The Valley of the Shadow of Death

by Kermit Alexander

  * * *

  Early in the following year, 1971, Tiequon, still five years old, and his younger siblings are taken by their mother to visit their grandfather. Sondra and her father are drinking and begin to fight violently. Her father picks her up and holds her over a flaming gas stove, burning her face and hair.

  * * *

  Later that same year, Tiequon’s mother goes over to her boyfriend’s house. She finds him in bed with another woman and a fight breaks out. The boyfriend stabs her repeatedly in the stomach with a knife. She staggers home and collapses on her front porch, blood flowing from her wounds. Tiequon watches as she is taken away in an ambulance.

  * * *

  Back in the Criminal Courts Building in downtown Los Angeles, Cox was being led back to the holding cell on the fourteenth floor.

  Memories of his mother’s pain created in Cox an intense fear for her safety, as well as hatred and mistrust of the police and authority figures.

  He came to “understand very early” that there was “something wicked about the presence of the police, something unjust,” that they were “barbaric,” “mean,” and “cruel.”

  Now, as the bailiff placed Cox into the holding cell, he told him that he, the bailiff, was in charge of the courtroom. While in lockup, Cox said that if he were not in handcuffs he would “take care of the situation.”

  Based upon the bailiff’s account, Judge Boren stated that he was going to replace the leg brace on Cox.

  Boren called before him the bailiff, who stated:

  As I was taking the defendant downstairs I explained to him . . . that his mother was creating a disturbance, and that I would ask her or anybody else to leave the courtroom if I felt that it was necessary.

  And he said he didn’t give a fuck; he didn’t give a fuck about me; he didn’t give a fuck about anything.

  And as he was leaving the courtroom he said he didn’t give a fuck about the deputies that were here. Gave them the same type of stare that he gave me after his mother was ejected.

  And he says, “Well, I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

  The judge then allowed Cox to speak. It was one of the few times he ever spoke during the proceedings.

  COX: Okay, when the man addressed my mother, he didn’t have to come off so harsh to her. We will see tomorrow if I have this brace on. I let them put this brace on. I cooperated. Ain’t no more cooperation with the brace.

  JUDGE BOREN: Does that mean that you are going to cause—

  COX: I am going to cause problems about this brace. I don’t like wearing this brace. Whatever I have to go through, I will go. I don’t like wearing this brace. There is no need for it. As long as I am not provoked, I am all right. When I am provoked, then I let it go.

  JUDGE BOREN: I am going to order that the handcuff be removed. Leg brace will remain today, and will not be put on tomorrow, unless something else comes to light.

  Well, I assume, Mr. Cox, that when you talk about “provoked,” you mean more than deciding something is just merely offensive to you?

  COX: What the DA says, that doesn’t bother me. I mean, the deputies and how they act, and show respect, that is what I mean. When I am provoked; one of them causes me problems, or something that disturbs me.

  JUDGE BOREN: They have very serious responsibilities here with respect to security, that they take very seriously, and I—I have to take very seriously . . . so I hope you understand that.

  COX: I understand they don’t have to kill me but one time.

  * * *

  Following this hearing, the prosecutor concluded his closing argument, stating that the four dead family members, all shot in the head, exhibited a clear intent to kill on the part of the accused.

  Norris stressed the importance of timing, that after Cox killed Mrs. Alexander, CW, who was in the house, was “either startled or shocked, or whatever, but that he departs.” At this point there was the pause in the shooting testified to by Lashawn Driver. It was then that Cox walked back down the hallway, into the front bedroom, and began shooting again. Driver, “the only witness really standing outside there,” saw CW come down the driveway, as he had left the house before Cox got into the front bedroom. Venus Webb likewise positively identified Cox as the last man coming out.

  Now, let me suggest what Cox is. Whatever these two other folks are: Horse, he’s standing outside holding the van; and CW has the information of setting it up and so forth and so on. Cox is the killer. He’s the one that they get to do the job right.

  As evidence of Cox’s lack of compassion, Norris stated:

  On the day that he kills these four people, on the day that he kills the two kids, the eight-year-old, and the thirteen-year-old, not only does he go down and continue his operation on 10th Avenue, but he goes to Kendrix’s used car lot. . . .

  And if the [three defendants] should have those Nazi storm trooper uniforms on, then this man over here, Mr. Cox, ought to wear the skull and crossbones because he was the executioner.

  . . . it is Mr. Cox who is the most culpable of them all. Had it not been for Mr. Cox, would any of these four people not be alive today? Let me suggest that Horse and CW didn’t have the guts or the horrible mentality to go in and pull that trigger in a way that Mr. Cox did.

  Let me suggest to you that the entire people of the county of Los Angeles, any American is in danger when that reign of terror such as Mr. Cox can get out and walk into a house.

  This is walking into a house of innocent people. Walking into a house that could be yours, walking in and murdering everybody in the entire house. That’s the kind of execution-murder that we’re talking about.

  Now, Mr. Cox, when he walked in there, when he got out of that van and he took [the rifle], he had a choice and he made a decision when he got out of that van and he walked in and when he walked in and pulled the trigger three times on Ebora. . . .

  Give Mr. Cox what he earned on that morning and taking those lives of those four people. Give him what he earned. Give him the four convictions of first degree murder and the finding of special circumstances. . . .

  [I]t is now your duty to do that, to do that for justice, not only for the victims, but, above all, for justice.

  Thank you.

  THE COURT: Any argument, Mr. Cook?

  MR. COOK: Submit it.

  THE COURT: Submitted? All right.

  * * *

  As we awaited the verdict, I could not stop brooding over the fact that the only thing that triggered feeling in the otherwise detached Cox was the fear of harm to his mother.

  The sentimental breakdown seen in even the most hardened thug is universal when it comes to their mothers. An ex–gang member in a recovery group reflected, “It was a trip, seeing all those great gangsters crying like kids. You know, they be going through the program hard as a rock, but then they break down when they start speaking about their moms.”

  I knew the feelings well. I understood them. I shared them. I had seen them a thousand times. Especially in the black community, where for boys without fathers their mothers are all: core, anchor, and guiding life-force.

  But never will I understand how a young man so protective of his mother could so heartlessly murder mine.

  Forever will the words ring in my ears: “I just blew the bitch’s head off, so drive.”

  29

  DON’T CRY

  IN 1984, TIEQUON COX was an eighteen-year-old member of the Rolling Sixties. While his official entry into the gang remains murky, it likely occurred sometime between the age of eleven and thirteen.

  From a young age, Cox was taken under the wing of the original generation of the Rolling Sixties, most of whom were five or six years older.

  According to legend, the Rolling Sixties formed at Crenshaw High School on Halloween of 1975. They were an offshoot of the original West Side Crips, formed under Tookie Williams five years earlier. This splintering and factionalizing of the Crips would only accelerate over the coming y
ears and would profoundly affect the futures of Tookie Williams and Tiequon Cox.

  One of the first generation of Rolling Sixties was an individual with the gang name of Big Fee. Big Fee mentored the young Cox in the ways of the streets, and as his protégé, Cox became Little Fee.

  The origins of the name “Fee” are also clouded. Some say it came from number twenty-six on the periodic table of the elements, iron, thus Big Iron and Little Iron. Others claim it comes from the prefix of feline, Big Cat and Little Cat. A third theory is that Fee refers to money, the taking of a fee for a service. Cox said “Fee” referred to getting paid.

  Little Fee (sometimes “Li’l Fee”), because he hung out with the older generation, quickly gained respect on the streets. Cox began referring to this peer group as his “family,” recalling that as “a young boy these people gave me special attention,” because they saw “good material” in him and “protected” him. “They might walk you home at night,” and “do things that people do for each other when they care.”

  Cox said they “respected each other,” and “were loyal.” As to those with whom he was close, Cox said they “were like older brothers” to him, “they took a special interest” in him, and were there when he “needed them.” “It was just understood,” Cox said, “you were young and inexperienced and you needed someone to look after you.”

  The need for someone to “look after you” on the streets of South Central, Cox said, was made clear to him at an early age. When he was ten, he recalled standing in front of his house as a group of Bloods physically assaulted his mother. He remembered feeling so helpless as he watched, unable to protect her.

  By the time he turned eighteen, in December 1983, Cox was known as a “muscle man” of the gang, though he would later claim this was “not my choice.” Cox’s image on the streets was also bolstered when he became one of the first gang members to tattoo his neck.

  During the spring and summer of 1984, following his release from CYA, Cox gained a reputation on the streets as an “enforcer.”

  His own attorney would later state, under oath, that members of Cox’s family told him that Cox had killed a dozen people.

  * * *

  On January 21, 1986, the jury, after deliberating for just two hours, convicted Tiequon Cox on all four counts of first-degree murder, and found the special circumstances to be true.

  * * *

  In the penalty phase, Norris put on evidence of Cox’s prior crimes.

  It is April 7, 1981, at Hyde Park Boulevard and Eighth Avenue. Cox is fifteen. He and two others beat thirteen-year-old James Love, and fourteen-year-old Gerald Penney, in the face with a broom handle. Two dollars, a gold chain, and a comb are taken from Penney. Cox takes sixty cents from Love’s pocket. Cox punches them both in the face several times.

  On the same day, twelve-year-old Preston Taylor gets off the school bus and waits to cross the railroad tracks in Hyde Park. Cox comes across the street and punches him in the face, knocking him to the ground. Cox asks if he has any money. Taylor says no and Cox digs in his pockets, taking a dime. Cox then kicks the boy as he lies curled up on the ground.

  A man walking down Eighth Avenue tells Cox to stop. Cox threatens him with a broom handle.

  It is midafternoon, May 18, 1981. Rosalyn Lebby drives her brown Pontiac to pick up her eight-year-old son, Kareem, at the Hyde Park Elementary School. Her “average little black poodle” rides in the back.

  She parks in front of the school and her son climbs in the passenger side. His door remains open.

  At this point a green Nova pulls alongside. Two young men get out of the car and approach Lebby. Tiequon Cox walks to the passenger side holding a silver gun and gets between the open door and the car. The other man comes around to the driver’s side. He orders Lebby out of the car. She asks for her dog and her purse. The second man tells her to leave them. Cox, holding the gun, tells Lebby, “I got your ass.”

  Lebby’s son sits in the passenger seat looking at his mother. She tells him to get out of the car, then takes his hand and runs across the street.

  The two men drive her car around the block toward Crenshaw, then circle back into a nearby driveway. Lebby returns to her car, attempting to retrieve her dog. Cox gets out and walks toward her with the gun. He says nothing, but stares her down in a fashion that says “back off.” Lebby turns around and returns to the school.

  Officers in the Southeast Division Patrol Unit pursue Lebby’s stolen car. They first sight it at Sixty-Ninth Street and Seventh Avenue. As the car heads south, the officers notice two occupants. As they pull alongside, in a marked car, the passenger jumps out and runs into a backyard.

  The driver, Cox, tears off, leading police on a half-hour chase, reaching speeds of eighty to ninety miles an hour: “Southbound on Crenshaw over to Manchester, westbound on Manchester to Prairie, around the Forum, Hollywood Park, into Hawthorne, back over onto Normandie, down Century, down into Gardena through several small residential areas . . . then back up north to the exact same location where the original pursuit [began].”

  From that point he takes another circle, following the same general course that he took the first time.

  Along the route, Cox causes several accidents, colliding with a car at Manchester and Prairie, slamming into parked cars on Fifth and Florence, finally smashing head-on into a telephone pole on 78th and Western. At this point he runs from the car, north up Western. An officer chases him, fights with him, subdues him, and takes him into custody. A loaded chrome-plated revolver is recovered from the wrecked car.

  For this crime, Cox is sent to California Youth Authority in July 1981. He would spend the next thirty-three months at CYA, known on the streets as “Gladiator School.”

  * * *

  Upon entering CYA, Cox was told that it would provide a stable environment where he could complete his education and “learn usable skills in order to divert him from a path of gang violence.”

  Upon entry, Cox was fifteen years old and one of the youngest wards. He was five feet seven, weighed 136 pounds, and was far behind his age and grade level academically. His initial evaluation labeled him as “gang-oriented” but stated that “he did not appear delinquent in his behavior.”

  In December of 1981, he was transferred to the facility at Paso Robles in the Santa Lucia portion of the Coastal Mountain Range. Cox’s first impressions were that the place was “hostile, dangerous, madness.” Wards were housed in large dormitories. There was no privacy. No opportunity to let down one’s guard. He saw other boys slashed with razors and homemade knives. He saw them beat on each other. He saw a boy get his teeth kicked out. There was no help to be had. He quickly realized the rules of survival: trust no one, rely only upon yourself, be vigilant, watch your back.

  At Paso Robles, Cox was constantly tested, challenged to defend himself; this was simply the way of YA. Show weakness and your food and possessions are taken, you will be picked on, dominated.

  In describing Cox, one of his counselors stated: “He was quite small and thin compared to the other wards, had unusual green eyes, and had an engaging, genuine smile, which I saw only after many months as his counselor.” In an effort to be able to better protect himself, Cox began an intense weightlifting regime. By March 1983 he had gained thirty pounds of muscle.

  A counselor at Paso Robles found Cox to be making progress, “from a gang-identified, impulsive kid” into an “honor ward.”

  In the spring of 1983, Cox was moved to Chino’s Youth Training Center (YTS). At Chino, wards were housed in cells, not dormitories, the fences covered with razor wire, the furniture bolted down. Cox’s progress was again noted as positive. He received no negative behavior reports.

  By the end of August 1983, Cox, age seventeen, was moved to the Preston School of Industry. Upon entry Cox witnessed a ward “get cut up bad with a scalpel.” For Cox, “Paso Robles was bad, Preston deadly.”

  Despite positive references to his development, at Preston two problems continued to
dog him: gang identity and his habit of fighting to solve problems.

  He spoke, however, of changing his life on the outside, of not returning to the streets. He continued attending school at Preston, receiving B’s, C’s, and a GED. He continued lifting weights and by January 1984 had put on another fifteen pounds of muscle. At this point he was recommended for parole.

  On March 18, 1984, Cox walked away from CYA.

  * * *

  Cox said that upon release he had hopes. These lasted “for at least days or weeks.” He thought about a college athletic scholarship to play baseball. He wanted to reunite the biological family and get his younger siblings out of foster care.

  But he said the dreams quickly died, captured by the hopeless reality of the old streets: the graffiti, the debris, the enemies, the police, the testing and challenges, the “madness” of South Central. Now eighteen, he carried a reputation, and rival gang members sought revenge, while the police harassed him as a hardened criminal. Over the following six months he was repeatedly stopped and detained.

  Cox felt “I still needed to do a lot of growing up, but I just could not turn my back on my brothers who needed me.”

  * * *

  Back in the penalty phase in the Criminal Courts Building, the defense attempted to humanize Cox in an effort to save his life. They also sought to show that his upbringing, schooling, and environment made him what he was.

  Donald Bakeer, Cox’s eighth-grade homeroom teacher at Horace Mann Junior High, drew close to Tiequon, feeling him in need of a “male support image.”