This week's column.
Many are finding it hard to believe a local gang leader would want to walk away from violence, as Jorge Cornell says he does.
But it has happened before, on the streets of one of the meanest and bloodiest gang breeding grounds on the planet — Los Angeles.
Darren "Bo" Taylor not only said no mas to the infamous LA gang, the Crips, but became a voice for peace and reason throughout that city, and beyond.
It was Taylor who brokered a truce between rival inner-city gangs after the 1992 Los Angeles riots.
It was Taylor who, in 2003, worked with gang leaders to help end a string of violent jail brawls between Latino and African American inmates.
And it was Taylor who founded UNITY One, an organization whose mission was to prevent gang violence and to teach life-management skills to jail inmates.
Taylor died two weeks ago of cancer in San Diego. He was 42.
Cornell, 31, says he had not heard of Taylor but he does understand why Taylor fought so passionately for peace — and why he often succeeded. "The only way is for a person from the streets to fix it," Cornell says of the gang problem.
Cornell became a Latin King at age 18. Taylor became a Crip at age 14. Unlike so many others who chose similar paths, he also lived to tell.
He went to so many funerals — more than 200 — Taylor once said, "I couldn't cry no more."
All the senseless death around him, and his own good fortune to somehow stay alive, made Taylor rethink his life. He went on to become a husband, a father and a grandfather. But he continued to reach back to help others change their lives as he had.
His death seemed to touch a whole community. And so, apparently, did his life. Among his most ardent fans was Los Angeles County Sheriff Lee Bacca. "Bo knew how to change lives for the better," Bacca told The Associated Press.
Cornell, meanwhile, is recovering from a pair of gunshot wounds he received two weeks ago. One bullet ripped into his back and out of his chest, but Cornell is recuperating. No arrests have been made.
As was the case with Taylor, the thrust of Cornell's peace talks meant an agreement by Latinos and African Americans to come together. Cornell made his plea for peace here at a news conference on June 30, at the Beloved Community Center.
Whatever the reason he was shot a month later, Cornell called from his hospital bed for his gang, the Almighty Latin King and Queen Nation, to stand down. There would be no reprisals. "I don't think it's gang-related," he says of the shooting, "but if it is, I'm still willing to sit at the table and talk to them. And I don't want to bring any charges against them."
Bo Taylor was even more dogged in his attempts to declare peace. On some occasions, he physically placed himself between warring gangs, grabbing the barrels of their guns and pointing them to the ground. Talk about street cred.As for Cornell, it was hard to know what to think when he appeared from nowhere and started talking about peace. At his June 30 news conference, he seemed cold, almost matter-of-fact. "Actually, I was nervous," he says now, chuckling. "I've never been with the press before like that."
But he didn't blink then. And he says he won't blink now, either. "When you think about it, no one wants to die," he says of gang members. "I'm not telling them to leave their groups. I'm reminding them why they started — to uplift their community — and all I'm trying to do is to bring that back to them."
As for the skeptics, Cornell says he realizes many (maybe even most) people still don't believe him. "The only thing I ask for is a chance to prove myself," he says. "I'll die for this."
But he also will be held accountable in the public for what any members of his gang do, for better or for worse. And whether he condones their actions or not.
That includes the arrests last week of eight people, including three validated members of the Latin Kings, for their alleged involvement in a home invasion and an assault. Cornell says that he knows only sketchy details about the incident. He also says he does not condone home invasions.
One thing is clear: This will make his case in the court of public opinion all the more difficult.
There's no way to know what's in Jorge Cornell's heart, except to follow how this odd, hopeful story plays out. But if he truly means what he says about peace and nonviolence, he has the chance to show it in how he handles this possible breach of his orders.
He has the chance to ask himself: What would Bo Taylor do?
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