3 friends killed on tracks may not have seen second train

They called the railroad overpass their “kick-it spot.”

High above the freeway and out of sight of their families, neighborhood youths could do whatever they pleased. They could drink, smoke, listen to music and add their tags to the jumble of graffiti on the concrete walls.

Whenever they heard the distant whistle of a train, they moved out of its path. But at 9 p.m. Monday, three friends apparently were not able to escape on time.

Police said Tony Sandoval, 15, Gilbert Correa, 17, and Joseph Hernandez, 27, were killed as two trains charged down the tracks in Commerce.

Authorities believe the victims were on the overpass when they heard the warning horn of a freight train heading south. They moved out of its path onto another set of tracks, but the roar of the freight train may have masked the sound of an Amtrak passenger train approaching in the opposite direction. And with their backs to the Amtrak train, police said, they probably didn’t see it barreling their way.

Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department officials have not yet reviewed video footage recorded by the trains, but they said neither engineer was at fault. Each train appeared to have slowed to 45 mph, a requirement when trains pass in urban areas, said Lt. Mike Rosson.

Emergency officials called to the scene after the crash found marijuana in Hernandez’s pocket, Rosson said. Correa was wearing a latex glove on one hand — a common way to keep spray paint from staining — and there were fresh tags on the bridge.

***

Sandoval was a freshman at Montebello High School. On Wednesday, as classes let out, his friends spoke of summers spent on the overpass.

“I don’t think people will be going there no more,” said Windows Madrigal, a 14-year-old freshman.

Some of them liked to tag. Sandoval’s tag name was “Bandit.” Correa’s was “Outer.” The pair had been friends a few years and had recently begun to hang out with Hernandez, those who knew them said.

Yesenia Rosales, Sandoval’s mother, said on the night they died she thought her son was home sleeping. He had come home earlier and then left without telling her.

She said he had been a troublemaker since he was young and had in recent years been in and out of juvenile hall for vandalism and underage drinking.

“Was he heading in the right direction?” she asked. “No.”

Rosales, who said the family was struggling to pay for the funeral, was sitting on a couch in her parents’ cluttered apartment a few blocks from the tracks. Her four younger children were on the ground coloring. Her father was grilling ham quesadillas and prodding her to eat.

She said she and her parents had tried to straighten her son out, but she didn’t blame him for ignoring her.

Rosales said she too had been in trouble with the law and that she struggles with addiction.

“It’s like, what you see is what you do,” she said. “He probably thought, ‘Well, my mom did it, so why can’t I do it?’ ”

***

You could tell when Correa was home by the sound of pots banging in the kitchen, his sister Liliana remembers. The youngest of four would cook up meals for the family: hot dogs, burritos, sandwiches and, on weekend mornings, chorizo with eggs.

Two weeks before his death, he told his sister that he wanted to one day be a chef. He had matured so much recently. The family believed in him. In the 12th grade at Vail High School, his grades had improved. He stayed after school for ROTC. And his teachers seemed happy to have him in class.

“He wanted to do good by my mom,” his sister said. “He would tell her, ‘I’m changing.’ ”

Tall and skinny and always wearing a baseball cap, Correa loved dancing and going to raves with friends, his sister said. She said he had encouraged Sandoval, a longtime friend from the neighborhood, to straighten up too — lose the baggy, thuggish jeans and high socks.

“Junior changed Tony,” his sister said. “He was acting different. He was better.”

She said she introduced the two teenagers to Hernandez, and wasn’t sure what they were doing on the tracks Monday night.

***

At first, Yolanda Hanvey wondered what Hernandez, her 27-year-old cousin, would have in common with Correa, a teenager.

But “Gilbert made him really happy,” she said. He treated the boy as the little brother he never had.

Hernandez was taken in by his grandfather as a toddler after his parents died. After high school, he struggled to find steady work, to hold on to his car and apartment.

A year ago, Hanvey took him in and let him crash on her living room couch. She said her cousin always had a smile on his face despite his financial struggles.

“Each morning, he would wake up at 8 a.m. and dress nice to look for work on the bus or on foot,” she said.

If she had known that he sometimes hung out along the tracks, Hanvey said, she would have told him to stop.

“I know he would have listened to me,” she said. “He always did.”

kate.linthicum@latimes.com

esmeralda.bermudez@latimes.com