Which story is better?
This guy has committed at least a half dozen murders on behalf of Nuestra Familia. He’s in for murder. He might be willing to flip, to turn state’s evidence. He’s already locked down because he’s in a jam with the rank and file members of the Nuestra Familia, a very violent gang. His brother, gangster Mendoza, had contract to murder me because of my involvement in this federal investigation. My son had already been followed home from school in Fresno area.
Joker, an unusually large Hispanic of about six feet, is a weightlifter. He’s got a denim shirt on, which he’s torn the sleeves off like a tank top, denim pants torn off ragged-edged, flip flops, tattoos all over, a very tough looking character.
Entering with me is an officer from the Department of Corrections internal gang unit.
As we introduce ourselves, Joker turns to me and says, “I’ve heard of you. I’ll talk to you. But I won’t talk with this motherfucker in here.”
The guys turns to me and says, “It’s up to you, Byron.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll talk to him by myself.”
The guy says okay, excuses himself and walks out, leaving joker and myself in this very isolated room at the end of a hallway with the door locked from the outside. About ten minutes into the conversation there is a power failure. The lights go out and we’re plunged into total darkness. Dead silence follows.
It seems like hours go by, but it’s probably thirty seconds. For some reason I start laughing. And then in the darkness, he starts laughing . At one point I hear his chair shuffle.
He says, “You know, you’re in deep shit.”
In the darkness I say, “well, you don’t know what’s pointed at you right now.” We’re in a standoff. Then we both laugh again.
I say, “I guess we’re both in deep shit.”
He says, “Yeah.” And we start talking.
In about forty five seconds, which seems like hours, I see rays of light, and hear guards running down the hall, anticipating a scene of total carnage, that joker has ripped me physically limb from limb. They crash through the door, light us both up with the flashlights, and we’re laughing. I’m kicked back with my feet on the table, and joker’s over in another corner with his feet up.
These guys are befuddled. The lights come back on. Joker tells them to get the fuck out of there.
I have no idea of why I started laughing. I guess to him that was a sign of bravado. You revert to some basic instincts, like smell and taste. You almost become a predator.
“Everyone was very dirty, and did every stupid Chinese joke. After the show we’re drinking in the lobby with Bobby W. ‘Rrrr, we were fucking great tonight. We fucking killed. …’
“A little man comes over and goes, ‘Aw, listen, you big mouth. You do your thing in that room, and that’s fine. You now in lobby. OK? Watch your language, big mouth. OK? Chinese people don’t like that stuff. OK? Show some respect!’
“Byron said, ‘OK, pal. Take it easy. Didn’t mean to offend anybody. Alright? OK, that’s better.’ They shake hands.
“I turn around, and Bobby goes, “Fucking Chinks!’
“The guy turned around, ‘You! You think you’re tough guy!’
“‘Take it easy, Small Fry!’ says Bobby.
“I said, ‘Oh, Bobby. Let’s get out of here.’
“‘Why? What are you afraid of?’
“I said, ‘Let’s get out of here.’ We walked to the car. then we hear, ‘Woo woo woo!’ And there’s fourteen of them with knives and cleavers, running at us. We got in the car, locked the door and took off. I literally wet my pants that night. They were banging on the roof of the car. It was very scary.”