Confessions of a Vigilante

by Manuel Fernandez

  Sergio’s upper teeth bit down on his lower lip. He shuffled around in his seat. His mind flashed back to his youth. He was thirteen-years-old, walking down the steps leading to the basement of his house. His father was seated in a chair, tied up, face bloody. “Son, please, go get some help,” he said as soon as he saw Sergio. That’s where the episode ends. A blackout. Sergio can’t remember anything beyond the gruesome scene.

  Sergio felt his chest tighten. He felt dizzy. His hands shook. The walls were moving, he experienced double-vision. Sweat dripped down his forehead.

  “Are you OK?” asked Megan. She reached out to him but he shooed her away.

  “Just give me a second,” said Sergio. He sat back in his chair and silently counted to ten. It was a technique he practiced every time he was having a panic attack. His breathing began to return to normal. The dizziness subsided. His hands stopped shaking. He took a moment to snap back to reality. He looked at Megan Baker in the eyes, focused.

  “I first came on the scene in the late eighties. I was living in Hayward California with my moms, my brother and two sisters. The place was a fucking dump. The heat never worked in the winter, so we all had to sleep in one bed to get some circulation going through our bodies. The water was just as bad, some kind of green shit floatin’ in it. We had to go to the shelter around the corner, just to drink fresh water. My dad died just before I started to grow hair on my dick.”

  “What were your memories of your father?” asked Megan.

  Sergio glanced at his hand. “Pops was a trip. Always in a good mood. Used to take us kids to ball games, the park, Disneyland. He was a good guy. I remember he got me a remote-control motorcycle when I was eight. One of those where you could ride around in.”

  “What did he do for a living?” Megan looked at the round clock above Sergio’s head. 12:05pm.

  “I never really knew until later on; years after he passed. He was some type of gangster, drug dealer, something.”

  “How did he die?” asked Megan

  Again, Sergio’s mind flashed back to the image of his father tied up, begging him for help. “Car accident.”

  “Car accident? I thought he was strangled to death?”

  “Fuck this and fuck you. I don’t want to talk about my father anymore. Only thing I know is that when he died I was left as the man of the house. What the fuck did I know, right? Here I am, some baby gangster, barely any hair on my dick and I’m changin’ my brother and sister’s diapers, perks of being the oldest. I didn’t get to do shit like you valley yuppies did.”

  Megan’s face turned red. She looked down at her notepad, massaging her forehead. “What about your mother? Were you close with her?”

  Sergio’s mind flashed back to the words his mother told him when he was thirteen. I had to do it. He was trying to hurt our family. He felt another panic attack creeping so he went through the ‘eyes closed, counting to ten’ routine before answering Megan’s question.

  “I went to school, came home to screamin’, hungry kids, while my mom worked twelve hour shifts at some fucking crack head hotel in the ghetto. I couldn’t go outside, play ball with my friends. Didn’t matter. Where I lived, it wasn’t safe to go outside. We lived near Smalley Ave, in the East Bay, Bay Area sister, that’s where all the Boyz n’the Hood hung out, low riders with nothin’ but murder on their minds. Every ten minutes you hear gunshots, some hood rat screaming “Oh shit, they shot Johnny Boy.” I tell you sister, it was a fucking war zone. My neighbor Paco was an O.G. bangin’ since he was ten. Homeboy was a stone killer, fuckin’, terminator of the hood. One day, him and a few of the homies was kicking it out front of his pad, smoking, sucking down 40oz. This Mexican cat pulls up in a low-rider with three of his homeboys, talking about how Paco fucked his old lady. Shit, from what I heard that bitch was like the village bicycle. Everybody and their pappi was hittin’ it. Paco was like, ‘Yeah, I fucked that hoe, now what?’ Homeboy had the nerve to say, ‘That’s my lady fool, don’t be disrespecting her.’

  Megan’s eyes again diverted to the round clock.

  The long hand made a loud click as it settled on the 3. 12:15pm.

  Sergio didn’t notice Megan’s brief aversion and kept talking. “Paco just laughed and said, ‘I was disrespecting her all last night, when I slapped her in the face with my dick, nutted over her face and watched her lick up my cum.’ Fuckin’ Paco, that fool was gangster, ain’t no doubt about that. So, homeboy rushes Paco but Paco steps back and comes over the top, cracks dude square in the jaw, lays him out. Paco pulls out a gun and shoots homeboy like six times, pop, pop, pop, then spits on him and says, ‘Should have kept your hoe on a leash.’ Deep shit sister. Wait a second, hold on, it don’t end there. His crew is pissed, so they pull out their guns. Now it’s like the Wild West. Bullets flying everywhere. I dive behind a bush in my yard, everybody’s taking cover. I close my eyes, I hear ‘Fuck you holmes.’ The sound of screams was the only reason I opened my eyes. I see Paco and two of his home boys lying on the front lawn, covered in blood. Next to them was my sisters, covered in blood. I could still see the gun smoke comin’ out of their bodies, fuckin’ innocent bystanders. That’s the first time I seen anybody killed.

  Megan looked down at the dirty floors and saw a cockroach sprint underneath the table. The site made her stomach feel a little uneasy.

  “Shit wasn’t the same after that,” said Sergio. My mom said fuck that, packed up me and my brother and split. R.I.P. Hermanas. We went to live with my uncle and aunt in Modesto, out in cow country. Hot as a ten-dollar hooker’s pussy, couldn’t even go outside in the summer time. My uncle Larry was my mother’s brother. He was a cool cat but he was gone most of the time. I didn’t find out until later he was hustling meth. My aunt was a cunt, always hittin’ me and my brother for stupid shit: not going to bed on time, not eating all our dinner. Bitch would wake us up with a wooden spoon. I swear that’s the reason I still get migraines. My mom didn’t know. She was pulling double shifts at McDonald’s, slangin’ hamburgers.”

  Sergio gazed at an encyclopedia on the bookshelf by the kitchen. He saw Mr. Banks, the family’s landlord when he was a kid, lying on a wooden table. The place was dim. Sergio couldn’t make out where he was. He remembered the words. Go on do it. He tried to hurt the family. The voice seemed hurried but not rushed. Like a teacher giving specific instructions, waiting for the student to obey. Young Sergio felt a butcher’s knife in his hand. Either you kill him or he’ll kill all of us.

  Megan interrupted. “Would you say you were introduced to a life of crime at an early age? Excuse me, Mr. Ramirez. Mr. Ramirez. Are you OK?”

  Sergio snapped out of his trance. “Yeah, sorry.” Sergio rubbed his eyes. “Must be all them drugs I took over the years catching up to me. Where was I?”

  “I asked if you were introduced to crime at an early age.”

  Again, the mind shifted back in time. Mr. Bank’s face was painted with tears. He tried to talk but his mouth was covered with duct tape. He was pleading for his life. Sergio knew it but the voice kept pushing. If you let him go he’ll come after you.

  Sergio dipped his eyes then turned his head, creating a loud pop. “Baby doll, I was fucked the moment I came out of my mom’s pussy.”

  “Please continue,” said Megan, shifting her eyes to Sergio’s chalky hands.

  “Caught my first case at fifteen, attempted murder charge. I decided to visit my mom one day after school, I wanted to surprise her, so I walk in the door and see the manager, some scrawny, white dude, who looked like he got the shit kicked out of him by the football team in high school. You know the type, a fuckin’ nerd who spent his weekends readin’ comic books and watchin’ Star Track, probably never got laid too, jackin’ off to Playboy’s. You look at homeboy and think, yeah, he’s got bodies buried in his basement. Anyway, he’s laying into her, waging his finger, like he’s her fucking dad or somethin’, talking about how she’s lucky to work, he could fire her spick ass, telling her there’s a lot of your pe
ople who would love to have this job. Fucking balls on this prick, like we Latino’s are animals or somethin’. I go up to dude, tell him to back off. My mother’s crying, telling me to leave. This piece of shit turns to my mom and asks who I am. She says, “My son.” He starts smiling, says, "Well, congratulations, he just got you fired.” She’s pleading with the guy. He tells her to get out, grabs her by the arm, pulling her towards the door. I’m like fuck that, nobody puts their hands on my mom. I crack dude in the face, he falls to the ground, I’m stomping the shit out of him. All these white yuppies standing around, shocked, "Oh my God.” Fucking white people, bunch of sheltered hypocrites. If my mom wouldn’t have pulled me off him I would have killed the dude. I was fifteen at the time. Got sent to juvenile hall. I wasn’t worried about funk, I mean, come on, I’m in fucking cow country. Man, I was in for a rude awakening. First day of juvie, they dress me in dark jeans and a yellow shirt and send me to Unit A, that’s where the rapist, murderers, and guys who didn’t give a fuck about rules were housed. Most of these cats was gonna be here until they turned 18. After that it’s CYA, big time boys, one step closer to the pen, sweet justice to adulthood, Happy Birthday son, you better sleep with your ass to the wall.”

  “Is CYA, like a stop before going to prison?” asked Megan.

  Sergio nodded his head. “Something like that.”

  Megan stood up abruptly. She could feel water being discharged from her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, “please excuse me for a moment.” She made her way past the Marshall, diving into the bathroom. Her manicured hand turned the faucet. Streaks of cold water flushed out. She cupped her hands, splashing the cold water between her eyes. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed seven digits. On the third ring a male voice answered. “Hey sweetie, everything alright?”

  “I don’t know if I can go through with this,” said Megan. “He’s not, I mean, how could he be?”

  “Relax, take a deep breath. You know what he is. It’s no secret. If you want, you can walk away right now,” said the man.

  Megan sighed, and then stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t like the scared person looking back at her. “No, I want to know everything about him. Why and how he became this monster.”

  “I think you already know.” He said.

  “I want him to tell me. We will procced with the plan.”

  The man said, “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” said Megan.

  “OK. I’m meeting her right now.”

  “Be careful. She’s not to be trusted.” Megan said.

  “Don’t worry sweetie. Everything’s covered. See you in a bit.”

  Megan hung up the phone, composed herself and went back out to finish the interview.

  David Garcia hung up the phone and walked into the lobby of the Grand Harbor, a swanky four-star hotel off the Embarcadero. It overlooked the Bay Bridge. A husky Latino dressed in gray slacks and a black suit jacket greeted him. “Are you David?” the man asked. A nod. “Come this way.”

  David followed him in the elevator. The two got out on the tenth floor. Two more men, hard looking, bulges sticking out of their waistbands, stand next to room 1050. “Hands up please,” the man said. David obliged as the man searched him for weapons. He gave the two men the nod to step aside and let David enter.

  Esperanza Valdez sat on the couch, her legs spread out. Her beauty was the first thing that popped into David’s head. She was healthy thin, her black hair was shiny. She resembled an aging but beautiful model decked out in her silky white pant suit. For a split-second David forgot Esperanza was one of the biggest Cocaine dealers on the west coast. Sitting across from her was Ricardo Santiago, a top lieutenant in the Sinaloa Cartel. Cockiness oozed off his Armani suit. His flashy rings and movie star looks let you know the laws of the land don’t apply to him. He greeted David with a ‘Who the fuck is this?’ smirk. Esperanza was more gentle. “David, so glad you could make it. Please, come sit.” Esperanza patted her hand on the empty couch seat next to her. David sat down.

  Esperanza looked to Ricardo Santiago. “Ricardo, this is David.”

  Ricardo leaned forward and grabbed his glass of Cognac. He took a sip, his eyes peering over the glass at David. He set the glass down on the table, and leaned back in the chair. “I know you, no?” he asked David, his broken English bleeding through.

  “No,” said David.

  “Yes, yes, you visited Mexico City last year.”

  Esperanza inched closer trying to read David’s body language.

  “You have me mixed up with someone else,” said David.

  Ricardo studied David as if he were a puzzle he was trying to put together. “You came with a woman, red hair.”

  Esperanza interjected. “What is this?”

  Ricardo said, “I think this person is lying. I don’t trust him.”

  “Are you saying he’s a cop?” asked Esperanza, chuckling.

  Ricardo stood up. “Take your clothes off,” said Ricardo to David.

  “I’m not taking anything off,” David said.

  “Now!” Ricardo’s voice rose, which brought in Esperanza’s bodyguard. Esperanza signaled to David. The bodyguards grabbed David, squeezing his arms. “Fuck is going on?” David shouted.

  “I’m going to kill you,” said Ricardo. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at David.

  “No, no, not here,” said Esperanza. She slipped behind Ricardo, blowing in his ear, kissing on his neck. She unbuckled Ricardo’s belt buckle and then slid her hand around his cock.

  “Goddamn mommy,” he said.

  “I want you to bend me over right now,” she said.

  “In front of this cockroach?” Ricardo said, pointing at David.

  “Wouldn’t it be sexy if the last image he has of you is tearing up my pussy.”

  Ricardo dropped his pants, ripping off Esperanza’s clothes. He could hardly contain himself. He bent her over a chair and entered her. His hips thrusted deep. Esperanza threw her head in the air, her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Ricardo grabbed her hair, slapped her ass and fucked her with the quickness of a jack rabbit. The faster he went the louder Esperanza moaned. “Don’t stop,” said Esperanza. Ricardo looked over at David, smiling. “I’m gonna cum,” said Esperanza. “Yes, yes, oh fuck yes.” she said. This turned Ricardo on even more. He went faster and harder. A few minutes later he let out a moan himself, right before he finished.

  Esperanza, dripping with sweat, caught her breath then wrapped her hair in a bun. Ricardo plopped himself on the couch, wheezing. “Holy shit, you’re a piece of ass,” said Ricardo. Esperanza went over to the bar in the corner and poured herself a glass of white wine. She looked at her bodyguards. “OK, now you can kill him.”

  Ricardo wore a wolfish smile, waiting for the blood to spill. One of the bodyguards pulled out a gun. There was a silencer at the end of it. He pointed it at David. The other bodyguard held David. David tried to protest to Esperanza but she wasn’t paying attention. At the last second the bodyguard diverted his aim to Ricardo. Two shots to the head.

  “What the fuck?” said David. The body guard released him.

  “Calm down,” said Esperanza, to David, who was visibly shaken. “A girls got her needs too.”

  The two bodyguards laid out a sheet of painters plastic and wrapped Ricardo’s body in it.

  Esperanza put on a white robe, sat down on the couch, wine in hand. “David, are you blushing? You’re a prude, are you?”

  “What is going?” said David.

  “Nothing now. Let’s talk business, shall we? How are things going with the interview?”

  David stuttered the words out, “Umm… Almost done.”

  “Tell me again why I don’t just kill Sergio,” said Esperanza.

  “We had a deal,” said David.

  “Oh yes, you help me double distribution.”

  “I’m also training your men.”

  “Right, to play Rambo in the jungle,” said Esperanza.

  “Mor
e than that, but I think you know that.”

  “How is the training going?”

  “Next batch of men should be ready in a week.” David said.

  Esperanza’s eyes lit up. “That soon? Good work. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

  David felt more comfortable. “What’s the story with Ricardo over there?”

  Esperanza smirked. “His boss sent him here to negotiate a partnership. What he really wanted was to kill me, take everything for himself. He forgot he was messing with the baddest bitch on the planet. So, this new group of men will take care of that problem, yes?”

  “Of course.”

  Esperanza stood up, went over to David and massaged the side of his face. “Just so we understand each other. You fuck me over without gettin’ me wet or decide you want to play for the other team…”

  David looked at Ricardo’s body. “You made your point. I don’t plan on moonlighting.”

  Esperanza kissed David on the lips. “That’s what I like hear. Call me when it’s done.”

  Sergio noticed mascara running down Megan’s cheek. “You good?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, “Allergies.” She sat back down across from Sergio. “So, where were we? Oh yeah, Juvenile Hall. Let’s continue, shall we?”

  Sergio tried to dissect what was swimming in Megan’s head before continuing. “Yeah, OK, cool. As I was sayin’, my roommate was this black dude. Brother had arms the size of tree trunks, some big time dope dealer from Maple St., blue raggin’ it up and down the halls. At first we was cool, then he starts tripping, trying to punk me, calling me a spick. Here I am this scrawny fifteen-year-old, scared shitless. One day I’m out in the yard, these four Mexican dudes surround me, they claimed the color red. They say, ‘Why you let that fucking mayate punk you?’ I say, ‘Look at him, he’s bigger than me, fuck am I supposed to do?’

  “I’m sorry for interrupting again,” said Megan, “But what is a my-ute?”

  “Mayate. Spanish for nigger.”