41 The Con
Of course, I had no intention of any of this really happening. My real plan was to have Artie step in right before anything potentially bad could happen, and make sure it was all captured on film. I knew this would thrill Artie with all the attention he would get, plus the added bonus of being the “top dog” at the station, even if for a little while.
I spent the rest of the evening with the Army, Navy, and Ranger, who all seemed more psychotic than ever. They dug through clothes for hours trying to find the best badass outfits for the show. They fussed with hair and military props, and even rehearsed how they would storm the show and confront Armando.
I just sat back and watched the circus, occasionally throwing in a few pointers here and there. Nothing too complicated, just a few tricks I’d learned from being on Proven Killers. Once their mania finally wound down, I left the house with my game plan set in motion and D-Day scheduled for an upcoming shoot on set. I got to my car and dialed Artie as I drove away.
When I got back to my apartment, I quickly dialed Jonathan.
“Marc, it’s kind of late, do you need something? Can it wait till morning?” Jonathan asked, a bit grumpily.
“I’m really sorry, but I needed to touch base with you tonight. And I need you to trust me when I tell you that I’ve just worked out a great publicity stunt that should get us the highest ratings yet for Proven Killers.”
“Okay, hit me with it.” He yawned, as he was still trying to wake up.
“I just spoke with these guys who gave me some new information about James’ and Victor’s murders. After what they told me, I think they have inside knowledge of what happened. We can either just dump this all in the laps of the police and walk away”—I hesitated—“or, we can play this out and reap the rewards. These guys either know who did it and have withheld the information from the police, or they were a part of it. They were kind of buzzed, so it was a little difficult to pin down the details, but they know things no one else seems to. Anyhow, I’ve convinced them to come to the set on Thursday to audition for Proven Killers, but really, we’ll try to get them to talk about what really happened. I’ve already cleared it with Artie, so he’s up to speed and will be ready to step in and make an arrest…if it comes to that.”
No response. I rushed on.
“The way I’ve set it up, these guys think they’re auditioning for roles, so they won’t be on their guard.”
Still more silence. I started to sweat. He’s not going for it. Crap! Did I come this far just to have it all come apart at the seams?
“Marc, I’m not sure what you’re up to, and I’m even less sure that you know what you’re doing. But on the off chance this crazy idea even half works, I’d be the laughing stock of Hollywood if I missed out on it. What do you need from me?”
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “The crew needs to be on point Thursday. You need to make sure they keep filming regardless of what happens, so that when the whole thing goes down, it’s all caught on camera.”
“Done. What time will these ‘guys’ arrive?” Jonathan asked.
“Nine o’clock Thursday morning. And Jonathan? Thanks,” I said, and hung up before he could change his mind.
42 The Best-Laid Plans
Artie and I spent much of Wednesday night finalizing our game plan for nabbing the Stronge boys. I felt a little guilty about keeping Jonathan somewhat out of the loop by not letting him in on the entire plan, but the less people who knew what Artie and I were really up to, the better. Hopefully all would be forgiven when Jonathan made TV history. The ratings from this episode alone would catapult Proven Killers into the stratosphere. And Artie would be as happy as a pig in turds when his mug made front-page news for solving not just one, but two, very high-profile murders.
Thursday morning came with Armando already on set, with makeup and wardrobe people buzzing all over him. He looked calm, cool, collected, and totally unaware of what was about to go down. Artie had secretly positioned police around the neighborhood, which included a couple of SWAT team snipers just in case, which I only found out about later. Then, the cameras started rolling and everything seemed to happen in quick succession.
Just as Artie was being introduced as the newest cast member, I faked a pulled muscle and motioned to Jonathan that I had to step out back for a few minutes to walk it off. I went out through the side door and looked up and down the street. What the—? There was no sign of the Stronge boys anywhere. I’d specifically told them when and where to meet me before their “audition.” Crap! This was so not good. Those boys could not be trusted. I raced back inside, frantic.
Channel 26 News was the lucky media outlet selected by Jonathan to do an official interview with Artie and talk about his new role on the show. The reporter was one of their best, and she knew how to coax information from Artie, while putting him more at ease in front of the camera. As they chatted, Artie kept an eye on his surroundings. He saw me looking terrified and he slid me a questioning glance. I shrugged, not knowing what else to do. Then Armando silently appeared, standing patiently just out of camera range, waiting for his entrance.
That’s when all hell broke loose. The Stronge Boys came crashing through the front door, screaming orders, waving guns in the air. They were imitating moves straight out of Tropic Thunder and chanting, “We’re the Dudes, playing the Dudes disguised as some Dudes,” one of the more memorable lines from the movie. These boys were definitely on something. Their eyes were bugging out of their heads and it looked like their jaws where moving a mile a minute; they were off the rails. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare, not sure if this was scripted or what.
Artie went into full cop mode, grabbing a walkie-talkie out of his pocket and ordering the SWAT team onto the property. I started to panic when I realized that the boys were pushing right past Armando, who hadn’t moved from where he was standing. Army was leading the charge.
In what seemed like super-slow motion, Army raised his gun and pointed it in my direction. I was crammed between one of the staging lights and a huge dolly filled with equipment, so I was pretty well trapped. All I could think of was, I’m going to be killed by a Mutant Ninja Turtle wannabe. How pathetic is that? Then I heard a scream. I think it might have been me.
In a flash, there was Armando, who stepped right in front of Army and began to unleash a series of dizzying Kung Fu moves that made everything blur together. We’d all known Armando had martial arts skills, but who could’ve guessed he was another Bruce Lee? The next thing I saw was Army on the ground, breathing heavily and struggling against the lock hold Armando easily had him in. By now, the L.A. police had stormed in alongside the SWAT team, who had pinned the other two boys to the floor and were securing the area and checking on everyone’s welfare.
Armando, sensing the threat had been neutralized, eased up on the pressure he was applying, allowing Army to assume a more comfortable, sitting position. Army—who clearly had more brawn than brains—made yet another bad decision by making a grab for his gun, but Armando got there first. They wrestled for the weapon briefly before the gun discharged. Armando’s face fell into shock as he rushed to hold onto Army, who was slipping back down to the floor. Army looked like he was in shock, eyes glazed, his skin pallor gray.
Armando, with tears in his eyes, gently laid Army on the floor. Army was trying to say something. Armando leaned over him, trying to catch his faint words. Everyone gathered around, looking stunned. Jonathan, sensing an Emmy Award within reach, motioned to the cameras to get as close as they could. Artie had radioed for an ambulance, and sirens could be heard in the distance.
“Am I going to die? I really wanted my brothers to…be on the show…get back on top.” Army took a shallow breath. “We weren’t after you, man. It was Henderson, he wanted you out ....” His voice cracked and then he was gone. There was more wailing, but I couldn’t be sure if it was the sirens or Navy and Ranger, grieving for their dead brother.
Before I could gather my wits about me, Armando got up from where Army was laying, as the EMTs came in to take over. He said a few words to the police and pointed at me. They nodded and then Armando walked straight towards me. I wanted to run, hide, be anywhere rather than here, but I was frozen to the spot. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jonathan shoving the cameraman in our direction.
Armando got right up in my personal space and stared hard into my eyes. The beleaguered cameraman was there, ready and waiting. I closed my eyes as I steeled myself for a punch or kick, or whatever punishment Armando planned to dole out. I so deserved it. But instead, he simply embraced me.
My eyes popped open, arms dangling at my side. I was utterly confused and shocked.
“I know it was you,” Armando whispered quietly, with his head turned towards mine so the cameras couldn’t pick up what he was saying. Then Armando pulled back and held me by the shoulders so we could be face to face. He had tears in his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. I felt my own eyes begin to water. The cameraman zoomed in on Armando as he hugged me for the second time.
Armando whispered again, “I forgive you, man. I know what you were doing, and I forgive you. We’re good.”
I was stunned. He pulled back again to face me. He said in a louder voice that the mics could pick up, “Don’t blame yourself for what happened to Army. No one is to blame. It’s a tragedy. But this is the price of all this distorted reality TV. This is what I’ve been trying to tell everyone all along. It’s a drug, man, as addicting as heroin. It consumes you, changes you, and makes you do shit you can't even imagine.”
I just stood there, spent and shaken. Armando looked at me questioningly. I nodded dumbly. He smiled and gave my cheek a reassuring pat. The police and TV reporter swarmed around him, all wanting a piece of him. Normally I would be seething at the amount of attention he was getting, but now, I could feel nothing except humbleness, gratitude, and maybe even a little peace.
I turned and saw my buddy Greg, who gave me a quick, hard hug. “Come on, let’s get you something to drink.” I nodded my agreement and thanks.
We passed by Jonathan, who winked and gave me a thumbs-up. I smiled shakily and kept walking. I heard him whisper to the cameraman, “Kaitlyn Jenner my ass—this is reality television!”
Artie was over in a corner, already being interviewed by Channel 26 again, this time about how he felt being one of the heroes of the day. Artie was trying to look serious and humble, but I knew on the inside he was already planning his guest appearance on The First 48.
43 Killing Reality
Armando was happy to leave the police station in record time. He had spent more than his fair share of time being scrutinized over homicides. The killing of Army Stronge clearly was an act of self-defense, and one that was backed up by all witnesses. The same couldn’t be said for Navy and Ranger Stronge, who were booked on numerous charges and being held in the county jail.
Sandy Stronge retained a lawyer who tried to arrange bail for the boys, but was denied due to their complete lack of remorse. This infuriated Sandy to the point where she went out, proceeded to get drunk, and drove her Mercedes into a guardrail. She was arrested and brought to the police station, and had to call the lawyer again, this time for her own bail.
Meanwhile, Armando was all over the news. While he may not have loved being in the spotlight, at least this time, Armando used it as a forum to reach even more people, using his newfound fame to demand changes on set. In its rebooted format, Proven Killers now consisted of a camera crew following Armando around the rougher areas of L.A., where his streetwise-style of evangelicalism proved to be a hit. He became front and center as the savior of the show, and the paparazzi couldn’t get enough of him.
Even though no one suspected that I had anything to do with what had happened that day, the camera had caught me on camera acting like a coward. The “Armando Effect” had not extended to me. Any acclaim I held in the public eye from saving people’s lives at Lync and Paul’s fatal party was but a dim memory. Jonathan gave me my walking papers, shook my hand, and wished me well. Only he and Greg showed any concern, whereas everyone else seemed to give a mental shrug and get back to business. Truth be told, I probably would have done the same if I were them.
I didn’t even try to get another grip job. Let’s face it, people in the business now associated me with words like catastrophe, death, and disaster. And the shooting on Proven Killers left me feeling hollowed out and questioning everything I had previously assumed to be true. I was aimless, not sure who I was anymore or which direction I should be going. The only positive thought I had was that it looked like my secret with Spitz remained quiet.
I passed by a church one day while out walking and stopped to listen to the faint organ music playing inside. I wished I had something that could anchor me like faith did for countless others. While I couldn’t muster up the courage to go in, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when I returned home. I tried to pray, using the only prayer I remembered from my youth, the Lord’s Prayer. I couldn’t remember anything after the first line, felt silly, and gave up. I began again, this time just plainly and sincerely asking God to forgive me of my sins. I closed my eyes and thought of everything I had done, and all the good I had sacrificed, just for the chance of being in front of the cameras. I didn’t know what else to do, so I repeated this mantra again and again. The brunt of what I’d done hit me with the force of a Mack truck. The pain and remorse I felt ran deep. I was scared. I was physically shaking.
Days later, I was sitting on my couch channel surfing, still morose but still keeping up with the praying. TMZ was doing a spot about Proven Killers and its newest star. The piece focused on Armando’s capacity for forgiveness, and how it lit a fire for the show on the streets of L.A. Armando was walking the talk, no doubt about it. And this walked him right into a church of his own, as well as a spin-off show entitled Saving Grace.
The tabloids depicted Armando as a New Age “spiritual vigilante.” And viewers, perhaps tiring of all the self-aggrandizing of the Real Housewives, the Kardashians, and the like, were eating it up. The show’s concept was helping people understand that seeking fame and fortune were not the real truth. Having stuff didn’t mean much, but living a good life, helping others, and knowing God loved them, was.
I started seeing t-shirts worn by young kids with “Armando” emblazoned on them, with him crouched in a Bruce Lee-like fighting stance. These littered every middle school playground in L.A. Armando memorabilia was huge. A video of Armando’s takedown of Army Stronge was number one on YouTube for weeks.
As happy as I was for Armando, I felt even more ashamed. I didn’t want to show my face anywhere, and no matter how often I tried to be inconspicuous, people invariably pointed at me and whispered. My money was running out, too. My prayers continued to go unanswered. It was once again time for desperate measures.
One Sunday, feeling restless, I was about to jump on an eastbound bus, just to go anywhere and get out of L.A. for a few hours. As I paid for my ticket at the kiosk, I turned and looked up. There, across the highway, like a sign from God, was a billboard advertising the Saving Grace Church and its namesake show. Armando was smiling that million-dollar smile of his, hugging his followers. A sudden wave of raw emotion fell over me. I knew where to go, so I changed plans and got on a bus for the Saving Grace Church.
I walked the final few blocks to get to the rundown church. As I turned the corner of Petaluma Ave, I could hear sounds coming from within, signaling that a service was underway. Not wanting to be seen, I snuck in the back with a dozen other homeless people who had littered the packed service. I kept my head down.
Armando’s voice came through the mic clear and in command. “God is Love.”
People were chanting “amen” and “praise Jesus.”
“There’s a song that goes: love is all we need. Well, it’s true. Love is what changes a person from the wrong path to the right one: the road to loving others, helpin
g others as Jesus did. I know this. I know sometimes it’s not easy, it’s hard. But God never lets me forget that all I need to do is love others, even and especially, my enemies.”
Armando ended with an emotional “Amen” as the service erupted in clapping and a universal chorus of “amen.” I felt something in me that I really didn’t recognize. Whatever it was, it felt good. Maybe I was feeling that “peace that passes all understanding” that Armando always spoke about on set.
Time slowed. Sounds died down and that peaceful feeling engulfed my whole being. I briefly closed my eyes, savoring the moment. As I opened my eyes, Armando was saying, “Communion is for everyone.”
Parishioners stood and began forming a line that headed straight to the altar where Armando stood. Some people were somber, heads down, hands clasped, while others held their hands open in the air, murmuring “praise Jesus.” I wasn't sure what to do; I knew only that I wanted this feeling to continue, so I slowly stood and got in line with the others, thinking, Maybe this is it, maybe God has forgiven me and shown me mercy. I felt a sudden rush that everything might turn out okay.
The line was moving slowly towards Armando, who was giving out something that looked like a cracker. I was three people away from him when I saw a rush of movement coming out from the back of the altar. Behind Armando—coming fast—was Benny with something in his hand and a determined look on his face. It was the same face I’d seen when he’d threatened to shove my gun down my throat.
Armando was in trouble and he didn’t even know it. I was scared shitless, but I knew I needed to stop Benny. Now. I pushed the man in front of me to the side, who was about to give me grief, but stopped when he looked up and saw Benny charging with the gun. The sudden commotion got Armando’s attention, and he saw me moving quickly towards him.
Killing Reality Page 20