A lot of my family members, they used to say, Aquí viene el niño de Satanás.
"Here comes Satan's kid." That's what I was known as. It happens that gang members are not supposed to be
bikers, and within 6 to 8 months I'm fully patched. Um, next thing I know I'm running around
doing all kinds of crazier stuff, and I ended up drinking more, doing more dope,
and getting on that bike and riding. I mean, I'm doing sometimes two eight balls a night,
that's a lot. Heroin? No coke. Heroin is one thing I never touched. I was five years old,
I got up in the morning, ,early in the morning to go to the restroom...
I still remember it today. It was about four something in the morning, and we only
had one bathroom in that house. Next thing I know, I see her there just sitting on the toilet
with a bandana wrapped around her arm, and she wasn't moving. Then, about two years later,
another aunt passed away the same way, but in the alley. When I found out what
that was, and what caused those deaths, I told myself I would never do that.
And thank the Lord I never did, because I have so many family members that have
died from it. Growing up, a lot of us didn't have our dad around, or didn't even have our didn't even have our
parents; we lived with our grandparents because our parents were all strung out. I lived with my grandfather
that I called my dad. He taught me pretty much everything that I knew
to survive in this world. He taught me what they taught him. All I remember is going on rides with him. He would have his lunch pails in the truck. He would say, "Here, take this.
Go set up there, and bring me the other one. I didn't know what i was doing ; I was just doing what I was
told. I'm eight, seven years old at the time. In the '90s, which was like my time, I didn't care.
I was going to do what I want to do, and that's what I did. I just did what I wanted to do, and listened
to nobody. And a lot of my homeboys, some of them, rest in peace,
some of them were still doing time and will probably never come out, but they were raised the
same way. I mean, I had regular friends, but they weren't going to go with me inside my car and
get a gun and go do a drive by. They'd be like "Hell no, I'm out of here," but if I told my homeboy
"let's go, let's go to a different barrio, let's go shoot it up, they were down. Me and my homegirl,
rest in peace, we would go on a Sunday morning and go to this neighborhood and start shooting it up
for no reason. Why, because we're both on what I used to call "a sick one." We're on a sick one,
and we were just doing the most idiotic things you can think of, or you couldn't even imagine.
People were asleep usually on Sundays, and I'd come in bumping sounds, and everything, and then
start doing stupid stuff and then walk back to my car, sit there and do another leno (line) and
kick back and then take my time getting out of there. People were like, this guy's nuts,
people are wondering who's this biker running around going through all these bars
throwing people out. There's one individual throwing people out of these bars.
I was throwing people out from Imperial Valley, all the way up to Orange County. I did that for
two months, by myself, solo. I'd come over here because I had to take care of something and
my family knew somebody's gonna get hurt, that's the only reason he's here; he's not here just to
say hi. No, he's here because he's gonna take care of business. About six years, two months ago
I got diagnosed with something in my in my spine that is not curable. The average lifespan
when you're diagnosed with this is three to five years. One of my sisters came by to
visit me. She's like, "Hey bro, you're all white, you look jaundice. Dude, like where's your
blood pressure cup machine. I go, "It's in my room."
"I'm gonna go grab it." So, she grabs it, and she goes, "I gotta take you to hospital." I go, "for what; I'm feeling..." She goes, "No, you're at 226
over 162; you're about to have a heart attack. For about two months before I went to the hospital
I was getting these tremors through my body, and there were times where I'm asleep and I could...
my whole body would shake. I have a relative that's a famous doctor. His name's Thomas Novak.
He's number three in the world for robotic back surgery. So he walks in; he goes "Hey,
I know what's wrong with you, and what was happening. That infection was already
trying to get to my sciatic nerve. When it gets to your sciatic nerve, all movement everything... you lose it.
As far as you're talking, you're opening your eyes, you're moving anything, you're done.
And that's pretty much what he had told me, but I still didn't comprehend it because of the all the
medicine and stuff that I had going through my body at the time. And all I remember is
my two boys that I have, Juan and Joseph, they're just crying. I had to learn how to
walk. First time I got up on the bed, and you know how the the hospital beds are, they got the
railings and stuff. I got up, Chris is holding me, and I told him, "Let me go." He let me go, I hit the rail,
split my head open, but I was pissed because... then i started cussing at God. I go ,
"Really, you... whatever name you can think of I said it, and I go, "All right, watch ;
you're not going to win; I'm going to get up." It took me almost three weeks, and I finally started
moving myself around and they finally let me go home. The years went by, everything was okay.
Come last year, I went on a Wednesday to my regular doctor's appointments, and I wasn't in the mood for
any, any b.s. I go, "Come on, what's really going on?" I've already signed the paperwork, and everything.
I need you to go to the hospital two weeks from now .I go, "It's Thanksgiving in two weeks."
He goes, "Well, that's where you're going to be at." I go, "Why?" He tells them "Turn the monitors on; it's up to your
L-2 now; it's spreading. You're going to come back on Monday; we're going to do another MRI,
and I'm going to calculate how much time you've got to be on this earth." I
got up, walked away, went home. I've got three to five years to live; guess what, it's here.
Reality hit me in the face now. Sunday going into Monday about one in the morning I got
out of my bed. I start crying like a little kid, started crying, and that's when I finally realized
who God is. I got on the floor like a little kid, crying, asking him, "If this is what
I've got to go through because of what I've done, you know what I've done, God, you know
what type of person I've been. And if this is what I have to go through,
fine, but give me a sign. That way I know, but if you heal me
I will tell everybody you exist .And those words would never come out of my mouth, Chris,
okay, and they did. Monday, I didn't even bother to notice how I was walking or anything, but I'm
sitting in the wheelchair, going to do the MRI. You know, MRI's take about 30 minutes.
I'm coming up, then they dragged me back into the machine, and I was mad. So,
when they did that I finally got to the end, and it took about an hour or so before everybody got
together, and I'm already fuming because I'm like, "Hey you guys are messing with my life; I need to
know what's going to happen." So my cousin finally got on there, and he goes, "Hey you know what you did."
I go, "Dude what are you talking about? Tell me how much longer I've got to live.
He goes, "Turn on the monitors." There were no more spots, and at first I was arguing with
them. "That's not me. " He goes, "Hey idiot, it's got what name on there with you social number.
Guess what, you have no more spots! You know what you did,
and you better keep your word." I called a real good friend of mine; he's from Escondido. He's a
minister and stuff; his name, he's Joker from 11th Street in Escondido, his name's Daniel Orozco. He's
the one. I talked to him first, and he's the one that brought me to the Lord. And ever since then
I've been blessed. I walk straight, I don't worry about anything anymore. I've never been afraid
of nobody, and I'm still not afraid of nobody. The only one that I fear is God, because he can take, he can
your life like this. But I'll tell you here, I'm a God-fearing man now, and I'm not perfect,
nobody is. Jesus was, but he gave his life on that cross for us. Not just for me, not just for you, he give
it for everybody, and that's what I tell people. I go, look, "God loves you guys so much he gave up his
only son, his only son. And now I know, now I know why I went through what I went through, Chris.
That way I can be the guy that reaches out to that gang member.
This is life, be happy, be focused, be productive, and that's how I live my life now.
I'm known to the world as a menace to society. When my club got found guilty of the Rico Act,
on the front page of the New York Times, it's my face. We knew that was you on America's Most
Wanted. I go, "Yeah, yeah that was me, and I know why God let that happen. When the schools open back up 100 percent,
I'm going to be the guy out there speaking to these kids and letting them know, like you
said, that 14-year-old Switch or the 14- year-old Shotgun, and let 'em know, "Hey you want to live that life; here, walk with me, let me tell you a story." Because that's what my life is; it's a story.
Even if I reach 1 out of 10 000 that's all that matters. What does the Bible say?
God leaves the 99 to go after the one, and that's what I tell a lot of people,
"Jesus is really the original one-percenter. Don't be me; be you.
One, you'll never be me, and two, that's not a life. I felt empty. I felt, I felt like I was in a hole
and I was never going to get out, and the people who were in there were just like me.
I was just in that hole and you just look up and you wouldn't even see a light or nothing.
I died to myself, that old person died. Shotgun's gone, Switch is gone. Something happens to me, I
know where I'm going, and I'm going with King Jesus. I'll be up there, and i hope you are too.