Children Of Gang Members Face A Dangerous Life

LOS ANGELES - The burly gangster known as P-Loc only wanted the best for his little boy.

When the child was just a year old, his ear was pierced just like daddy's. By the time he was 2, his father had him sporting the baggy blue pants with sharp creases favored by the Crips.

Before long, the homeboys were calling the youngster Li'l P and slipping him dollar bills. Thanks to his father's reputation, the youth had a line of credit at the burger stand in his South-Central Los Angeles neighborhood.

"It was like this was my little son, my little right hand, someone I'll live and die for," said P-Loc, who wears thick gold chains and the name of his gang - the Kitchen Crips - tattooed across his chest. "It seemed cool to me at the time."

Now 24, P-Loc works part-time doing security and maintenance, his gang days behind him. He regrets having steered his son toward the gang life and hopes the boy, now 6, was too young to remember learning the rituals of streets.

THE LEGACY REMAINS

Yet the legacy inherited by P-Loc's son - like the teardrop tattoo by his father's left eye - is not easily erased. He belongs to the first generation of children born to gang members since Los Angeles' street rivalries exploded in the 1980s - kids whose parents fueled the culture of crack cocaine and drive-by shootings.

Although all children in troubled neighborhoods are exposed to risks, the children of gang members must go through life with a parent whose face alone can draw gunfire. Sometimes the youngsters fall victim to those attacks, as was the case this month for two baby girls slain by gang members allegedly aiming for their fathers or their fathers' friends. Many more are left to grow up with a dad behind bars, and for thousands of other children, with only a grave to remember him by.

"The future for these kids is on a thin line," said Cynthia Mendenhall, 30, a former gang member known as Sister who runs a program for children from broken families at the Imperial Courts housing project in Watts. "Out of every unit here, death done touched on every door."

MANY CAN'T CHANGE

Gang members do not wish any of this on their children. Often keenly aware of their own mortality, they speak of their youngsters with the protective instinct of any parent who dreams of a brighter future for the next generation. "Don't nobody want their kids to grow up like this," said Big Looney, 18, a father-to-be, as he stood with friends on a street corner the other day drinking malt liquor.

Still, many of those same parents are unable or unwilling to show their children another way of life, say gang and law-enforcement authorities. Frequently, the only thing gang members have to offer their heirs is gangsterism - a world that, for all its madness, provides a powerful sense of identity and belonging.

There are some gang members, weary of the bloodshed and deceit, for whom parenthood can be a wake-up call - a graceful excuse for withdrawing from the criminal life without losing respect on the streets.

Vince Ibarro, 19, who is known as Wizard around the streets of his East Los Angeles neighborhood, is determined to protect his girlfriend, Rosa Campos, 17, and their 8-month-old son, Vince Jr.

"It's too late for me now, but not for my son," said Ibarro, who was shot in the thigh by rival gang members at a miniature golf course before Campos was pregnant. "I just have to get them out of here. Have my own place."

But even well-meaning parents can unwittingly expose their children to danger, as rivals may still note a gang member's past affiliations and perceive him as fair game. As most gangsters are ready to admit, their look - the attitude, the walk, the talk - does not disappear just because they have laid down their guns.

Michael Haley, whose 18-month-old daughter, Sabrina, was fatally shot while their car was stopped at a traffic light earlier this month, managed to shed his gang ties but not the look.

Haley, 19, grew up in Compton, where he said he was involved with a gang, but had left several years ago to straighten his life, working nights as a security guard. He was returning Sabrina to her mother's house on April 8 when another car pulled alongside. At least six shots exploded. Haley tried to shield Sabrina, but a bullet struck her in the head.

"I thought I left that all behind," said a somber Haley, his head bowed as he sat outside his apartment wearing a T-shirt and plaid shorts on a recent day. "I just wanted to be a father to my kid."

`THEY'RE ALL TARGETS'

Los Angeles police do not believe the assailants recognized Haley, and no words were exchanged. The two suspects - both of whom are being held without bail on murder charges - simply decided Haley looked like a gang member and noted he was driving a car whose color is associated with a rival gang, said Detective Carl Sims.

A similar attack occurred last week, when a suspected gang member drove his car into a man holding 5-month-old Lashanique Leverett, killing the infant. Her mother, only a few feet away, described the man holding Lashanique as the girl's "god-brother." Police also said he is a gang member.

No arrests have been made.

"They know that as long as they're riding around the neighborhood with their kid and old lady in the car, they're all targets," said Jim Galipeau, a deputy probation officer. "But they don't think about that. It's like being in combat - if you think about death and dying every day, they're going to haul you away in either a body bag or a straight jacket."