An email from Jose (a former gang-banger) found on the Frontera List Google Groups site:
Molly I wrote to mr houseworth this. We won, yayyyhhhh!. Can you post this? Jose.
From my phone.
guten morgen, Gordon.
being from that culture i know exactly the mind set of the active participants in this war. (have you noticed that in this theater of war there are no claims to post traumatic stress disorder).and i can also empathize with the unwilling participants. whether they be connected to crime because their relative is a gang-member or as they see themselves “warrior”. armies were invented not for protection but to improve ones own economy. off course the stronger armies have always ruled the world. but here it is something else entirely. these men and women are just more enthusiastic about getting rich. no one does is for the fun, (except the psychos, the really scary ones. i get in their head sometimes and i see the horrors perpetrated on their victims, it is very scary. the majority do it because of the money and a false sense of pride that what they are doing is for the good of the community. i grew up in those places where if your are a bad kid you are
noticed and a lot of people start to respect you, but is that respect that is out of fear, not for good deeds, although some are considered saints. i was considered a wise guy by everyone and that because i was always the smartest guy in the room. there were smarter wise guys than me but i never let them they were. it was still a mutual respect though we were all tough guys. and we took care of each other. that’s how we grew strong and conquered the texas prison system and then the city of el paso, texas. then juarez and ports unknown. under my direction. not in business but in mentally training an army. not the one you see today. no one killed to get in and no should die to get out. those were my rules. i let soldiers go because they were trying to improve themselves. a couple of them had moms that had the temerity to seek me out and beg that her son be let out. the son was more scared of disappointing me than anything. one of the moms was hot and she
liked me. but i would give the talk. “you cant come back cause you cant be in and out. i going to make sure people help you if you need our help but just to help you along a better way. we all want to find that path but we are on this one. it’s the right path for now. and most of them became better citizens and dads. i am glad and grateful that could help people like this. my people knew that i genuinely cared about them and i and had proved it in the joint and out here, they knew by word of mouth that i was in the business of taking care of business. or as we say “beesnes”. no one had ever done this. the underworld had a deep respect for me, juarez and el paso and pretty much everywhere i traveled. we respect our criminals if they are daring, a mexican buccaneer if you will. i know how they think. especially the bad guys. i’m grateful i became one of the good guys. i didn’t need followers. i didn’t acolytes, nor servants, soldiers or addicts. most of
these men could’ve been been special forces soldiers. they would all kill for me but i never availed myself of that service. i liked to take care of my brush fires myself. i was good with my hands and feet. i have a street taught black belt. i like to call it street-fu. when i turned fifty i trained for a cage fight in iowa, i fought one whole round with one arm. i dislocated my shoulder with the first punch. it was an anomaly in and otherwise sterling street fighter reputation. i would cross the border into juarez to beat people up. now juarez is very bad mojo for me. after the reporter incident. i didnt go there to hurt him. i went there for these two strippers who were going home with me and my buddy. the guy disrespect the girls and i stabbed him with my buck. anyway, i got beat up but i didn’t tap out. they stopped it. i learned to be humble after that and lose the rest of my arrogance. this runs in the narco’s veins. the good lord deemed fit to
give me a body that i could turn into a weapon. that how i rose to the top of my game in the underworld. deep down inside somewhere in my nether regions, was the me i am today. i needed leaders.all those positive roll models that i looked up to in my formative years who helped me put the jigsaw together that was to be me today. the are all part of the dream that i now live. it was never a nightmare. it’s all just part of the dream that carries us across an untold number of thresh holds till we get it right. they were part of my healing. i am a violent man living in a pacifist’s body. i have dismembered and fantasized about commiting terrible acts on my enemy’s and it’s almost always as an aztec warrior. i just never saw the need. it’s a different story now. when i left, el chapo ruled juarez and we were all the better for it. no one was dying. if you lost a load. too bad. there was more where that came from. carrillo fuentes was in charge in juarez and
all was well. they were recruiting aztecas. they knew who i was and i let my guys work for them. i just wanted my free heroin and cocaine. and if saw someone on the street selling i would shake them down and tell them it’s for tax purposes. the narco’s didn’t’ mind. i was cheap. i never got greedy. thats why i am still alive. i did this one job, (if i tell you, i have to kill-you type of deal). my friend wanted more loot. i told him we had enough, but he went back and never saw him again. alive i mean. i booked it and no one except God and me the wiser. you know something? i am now in better physical shape than i was ever in my gang banging years.