVE is a law enforcement memoir to be published sometime in the near future. It is the story of my career as a deputy sheriff with Los Angeles County, but it isn’t just a collection of war stories; rather, it is a compelling story of pain and healing, self-doubt and certainty, love…
George Ramos is a Firestone legend. He wasn’t a gunslinger nor a valiant leader of men, he didn’t hook and book and make the streets safe for women and orphans—at least not directly. At least not usually. He was our station mechanic, one who would respond to assistance requests armed with a crescent wrench. There…
On any night in South Los Angeles, gunfire crackles against the backdrop of revving motors and booming thumps of amplified bass. But on New Year’s Eve, those nightly but sporadic—and oftentimes purposeful—volleys of gunfire, are lost in the celebratory expenditures of what some of us consider to be precious metals.
Ghettoside: A True Story of Murder in America As they walked him out of the building, Devin was back to whining. He wanted something—a soda. Skaggs turned, and for an instant, the calm, imperturbable patina he had maintained for two decades of working homicides slipped. Farell caught his look, surprised; he had never known Skaggs…
I just finished reading New York Times Bestseller Ghettoside: A True Story of Murder in America, by former Los Angeles Times reporter Jill Leovy. It is the story of homicide in South Los Angeles, more specifically the seemingly endless epidemic of blacks murdering blacks. It is provocative, brutally honest, a story I believe should be…
Mike Griffin was my first patrol training officer at Firestone Station. In the first three months, he and I would handle half a dozen murders and assist on many others. The first happened in broad daylight on a populated sidewalk of Florence Avenue in South Los Angeles. The call came out as a 245 (assault…
The late eighties and early nineties saw the height of the crack cocaine epidemic. South Los Angeles, the epicenter of it all, experienced a colossal rise in violent crime. Gang members controlled the street level sales, and they were willing to kill for their piece of the pie.