They’re Nice, Polite - And In Jail

Who says kids today don’t know how to have fun?

“It’s exciting - I can’t say it’s not fun when you shoot a dude,” Kevin said, nodding his head.

He’s 17, locked up in Arizona’s Adobe Mountain detention center near Phoenix for about the 10th time.

“You get butterflies, you know, at the time. But afterward you’re happy,” he said. “It’s like a drug. You can get addicted to crime. I’ve seen it.”

At an age when most kids have seen little but TV, Kevin’s seen a lot. He’s a soft-spoken African-American youngster with a smooth face and a nice smile.

He’s also a hard-core Phoenix gang member, one of three I spoke with recently - changing their names for publication - about the scourge of juvenile crime.

I reported some of what they said on Thursday; today I share some more - not because these guys are heroes, but because they are worth listening to.

They aren’t little boys who made one mistake; a staffer called them among “the worst of the worst.” I came prepared to confront three surly young savages straight out of our urban nightmare.

Instead, I found three teenage guys. I interviewed them separately and alone except for one officer; they were friendly, polite, articulate, thoughtful and even pretty candid. Two of them automatically apologized for using bad words.

Which somehow only made it worse.

Worse to hear their matter-of-fact tales of crime and violence in a tribal society, deaf to mainstream values and parental pleading, running wild on drugs, hormones and desperation, seeking the power, status and love they’re sure the straight world will never grant them.

Like Jaime, at 16 a rising star in a large Phoenix area gang.

“I joined the gang so people would have my back (protect me),” said Jaime, a lanky kid with sleepy eyes.

“But it’s (also) about respect,” he said. “You get respect and love from your homies if you show them you’re down. When I got a gun and am with my homeboys, I got no fear of nothing.”

The third youth was Roberto, the 17-year-old founder of a small west-side gang. He, Kevin and Jaime said a lot of the same things about their experiences:

They emphasized that they chose this life, that nobody forced them.

They don’t expect to live long, and so are inclined to “get mine while I can.”

They joined a gang in search of some combination of protection, respect, money, excitement and love.

They each had parents or others who tried to help them, but they didn’t listen.

“My mom was always gone at work or at school, trying to make things better for us,” Kevin said. “I was always alone. My friends came along and said, ‘Let’s do this!’ and I did.

“Seems like when mom was trying to help me, it was hurting me more.”

They usually - but not always - attack only other gang members.

“People have this stereotype that gang-bangers go out and mess with anybody,” Kevin said. “It’s not like that. People don’t have to worry if they’re not gang-bangers.”

But Jaime said: “I got no problems with regular citizens - except maybe when I need something, like a car … “

Now they realize they don’t want younger kids to follow their example.

“I got two little brothers who love me a lot,” Jaime said. “I want to see them grow up. This is a bad life; you have money and fame, but you got to watch your back all the time.”

But all three also said many of today’s young kids are even wilder than they are.

“It’s too far gone,” Kevin said. “Today, I see 6-year-olds in my ‘hood and what they want is a gun. That’s the only way kids know how to resolve things now.”

Roberto said: “It gets worse and worse every generation; I don’t know why. I see 8-, 9-year-olds rolling joints, drinking beer, even with little .22s.

“I get mad when I see that,” he said. “The little guys should have some kind of thing … where people talk to them (and) give them a chance to see what’s ahead.”

The little guys: all those pint-sized kids. Sounds like they need a lot - of love, of protection, of guidance, of hope - that they’re not getting.

Think of them out there right now, standing off to the side, peering over the yellow crime-scene tape.

Their big eyes are missing nothing.

I wonder what’s ahead, for them. And for us.