The Valley of the Shadow of Death
Page 15
Haynes, who had known Burns for less than a year at the time, heard him say that Cox had kicked the door in, and was “just like a time bomb that exploded and when he entered the house he just started shooting everybody everywhere.” Burns said he was in the house and “stood there and watched.”
For Burns, the explanation of the crime was that the Rolling Sixties had robbed a dope house on Sixth and Broadway. The people from the dope house had then retaliated and shot up the house of a member of the Rolling Sixties. The hit of August 31 was revenge for the retaliation.
Burns would tell others that Cox did it out of revenge for a retaliatory hit on Cox’s house.
Burns said he did not know why the Alexander house was hit.
When asked about the killing of children, Burns responded, “That’s just something that just happened.”
* * *
On November 3, 1984, members of the Gang Enforcement Unit arrived at 6310 Second Avenue in Hyde Park. Officer Tony Moreno exited the police car and walked to the front door. Moreno, a legendary gang cop, was known on the streets as “Pacman,” because for years he drove a bullet-riddled yellow Ford Fury and was said to gobble up gang members like the little yellow video game character. Moreno was the model for the CRASH officer later played by Sean Penn in the 1988 movie Colors. Detective Crews, of Robbery Homicide, not wanting a big show of the arrest of Burns, had walked down the hallway of Parker Center to the Gang Enforcement Unit and asked Moreno if he would arrest Burns.
As Moreno approached the front door, he saw Burns make a break for a window to the left. Another gang officer waiting outside grabbed the fleeing Burns and took him into custody, booking him for murder at Central Division.
Following Burns’s arrest, Chief Daryl Gates stated: “We believe that these two individuals [Cox and Burns] were involved in the rip-off of a narcotics dealer,” and were recognized. In retaliation for the rip-off, there was retaliation against one of the individuals, “so this is a payback for the retaliation.”
The chief continued, “We believe we know the reason for the Alexanders’ murder. We believe it was about as tragic a situation you’d ever, ever find.”
While the press ran with the chief’s version, it would take years to uncover what actually took place. The true facts were very different from those broadcast by Gates.
* * *
Following the arrests and arraignments of Tiequon Cox and Horace Burns, the case entered a second phase. Both defendants were provided with attorneys and the legal proceedings began.
Unlike most high-profile murder trials, this case had a strange, disjointed feel about it. The case was incomplete, as the prosecutor, Sterling Norris, approached it without any clear understanding of motive. While under the law, the prosecutor does not have to prove motive, since it is not an element of the crime, it is unusual to have a murder case where it is not addressed, since juries want to know the reason behind the defendant’s act. Figuring out the motive answers that most basic question—why did he do it?
Without knowing that reason, we found no solace, and had little confidence that the trials would end well. Norris kept assuring us that the evidence was sufficient to try Cox and Burns and that technically, all he needed to prove to sustain a conviction for murder was malice, that is, that a human being was intentionally killed without any excuse or justification.
In early December 1984, Norris prepared for the preliminary hearing, the stage in the proceedings when a magistrate determines whether there is enough evidence to bring the defendants to trial.
Not only did the prosecutor not have a clear motive at the time—giving as possible theories gang-related, drug-connected, or a contract killing—but it was also unclear what role Burns played in the crime. For my family the combination of not knowing if all involved had been arrested, as well as the ongoing uncertainty as to motive, left us nervous for our immediate security, and afraid that Cox and Burns would somehow beat the case and be set free.
* * *
In the weeks leading up to the preliminary hearing, Linda Lewis, who was subpoenaed to testify, repeatedly called the police in a state of panic.
The phone would ring. She answered to dead air, breathing, a hang-up. Every day, every night, dozens of calls, always the same ending, the thud of the hang-up. Several times people attempted to break into her house. Cars stopped outside her home, a rock crashed through her window, people yelled “Rolling Sixties,” and tires squealed as cars sped away. On the eve of the hearing a note was left in her mailbox. It said, “You talk, you die.”
Despite the repeated threats, Lewis said it was the nature of the case that compelled her to come forward.
Of her decision to testify, she said: “Being on Tenth Avenue, I see a lot of things as far as drug transactions, killings and beatings and everything else; but when it involved kids, that went a little further than any means and that’s why I came forth.”
Lewis had never informed the authorities on a case before, but, she said, the nature of this killing “went to my heart.”
* * *
Going into the trial our family was an emotional wreck. But from the start we were pleased with the choice of prosecutor, Sterling Norris.
While the deputy district attorney who tries a criminal case is formally a representative of the collective community, he ends up feeling like the attorney for the victims’ family. The prosecutor keeps the family updated, explains courtroom procedures, and most important, fights for justice on our behalf. For victims’ families suffer not only the horrible loss of loved ones, but an agonizing sense of unfairness. Trust, confidence, feelings of control are obliterated. And the anger that injustice spurs is unbearable, that violence has been unleashed on your family, yet you are forbidden from action, breeds a kind of cancerous impotence.
So in the wake of the crime, unable to go on with their daily lives, victims pour all their emotional energy into restoring justice, into rebalancing the world. And the immediate goal of those efforts is the conviction and punishment of those who caused the suffering. We sought clarity and solace. On at least one thing my fractured family stood as one: justice could be found only if the killers received the maximum possible penalty.
If I had it my way, I would have taken out the gangbangers who killed my family on my own. But it didn’t work out that way. And now I, along with the rest of my family, put our trust into Sterling Norris to achieve justice, and at least begin the process of restoring our lives.
Norris was a veteran prosecutor who specialized in highly charged murder cases. He was an emotional man himself and channeled our family’s passions. A Los Angeles Times reporter described Norris as “a straightforward, no-nonsense lawyer with a red face, white hair and a voice made hoarse by heartfelt conviction.” He had run unsuccessfully for district attorney of Los Angeles on more than one occasion. He had anger, passion, an ax to grind. And in him we placed our faith.
He was a firm advocate for capital punishment. A picture of every member of California’s death row hung on his office walls. Tacked to his door, a flyer: “Free the Nightstalker. Retain Rose Bird.” This referenced the notorious serial killer and California’s liberal Supreme Court chief justice, who famously opposed the death penalty and repeatedly voted to overturn capital convictions.
Norris also had high-profile capital case experience. Several years earlier he tried and convicted the “Freeway Killer” William Bonin, for the sex-torture murders of more than twenty young men.
When asked about our case Norris termed it “especially brutal.”
He continued: “We know from the facts that there was a bang, bang, bang. The mother and sister were shot. Then there was a pause, and the kids were killed. [The shooter] went back for the kids; the witnesses. To go back and kill kids—that’s gross.”
Norris assured us he would do everything in his power to send the killers to death row.
* * *
The preliminary hearing began in the first week of the New Year, 1985.
While my family did not attend this hearing, Norris filled us in on the proceedings.
He said that despite his twenty years of experience, he was unprepared for the insolence and defiance that met him in the courtroom. Even though Cox and Burns were both handcuffed to the chairs, he still felt they posed an ongoing threat to courtroom security.
Los Angeles Times reporter Paul Ciotti described Cox as “smoldering,” and said he just got the feeling that at any time he could “bolt from his seat and try to kill everyone in the courtroom.”
Los Angeles Municipal Court Judge Candace Cooper ordered the courtroom, in the downtown Criminal Courts Building, cleared, and checked all entrants with handheld metal detectors. Inside, three marshals guarded the two suspects while three other marshals stood by the doorway.
After hearing evidence from James Kennedy regarding the gun, as well as ballistics, fingerprint, and eyewitness testimony, Judge Cooper found probable cause and ordered the two men to stand trial on January 18, 1985, for four counts of first-degree murder with special circumstances.
Since Norris was seeking the death penalty, he would have to prove, on top of the first-degree murder charges, that a special circumstance existed. Special circumstances are something extra that renders the first-degree murder particularly heinous. Examples include killing a police officer, lying in wait, using poison, or torturing the victim prior to death. In our case, the special circumstance was multiple murder victims.
* * *
On January 31, following her testimony at the preliminary hearing, Linda Lewis was “dogged” (stared at intensely) while out at a nightclub. She recognized the individuals as people who hung out on Tenth Avenue. She pulled a gun on one of them and they ran. Lewis reported this to Detective Crews.
* * *
In February 1985, as Sterling Norris prepared for the upcoming trials, the prosecution caught another break.
Horace Burns, housed in Los Angeles County Jail, kept on talking, naming names of other gang members he said were involved. Due to Burns’s loose lips, several threats were made on his life. Burns was then moved into the “snitch tank,” or protective custody. For Burns this was the first in a string of humiliations that would erode his standing within the gang.
While Burns sat in protective custody, another inmate, David Mangola, came forward, telling the police that Burns had been talking about the murders. Mangola told the authorities that Burns was housed in the cell next to him for about two months, and stated that the murders at the Alexander house were a botched hit on a drug house, and that the Rolling Sixties were paid $20,000 to $30,000 for the hit.
These statements pointed toward a contract hit as the motive.
Los Angeles County District Attorney Ira Reiner wrote a letter asking for federal leniency on behalf of Mangola in exchange for his testimony, stating: “Mr. Mangola refused to testify without specific assurance on the federal violation of parole. He will do his state time regardless. Because of the monstrous nature of the Alexander killings, I must ask you to provide specific assurance of leniency for Mr. Mangola on the federal violation. Mr. Mangola’s prior actions may not be those of an ideal citizen but neither are the acts of these violent defendants in taking the lives of four innocent people.”
* * *
At the very end of February 1985, more than a month after the preliminary hearing of Cox and Burns, LAPD received an anonymous phone call.
The caller provided a description of a van, and said that it was the one that had been used in the murders of August 31. The caller provided specific details as well as a location.
The van was a 1975 Chevy, maroon. It had a passenger-side sliding door. It had no rear side windows.
The license plates were traced to a thirty-seven-year-old black woman named Ida Moore.
* * *
As the prosecutor prepared for the first trial, my family braced itself for the ordeal ahead. I planned to attend, to do whatever I could to ensure that justice was served. While my role had been turned from active street hunter to passive courtroom observer, I still needed to exert my will. I hoped my presence could bring control.
In an effort to keep myself calm and adjust to this new role, I relied upon my experience as a probation officer. When a defendant walked into our office, we would just sit there, quiet, say little or nothing, and let them hang themselves. I would do the same here. I would provide a steady presence for my family, for Norris, for the jury, but I remained quiet. In the courtroom I would watch the killers sentence themselves through their own words and deeds.
As I readied myself, I thought of my father, and his arduous study of the Bible, his ability to recite from memory.
When issues of justice and atonement arose, Leviticus 24:19–21 was sure to be heard.
“And a man who inflicts an injury upon his fellow man just as he did, so shall be done to him, fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth. Just as he inflicted an injury upon a person, so shall it be inflicted upon him.”
21
THE THIRD MAN FACES DEATH
THE DEATH PENALTY has existed in America since the beginning. So has the challenge of a constitutional execution.
After independence, the United States abandoned most of Europe’s methods. Burning at the stake, breaking on the wheel, crucifixion, stoning, and the notorious Roman culeus—where the condemned was sewn into a sack with a live serpent, ape, and dog, then heaved over a cliff into the water—along with other slow, torturous deaths were eliminated. And while more than two hundred crimes could lead to the gallows in the Old World, in America capital crimes focused on murder and treason.
The first method used in America was hanging. Viewed as an ignoble way to die, this was the traditional way to kill common or lower-class criminals. The key to a successful hanging was for the executioner to correctly calculate “the drop.” If the rope was too short, then the neck would not break, causing the condemned to suffocate, leaving him writhing. But if the drop was too long, this risked yanking off the condemned’s head as the plummeting body jerked to a sudden stop. Either way struck observers as both cruel and unusual.
Also used was the more noble and martial death by firing squad. Here a team of marksmen would fire in unison, taking aim at the condemned’s heart. The defendant was seated, restrained, blindfolded, or hooded, while beneath the chair a large pan or bowl caught the blood. As with hanging, botched executions alarmed critics. Marksmen sometimes flinched and missed the mark, maiming the condemned. Efforts to get around the effects of nerves included a firing machine and the use of dummy rounds for some of the shooters, allowing them to question whether they fired the lethal round.
Beginning in New York in the late 1880s, the search for more “scientific” executions made the electric chair the dominant mechanism of death. Electrodes were placed on the condemned’s leg, chest, and head, then the executioner flipped a lever delivering thousands of volts of electricity. Over time, the chair too came to be seen as gruesome, cruel, and inhumane. Botched executions included the repeated efforts needed to kill Ethel Rosenberg in 1953, and the chronic malfunctions of Florida’s chair, nicknamed “Old Sparky,” as it produced smoke and the smell of singed flesh.
Seeking to improve upon the technology of the electric chair, in 1937 California switched to gas. In an airtight chamber, modeled on a bathysphere, the condemned was strapped into a large metal chair, sitting above a container of potassium cyanide pellets. When the executioner threw the switch, the pellets dropped into a solution of sulfuric acid, generating hydrogen cyanide gas. When a defendant was sentenced to death by gas, the saying went, “They’re going to drop the pellets on him.” The chamber, due to its color, was nicknamed the “Mean Green Killing Machine.” Some inmates tried to hold their breath as the invisible gas filled the chamber; others sucked in deeply to speed the process. Regardless, within minutes the condemned was pronounced dead.
In 1985, the gas chamber was California’s sole means of execution.
> * * *
As Burns and Cox stood accused, Ida Moore admitted to driving the van. Her friend Delisa Brown rode shotgun. Both denied any knowledge of the killers’ intent.
In exchange for immunity from prosecution they agreed to testify in the upcoming trials.
They also provided the police with a third suspect who they said rode in the van on that early morning last August.
* * *
Darren Charles Williams was one of the first generation of Rolling Sixties. He was twenty-four years old at the time of the murders.
Williams had done time for mail fraud, robbery, and assault. He was known as a bully. Throughout his life he was big and muscular. By the time of the crime, however, this began to change. Williams, known on the streets as CW, C-Dub, and C-Dove, was addicted to crack cocaine. He lost weight and became paranoid.
Rumors spread through the streets that Williams had been shot at several times following the murders, but no one knew who called the shots.
On February 27, 1985, six months after the murders, following the lead from Ida Moore and Delisa Brown, RHD detectives traveled north to the San Francisco Bay Area. At the time Williams was staying at his father’s house in Richmond.
Initially the police had some difficulty locating Williams, but finally tracked him down, brought him to the Richmond police station, and interrogated him. When the police questioned him, he gave a rambling seventy-page statement. Despite denials, lies, contradictions, and inconsistencies, by the time the detectives finished with Williams they had for the first time a clue to the events of six months prior.
The full motive would not become clear until Williams’s trial the following year.