‘They’re writing up a storm, right now.’

As he was about to leave the station Friday evening, police Officer Earl Valladeros flipped up the back seat of an aging gold Chrysler. He found nothing there but shreds of stuffing. He flopped the seat down and motioned for his guest to get in.

Valladeros got into the driver’s seat. His partner, Eddie Solomon, took the passenger side.

On a usual Friday patrol, the two uniformed members of the North Hollywood anti-gang unit would be looking for gang members to chat with. This time, to serve a reporter’s curiosity, they planned a graffiti tour of the East San Fernando Valley.

They didn’t promise anything exciting.

“You almost never catch anyone doing it,” Solomon said. “They go out about 3 in the morning.”

Not much happened in the first two hours. The policemen drove through North Hollywood Park, moved a few drunks along, gave a stern talk to four tough-looking youths drinking beer on the sidewalk and pointed out lots of graffiti.

At one point they were called back to the station to identify two women picked up for shoplifting. Both of them had given false names. Solomon, a stout, muscular black man, politely told them he knew they were lying. In about 15 minutes he had their names and criminal records.

A jailer put the women into holding cells and the officers returned to the streets.

Just before dusk, Valladeros drove to a small shopping center at Victory Boulevard and Vineland Avenue. An anthology of gang members’ writing covers its walls in tangled layers.

A slender youth in a blue T-shirt flagged down the police car.

“Are you looking for kids writing on the walls?” he asked.

He pointed down a long wall.

“They’re writing up a storm right now,” he said.

Valladeros punched the accelerator for a 200-yard sprint to the back of the parking lot. Seconds later he lurched to a stop in the corner where the wall joined a chain-link fence.

A tall boy and a short one emerged from behind the wall on the other side of the fence. They started walking away, avoiding the policemen’s eyes. The short boy held a paint can.

“Stop right there,” Solomon yelled. “Put your hands against the fence.”

They did.

Valladeros scaled the wall. A moment later he came out behind the boys and raised his hand to show Solomon a smudge of fresh black paint. Solomon scaled the wall.

The officers handcuffed the boys and inspected their work.

There were two paintings. One consisted of two names and some abstract lines, the other of two names and a Manhattan-like skyline.

On the way to the station the short boy said he was 12 and had no record. The tall boy said he was 14 and was on probation for smoking marijuana in school.

“I didn’t paint nothing,” he said. “I was just looking out.”

It was dark when they arrived back at the police station. Valladeros flipped up the back seat again. Still nothing but stuffing.

“You’d be surprised what you find there,” he said.

At his desk, Valladeros questioned the older boy. He stuck by his story.

Solomon took the younger boy into an interrogation room.

He read him his rights. The boy agreed to talk and didn’t want an attorney.

Because of his age, Solomon filled out a form required by the Juvenile Court. It’s designed to tell whether a child knows the difference between right and wrong. It includes questions like, “Can you give me an example of something that’s wrong to do?”

The boy passed easily. Then he told Solomon that he had found the paint can and later ran into the older boy.

He said his friend told him, “ ‘Let’s go tag a wall.’ ”

So they each did a couple of paintings.

Solomon led the boy out and handcuffed him to a bench beside a writhing drunk.

He took the older boy into the interrogation room. The boy asked to have his father with him. Solomon brought in the father, who had just arrived.

The father said little while the boy repeated that he had done no painting.

“What do you call it when you write on a wall?” Solomon asked.

“Writing graffiti,” he answered innocently.

“Do you know the word ‘tag’? “ Solomon asked.

The boy looked baffled. “No.”

Solomon said he knew a lot about graffiti. He said the other boy couldn’t have done both paintings. They were in different styles.

The older boy came up with a quick explanation. He said his friend wrote both of their names and put them in different styles intentionally.

Otherwise, he said, people might accuse him of biting.

“What’s biting?” Solomon asked.

It means stealing someone else’s style, the boy said.

Solomon got up. He needed to confer with the other boy again. “I have to tell you that he gave a different story,” he said.

At that point the youth gave in.

“OK,” he said. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

He admitted doing one painting. Solomon gave him a long, emotional lecture on the value of honesty.

It was 9:30 p.m. The younger boy’s parents were on their way in, too.

Solomon and Valladeros released the boys to their parents with a citation requiring everyone to come back for an interview with a detective. The detective would decide whether to file charges.

Solomon said he thought they would be charged. It could mean detention camp for the older boy because of his probation.

Before going home, the boys were taken to the booking tank. Their fingerprints were taken and their identities entered into the criminal computer network.