I was trippin out on this article from the Modesto Bee in 2006. Check it out:
As night falls, fear moves in
Gang members, other criminals keeping residents on defensive
By ROSALIO AHUMADA
BEE STAFF WRITER
Last Updated: October 22, 2006, 08:48:47 AM PDT
Source: Modesto Bee
Living in south Modesto means living with fear. It means parents rounding up children before sundown, when nighttime criminals start their own graveyard shifts. It means recognizing the sound of a gunshot and becoming numb to the sound of sirens. It means wearing anything other than red or blue, the colors associated with gangs.
It means students walking a few blocks home from school, past gang recruiters and drug pushers to yards with chain-link fences and big padlocks and loud dogs.
Sometimes, it also means looking the other way.
Fear permeates the unincorporated area west of Crows Landing Road and south of Hatch Road. It is an island within Modesto few other residents see, an area of small homes and dusty streets with no curbs and gutters dominated by gangs, drugs and poverty.
It is overwhelmingly Latino, reflected by the Spanish that is spoken and the Mexican culture evident along its main commercial strip.
And despite the fear, it is an area where proud men and women work hard to better their lives and those of their children. Where some people come for a better life in a new country — and stay because it's all they can afford.
Juan Trejo said raising five teenage boys in south Modesto is tougher than in his previous neighborhood.
Trejo, 40, and his wife are from Durango, Mexico. The young family made their way to San Francisco's Mission District in 1989, but living expenses were too costly in the big city.
They lived there until moving to a small home on Butte Avenue 10 years ago.
Speaking in Spanish, Trejo said thieves roam the streets at night looking for easy targets, checking to see who has dropped their guard and become careless.
"I never leave the house by itself. Someone is always here," said Trejo while washing his work truck in front of his house. "If I have to leave, I have neighbors that keep an eye out for it."
Just five years ago, Trejo said a group of gang members would gather each day at a house across the street.
"They would cross the street and beat up a guy waiting for the bus," Trejo said, "just because they felt like it."
At first, Trejo chose to ignore the gang violence. Then, his sons almost became victims.
"They can do whatever they want out there. But in here, they better watch out," Trejo said while standing behind the 4-foot cyclone fence in his front yard.
Like many other residents in south Modesto, Trejo keeps his head down and minds his own business. He said that's the only way his family and his property can survive.
Housing affordability plays a large part in who lives in south Modesto.
The median household income is about $30,000. Often, two or even three generations share the small twoand three-bedroom homes, most of which were built in the 1940s.
Many homes in the area are worth less than $300,000 — well below the county median price of nearly $370,000.
Juan Nuñez, 45, and his family moved six years ago from a rental home in Ceres into a house he bought on Dallas Street.
Nuñez wanted to be a homeowner and south Modesto was all he could afford.
"If people would just clean up a little, this neighborhood would look nicer," Nuñez said in Spanish. "I didn't know it was going to be this bad."
Three years ago this summer, gang members threw Molotov cocktails at the home of 61-year-old grandmother Elicia Ramos. The house was targeted mistakenly as a gang hangout and was caught up in a battle between Sureño and Norteño gang members, Ramos said.
Life has gotten better and her home has not been harmed since. But, she said, her fear for her grandchildren and the other children in the neighborhood has gotten worse.
"There are a lot of grown adults out here tempting our kids with drugs and the gang lifestyle," Ramos said. "It's our kids who are attacked the most. Once they get to a certain age, they become targets."
Ramos and her 54-year-old husband, Rodolfo Alba, have lived in their Butte Avenue home since they bought it in 1988. The couple spend at least an hour each morning and evening watering the lawn and cleaning the front and back yards.
Their house is surrounded by fruit trees producing limes, lemons, avocados, guavas and grapefruits.
The well-kept home stands out on a street with long stretches of dirt and weeds.
"If my neighbors would do the same, the neighborhood would look a lot cleaner," Ramos said. "It makes me sad. They could just put out some plants or water their grass."
Alba said not all of the neighborhood blight can be blamed on crime. Old tires, torn mattresses, discarded furniture and other leftover junk pile up in alleys and vacant lots.
"They just finished cleaning the alleys and now they're filthy again," Alba said, speaking in Spanish, frustration evident in his voice. "We've had it up to here. If you want to live a good life here, you can live a good life."
Unlike many parts of the city, there is no neighborhood park in south Modesto.
Instead, the grassy field that connects Hanshaw Middle School and Bret Harte Elementary School serves as a recreational safe haven. There are some shade trees, but no benches.
The Salvation Army Red Shield Center, next to Hanshaw, also has a gym, the area's only swimming pool, an indoor game room and some playground equipment.
On a recent fall weekend afternoon, the field at Hanshaw was filled with teenage boys playing football.
Nearby, some people gathered on their front porches to enjoy the cool weather while others took the opportunity to wash their cars.
Ice cream vendors, known as "paleteros," made their rounds though the narrow streets and attracted a few children.
In many ways, the day was no different than anywhere else in Modesto. But that's before the sun goes down.
As night falls, the atmosphere changes and residents switch to a defensive mentality.
They'll stare down drivers cruising through their neighborhood. They aren't trying to intimidate anyone; they are afraid.
Afraid of thieves stalking their homes.
Afraid of gang members seeking retaliation.
Afraid of drug users looking to score some dope.
This harsh reality awaits these residents every night.
"It's gotten better," said Susan Sena, 54, who moved to south Modesto five years ago. "Sometimes you'll hear just a few sirens. Some nights you'll see a helicopter with the searchlight circling overhead."
Sena knows from experience how dangerous the area can be. She had lived in her house on Inyo Avenue just over a year when it was hit by a stray bullet in a gang-related drive-by shooting.
The bullet hole has been filled with plaster, but her fear of gang violence remains.
At one point, Sena thought her teenage son might become a victim for wearing the wrong color. His blue Downey High basketball uniform was the wrong thing to wear in an area domi-nated by Norteños, who wear red.
"I always sent him to school with an extra set of clothes," Sena said. "I never wanted him to come home wearing his uniform."
She said she feels safe inside her home, but she takes precautions. "I've got bars on all my windows and I've got security doors in the front and the back."
A pair of shoes with the laces tied together hangs on a power line over an unlit street corner. In south Modesto, residents know that means drugs are sold at that intersection.
At night, meth addicts and dope dealers share the shadows. One group commits burglaries, while the other fuels the criminal acts by selling the addictive chemical.
For years, residents begged for increased lighting. So, the county added streetlights.
Some lights have been broken, and sheriff's officials suspect thieves and drug pushers are taking them out with rocks.
"They don't want the high visibility," said deputy Noel Vento. "They work in darkness. It doesn't matter, though. We'll just continue fixing those lights to deter this crime."
Even when the streetlights are on, most parents start rounding up their children before sundown.
A nice evening stroll to a neighbor's house or a quick walk to a nearby store at night can be dangerous, residents said. For safety, groups of women and children walk together.
Susana Ortega, 19, will walk to a bus stop at Dallas Street and Glenn Avenue during the day, but won't walk anywhere at night, especially to the nearby minimarkets.
"There's people always there," Ortega said with a look of disgust in her face, "drinking beer out in front of the store late at night."
The fear of being burglarized keeps 70-year-old Nora and her husband home every night, living behind a 6-foot fence.
She wants others to know about how bad her neighborhood has become. But Nora is afraid of retaliation and asked that her last name not be used.
Nora has lived at her home for 15 years, but her roots go beyond that. Her grandmother owned a home around the corner, where Nora spent most of her childhood.
"This used to be a nice area," she said. "You used to be able to walk the streets as a kid, and now you won't even dare. We stay inside at night, because it's bad."
Lawnmowers, tools and other items have been stolen from her back yard.
"We got everything locked up," she said, pointing at the chains on her gate. "I have three locks on my gate. Have you noticed everyone else has their gates locked up?"
Just a few blocks north, Richard Borne has a much different perspective of his south Modesto roots.
Borne, 40, lives with his father and 5-year-old son in the same home in which he grew up. He isn't afraid to take his son out in the early evenings to learn how to ride his bicycle without training wheels.
He talks to some of his neighbors and wishes he knew Spanish, so he could speak with more of them.
"A lot of my friends are scared to come in this area," Borne said. "It isn't that bad. I grew up here. What you call hell, I call home."
Bee staff writer Rosalio Ahumada can be reached at 578-2394 or [email protected].
As night falls, fear moves in
Gang members, other criminals keeping residents on defensive
By ROSALIO AHUMADA
BEE STAFF WRITER
Last Updated: October 22, 2006, 08:48:47 AM PDT
Source: Modesto Bee
Living in south Modesto means living with fear. It means parents rounding up children before sundown, when nighttime criminals start their own graveyard shifts. It means recognizing the sound of a gunshot and becoming numb to the sound of sirens. It means wearing anything other than red or blue, the colors associated with gangs.
It means students walking a few blocks home from school, past gang recruiters and drug pushers to yards with chain-link fences and big padlocks and loud dogs.
Sometimes, it also means looking the other way.
Fear permeates the unincorporated area west of Crows Landing Road and south of Hatch Road. It is an island within Modesto few other residents see, an area of small homes and dusty streets with no curbs and gutters dominated by gangs, drugs and poverty.
It is overwhelmingly Latino, reflected by the Spanish that is spoken and the Mexican culture evident along its main commercial strip.
And despite the fear, it is an area where proud men and women work hard to better their lives and those of their children. Where some people come for a better life in a new country — and stay because it's all they can afford.
Juan Trejo said raising five teenage boys in south Modesto is tougher than in his previous neighborhood.
Trejo, 40, and his wife are from Durango, Mexico. The young family made their way to San Francisco's Mission District in 1989, but living expenses were too costly in the big city.
They lived there until moving to a small home on Butte Avenue 10 years ago.
Speaking in Spanish, Trejo said thieves roam the streets at night looking for easy targets, checking to see who has dropped their guard and become careless.
"I never leave the house by itself. Someone is always here," said Trejo while washing his work truck in front of his house. "If I have to leave, I have neighbors that keep an eye out for it."
Just five years ago, Trejo said a group of gang members would gather each day at a house across the street.
"They would cross the street and beat up a guy waiting for the bus," Trejo said, "just because they felt like it."
At first, Trejo chose to ignore the gang violence. Then, his sons almost became victims.
"They can do whatever they want out there. But in here, they better watch out," Trejo said while standing behind the 4-foot cyclone fence in his front yard.
Like many other residents in south Modesto, Trejo keeps his head down and minds his own business. He said that's the only way his family and his property can survive.
Housing affordability plays a large part in who lives in south Modesto.
The median household income is about $30,000. Often, two or even three generations share the small twoand three-bedroom homes, most of which were built in the 1940s.
Many homes in the area are worth less than $300,000 — well below the county median price of nearly $370,000.
Juan Nuñez, 45, and his family moved six years ago from a rental home in Ceres into a house he bought on Dallas Street.
Nuñez wanted to be a homeowner and south Modesto was all he could afford.
"If people would just clean up a little, this neighborhood would look nicer," Nuñez said in Spanish. "I didn't know it was going to be this bad."
Three years ago this summer, gang members threw Molotov cocktails at the home of 61-year-old grandmother Elicia Ramos. The house was targeted mistakenly as a gang hangout and was caught up in a battle between Sureño and Norteño gang members, Ramos said.
Life has gotten better and her home has not been harmed since. But, she said, her fear for her grandchildren and the other children in the neighborhood has gotten worse.
"There are a lot of grown adults out here tempting our kids with drugs and the gang lifestyle," Ramos said. "It's our kids who are attacked the most. Once they get to a certain age, they become targets."
Ramos and her 54-year-old husband, Rodolfo Alba, have lived in their Butte Avenue home since they bought it in 1988. The couple spend at least an hour each morning and evening watering the lawn and cleaning the front and back yards.
Their house is surrounded by fruit trees producing limes, lemons, avocados, guavas and grapefruits.
The well-kept home stands out on a street with long stretches of dirt and weeds.
"If my neighbors would do the same, the neighborhood would look a lot cleaner," Ramos said. "It makes me sad. They could just put out some plants or water their grass."
Alba said not all of the neighborhood blight can be blamed on crime. Old tires, torn mattresses, discarded furniture and other leftover junk pile up in alleys and vacant lots.
"They just finished cleaning the alleys and now they're filthy again," Alba said, speaking in Spanish, frustration evident in his voice. "We've had it up to here. If you want to live a good life here, you can live a good life."
Unlike many parts of the city, there is no neighborhood park in south Modesto.
Instead, the grassy field that connects Hanshaw Middle School and Bret Harte Elementary School serves as a recreational safe haven. There are some shade trees, but no benches.
The Salvation Army Red Shield Center, next to Hanshaw, also has a gym, the area's only swimming pool, an indoor game room and some playground equipment.
On a recent fall weekend afternoon, the field at Hanshaw was filled with teenage boys playing football.
Nearby, some people gathered on their front porches to enjoy the cool weather while others took the opportunity to wash their cars.
Ice cream vendors, known as "paleteros," made their rounds though the narrow streets and attracted a few children.
In many ways, the day was no different than anywhere else in Modesto. But that's before the sun goes down.
As night falls, the atmosphere changes and residents switch to a defensive mentality.
They'll stare down drivers cruising through their neighborhood. They aren't trying to intimidate anyone; they are afraid.
Afraid of thieves stalking their homes.
Afraid of gang members seeking retaliation.
Afraid of drug users looking to score some dope.
This harsh reality awaits these residents every night.
"It's gotten better," said Susan Sena, 54, who moved to south Modesto five years ago. "Sometimes you'll hear just a few sirens. Some nights you'll see a helicopter with the searchlight circling overhead."
Sena knows from experience how dangerous the area can be. She had lived in her house on Inyo Avenue just over a year when it was hit by a stray bullet in a gang-related drive-by shooting.
The bullet hole has been filled with plaster, but her fear of gang violence remains.
At one point, Sena thought her teenage son might become a victim for wearing the wrong color. His blue Downey High basketball uniform was the wrong thing to wear in an area domi-nated by Norteños, who wear red.
"I always sent him to school with an extra set of clothes," Sena said. "I never wanted him to come home wearing his uniform."
She said she feels safe inside her home, but she takes precautions. "I've got bars on all my windows and I've got security doors in the front and the back."
A pair of shoes with the laces tied together hangs on a power line over an unlit street corner. In south Modesto, residents know that means drugs are sold at that intersection.
At night, meth addicts and dope dealers share the shadows. One group commits burglaries, while the other fuels the criminal acts by selling the addictive chemical.
For years, residents begged for increased lighting. So, the county added streetlights.
Some lights have been broken, and sheriff's officials suspect thieves and drug pushers are taking them out with rocks.
"They don't want the high visibility," said deputy Noel Vento. "They work in darkness. It doesn't matter, though. We'll just continue fixing those lights to deter this crime."
Even when the streetlights are on, most parents start rounding up their children before sundown.
A nice evening stroll to a neighbor's house or a quick walk to a nearby store at night can be dangerous, residents said. For safety, groups of women and children walk together.
Susana Ortega, 19, will walk to a bus stop at Dallas Street and Glenn Avenue during the day, but won't walk anywhere at night, especially to the nearby minimarkets.
"There's people always there," Ortega said with a look of disgust in her face, "drinking beer out in front of the store late at night."
The fear of being burglarized keeps 70-year-old Nora and her husband home every night, living behind a 6-foot fence.
She wants others to know about how bad her neighborhood has become. But Nora is afraid of retaliation and asked that her last name not be used.
Nora has lived at her home for 15 years, but her roots go beyond that. Her grandmother owned a home around the corner, where Nora spent most of her childhood.
"This used to be a nice area," she said. "You used to be able to walk the streets as a kid, and now you won't even dare. We stay inside at night, because it's bad."
Lawnmowers, tools and other items have been stolen from her back yard.
"We got everything locked up," she said, pointing at the chains on her gate. "I have three locks on my gate. Have you noticed everyone else has their gates locked up?"
Just a few blocks north, Richard Borne has a much different perspective of his south Modesto roots.
Borne, 40, lives with his father and 5-year-old son in the same home in which he grew up. He isn't afraid to take his son out in the early evenings to learn how to ride his bicycle without training wheels.
He talks to some of his neighbors and wishes he knew Spanish, so he could speak with more of them.
"A lot of my friends are scared to come in this area," Borne said. "It isn't that bad. I grew up here. What you call hell, I call home."
Bee staff writer Rosalio Ahumada can be reached at 578-2394 or [email protected].
