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Down
Detective
Luis
Romero
sat
on
the
curb
looking
down
at
the
pool
of
blood
slowly
growing
on
the
sidewalk
beside
him.
He
had
been
shot
and
was
going
into
shock.
This
was
the
first
time
for
him
and
the
pain
in
his
shoulder
was
excruciating.
He
thought
about
his
sister
as
a
child
in
Mexico
and
the
smell
of
grilled
paellas
filled
his
nose
before
he
passed
out.
He
was
a
little
more
than
10
years
old
when
he
saw
his
first
dead
body
up
close,
bullet
ridden
and
rotting,
reeking
of
a
weeks
worth
of
decay.
The
eyes
of
the
friendly
fat
man
that
lived
down
the
end
of
his
dirt
road
were
staring
up
at
him
and
his
cousin.
Bernado
lurched
his
guts
out
but
Luis
stood
strong
and
ran
quickly
back
to
tell
his
grandfather,
leaving
the
other
young
boy
under
a
tree
sweating
the
hot
august
day.
1990
was
a
violent
year
for
his
little
town.
The
drug
trade
in
full
swing
and
the
ease
of
American
dollars
and
high
top
sneakers
made
being
a
teenager
on
that
side
of
the
border
a
dangerous
thing.
Bernado
would
be
a
casualty
only
two
years
later
and
Bernados
sister
Elizabeth
a
widow
at
17
with
a
baby
on
the
way
shortly
after.
It
was
at
his
grandfathers
funeral,
the
old
man
shot
dead
on
his
birthday,
that
Luis
Romero
decided
that
he
was
going
to
make
a
difference
for
his
remaining
family
anyway
that
he
could
and
that
meant
getting
on
the
right
side
of
the
law.
He
was
a
nave
boy
but
his
heart
was
strong.
On
his
18th
birthday
Luis
joined
the
Mexican
state
police
and
within
two
days
of
being
there
realized
that
the
problem
might
never
be
solved,
though
he
was
smart
enough
to
keep
his
opinions
to
himself.
He
quickly
learned
how
the
system
worked
and
that
not
taking
a
bribe
could
be
harmful
to
those
he
loved.
Within
5
years
he
had
made
his
way
up
the
ranks
with
20
men
under
him.
With
influential
connections
he
started
thinking
about
America
and
a
safe
and
legal
way
out
for
his
family.
When
he
was
25
he
put
together
a
case
that
connected
a
senior
official
in
the
Mexican
government
with
a
gang
in
Los
Angeles,
the
bust
made
the
national
paper
and
the
worldwide
evening
news.
He
now
had
a
target
on
his
head
and
jumped
at
the
offer
to
come
to
California
and
work
with
the
DEA.
His
remaining
family
went
into
witness
protection
in
Nevada.
A
few
years
later
his
citizenship
went
through
and
he
was
fast
tracked
through
the
academy
and
joined
the
L.A.P.D.s
gang
task
force
as
a
detective
2nd
class.
It
was
on
this
September
morning
the
first
day
of
school
and
a
packed
car
of
kids
with
new
clothes
and
backpacks,
riding
the
metro
rail
into
work
coffee
in
hand,
that
he
spotted
the
two
gang
bangers.
The
colors
were
self
evident
but
the
bulge
of
the
handgun
against
white
T
made
it
clear.
If
he
called
them
out
in
here
between
stops
someone
was
going
to
get
killed
most
likely
a
child.
At
the
next
stop,
the
two
youths
exited
the
train
and
just
before
the
doors
closed
Romero
slipped
out.
The
bustle
of
the
congested
business
class
gave
him
enough
cover
not
to
be
noticed.
While
keeping
his
distance,
he
was
able
to
send
a
text
to
his
partner.
Nick
Soleras
another
Mexican
American
and
a
ten
year
veteran
of
the
L.A.P.D.,
was
waiting
a
few
stops
from
where
Romero
jumped
off.
He
responded
back
with
meet
you
at
Starbucks
corner
with
Calvary.
Romero
shot
back
quickly
Advise
Calvary
lay
back,
no
uniforms.
This
situation
would
have
to
be
handled
quietly,
he
wanted
no
one
to
die
today,
he
didnt
like
death.
At
8:50
the
two
gang
members
sat
themselves
on
a
bench
a
couple
of
doors
down
from
Grandpoint
Bank
on
Grand
Avenue.
Romero
fingered
another
text
with
location
and
circumstance.
Holy
shit,
they
were
waiting
for
the
doors
to
open,
a
fucking
early
morning
bank
robbery.
The
smell
of
something
most
foul
caused
him
to
almost
drop
his
phone.
A
homeless
man
with
a
sign
around
his
neck
swayed
back
and
forth
kneeling
under
a
blanket
on
the
sidewalk.
The
sign
read
THE
END
IS
AT
HAND
GET
WITH
JESUS
OR
LET
THE
DEVIL
BE
YOUR
SAVIOR,
he
just
about
chuckled
to
himself,
why
cant
prophets
find
good
housing.
Soleras
was
now
leaning
against
the
shell
of
what
used
to
be
a
phone
booth.
If
they
did
it
right
they
could
take
the
bangers
from
both
sides.
Spare
some
change.
Luis
looked
down
and
the
waif
of
hideous
breath
hit
him,
the
coffee
in
his
belly
buckling.
When
the
shot
rang
out,
Nick
almost
in
slow
motion
flipped
backwards.
Within
seconds
Romero
cut
the
duo
in
half
and
the
other
punk
bolted
into
the
bank.
Alarms
were
going
off
everywhere.
Officer
Down,
Officer
Down
355
South
Grand
Avenue
Luis
Romero
yelled
into
his
phone.
In a matter of minutes, 10 squad cars had corralled the bank doors. What
happened
next
scarily
reminded
him
of
home.
It
was
something
he
had
heard
one
of
the
Columbian
cartels
pull
off
against
a
team
of
corrupt
Mexican
Federales
when
he
was
still
a
rookie.
Its
like
they
were
working
from
the
same
play
book
now.
Roughly
over
a
hundred
or
so
boys,
no
older
than
18
wearing
the
same
colors
the
same
bandanas,
started
appearing
from
all
directions
walking
up
the
street
with
high
powered
machine
guns
in
hand.
The
police
were
outnumbered
5
to
1.
When
the
shooting
started
Romero
yelled
into
his
phone
again.
SEND
EVERYONE
THEY
ARE
GOING
TO
MASSACRE
US.
The
fire
fight
lasted
over
an
hour.
In
the
end
15
officers
were
killed
and
50
bangers
were
banged
with
60
more
in
custody.
It
was
the
boldest
move
a
gang
ever
took
against
the
L.A.P.D.
The
bank
heist
it
turns
out
was
a
rouse
and
the
cops
were
the
real
target.
So
it
was
here
on
the
sidewalk
with
his
blood
spilling
out
and
the
smell
of
Mexican
food
hitting
him
that
Luis
Romero
started
thinking
twice
about
whether
he
would
ever
be
able
to
pick
up
a
gun
again,
the
violence
of
it
all.
Humans
are
animals
he
said
to
himself
and
then
the
street
went
black.