A Lesson for a Looter: This Is What Friends Do

“Y ou wanna be my friend? Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

“OK. I like talking with you.”

That’s my new friend, Octavio Sandoval, on the phone. We met two weeks ago in South Los Angeles. I was on assignment. In search of a looter. I found Octavio.

The 17-year-old with black wavy hair, an ever-present crucifix and street-smart survival skills took three beds from a neighborhood furniture store the day after the acquittals in the Rodney G. King beating case.

Octavio took the beds because he got swept up in the frenzy that consumed great chunks of Los Angeles. And because he sleeps on the floor--as do a younger brother and sister. It was a chance to actually do something for his family. To finally get off the floor. To sleep like Anglos. On beds.

But four days later Octavio returned the beds, taking them to a nearby church.

A guilty conscience and some disapproving glances from his parents got the better of him. Besides, he just couldn’t bring himself to sleep on stolen merchandise.

The toughest part about returning the beds, Octavio said, was seeing the disappointed faces of his younger brother and sister. They didn’t quite understand why their beds had to be loaded onto a pickup truck and carried off.

Someday, perhaps, they will understand.

And someday Octavio may understand why his story--which ran in this newspaper in the aftermath of the riots--has touched so many people.

In the nine days since Octavio’s story and photograph appeared, people from Thousand Oaks to Long Beach have phoned with offers of help; indeed, the family has received more than 30 offers of beds alone. I’ve received dozens of telephone calls and so has Jack Mitchell, an English teacher at Manual Arts High school where Octavio is a junior.

Mostly, people want to talk to Octavio.

“They want to tell him that he’s not a bad kid, that they realize why he took the beds and also why he returned them,” said Mitchell. “The best call came from a Ventura County woman who said, ‘Now I understand what they (looters) were doing. The media were saying they were thugs and thieves and hooligans--but not all of them, not Octavio. I understood why he did what he did.’ ”

Patricia Foster, a receptionist at a Century City law firm, called me when the article appeared.

“After I read Octavio’s story, I started sharing it with my co-workers. When I told them he was a looter, they all went, ‘I have no sympathy for him.’ But when I continued to tell them that this young man returned the beds, they became very interested and wanted to read it for themselves,” Foster said.

A single parent helping her 19-year-old daughter raise a baby, Foster struggles to get by. But she has called several times to find out how Octavio is doing, to get clothing sizes of his brothers and sisters, to inquire how she can help his mother and father.

“He’s a good kid,” said Foster. “He gave back the beds. He trusted the good instincts that his parents have instilled in him. He showed us that there is hope, that stealing and robbing and lying and cheating people is not the way.”

Octavio has said it himself: “Stealing ain’t right.”

Stealing didn’t solve his resentment, rage and resignation about his life in South Los Angeles. But the experience has changed him. And it has changed people who, for too long, have closed their eyes to kids like Octavio.

Some of my co-workers and friends have donated money to help the family. Mitchell said that students from El Camino Real High School in Sacramento want to adopt Manual Arts High as a sister school and help students like Octavio. The schools are planning a joint fund-raiser.

Octavio’s story also has inspired donations to the Manual Arts “senior fund,” created immediately after the riots to help seniors with prom, yearbook, ring and other expenses. Most of the 12th-graders who had jobs lost them because so many businesses were destroyed by fires. And many parents simply cannot afford the extras.

Pledges to a Manual Arts food bank that would help students and others who suffered during the riots are trickling in. “A lot of people don’t realize the despair that our kids feel,” said Mitchell, adding that Octavio was not the only student who admitted to looting.

“A lot of our kids are well-meaning students who just got caught up in the turmoil.”

For a few days after the article appeared, Octavio feared he might be arrested. And he feels somewhat embarrassed and bewildered by all the attention and offers of kindness.

But Octavio’s forthrightness has made a difference--to his family, to his community.

And to me.

In our conversations, we have spoken about our Latino heritage and self-esteem.

“You’re not low class,” I said. “You’re a guy with class. So let’s keep talking because friends do that.”

He paused for a few seconds and then invited me to an upcoming quinceanera , a coming out party for a Latina turning 15. Octavio will wear a tux and escort one of the attendants. And he wants me to be there.

“Friends do that,” he said.

Donations to the food bank and senior fund can be sent to Manual Arts High School, 4131 S. Vermont Ave., Los Angeles, Calif. 90037.