by CW Ullman
“I am sorry,” Rusty pleaded. He pulled on her arm as her mother tried to separate them and the father pushed him. The struggle persisted until the family looked behind Rusty and stopped. Their eyes were wide with fear as they stared down the alley at the Viper Family Junior walking toward them. The ten-member gang was led by their five-foot-tall, hair-trigger tempered leader, Phuoc Phan, nicknamed Little Tam Qui, after an ancient Vietnamese martial art.
Little Tam Qui had been thrown out of school in the eighth grade for punching a teacher in the face and then trying to cram an eraser down his throat. He had been known to wade into gang battles with a knife rather than a gun. He was energized when he could cut or stab people. Once, when he found out his posse had been encircled in Fountain Valley, a town near Garden Grove, he pulled out an automatic rifle, spraying bullets into the opposition as well as his own gang members.
“Hey, what’s your problem?” Little Tam Qui said. Rusty did not let go of the girl’s arm, nor did he answer Little Tam Qui.
“I’m talking to you,” Little Tam Qui barked, grabbing Rusty. Even though he only came up to Rusty’s shoulder, he was able to force his way between the girl and Rusty, who stopped and just stared down. Little Tam Qui went over to the family.
Little Tam Qui’s reputation for sadistic cruelty was well-known amongst the Vietnamese immigrant community. Some of the members in the Viper Family Junior had come to America as infants or were born soon after their parents arrived. When the Vietnamese immigrants were dropped into the largely Mexican-American city of Garden Grove, there was an immediate culture clash. The Vietnamese kids formed gangs, initially to protect themselves from the Mexican gangs. The members who were fearless became the leaders, and the most feared leader was Little Tam Qui. While the family being accosted by Rusty found him to be a nuisance, they were afraid of Viper Family Junior and terrified of Little Tam Qui. While he spoke to the family, six of the gang members surrounded Rusty.
“Are you good? Did he steal anything from you?” Little Tam Qui asked. The father said he had not.
“You sure? I could have sworn I saw him take something,” Little Tam Qui said. He walked over to Rusty, stuck his hand in Rusty’s pocket, pulled out his wallet and took the cash.
“Here’s what I saw him take. You probably want to pay me half for keeping the streets safe,” Little Tam Qui said to the father. The father bowed quickly, took the money, and he and his family quickly departed.
“You’re one of those fucked up Vietnam vets, aren’t you? Thought you’d come down to my neighborhood and score some gook pussy?” Little Tam Qui said. “Thought maybe you’d find some little girl who’d say,” slipping into an exaggerated Vietnamese accent, “’me fuck you long time.’ Is that what you were thinking? You know who I am? I’m Little Tam Qui and this is going to end bad for you. What do you think of that?”
Rusty did not answer him, which enraged Little Tam Qui more.
“I’m talking to you!” roared Little Tam Qui slapping Rusty. One of the gang members was amused when Little Tam Qui had to jump up to get to Rusty’s face.
“What do you have to say? Nothing?” Little Tam Qui said. He pushed Rusty back until he had him against a fence. One of the gang members came up and gave Little Tam Qui a knife.
“No knives. The cops know that’s my calling card. I’m going to put a cap in his ass. Give me a piece,” Little Tam Qui said. And then to Rusty, “Get on your knees.”
Before Rusty could move, one of the gang kicked his legs out from under him, forcing him to kneel on the ground. Little Tam Qui turned to the other gang members.
“Now, I want you to watch this,” Little Tam Qui said.
Little Tam Qui put the gun to Rusty’s temple and then took it away. “I want to show my homies something. I’m going to put the barrel below your ear. You ready, asshole?”
“Yes, I’m ready,” Rusty said as he closed his eyes, waiting for the punch of the bullet.
“Whoa, what is this, The Deer Hunter? This ain’t Russian roulette, motherfucker?” Little Tam Qui said as he pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened; the gun jammed. He tried the trigger again and again, but nothing happened. Rusty pushed Little Tam Qui, who fell down.
Rusty yelled at him, “C’mon, do it.”
“Motherfucker! Whose gun is this?” No one answered for fear of Little Tam Qui’s rebuke. “I said whose motherfucking gun is this?” One of the members stepped forward and Little Tam Qui punched him in the face with the gun.
“Did you buy that from a beaner?” Little Tam Qui screamed and the gang member nodded. “We buy weed from beaners and guns from niggers. Somebody give me a piece.”
Charlie and Carlos were the first ones to arrive in downtown Garden Grove. They parked on Garden Grove Boulevard and began searching restaurants and tea shops. They had been through three when Gaston and Curtis drove up, skidding to a stop. Carlos was dressed in his L.A. Sherriff’s uniform, so when a police car U-turned to see what was happening, they left when Carlos waved them on.
Carlos, Ronnie, Gaston, and Charlie divided into a two groups, each taking one side of the street. Charlie stopped in a pho soup emporium and talked to the owner who said a man with red hair tried to skip out on his bill and was not welcomed there again. He pointed in the direction the man had gone. Charlie came outside, loudly whistled to Gaston and Curtis, and motioned them to follow.
Little Tam Qui checked the new gun by pulling the slide back to see if it worked. Rusty urged him, “C’mon.”
“You calling my bluff? I’m Vietnamese; all we do is gamble. See ya, asshole,” Little Tam Qui said.
“Everybody freeze! L.A. Sheriffs,” Carlos yelled. He had just turned the corner with Charlie. “Put the weapon down,” Carlos said with his service revolver pointed at Little Tam Qui.
“Is this your prisoner, because your punk is messing with people in my neighborhood? My boys are all packing, so if we’re going to make a play, let’s do it,” Little Tam Qui said.
“We’re not making a play, I just want my prisoner. I’m not going to fuck with your crew, I just want him,” Carlos said, pointing at Rusty.
“What do we get in return? Why don’t I just off him and you’re done with this piece of shit,” Little Tam Qui threatened.
“Because I’ll get shit from my commander for letting this guy get loose. How about we pay you a bounty?” Carlos turned to the other three with his hand out and they slapped cash into it.
“Here, this is everything we got, it’s yours,” Carlos said.
Little Tam Qui counted it and said, “Shit, man, this is like a hundred and twenty bucks. Your boys are from L.A., and this is all you got?”
“Why don’t you take your crew, buy some weed, sell it in Newport Beach; double your money? I’m just saying,” Carlos said.
“Fuck it,” Little Tam Qui said and backhanded Rusty in the face. “I see this piece of shit around here again, I’m going to bust a cap in his ass,” Little Tam Qui said. “And no hundred and twenty dollars is going to save him.”
As the gang walked away, Little Tam Qui could be heard saying, “Now, we’re bounty hunters, fuck yeah.”
Rusty was lying on his side with blood coming from his mouth. Charlie collected him and they left with Carlos checking the Viper Family Junior. After locating their cars, Curtis, Gaston, and Carlos drove back together, while Charlie took Rusty in his pickup truck.
Once they got on the Twenty-Two Freeway, Charlie reached into the glove box, pulled out Kleenex, and gave it to Rusty to stop the bleeding. When they got to Girl’s Eyes, Rusty said he did not want to go in, so Charlie drove to Rat Beach in Torrance and parked the truck.
Rusty said. “I try to stop., but I can’t. Darla is mad at me and I might lose her and Tobie. I don’t want to live without them.”
“The thing with CPS will blow over. We’ll get a lawyer and fix it. You’ll see,” Charlie implored.
“When that guy had the gun against my head, I told him do it,” Rusty sai
d.
Charlie watched him and felt the pressure of all the recent events welling up: the constant bickering with Cindy, Darla moving out, Luemveld, slow sales at the shop, and now tonight in Garden Grove. Not only did Rusty almost get killed, but the other guys came close to getting shot. Without any hint, even to himself, Charlie exploded out of the cab, rushed over to Rusty’s side, pulled him out, and started slamming him into the truck. He had him by his shirt, banging him into the side of the truck. Charlie’s rage was focused on the person he felt was ruining his life. Rusty’s welfare was constantly on Charlie’s mind, yet he was now trying to get himself killed. Charlie had been waiting for Rusty to wake from his stupor, but he never did. If Rusty could not take it anymore, neither could Charlie. He just kept slamming him into the truck until he ran out of energy and dropped him on the ground.
Charlie, exhausted and dazed, put his hand on the truck to ground himself. He stood over Rusty, who was staring at the ground, and Charlie thought, “Who is this guy?” He slid down the truck next to Rusty.
“I’m sorry,” Rusty said.
Charlie took long deep breaths while sitting against the vehicle. He just tried to shove Rusty through the truck, yet he was apologizing to Charlie. That apology touched Charlie, because the tone of despair in Rusty’s voice was saying more than he was just sorry. Rusty was expressing the absolute futility of trying to fix what he knew, after seventeen years, was beyond repair. He was damned for an act that was reborn daily for him. He only knew the briefest of respites, hoping that one of these girls would be My Ling and she would absolve him of his sins. He was denied success and then it set off a whole new round of problems.
Rusty was truly, and because of Charlie’s self-imposed obligation to protect him, so was Charlie. This self-martyrdom for his shipmate arose from Charlie’s belief that he would have put the girl overboard, too. Charlie thought they both were in hell where they belonged.
However, Charlie slowly reasoned Rusty had to recover because of Rusty’s wife and daughter, especially his daughter. Tobie had an almost maternal protection for her father, a trait she inherited from her mother. They both needed to care for someone, and from an early age Tobie had watched her father struggle to perform the simplest tasks. Rusty’s helplessness made her feel a concern that matured her early. Charlie’s thoughts of Tobie’s loving considerations for her father moved him to address Rusty with a heartfelt plea.
“We’re gonna talk about the girl on the Enterprise...whose dead. If she didn’t die when she hit the water, I know she didn’t survive the water spout that landed behind the ship,” Rusty looked away when Charlie spoke to him, “and you’re going to look at me when I’m talking to you. I don’t know what happened to your circuitry since then, but it doesn’t make any difference. I want to replace that day with a new one,” Charlie choked up.” I want you to think about Tobie for a minute. She’s sitting in her room studying and Surgeon is next to her. I knock on her door, she opens it and invites me in. Are you with me still?”
Rusty nodded slightly.
“I sit in that chair she has in the corner and she is smiling, like she always smiles, and this is what I say to her. ‘Tobie, I don’t know how to say this except straight: your father is dead; he killed himself.’ The smile on her face disappears and she starts crying hysterically. Surgeon doesn’t know why so he gets up and puts his head in her lap, but it doesn’t do any good because she’s inconsolable. Besides your death making her inconsolable, do you wanna know what else has her screwed up? She’s going to believe it’s her fault. She’s gonna review everything she missed leading up to your death. She’ll think she was too preoccupied with her own stuff, or she asked for too much, or she didn’t do enough, or she should have been here when she was somewhere else. She will endlessly persecute herself.
“In other words, she is going to suffer the same pain you have right now. We’ll all tell her not to worry, she couldn’t have prevented it, you had incurable problems, and we’ll talk until we’re blue in the face. Do you know what will happen, Rusty? She’ll act like she understands for our benefit, but secretly still not buy it. She’ll think if she had done something, anything, you’d be alive. Nobody is going to convince her otherwise, so it will cascade into a guilt that will haunt her the rest of her life. You might as well throw battery acid on her face, because that will be the equivalent of the emotional scarring your suicide will have upon her.
“You know what Gaston told me, eighty percent of kids who kill themselves had a parent who committed suicide. The hell that you and I are in right now is the same fate your daughter will suffer if you don’t fight this,” Charlie pleaded as he cried. “And lastly Rusty, I will be pissed at you for the rest of my life for putting me through the ringer of having to tell your family, all the grommets, and my kids.” Charlie cried, thinking of his own kids’ faces when they would hear news of a Rusty suicide. “I don’t want to have to do that.”
For the first time since he left the VA, Rusty was moved by someone else’s plight. He reached over and put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder and cupped the back of his neck. He said, “Okay.”
<>
Luemveld was enraged when she saw the picture and article about Russell Armstrong’s heroics with a shark in the Los Angeles Times. Her mission was to prove he was a molester of children, not a hero, and with that exposé, she would be deemed the true hero. Three weeks after her initial visit, she showed up with a subpoena to search the entire surf shop. She found out it was Charlie who took Tobie out of class the day she wanted to interview her, which earned Charlie a subpoena. She threatened anyone who knew Tobie to produce her or there would be consequences. She was convinced everyone was in collusion to hide Tobie and she was right.
Chief Biwer was present when she went through the surf shop. One of the agents from CPS told the chief that Luemveld abused her position when she had someone in her sights. The police that attended these searches hated watching her tear families apart because of her personal vendettas.
A day later after Charlie left the surf shop, the phone rang and the temporary store manager took the call. Someone wanted to talk to Russell Armstrong, so the manager put Rusty on the phone. It was Luemveld and without anyone present to censor Rusty, he eventually revealed where Tobie was.
When Charlie came back to the shop, Chief Biwer called saying, “My buddy at LAPD let me know your girl, Luemveld, notified them she needs an escort to head over to pick up Rusty’s daughter.”
“Are they coming here?” Charlie asked.
“No, they’re headed into south L.A.,” Chief said.
Charlie hung up and called Darla, “Luemveld is coming to get Tobie at your aunt’s house. You guys need to pack up and get out of there.”
“I would, except my cousin has my car. What should I do?” Darla asked frantically.
“I’ll come down and get her. I’ll see you in about twenty minutes,” Charlie said. After he hung up, he realized his car was at his mechanics, so he would have to take his motorcycle. He called Jordan at home to let him know where he was going. Then, wearing his helmet with the Girl’s Eyes logo and leather jacket with the same logo, he got on the bike and headed off.
While riding into Los Angeles, he determined the best place to keep Tobie was with Curtis. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon and he was hoping there was not much traffic. He was unsure from what location Luemveld was headed and just hoped he would beat her there. Charlie wondered what day it was and realized it did not make any difference because it was the month of April and April was bad luck.
Luemveld waited at her office for the police escort. When they arrived she opened the front passenger side door of the police cruiser to get in, but one of the cops stopped her.
“Oh, you want me to get in the back,” she asked.
“No. You need to take your own car because we have a probation violator to pick up after we’re done with your request and we’re not coming back to CPS. We’ll follow you,” the cop said
.
Neither Luemveld nor Charlie would arrive at Darla’s aunt’s house. Unfolding three blocks from their destination was the beginning of a historical event. Charlie had wanted something big in his life to happen, Luemveld wanted to become a hero, and they would both get their wish, because it was April 29, 1992, and they were driving into the epicenter of what later would be called the Rodney King Riots.
Jordan was home watching television, playing with Cecily, when the show stopped. A news anchor intoned, “We interrupt the usual scheduled programming with a breaking news story.” The news anchor stated that there was a disturbance, including looting and fire in South Central Los Angeles. The anchor reported that it appeared to be a reaction to the acquittals of the policemen accused of beating Rodney King. The picture then shifted to live shots from a helicopter flying over South Central Los Angeles. Stopped at the intersection of Florence and Normandie was a dirt-hauling truck, where the driver had been dragged from the cab and was being beaten by a group of men. The men were posturing to the helicopter and the reporter wondered aloud where the police were.
As Jordan watched the television, the door bell rang. Steve Drulis, his dad’s mechanic, dropped off the car. He gave Jordan the keys and told him he parked the car in the garage. Jordan returned to watch television.
Cecily pointed to the news anchor and said, “G Pa.”
Jordan said, “No, Cecily, that’s the news guy.” She then walked up to the picture of burning buildings near the news anchor.
She said, “G Pa.”
Jordan wondered why she pointed to the fire and then jumped up in a panic and said, “Shit, Dad’s headed in that direction.”
Cecily said, “Jordan save G Pa.”
His mother was not home, so he ran upstairs and told Bryce to turn on his TV set. The picture showed the intersection with periodic views of looting and buildings burning.
“We got to get Dad. He’s driving into the middle of that,” Jordan said.