“It wasn’t really a gang. There aren’t Bloods or Crips in...

“It wasn’t really a gang. There aren’t Bloods or Crips in Puerto Rico. It was a neighborhood thing. There were no colors. There was no initiation. We just grew up together. I had two cousins and two brother-in-laws who were in the organization. There were ranks: watchers, dealers, runners, leaders, enforcers. But the ranks didn’t really get in the way of the relationships. We all played basketball together. We threw block parties for the whole neighborhood. It was like a family. There was only one entrance and one exit to our neighborhood. The houses were all close together. There were no lawns. On the night it ended, I could hear the doors breaking down all around me. Helicopters were overhead. I kept getting calls saying: ‘They got this person, they got that person, they got your cousin.’ I just sat in the middle of the living room, smoking a cigarette. Suddenly I heard a bunch of footsteps coming up the stairs. I heard the sound of a power saw and sparks started coming off my door. I went to open the door but I got hit with a flashbang, and eight guys rushed in. They got everyone that night. They didn’t even bring us to a jail. They brought us to a basketball stadium.”

(Federal Correctional Complex: Hazelton, West Virginia)