Killing Redemption Extract

Hey everyone, check out this scene from Killing Redemption.
It’s surprising how much work is involved for police officers trying to tackle even basic gang activity.
When gang members, sometimes the community at large, wont talk to the police, it takes an old hand to
help the new detective put the pieces of the puzzle together.
In this scene, young female detective Contreras, is teasing information out of an older cynical detective,
Connors.

***

“What gang are the YG’s?” She asks.
He shakes his head. “Not a gang, a generation. Young Gangsters. These kids are born into it and start out
as Baby-G. Around seven to twelve, they graduate to Lil-Gangster, like a hang around, wanting in the
gang. Then at around 13-14, they are normally getting jumped-in -officially initiated- then they are a YG,
a Little Homie.”
“So, you think a 13-year-old kid shot Sleepy the South Side Loco? I thought they were supposed to be
hardcore?”
“Oh, they are, trust me,” he says. “Very violent, very territorial. Fewer in number than the 60s or GBC,
but really volatile. But YGs start hitting 14 and 15 and want to prove themselves. They won’t rank up
again until about 18-20 unless they put in some serious work, and even then they normally have to do
prison time.”
All of this is new information to her, and she realizes the man truly is a walking library. Her head is
starting to swim with the detail though, and they are only 10 minutes away from Hillcrest. “OK. Let’s
focus here. How does all of this have to do with Williams, and why do you think it’s connected?”
“I was getting to that,” he complains before mentally switching gears, “OK, basically we start hearing
about a click, a mixture of different gang sets. All Crips that have been involved in a series of back-and-
forth retaliatory drivebys over the last several months with the Locos. See, since Sneezy, there have
been several more. We get a lead that one of this group is a South Side Playboy Gangsta Crip, a subset of
the 60s nicknamed “Four,” and that he is planning another move.”
In the turn lane for SW 59 th Street, approaching Hillcrest, she looks over at him as he names the gang set,
but it means nothing to her. She is getting impatient that his wealth of information isn’t getting her any
closer to understanding the connection.
The gang expert rolls his eyes. “Of course, I know that Hillcrest has been the home stomping ground for
Playboy Crips for at least a decade.” He shakes his head as if his intel is pearls before swine. “And I also
remember that we had a drug bust, with weapon charges, less than 6 months ago, and the main guy was
a certified gang member, a Big Homie the other guys called Four.”
They pull onto 59 th , and she wrinkles her brow. “I thought you said Little Homies were doing the
shootings.”

“I said that’s what we originally suspected, but this new click was of slightly older guys. Smarter but just
as violent.” On final approach, with only a few blocks to their destination, Conners finally connects the
dots on his tale. “Anyway, before we have a chance to dig deeper, we have another drive-by come out,
South Side Loco territory. Couple of Gang Unit guys happened to be nearby, already wearing vests, so
they head into the area. Three guys bail out of a suspicious car when they see the cops, all running in
different directions. But my boys in the Unit are able to chase down the driver.”
She turns on her signal to pull into the only entrance of the large, run-down apartment complex. Her
mind is already shifting from him to the crime scene they are entering.
He delivers the punchline. “Driver has the word ‘Four’ tattooed across the front of his neck in huge
letters. Admits to being a South Side Playboy Gangsta Crip. Damarion Williams, address on file in
Hillcrest, unit one-hundred-something.”
They pull into the looping parking lot and bank right, heading towards several police cruisers and zig-
zagging yellow crime scene tape.
“Huh!” Conners smiles broadly beside her, pointing toward the numbers on the apartment door that
police are pounding on. “Damn, I’m good.”
Irritated that he is happier his hunch proved correct than sad that a kid is dead, she opens her door with
unnecessary force and steps out.
A sergeant walks forward with a clipboard in hand, and she absent-mindedly signs the crime scene log.
The cracked and faded numbers on the apartment are 119. A police raincoat is forms a makeshift shroud
over a small shape on the ground nearby. Shell casings are scattered across the asphalt, and she makes a
mental note to put a yellow marker by each. Gonna need a lot of markers. Pockmarks are on the
sidewalk and the side of the building. Looks like at least twenty rounds fired, maybe fifty. Amazing only
one person got hit. The kid is lying close to the sidewalk, and she sees a small pair of clean sneakers and
fresh jeans sticking out from under the raincoat. There is blood on the sneakers. She looks away.

Extract from “Killing Redemption” by Joel Cutter.