Pure Murder

by Corey Mitchell

  As Deputy Bair placed Perez in custody, Deputy Davis ran a check on the license plate of the Monte Carlo. Information came back that it, too, had been stolen. Deputy Davis waited until Deputy Bair patted down Perez and then guided him into the backseat of the sheriff’s vehicle.

  Deputy Davis informed Deputy Bair that the other car had been stolen as well. Deputy Bair walked up to the Monte Carlo and asked the young man inside to produce some identification, which he did.

  The driver was Joe Medellin.

  Deputy Bair also cuffed Medellin, patted him down, and stuck him in the cruiser. The deputies drove Medellin to his parents’ home and released him. The deputies, however, then drove Perez to the West Ellis Detention Center, where he was charged with unauthorized use of a motor vehicle.

  Perez had broken the steering column on the van, as well as the knee panel and ignition. Basically, he hot-wired the vehicle. The same things were damaged in the Monte Carlo, in addition to both car stereos being damaged during unsuccessful attempts at stealing them.

  The entire time he was in Deputies Bair and Davis’s custody, Perez appeared nonchalant. Bored, almost. It all seemed rather humorous to him.

  Mary Jo Hardy received a phone call at 2:00 A.M. from the police that her van had been recovered. When she picked it up, she discovered it had been thoroughly trashed and most of her belongings, including a baby’s car seat, were gone.

  Saturday, January 4, 1992—1:30 P.M.

  Del-Mar Bowling Center

  Mangum Road

  Houston, Texas

  Since 9:00 A.M., Cathleen Buford and her husband, Greg, had been enjoying a relaxing day at the Del-Mar Bowling Center. They were there to watch their nephew bowl in his youth league.

  Right after lunch at noon, Greg slipped outside the bowling alley to retrieve his bowling ball so he could partake in some fun with his nephew. After bowling for nearly ninety minutes, Greg and Cathleen said their good-byes to their nephew and headed out of the facility. Once they arrived at the spot where they parked their car, they stopped dead in their tracks. Another car had parked in the exact same spot where they had parked their red 1988 Pontiac Firebird. The couple panicked, ran around the parking lot trying to find their vehicle, in case they just did not remember exactly where they had parked. It was all for naught. Their car had been stolen.

  The couple returned to the bowling alley, met up with their nephew, told him what happened, and then called Cathleen’s sister and asked her to come pick them all up. They also called the police department to report their car had been stolen.

  Later that evening, Cathleen’s sisters offered to take Cathleen out to the movies to help take her mind off her stolen car.

  After the movie, at approximately 10:30 P.M., as the women drove from the movie theater to Cathleen’s sister’s house, they passed the bowling alley where Cathleen’s car had been taken. They crossed onto Thirty-fourth Street when Cathleen, who had been looking out the window for her car on the entire trip back, spotted her Firebird in front of the Taquerias Arandas Mexican restaurant, which was located in a strip center at the 4700 block of West Thirty-fourth Street. She hollered at her sister to pull into the restaurant parking lot. They drove right up next to the car. Cathleen checked the license plate to make sure it was hers, and it was. They pulled out of the Taquerias Arandas parking lot and drove across the street to the Kentucky Fried Chicken parking lot. They called the police from a pay phone; she then called her husband.

  Greg Buford stayed at home that evening to watch football on television. When Cathleen called to tell him she found her car, he told her to sit tight and he would be right over. Greg pulled up to the restaurant, checked out the car to make sure it was his wife’s, and then walked over to the Kentucky Fried Chicken parking lot, where his wife had parked. He told her to stay put and that he was going inside to see if he could find the culprit.

  Greg walked back over to Taquerias Arandas and into the restaurant. He looked around for anyone that seemed suspicious. There were only three occupied tables—one was a dressed-up couple, who appeared to be on a date; one table had a black couple with kids; at the third table sat three young Hispanic males eating their food. Greg walked up to the counter and quietly asked for the manager of the restaurant.

  When the manager walked up, Greg greeted him and asked, “Do you know who drove that red Firebird here?” He tilted his head toward the location of the car, trying to be as discreet as possible. The manager, who did not speak English, shook his head no. Greg then asked one of the restaurant staff members if he knew who had driven the red Firebird. The young man motioned to the table with the three Hispanic boys near the back of the restaurant, confirming Greg’s suspicions.

  Greg turned away from the staff member to look at the boys. He was nervous because he was outnumbered, three to one. He became even more nervous when he saw what he described as “the glint of a metal barrel that looked like a revolver,” on the belt area of one of the three young men. He did not want to alarm anyone, so he did not say anything about the possibility that one of the boys might be carrying a weapon. Instead, Buford asked the manager if he could borrow his telephone in the back, which he used to contact the police. He thanked the manager and then walked out of the restaurant.

  As he walked back toward his wife, over one hundred yards away, Greg was scared as hell. He was nervous, but he was damned if they were going to leave that parking lot with his wife’s car. Greg walked up to his wife and told her that the thieves were inside the restaurant and that he had also called the cops.

  It would not take long for the situation to escalate.

  Less than one minute later, Cathleen watched as the three Hispanic male teenagers walked out of the restaurant toward her car. Greg stood next to her and witnessed the entire scene as well. Cathleen was nervous as she saw one of the young men lean up against it as if he were in no particular hurry.

  One minute after that, a Houston police car, with siren blaring and lights flashing, pulled into the Taquerias Arandas parking lot. The boys froze in their tracks and looked like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming diesel.

  Officer Kenneth Bradshaw, who was driving the police car, barked out, “Stop right there. Don’t move!”

  Suddenly the youths snapped out of it and took off running toward Mangum Road. Mirroring an episode of Starsky & Hutch, Officer Bradshaw bolted out of the squad car and took off after one of the boys. The other juveniles, Efrain Perez and Joe Medellin, stopped running, once they realized a police officer had taken chase after them. The third boy was able to make his way eastbound across Mangum Road, so Officer Bradshaw focused on him. As he ran after the suspect, he radioed in for a Fox unit, or helicopter assistance. Bradshaw resumed his sprint after the young man until he reached the Silver Creek Apartments complex. The officer lost track of the fleeing suspect in the maze of apartments. It took less than two minutes.

  Meanwhile, Officer Gerald Crawford exited the squad car and hollered at the two surrendered miscreants: “Get down on the ground, now!” One boy turned around as if he were going to walk back into the restaurant, while the other boy, who had his hands buried deep in his pants pockets, continued to walk off. Officer Crawford was compelled to brandish his revolver and point it at the second boy. “I said, get down! Now!”

  The other boy flopped to the ground and yelled out, “Joe, stop.”

  The suspect eventually halted after a few more steps. Crawford approached him and stated, “Take your hands out of your pockets, slowly.” The boy, who looked rather nonplussed about the whole affair, smirked, lifted his arms up, and removed his hands from his pockets. In the process of doing so, a gun fell out.

  “Put your hands up in the air, now!” Officer Crawford yelled at Medellin.

  Joe Medellin reluctantly did as he was told. He did not even flinch at the sight of the gun that had fallen from his pocket.

  Officer Crawford scurried toward Medellin, grabbed him, and pushed him up against a wall. He then procee
ded to pat the boy down, saying, “Get down on the ground, now.”

  Medellin complied with the officer and slowly worked his way facedown to the parking lot’s surface. Crawford withdrew a pair of handcuffs and restrained the juvenile. Crawford looked back toward the other boy on the ground and decided he was not going to make a break for it.

  A few minutes later, a heavily breathing Officer Bradshaw returned to the parking lot, where Officer Crawford had the two boys in custody. Bradshaw informed Crawford that the third suspect had escaped. Officers Crawford and Bradshaw lifted the two suspects off the ground and escorted them to the back of the squad car.

  Officer Bradshaw walked over to Cathleen and Greg Buford. He confirmed that it was indeed their vehicle that had been stolen and recovered. Officer Crawford then showed Greg how to ignite the Firebird so he could drive it home. The officer knew that GMC cars were fairly easy to steal; however, the thieves had to really know what they were doing to be able to steal them successfully.

  On the drive to the police station, the officers were able to coax some information out of one of the boys. They found out that their names were Efrain Perez Jr. and Joe Medellin. Perez was not speaking, while Medellin nervously began to chatter with the officers. The officers could not convince Medellin or Perez to give up the name of the third person, who had escaped.

  Perez and Medellin were transported to the Juvenile Division located at the downtown central station of the Houston Police Department (HPD). There they were processed and questioned by a detective. Inexplicably, neither boy was charged with any offense.

  Wednesday, February 5, 1992

  Houston, Texas

  One month after Perez and Medellin’s arrests for the unauthorized use of a motor vehicle, Perez appeared in the juvenile delinquent court for the theft of Mary Jo Hardy’s van from a church parking lot. Associate Judge Ramona John placed Perez on juvenile probation and declared he “is in need of rehabilitation” and that for his own safety, and for those around him, he “should be placed in the custody of the child’s mother.”

  In order for Perez to successfully complete his probation, Judge John created several orders that were to be followed by the young man for one year:

  • must attend the Juvenile Alcohol and Drug Awareness Program,

  • must attend a peer pressure workshop,

  • must attend a legal awareness workshop,

  • was to have no contact with Joe Medellin.

  Perez was given additional rules by Judge John that he had to adhere to during his probationary period. These included:

  • reporting to a Juvenile Division officer in the event that he changed addresses,

  • must attend school and “all classes every day,”

  • must stay within the boundaries of Harris County and only be allowed to leave upon receiving permission from a juvenile probation officer,

  • must not violate any laws of the state of Texas or any other place,

  • must not leave his “court placement,” in other words, his mother’s home, without lawful permission,

  • must be home every evening by nine, Sunday through Thursday, and eleven on Friday and Saturday ; not allowed to leave his home until 6:00 A.M. every day,

  • must not operate a motorized vehicle without permission from his juvenile probation officer,

  • not allowed to have a driver’s license during his probationary period,

  • must submit random urine samples to the Harris County Juvenile Probation personnel; a positive result for drugs including marijuana or “dangerous drugs” would result in “adjudication of delinquent conduct” or revocation of probation.

  Perez signed the probationary report, which also included the statement, “If I commit an offense after my 17th birthday, I could be tried as an adult in criminal courts.” It was also signed by his mother.

  After several drop-ins by Maria Guerra, Efrain Perez’s probation officer, Perez stopped by her office on April 21, 1992. Perez had no telephone in his home and his parents were usually gone to work whenever Guerra would stop by for a visit. As a result, she sent him a letter asking him to come by her office.

  Guerra wanted to discuss Perez’s mandatory counseling programs ordered by the judge. She referred the boy to the Association for the Advancement of Mexican Americans (AAMA), a group that conducts therapy for Hispanic families and attempts to help at-risk youth.

  Perez and his parents went to one therapy session.

  In the meeting, the AAMA representative discerned that the parents were unable to control their son and they worried about his abuse of alcohol and drugs and believed he might be dealing drugs.

  By June 1992, Guerra received a notice from AAMA that they had closed Perez’s case because no one from the Perez family ever showed up again after that initial meeting. As a result, Guerra, who could have revoked Perez’s probation, instead opted to send the boy to a Council on Alcohol and Drugs Houston (CADH) counselor, whose focus was on drug and alcohol abuse. The meetings were to take place in the same building where Guerra worked on Antoine Drive, which is easily accessible by the Houston METRO bus system.

  Perez was scheduled to meet with the CADH counselor six times during the month of June. He made it to two sessions. The counselor dropped the case.

  Guerra noted, however, that Perez did attend his mandatory peer pressure workshop. He was only required to attend one time. Guerra stated the workshop was very beneficial to younger kids who might be persuaded to join up with other people who are prone to making bad choices.

  As far as Perez’s attendance at the legal awareness workshops, he was supposed to attend six consecutive weeks of sessions. He missed three of them.

  Guerra also spoke about Perez’s final condition that he was not supposed to have any contact with Joe Medellin. Guerra was fully aware of the other boy, because she was his probation officer as well. Needless to say, Guerra knew Perez was in violation, because he and Medellin used to walk into Guerra’s office together. Guerra was appalled by their obvious disregard for authority and restrictions. She reminded the two young men they were not allowed to be together and they needed to go their separate ways.

  Guerra’s reason for not reporting the two boys to their judge sounded unusual. She stated, “There’s no way for me to say they did come together. They continued [to be] friends.” She notated the violation, however, and stated, “It wasn’t enough for me to take it back to the court.”

  Guerra, who had a caseload between sixty and seventy juvenile delinquents, lamented the fact that she was never able to monitor whether or not Perez violated his curfew. Her method of monitoring consisted of calling the delinquent’s home phone number and asking if he was home. Since the Perez family did not have a telephone, she was never able to check on his status.

  Guerra was able to visit the Perez household on a few occasions. She spoke with his parents in regard to him breaking curfew. From their conversations, Guerra gleaned that the Perezes had no control over their son. He came and went as he pleased, and he almost never adhered to his curfew guidelines.

  Chapter 5

  Saturday, February 8, 1992—3:00 P.M.

  Traders Village

  Traders Village Drive and North Eldridge Parkway

  Houston, Texas

  Cypress-Fairbanks High School eleventh grader Gary Ford was excited because his boss was letting him off work three hours early. The avid football-card collector needed to pick up a weekday job to go along with his weekend job at the Traders Village, a large flea market, where he sold playing cards to kids. He intended to walk over to a nearby Burger King so he could apply for a job as a cook, which would give him work during the week, but first he needed to walk home to his Chimney Hill neighborhood. It was the same path he trudged on the weekends to and from work; it usually took him fifteen to twenty minutes to complete. The fashionable young man was resplendent in a black Los Angeles Raiders jacket he had purchased six months earlier and a pair of red-and-maroon Air Jordan sne
akers. He was carrying a box of football cards.

  Ford also carried a steak knife in his pocket. He claimed it was because he was “not real popular with the gangs in the neighborhood, because I tell little kids not to join them.” Ford did not have a good relationship with the Latin Kings, a Hispanic gang that patrolled his neighborhood. That day he would have no run-ins with the Latin Kings.

  As he strolled down Log Cradle Drive, Ford watched his friend Douglas Gordy playing football with some of the little kids from the neighborhood.

  Ford continued down Log Cradle Drive, until it intersected at Blazey Drive. As he shuffled up to the intersection, he noticed someone walking in his general direction from Log Cradle on the same side of the street. It was a teenage boy wearing a dark baseball cap, dark pants, and a khaki shirt. Ford thought the boy looked Vietnamese. He had no idea who the kid was coming toward him.

  As the two crossed paths, the other boy slowly changed direction then and began to walk back toward Ford. The boy approached within three feet and said, “Do you know Refugio?”

  Ford slowed and responded, “Yeah, man. He’s cool.”

  “Are you part of the Latin Kings?” the boy asked.

  “I ain’t no part of no gang,” Ford retorted in a pissed-off voice.

  The other boy seemed relieved. “Well”—he smiled at Ford—“I want your jacket.”

  Ford was not happy. He had saved up enough money working at Traders Village to purchase his prized possession. He was a huge fan of former Raiders running back Bo Jackson and wanted to adorn himself in his favorite player’s team colors. He looked the other boy up and down and smirked at him. He was not going to give up his jacket.

  At least, not until he saw the gun in the boy’s waistband.

  Ford got real nervous, real quick. “Okay, man,” he stammered as he looked around to see if there was anyone else ready to jump him. He was not willing to risk his life over a jacket. Ford lifted one hand up in resignation as he knelt down on one knee to lay down his box of football cards.