WILD in the STREETS : FOR A LOST GENERATION OF DELINQUENT KIDS, THE WORLD IS FULL OF DOPE AND TROUBLE

ON ANY GIVEN DAY IN THE UNITED States, around half a million children and adolescents are locked away out of sight--in juvenile detention facilities, adolescent mental wards, residential drug-rehabilitation programs and group homes. Vastly more pass through those institutions at some point in their lives; every year more than a million are admitted to juvenile institutions alone. And their numbers are growing. In just four years--1985 to 1989--the proportion of the adolescent population held in public juvenile facilities rose by 20%. In the 1970s, national legislation was passed designed to keep as many youths as possible out of the juvenile justice system. But in the past few years, that system has increasingly become the youth social service agency of first resort, not just for the violent and the predatory, but for the parentless, the homeless and the addicted.

In the following pages, five “at-risk” young people speak about their lives, their fears and hopes, families and friends, frustrations and dreams. They talk about drugs and violence and the terrors and lures of the street, and, perhaps most importantly, about how they came to be where they are. They are representative of the larger army of young people who flow through the child welfare and youth control systems.

Each of these young people volunteered to tell his or her story; each was willing to have his or her real name used, but the law requires that their identities be protected; thus the events of their lives as they tell them are real, but their names are fictitious.

They were interviewed in an obscure county Juvenile Hall with one schoolroom for the 300 inmates and a concrete play area with high, wire-topped walls. The hall serves a county much like others across the United States, with comfortable suburbs and deteriorating ghettos, older working-class neighborhoods and struggling communities of the rural poor. The hall holds children from 10 to 17 years old. Some have been convicted in juvenile court of theft, drug dealing or gang violence. Some have been returned to custody after violating probation. Some have been picked up off the street or removed from abusive homes. A few have turned themselves in, seeking shelter. Many are awaiting “placement”--in a group home, drug rehabilitation or some other part of the youth system.

All of the adolescents who speak on these pages are emphatically distinct individuals, but their stories reveal several common themes that are crucial to understanding the condition of youth and families in America today. They show, in particular, a larger social tragedy that goes beyond deepening poverty and economic insecurity. That economic disaster figures powerfully in most of these histories. But the crisis of families and children in America is also a crisis of culture and purpose: the crisis of a society savaged by a growing social Darwinism, increasingly content to leave many children and their parents adrift, thrown back on their own resources; a society that routinely shrugs off even the most rudimentary responsibility for the healthy growth and development of its young.

Not surprisingly, the kids have often bought into these values themselves. By the age of 14 or 15, many have already come to understand and accept the world as a place where you must scramble relentlessly to survive, harden yourself against emotions and be constantly on guard. However, many of the kids have resisted that acceptance, countering the pervasive neglect and self-absorption of the adult society around them with an impressive capacity for engagement and concern.

It is terribly important to pay attention to what they have to say. From their stories we can begin to comprehend the depth and meaning of the disaster that has afflicted youth and families in the United States. We talk a great deal about that disaster, and we have even begun to promote legislation to do something about it, but most Americans simply do not understand how bad things have become for the kinds of people whose lives are described in these stories. As long as we keep their stories hidden, we will continue to fail these young people and others like them. We will continue to jeopardize their future--and ours.

SEAN O’FARRELL, AGE 16

He’s slender, anxious, moody, doing serious time for having stolen several thousand dollars from the fast-food restaurant where he worked as a cook. Before that, he dealt small amounts of methamphetamine and LSD, and got kicked out of high school for cutting classes. He lives with his mom, a waitress, hairdresser and housecleaner. He speaks softly, and he says he’s depressed a lot of the time.

THE REASON I GOT MYSELF INTO THIS SITUATION IS MY MOTHER was having problems with bills, keeping up with all the phone bills, and mainly our rent, and we were about to be evicted. We had the eviction notice and nowhere to go but to the nearest curb. Nobody cared. It was just, kick them out.

So I was working for Chicken City at the time, and I was giving my checks to my mom to help out with the bills. But it wasn’t enough; it’s like we just still couldn’t do it. Three dollars-and-35-cents-an-hour minimum wage just wasn’t cutting it! So I decided to steal some money from work. And at first they put the case down as extortion.

Some of the workers there would screw off. In other words, they were stealing money from Chicken City by lounging around and not doing the work and yet being paid for it. I was never really like that. I always got there, did my work, punched out, that was it.

They felt that they gave me a lot of trust. And I screwed them. I felt extremely bad. I ended up writing a large letter apologizing and explaining the reasons why. I don’t know if it helped them as much as it helped me. It kind of made me feel a little bit better, but it’s still a big burden on my chest right now. Like how could I be so stupid to do something like that?

But at the time, it seemed appropriate. It was the way out. She worked two jobs, seven days a week. My father doesn’t pay any child support, so it’s really difficult for her to support me and her. She was waitressing, cocktail waitress, bartending and stuff like that. And the time she had off she was housecleaning. The only real time that she took off was when me and her went to church.

It wasn’t like I wasn’t getting enough from my mom. I felt bad because she was doing so much to give me what I was getting. Instead of being happy about what I was getting, I’d get upset at her for doing it. Because she would go without a lot of things to do for me, and it wasn’t--I didn’t feel right about it. So I decided to try and help her. It just didn’t work. (He laughs. ) Bad decision.

I was going to high school. I’d been dyslexic all through grade school and junior high. And in high school, they felt that I had achieved above being special ed any more. I ended up having a hard time, so I stopped going to school. I’d get up every morning, dress nice for school, take a shower and I’d head straight for school, and where I’d end up was sitting on the newspaper bins in front of Safeway. That’s the place where everybody went to, Safeway, to meet, because it was a place where some people got lunch. It was between the continuation school and the high school, so it’s a general meeting place. Sitting right out in front, I’d talk to everybody that’s going by.

In high school it was like they were just too busy to even notice that I wasn’t there. I felt that they should have noticed, but I was kind of happy they didn’t because I was getting away with what I wanted to get away with.

Besides being dyslexic, it was hard in class, and I was teased about that. And I developed migraine headaches from it because there was just so much pressure. So the easy way out was to go sit in front of Safeway, you know, and just not even deal with the school. If I’m not there, I can’t get upset, right? Well, by sitting there I ended up getting bored, I started into drugs. Drugs were a pastime, a tremendous pastime. The day existed around the drug use.

My mom thought I was going to school every day, so she had no idea of my problem. She had thought--she suspected drug use, but never really had any substantial proof, because I never really came home messed up. She never saw any of it, so she wasn’t sure. So she took the benefit of the doubt, saying I didn’t, because I told her I didn’t. I lied to her, of course. ( He laughs. )

I got to the point where I was selling methamphetamine. One reason was that when I worked I also used it, because it helped me in my work, made me faster, kept me awake, put me in a good mood. Then it got to the point that I ended up using as much as I was making profit off it. And then it got to the point that I wasn’t even making enough profit to pay for how much I was using. And that’s when it got so bad that I started using a little bit of the money I was giving my mom for it. Maybe 20 bucks out of my paycheck, and that would go for a gram I would buy, and I would sell three-quarters and get enough for another gram, and then it got to the point that I wasn’t even--I couldn’t even hold it long enough to sell it, and then right after that was when I got into trouble.

What scares me? Mainly, going back to my old routine. Getting back into the drugs again. That’s my major scare, but I’m pretty much--with my religion, it’s pretty much out. From being in here, I’ve become very religious. I’ve found where I stand now. But I don’t know if I’m going to get into some problem that would be pressing on me, and I’ll go back to it. I definitely don’t want to, now. I say that, but I can’t be absolutely sure when I get out.

I’m going to go back to high school. A guy that comes in and talks to me is also a contractor, and he’s offering me a job. I’m going to help my mom with some bills. We feel that we can make it this time, really do it this time, get my life together.

Ten years from now? I’ve got a problem with that. There’s so much that goes on now that I don’t have time to think about what’s going to happen. And it’s so fast-paced, it seems to come before you know it. You don’t even have time to think about it. I am worried about my future, because I feel that I have some responsibilities of supporting my mother when she gets--she’s right now at 56 years old. And I feel by the time I’m old enough to start working a full-time job, that I should be able to support her and help her out. I feel obligated to do that. For one, I just love her a lot, and two, it’s just all the stuff she’s done for me, I feel that I need to repay.

This experience has been real tragic in a way and yet it’s been a miracle in another, because I’ve become a lot closer to the Lord, what I call the Lord. I’ve learned to accept responsibilities and I’ve got a goal, a so-called goal.

I never really had a goal to reach before, and now I’ve got a goal. To achieve in school and help out my mother, and have a good family.

Three months later, Sean attempted suicide.

BLASTER, AGE 15

He’s black, long and skinny, with a basketball player’s frame, and he says he’d like to “make it to the pros.” During the entire conversation, he fidgets constantly, can’t sit still; he turns his head up to look at the ceiling, bends down to look at the floor, scratches his arms and legs furiously. He’s a small-time crack dealer. The arrest that brought him into Juvenile Hall was for beating a man nearly to death with a stick. The man had made him “break his dope”--break up a large “rock” into smaller pieces--”for nothing.”

THAT’S ALL WE DO IS JUMP PEOPLE,man! You just go jump in! That’s what I’m in here for right now, jumping a grown man! Wasn’t worth it. Over $10, we jumped him over $10! It wasn’t worth it.

We used to jump a lot, pull guns on people, you know, throw rocks at the police cars. Used to do anything to have a good time. One time we used to kick in people’s door like we a task force! Having a good time. We used to shake cabs, get somewhere, we get stuck, “Come on, man, let’s get a cab!” “Oh, will you take us to this place, take us to our apartment?” and just run. Did that a lot, too. But then they start to get smart, they say, “You can pay the money first.”

You get a kick out of it. (He laughs. ) But when it’s you , you know, you don’t think that way. What you think about sometimes . . . Doin’ this stuff, beatin’ ‘em up, I think, “ Damn , man. What if that was me be down there, you know? Around 20 niggers stompin’ my head to the ground, brother? S--- ain’t cool.” You know? That’s later. Then I say, “Motherf---er, now you don’t let that get to you, man.”

Most times we beat ‘em up for a reason. Like these young niggers out there tryin’ to sell dope, and they think ‘cause they little they can take advantage of ‘em. But it don’t work like that! One lady try to get over, you know? She say she wants to taste it, gave him another one out of her mouth, but it wasn’t real! So we all just beat her up.

I know when I first started, man, I first started like this. I grew up in a complex, one of the rowdiest places in L.A. And you know, my buddies, we grew up like this , man, like this . (He crosses his fingers tightly.) All of us like a big family , you know? And the older ones was around three or four years older, and we saw them doing it. I started holding for ‘em, say, “Here, you wanta make a couple dollars?” One time I made about $40. I say, “Forty dollars just for holding?” They say, “Want to make some more?” Said, “F--- it, come on, man!” Got all my homeys, say, “Come on, man, we all gone make some money, look!” Forty dollars was a lot then, you know, I was around 5 and 6 years old, $40 was a lot to me. One little kid going to school with $40. You know? Then I started, you know, as I grew up, when I was 10 years old I started selling ‘em. That’s when I first started.

What would you do? In my categroy, if I see a fast buck I’m a go for it. I tried working, man. I just feel, I can work here for six hours, man, I make around $20 a day. Well, if I can make $20 in a minute , what I’m gonna go for? The $20 in a minute! You know? Who have heart, have money.

But you don’t spend all of that. This what you do, you just stackin’ and stackin’. Save it, buy you a car. Can’t be buying too many cars. You can’t just go in a car lot and just buy you a Benz or nothing like that, ‘cause they get you for taxes. You gotta be smart about it! Have my sister or something, have her get me a car. Get a used car, you don’t go buy no new car off a lot either, they get you for that. Don’t flash, you know, like just drivin’ around with Benzes, it’s like the police know, they goin’ hit you, what’s a young 15-year-old driving a Benz !

But I’m telling you, man, if you was out there, you wouldn’t have no fear. You know, what’s the fear for? What’s your fear--you go to jail, you get caught? Think! It’s dangerous just walking the streets at night. It’s dangerous for you to walk outside! It’s dangerous everywhere you go! You gonna die one of these days! You gonna die young or you gonna die old, simple as that. You know, when you out there, you don’t think about nothin’ but, man, I’m gonna get all the money out here. Police come, they gonna get everybody ‘cept me . That’s they way you think. You gotta think bigheaded to survive. You think you gonna get caught, you gonna get caught. ( He puts a finger to the side of his head. ) It’s all up here, man , I’m telling you.

But I can tell you all kind of bulls---. “I’m gonna go straight, man, I’m gonna be a angel .” But you know once I hit the gates I’m in a whole different story, man. I learned that for my own self. I tell the counselors, man, I’m goin’ get my ass in gear. Soon’s I get out, “Hey brother, what’s up man?” “Money roll into town.” “Oh, let me go get my dope, man!” (He laughs, shakes his head.) Here I go again.

Aww . . . we like to have a good time and stuff like that. Man, we do be playing basketball! We play foot ball! We like human kids! (He laughs.) We act just like humans, man, you know? We play football, like go play like 10 houses against another part of town. We play football and have a good time, still. We go bowling a lot. Sometimes even, adult dealers be taking a lot of us bowling. We have a good time. We used to go to a carnival, they just take the whole group! You know, we’ll go to parties. We still--like--human.

I know selling drugs is wrong, but it’s just as wrong as robbing! Stealing! Adultery, that’s wrong! So they can’t whup on selling dope, ‘cause a lot of these, they do wrong things too, they ain’t no angels. Everybody do things wrong. So I don’t sweat it, man!

Some people have different ways of coming up. Some people want to make money by prostitution, some make money by robbin’, some people hit mens, you know? Some people sell drugs! You know?

What would I say to someone reading this? Don’t be a f----up, man. Drugs, drugs, drugs ain’t goin’ get you nowhere. Get your education. Drugs ain’t gonna be here forever. I mean, it may be here forever, but it ain’t gonna be as popular. You know, I’m goin’ tell you, this the only three things you get out of drugs. You either get to the top and get off the game--when I say off the game, I mean quit--get hooked up, or you die. That’s your only three alternatives.

To a 15-year-old, jail ain’t no place to be. You lose your freedom, your respect. You know, ‘cause when you come out, people be looking at you all crazy? Like this what I hate, my cousin look at me crazy ‘cause I was in jail. And that hurted, your own cousins , man?

Sometimes, I gonna tell the truth, it’s fun here! (He smiles broadly.) You may think I’m crazy, but sometimes it’s fun. You know, like for Christmas I was in this motherf---er here. I had a great time. You know, you wasn’t with your family and everything, but since you in here you make the best of it, you know? It take the place of your family, everybody was singing, you know, kicking it together. We had fun stealing people’s presents and stuff. We had a good time, man. One of the best Christmases I ever had, even if I was free, even though there ain’t no place like home, but I’m telling you, man, we had a good time. Doing things, you know, playing with each other, kicking together, you know . . . and everything? I had a good time, man.

(Suddenly:) Man, it don’t mean nothin’, man! It’s just like this ain’t s---! You know, I be gettin’ out in seven more weeks. I ain’t set no goals for myself! I’m a do the same f---ing thing!

VIRGINIA SWENSON, AGE 14

Small, frail, very pretty, she has a series of deep slashes up one forearm from wrist to elbow and another smaller set of gashes on the underside of her arm, near the wrist. She’s feisty, intense. As she talks, she taps her foot, raps her fingers on the table, tosses her long red hair out of her face. She was arrested for being drunk and disorderly in a park after running away from a local shelter for runaways.

WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE, THEY just better give it up because they ain’t gonna keep me . They should have learned by now they aren’t gonna keep Ginny. ‘Cause I’m gonna do what I want to do. I’ve been telling them that for the last four years, and I been doing it. But if they haven’t learned yet, they’ll learn one of these days.

My family’s in Idaho, Montana, around there. Washington. About four years ago, I came out here to live with my dad and everything, and it didn’t work out. So he left. He’s somewhere off somewhere, I don’t know where. So now I’m kicking it here. I came here from my mom’s house to live with him. Well, actually I kind of left him and then he left.

He wanted me to go with him, but I didn’t want to. ‘Cause I hated him. I mean he drinks and everything, badly. And he acts the fool when he’s drunk. I think he’s in Arizona, or in Washington.

After I left he kept trying to come and get me, and after a few times he finally realized I wasn’t gonna go with him, and he finally gave up. Smart. (She laughs. )

My mom knows where I am, basically. You know, she knows I’m still in the state and everything. But she just doesn’t want to talk to me. And stuff like that. She’s a b----. I ain’t sweatin’ her.

Off and on, I live on the streets. Sometimes like if I get sick of being out there, you know, or if it gets too rough or something, then I’ll come to Child Protective and they’ll put me somewhere. And then when I get ready to leave again, I’ll leave, go back out on the street. That’s like my life , out there on the street.

Yeah, it gets pretty dangerous. (She shrugs.) Don’t really mean nothing to me, though. Doesn’t scare me. (She pauses. ) I’ve been raped. I mean, I know that’s terrible, but . . . it’s one of those challenges . I mean if you’re gonna be out there, you have to prepare for whatever’s gonna come to you, you know what I’m saying?

I like it. I really do. ( She smiles. ) You probably think I’m crazy. But I do. It’s challenging, you know? And I like that. It never gets boring, you know? You meet a lot of different people. Some good, some bad. Definitely some bad. ( She laughs. ) It’s pretty cool, I like it.

I don’t like to go to people for things. I like to try to do it myself. You know? Because I just--I don’t like that.

Sometimes I stay in the park. And once in a while at a friend’s house. You know, depending on if they’re like, “Why don’t you come over and party for a while?” And then I’ll probably go crash there for the night or something. Here and there. Sometimes I don’t go to sleep. At all. Food? I’m not the type. I don’t really eat that much or anything. But if I do, I just kind of like steal it, sometimes. Or like, um, before, I’ve like done things with people for money. You know.

It’s not really prostitution, because I don’t go stand on the corner and f--- anybody. But like I’ll meet someone, like a guy or something, right, talk to him, he’ll get what he wants, you know, if he gives me what I want--you know what I’m saying? And it works out. But some guys: “F--- you, b----, I’m gettin’ what I want and that’s it.” But some of them give me something, too. I make it, though, all right.

If I get sick I come back to Child Protective. Till I get better or whatever. And then I leave again. I know that’s pretty bad. That’s like--I don’t like to do it, but I don’t really have no other choice. They’re like a hotel. Or something. Some things, as much as I do want to be independent, some things I have to be dependent on. I mean I know I can’t take care of myself 100%, you know, ‘cause like when I get sick and stuff, I come to them. But I try to do most things, almost anything I can, on my own. But if it gets to be terrible, then I come to them. Like if I get a cold or something, you know, I feel kind of sick, I don’t come to them till it gets bad .

Sometimes I’ll stick with them for a while, you know, try it, and then I say, “F--- it,” and leave. It’s hard! I mean, in a way a little part of me wants to change, you know, make something out of myself. And the other part of me says, “Nope, I gotta get back out there.”

I’m pretty smart. I pretty much know what’s up. I’ve learned. Like when I first started out I was stupid, you know? But I’ve learned, in the past few years. How to kind of--know people? Even though I haven’t known them? You know what I’m saying? And s--- like that. How to judge people, all that kind of stuff. How to get what I want. I mean I still have more to learn, probably. But I make it OK now.

When I get older. . . I’m sure I probably won’t be doing this forever . I mean I don’t intend to be a bum. I just want to be . . . I like challenges. And adventures and stuff?

It would have to be something good. Modeling? I’d have to get my f---ing act together and go to one of these group homes and stuff, but I ain’t ready for that yet. I may never--I mean it may be just a dream that never comes true, but maybe one of these years.

Maybe one of these days I’ll come back and be a real person.

DAWN OLIVETTI, AGE 17

She wears her hair shaved close to her head on the left, long and floppy on the right; she looks like a kind of punk elf. For the past six years she has been living mainly on the streets, when she wasn’t being shuffled in and out of group homes and juvenile institutions. This time, she was arrested after running away from a group home, where she’d been taken after a bad acid trip in a nearby mall.

LIKE THE END OF OCTOBER LAST year I got picked up ‘cause I was tweakin’ pretty bad. And I started--I was seeing things like--nobody knows what I’m talking about, but that dude on the peanuts ? He walks around with a cane ? He was talking to me, man. I’m serious. (She laughs.) I was like, whoa ! And then all of a sudden, he started making me mad. So I hit him? And like it was weird, ‘cause I was fading in and out, you know. I’d start tweaking and then I’d--I’d still be tweaking but not like real heavy ? And then like all these peanuts were falling down. It was weird.

I took like 27 hits of camouflage. You know what that is? It’s a kind of acid. It’s supposed to be like the best. I had them on me, you know, and I was like “Whoa, why not?”

It was in the mall. I’m serious. (She laughs.) I used to love that place, man. It ain’t too cool any more though, ‘cause now the security guards started getting pretty bad and kicking me and all my friends out. So we don’t go there that much. Occasionally, you’ll see somebody there and you’ll be like “Dude! What’s up?” But not that much. About a year back, that was like a hangout . For all the people like me.

We’d go kick back in Burger King, and just sit there. And then we’d leave there, and go, do you know where Wilson’s is? And there’d be like these chairs , and we’d sit there. And then we’d have to leave ‘cause they’d start complaining.

I decided to go to the mall. And I started peaking , man. ( She puts on a wild, terrified face.) I was like “Nooooooo!” And you know I could’ve got away too, man. But I couldn’t move right, man, like I could barely stand. And I know if I was straight I could’ve got a way in a minute. Occasionally, I get caught, but usually I can get away. I guess that was one time I was meant to be picked up.

When I was little, my mom jammed to Chicago. And I never knew my dad, and like a couple of years ago, I kind of sort of met him. So I went out to live with him. But it didn’t work out. So as soon as school got out, he got me a plane ticket and I came back out here. So now I’m here.

See like--it was weird. OK. She got a divorce from her second husband, because we had problems with him. And then she found this boyfriend. And he did drugs. And she has this problem--every guy she meets she falls in love with. And she’ll do anything for him. So she started doing drugs. And she started feeling like me and my brother were like making her feel old. Because we were like her kids , you know? So . . . she jammed!

She took me to the shelter. And see, I didn’t know what was up. ( Dawn was 10. ) She just goes, “Well, I’ll be back in a week.” So I’m sitting here expecting her to come back and I never see her again. Like a couple of months later I found out what happened.

Didn’t affect me, I don’t think. Because during the whole nine or 10 years, however many it was, things like this were like constantly happening. And it got to where it didn’t even affect me any more. Well, she didn’t actually take off before. She was there , but it was like she wasn’t there?

Every once in a while I’d go spend a weekend with my grandparents. And I used to be like majorly skinny. ‘Cause you know, I never ate. And I totally munched when I was at their house and they thought I was eating like this all the time! They couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t gain any weight.

It was ‘cause I didn’t know how to cook. I ate crackers, though, dude; I ate baloney. But, I don’t know, my mom wouldn’t cook. And I was like too scared to go and get something out of the kitchen. Like on my way to school there was like--two or three blocks down from my house--there was a store. And on my way to school I’d go by there and, you know, snatch something once in a while. And I’d eat that. And when she did cook, it was like a sandwich. And I’d go like “Whoa, killer !” (She laughs. ) She wasn’t with it, man. She was just like whatever.

But I remember like when I was 5 and 6. And she was cool, you know, she fed me all the time and stuff. And then when like I hit around 7, it just all changed.

I would never ask her for food. But sometimes she’d sit there, and she’d just give me stuff. And it wasn’t like food, but it like substituted for it, so it was cool. I wouldn’t be hungry. Yeah, like killer , like she would give me cigarettes, or she’d give me drugs or something. I was like about 8 or 9.

At the time I didn’t know what I thought. Now it’s like--you know, in a way it was cool. ‘Cause a lot of parents aren’t like that.

I didn’t start doing anything heavy until I was like 13 or 14. I used to--all I did was I’d get stoned, you know. But then it got to where it wasn’t fun any more, you know? And then I started doing like coke and stuff. And that was like major fun. That was like--I loved the coke, I don’t know why. And then like I’d do acid once in a while.

I’ve managed to stay away from heroin. A lot of my friends are on that stuff now. And they’re like “Dude, you should try this!” and I’m like “No, that’s OK, I’ve got my own drugs over here.”

I’ve heard that heroin gives you the perfect feeling that you’ve always wanted. It just, I’ve heard it makes people feel like they’re floating or something. You’re just like happy.

The future? It’s not good to live past the age of 29. Like we’re in a different generation, right? In this generation 30 just happens to be old. (She looks down at the floor.) My friend killed herself. She shot herself right there (She points to her temple . ) She ran away from group home, and then she wrote her mom she’d come back, if she didn’t have to go back to her group home. And she came back and things got heavy and so she ran away again. And I think maybe it was just like . . . you know, you just get tired of it sometimes.

It’s just that--I don’t know--you’re like, you’re never gonna have a place where you can stay without people yelling at you. And--I don’t know--you’re just never gonna have what you want. And you just get sick of it, man. And you end up doing something.

Three months later, Dawn is back in Juvenile Hall.

I think I turned myself in, but I’m not sure. ‘Cause I’d been gettin’ in trouble, is why. And then like I came here and I wasn’t even myself for like six or seven days. I was just like uuuugh. . . . They told me I made no sense whatsoever.

See, like, while I was gone, I found a new drug. I mean it’s not new , but it’s something I never did before. I’ve always like wanted to do it? But I’ve been scared to do it because it’s so addictive. But it’s like, now, if you laid it in front of me, I don’t care how many people were standing there watching me, I’d take it. OK, I started shooting heroin.

And I fell in love, I mean I hate it, too. But, um, it’s like I wanta stop, you know, sometimes. And sometimes I’m like, why should I stop?

And I won’t promise anyone I’ll never do it again. ‘Cause one day I’m gonna be there and someone’s gonna say, “Here.” And I’ll say “Oh . . . OK.”

As far as I’m concerned, the next group home’ll be my last chance. If my life’s going pretty good after that, then I’ll know, and that’s cool. If not, I’m giving up . And see, if I don’t go to this group home, if they release me today, I could like have everything I want within an hour or a couple of hours. By dark. I’ll have what I want. And what does that get me? That gets me bloody boots, bloody fingers and no money in my pocket. And a f---ed-up head. Or brain, put it that way.

JAMES L., AGE 16

He’s almost painfully slight, but his chiseled features and abundant dreadlocks make him look both vaguely regal and quite fierce. He’s been sent to Juvenile Hall for a minor theft, a charge he denies with convincing contempt. He thinks the real reason he’s behind bars is his reputation as a leader in a rash of recent gang wars. It’s rumored that, despite his youth, he is not only a major player in the local cocaine trade--having taken over the turf formerly held by his older brother, recently hospitalized with gunshot wounds--but a main gang “shooter” who has put several rivals in the hospital. James chooses his words carefully; guarded at first, he becomes increasingly warm and reflective as he talks.

MY BROTHER GOT SHOT UP. HE GOT shot in the face with a 12-gauge. He lost his eye, some teeth, and they was talking about it was all over a gang and all that. They been trying to say that my brother was a big-time gang leader and I was a little -time gang leader, I’m taking over his drug business and all that type of stuff like this. I’m in a gang and all this, I’m a big shot and all type of stuff like that.

But it wasn’t nothing like that! It was just like, you know we all be hanging out together, and then these other dudes, they be talking all this, like, you know, “Y’all can’t come over here,” and all this. And we be like, “We just coming to the party!” and we just start fighting and all that. And then they brought guns into it, and they start shooting and all that.

It’s gettin’ kind of dangerous out there. ‘Cause my mother just came up here and told me that one of my cousins he got shot, he dead now. It ain’t no end to it, though, I guess. I know just goin’ be like that, since two people got shot already, it ain’t goin’ be like--that easy. A few of they people got shot, too! One dude lost his eye up there, too. Another dude, he got paralyzed , all type of stuff. I don’t know.

And then the police was trying to say, they was trying to get me on some of the shootings that happened, trying to say I did it, like I’m the main shooter. Like one time they jack me and they had the news cameras and all that out there, right, put me on the news saying that I’m known as one of the main shooters, the one most likely to be carryin’ a gun on me and, you know, telling who my brother was, and all this, and I go home and my grandmother she was cryin’ and all type of stuff, she cryin’ cause she’s sitting right there and it was on the news, when I came in the house it was on the news. (He looks at the floor.) And she was crying, and all type of stuff.

Made me like--I put my hand on the Bible, told her I was gonna stay out of it and all that. Then I was stayin’ out of it, wasn’t gettin’ in no trouble, just comin’ in the house, doin’ what she said, like. She was telling me like to quit being with my brother so much, ‘cause he older than me, much older than me, he 20. And she was saying, quit being with him, just hang with my friends. And I was just hanging with my friends.

All it really is, it ain’t over no drugs, it’s just over who want to have the most respect , with the girls and all that, you know what I’m saying? That’s what it’s about--respect. They just want to be known the most to the girls, you know, to the boys that’s just going to school and all that, you know? Next year s’pose to be my last year of school. But I was just cuttin’, wasn’t going to school. ‘Cause I was getting good grades in class and all of that. In math, I got all the way up to Algebra I--I passed that. Then when I got to Algebra II it was like gettin’ kind of difficult. Then I was just like cutting class: “Forget it, I ain’t gonna go,” ’cause it wasn’t nothing but like Chinamens , Chinese in this class! You know, they all smart , they all smart in math, I’m feeling like, man! I don’t know what’s going on! (He laughs.)

I know when I get out I’m planning on graduating from regular school, high school. When I get out, I’m just gonna move in with my mother, ‘cause it’s slow out where she lives. I won’t hurt nobody. And then just finish school, and all of that. I want to just go to college, and then go to cooking school and become a chef. That’s what I want to be--a chef.

‘Cause when I was little--I been like cooking ever since I was about 9 or 10. My mother used to give us all a chance, like to cook dinner, like me and my brothers? She’ll be right there, and you know, just have us cook up a meal like steak and potatoes, vegetables and everything, you know, garlic bread, all type stuff, just watch us cook. (He smiles.) And then she’s going, “You should be a chef when you get older!” ’Cause I was the youngest one and I used be cooking the best! You know, they be burning stuff up and all that, and I used to be cooking the best. And ever since then, I just wanted to be a chef.

When I started messing up, she was like mad ! Like my grandmother wrote me a letter the other day, up here? Wrote me a letter telling me that I need to get going because I got a lot of intelligence, and I’m smart , and all this, and that I need to, instead of just being nobody, like messing around out there, I should be some body. And I was just thinking about, you know, that’s right , ‘cause I just be lettin’ it go to waste! ‘Cause schoolwork and all that, it don’t be nothin’, I’ll be getting through it--if the teacher explain it, I understand it! And get through it and just be finished like. Seem like up here, every day in class, I be like the first one finished with my work, and just be sitting around, just thinking. Since I been in here I been just like thinking a lot. I’m thinking how many times I could be dead and all this, maybe gotten shot, you know, just thinking that God just put me in here to let me know. Just slow me down, so I won’t get in no trouble or nothing. Maybe that would’ve been me who got shot instead of my cousin, if I would’ve been out. That’s why I just be thinking, I’m glad God did put me in here. Slow me down so I could get in touch with Him, like.

I just be thinking, like Martin Luther King went through all this to get black people equal rights and all that, and now we fightin’ each other , just killing off each other. I just be knowin’ he turning over in his grave thinking about all this! How he did all that, gave up his life, he wasn’t using no violence or none of that, he gave up his life so we could like really get equal rights, you know, be treated the same. Now we fightin’ each other, killing each other off. . . . That’s stupid! But you tell somebody that. They don’t think like that. They just thinking what they goin’ do tomorrow or next week, and all that. They don’t think about is they goin’ live tomorrow, is they still goin’ be alive tomorrow, they don’t think about nothing like that. You know, people just gotta stop and think! They moving too fast , like!

But I know when I get out, a lot of my friends will say I changed, maybe be saying I’m a square now, and all this. But it’s just that I ain’t goin’ be doin’ the things I was doing at first. And I just, like, had time to think about it.