The worst phone call of my life 12:14 PM

People always talk about having a heavy heart. But when your city-issued police car has just been stolen by gang members, your heart isn't just heavy, it's beating your stomach into a pulp. I felt sick, nauseated, full of dread.

I asked the principal to borrow his phone.

"Hey, Lt. A. Cecelia Martinez and Flaca Hernandez just stole my car."

"Where are you?"

"Sunrise Alternative School."

"Which way were they headed?"

"South on 14th East."

"You drive the blue Lumina, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, you sit tight. I'm going to send a couple of guys over to pick you up, and we'll get your car back. You and I will talk when you get back to the office."

I sat on a hard wooden chair in the principal's office like a misbehaving school girl, trying not to cry.

I wondered if I'd lose my job. At the least, I was pretty sure I was going to get written up.

What would the guys say, when they picked me up? They already thought I was ridiculously idealistic, and wasting my times with these kids--who were going to prison for sure.

The 20 minutes I waited for the detectives seemed like forever.

Finally, a sleek green Taurus pulled up in front of the building. I reluctantly abandoned my chair, walked outside, and climbed into the back seat of the car.

Detective Young, who was driving the car, turned and smiled a sarcastic smile at me. "Heard you got stranded, Archuleta," he said. His partner for the day, Detective Dan Rosenberg, shook his head at me: "I told you that you were going to get in trouble transporting those kids."

There wasn't much I could say. I leaned my head against the soft upholstery and looked out the window as we headed south on State Street.

"They've recovered your car," Detective Young told me. "And, they're holding the girls. You have to go identify them and pick up your car."

"That was fast," I said.

"Yeah, when police cars are stolen, we take that pretty seriously," Rosenberg said. "We had a description and they were going straight south away from the school. Easy to find."

In minutes, we'd pulled up behind a couple of marked police cars with their lights still flashing red and blue. They were sandwiching my Lumina. Two other Tauruses, that belonged to detectives from the gang unit, were parked nearby.

Cecelia and Flaca were leaned against my car, handcuffed. Detective Young walked me forward to where they were standing. "Are these the girls who stole your car?" he asked.

"Yes," I told him. The girls avoided looking me in the face, and kept their attention riveted on the ground.

"Do you have anything to say to Ms. A?" he asked the girls.

They said nothing.

He told the girls to get into the back of the patrol car. The patrol officer opened the door, and the girls slid across the hard plastic back seat. The officer closed the door, got into the driver's seat, and pulled away.

No Joy in the Ride 10:45 AM

Cecelia - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

I talked with Cecelia the following day by phone. I'd spoken to her probation officer, and could report the following:

Her probation officer had been notified while visiting the school that Cecelia had been suspended. The probation officer immediately notified the judge that Cecelia had violated her probation status. A bench warrant had been issued for her arrest, requiring her to appear before her juvenile court judge for violation of probation.

Cecelia sat in silence after I gave her the update, on the phone. I could hear her breathing, but not much else.

Finally, she said, slowly and meaningfully, "Daaaammmn. So, whuz gonna happen?"

I told her that if a police officer happened upon her (a not unlikely scenario), she would be arrested and taken to detention.

Or, she could take matters into her own hands, and turn herself in. By doing so, she could make the case to the judge that although she'd had difficulties at school, she was making a serious effort to own up to the consequences of her action and follow through.

She was unpersuaded by my logic. Voluntarily going to detention? Yeah, right.

"I dunno, Miss A. I don't think I want to go to DT. It sucks bad in there."

"One way or another, C, you're going to wind up in there, anyway."

"Yeah, but it could be months before I get caught."

"Months that you won't be in school, won't be getting an education, and will be sitting in your mom's house bored out of your mind, hiding from cops, worrying every time you go on the street, and living in constant paranoia, knowing that it's hanging out there, waiting for you, when you least expect it."

"Yeah. That's true."

"I'll go with you. I'll take you there. I'll call the judge, and I'll explain what happened."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" she asked me.

"You know I would," I told her.

"Would you do something else for me?" she asked.

"Maybe. What is it?"

"Would you help me get enrolled in another school before we go to DT, so I can tell the judge I did that, and I can start going to school as soon as I get out of DT?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'll do that," I told her.

"Would you do it tomorrow?" she asked.

"Okay, we'll do it tomorrow. I'll pick you up at 9:00, first thing in the morning. We'll go to your school, and then we'll go to DT and you can turn yourself in."

"Okay."

After I got off the phone, I went to the Lieutenant and cleared my plan. It sounded crazy to him, but if a gang member was going to peacefully respond to a warrant, well, that was okay with him.

"Just be careful," he told me.

The next morning, at 9 a.m. exactly, I pulled up in front of Cecelia's weathered green house. She was standing outside, waiting for me, but she wasn't alone. At her side was Flaca, dressed identically to Cecelia in a white t-shirt, oversized dickies, and g-nikes. Both girls had their hair slicked back into ponytails.

Cecelia climbed into the front of the car, and Flaca slid into the back seat.

"Flaca wants to go to Skyline, too, Miss A," Cecelia told me. "We both want to go to the same school."

"Doesn't Flaca already have a school she goes to?" I asked.

The girls informed me, in unison, that Flaca wasn't in school yet, and wasn't registered to attend anywhere.

"Well, okay. Is Flaca okay with going to DT, too?"

Flaca's eyes got very wide, and she sat up towards the front seat. "What? Why are we going to DT? I don't wanna go to DT!" she screeched.

I looked at Cecelia, who was suddenly slouching in her seat.

"C, didn't you tell her what the plan was?" I asked.

"No, MIss A. I didn't tell her that part."

"What part," Flaca said, belligerently. "What part didn't you tell me?"

"Cecelia has a warrrant for her arrest for probation violation, and she's going to DT after she registers for school."

"Sheeettt, Cee Cee, what are you thinking?" Flaca asked.

"I just have to get right with Judge V, and take care of my shit."

Flaca sat back, closed her eyes, and ignored us the rest of the way to Sunrise Alternative School. She was clearly pissed.

When I pulled into the school parking lot, Flaca refused to leave the car. She was so annoyed with Cecelia that she clearly didn't even want to register for school now. She sat, arms folded across her chest, and stated that she'd wait for us in the car.

I looked at my purse on the floor of the car. For a second, I thought, "Maybe I should take it inside." Then, I asked myself, "Will Flaca think that I don't trust her, or maybe that I think she'd steal from me?" I made a decision and left my purse lying there.

Cecelia and I went into the school, met the school secretary, and were ushered into the principal's office to discuss her enrollment at Sunrise. The principal's office was wide and bright, with a large plate glass window that faced the street, behind his back.

As the Principal explained the rules and policies at Sunrise to Cecelia, I listened, and looked out the window.

I watched as a light blue Chevy Lumina turned onto the street in front of the school. It looked familiar.

Cecelia recognized it right away. "Shit, Miss A...Flaca is stealing your car!"

Before I could even react, she jumped up, and ran out of the principal's office, and then the front doors of the school. I followed her, and as I exited the swinging exit doors, I watched as Cecelia jumped into my car with Flaca, and they drove away.

I'd left my keys in my purse.

Cecelia, You're Shaking My Confidence Daily (Part 3) 4:55 PM

Part 1
Part 2

Cecelia saw herself as one of the guys.

There were only three roles for girls in her gang. There were the girls who were the sex toys of the gang, who got passed from guy to guy, and used sexually. There were the girlfriends of the gang members, who stood on a rung only slightly higher on the ladder of machismo. And, there were the girls who turned themselves into guys. Girls who fought like guys, dressed like guys, acted like guys.

Cecelia was in that last category. It was the only possible category that she'd have allowed. She didn't like men in the first two ways.

After we'd known each other a few weeks, Cecelia and I had plans to meet, but she told me that she'd be at her friend Flaca's house. I swung by to pick her up there.

Flaca's house was significantly nicer, it was one of the newer subsidized housing properties in the city. Still in the middle of a high-crime neighborhood, but it had not yet succumbed to years of neglect.

It was a hot summer day. The yard was dead, the flowers in their pots were dead, and it felt like it was about a hundred degrees with no humidity. The high desert heat was miserable.

It looked marginally cooler inside through the screen door. It was dark inside. There was no air conditioning, but Flaca's mom had a living room with actual furniture that looked less than ten years old. The girls from La Raza were draped over a couple of couches, watching cable. It's a tired stereotype, but while these kids could do without a new bike or nutritious food, they could never do without their cable, their Showtime and HBO and MTV with the latest gangster rap videos to watch.

I knocked on the screen door.

I could hear the girls whispering inside.

"Who's the wedda?"

"She's MY wedda, she hangs out with me every week because of Judge V."

"Well, tell her to come in and kick it wid us."

"Wedda, come in."

I opened the screen door, and came inside, finding a spot on one of the chairs.

If you've never seen homegirls, can you visualize them in your head? The high, darkened, plucked to death eyebrows. The long dark hair, brown skin. The brown lipliner on full lips, with dark brown lipstick. Heavy brown eye shadow all the way up to the eyebrow - never leave home without it.

Cecelia looked and dressed like a boy in her dickies and oversized t-shirts, and no makeup.

Flaca and her sisters though, these were the glamorous gang girls. Flaca wore a revealing tank top with her stiffly pressed dickies and g-nikes*. Cecelia was androgynous, Flaca was all girl.

At lunch, Flaca and Cecelia lounged against the booth, together, and told me about the day that Flaca was jumped into the gang.

Cecelia was jumped into the gang by the boys. She was the first girl they'd allowed into the gang as a peer. Other girls had hung out, but Cecelia was an equal.

Cecelia told me that she'd fought 2 boys for a minute and 30 seconds.

"They were both hitting me with their fists in my head, shoulders and chest. It hurt, but they weren't trying to hurt me badly. They just needed to see if I was tough enough. My brother told me to stay on my feet and try to keep them from knocking me down, no matter what I did, so I couldn't get kicked. That's how you really get hurt. He told me to protect my head, too."

"After the fight, everyone came around and hugged me. I had blood on my face, but I was so proud. And they were proud of me. I showed I belonged."

Flaca didn't get jumped in until later. The boys from La Raza told her to recruit some girls, and put her in charge of them. Flaca was her best friend, and the first person that Cecelia jumped into the gang.

"Flaca and I fought for a minute and 30 seconds. I told her to hit back. I hit her hard, but she did good. She kept her fists up, and was tough."

Flaca laughed. "I had bruises everywhere...on my cheek, all over my shoulders. I had to tell my mom that I hit my face on the door frame. " Her parents had no idea that she was a gang member.

I realized two things during this visit. First, Cecelia was showing me off to her girlfriends. She had this woman who came to see her, wanted to spend time with her, and took her places. She wanted to impress her peers with this fact.

Secondly, she was introducing me to her family. Flaca and the homegirls were Cecelia's most important relationships. They were her friends, but they were far more than that. Cecelia was the leader of the girls. They were her siblings and family members. They gave her status, because she was the boss and they answered to her. The homegirls gave Cecelia a place to belong, and they gave her the respect and status she so desperately craved.

*Nike Cortez running shoes