Mistrial in Shooting of Teacher Spotlights Gang Intimidation

On the afternoon of Feb. 22, James McClenand told a detective he saw a gang member nicknamed “Slim” fire three shots at a passing car at the urging of a fellow gang member nicknamed “Mont Duce.” One of those bullets smashed through a window of the Figueroa Street Elementary School library and into the brain of schoolteacher Alfredo Perez, gravely wounding him.

Seven months later, on the afternoon of Sept. 24, McClenand told quite a different story: He didn’t see anything at all; he merely heard some shouting and some shots.

On Tuesday, the jury in the attempted murder trial of “Slim” and “Mont Duce”--a.k.a. Frazier Francis, 19, and Antonio Moses, 19--told the judge it was hopelessly deadlocked, 7-5 in favor of acquittal. The only material the jury had asked to review during four days of deliberations was the testimony of main witness McClenand.

Family and friends of the wounded teacher were upset Wednesday that the verdict appeared to hinge on a story that was switched. But among prosecutors and people who live in neighborhoods where gang violence is common, there were knowing nods: The specter of witness intimidation had again entered the criminal justice system, they suggested.

“A gang case is the hardest to prosecute because getting witnesses is next to impossible,” Deputy Dist. Atty. Phil Glaviano, a member of the district attorney’s hard-core gang unit, said in an interview that took place before Compton Superior Court Judge John T. Cheroske imposed a gag order.

Glaviano--whose office must now decide whether to retry the case--said he understood why 18-year-old McClenand didn’t stay with the story he told police.

“I don’t think I would have done it,” Glaviano said. “It takes a lot of guts.”

A.C. Moses, father of Antonio Moses and a veteran gang member, put it more starkly: “He didn’t have a choice. If either [of the suspects] are found guilty, you know what will happen [to McClenand]. He’d probably get iced. The streets are cold.”

Perez’s wife, Virginia, who has watched her husband’s slow but remarkable recovery, said: “We all know what happened and what damage was done. Now they might be free to do it again. The message this verdict sends to our youth is that it is OK to kill and maim because you’ll pay no price.”

McClenand, who declined to be interviewed, lives with his family a few houses away from the site of the shooting. His father, James, told a reporter there had been no threats to him or his son. But many observers say the unspoken possibility of retaliation is threat enough.

For the last two decades, the intensity of gang violence has made it increasingly difficult for police to find witnesses and for prosecutors to count on their presence. Despite elaborate efforts to protect or relocate witnesses, intimidation by gangs--direct or indirect--bedevils police.

Shortly after the shooting, detectives descended on 111th Place and Figueroa Street, the site of the shooting. They rounded up several people and took them to the local police station. Of the dozens they talked to, only McClenand said he saw what happened.

It was not easy for Det. Charles Tizano to get this out of McClenand. Off and on for nearly four hours he interrogated him. On the audiotape of the interview played for the jury, the soft-spoken McClenand clearly expresses his concern about being a witness.

“I could end up missing with my head blown off,” he told Tizano.

Nevertheless, he told the detective about walking past several members of the Denver Lane Bloods hanging out near an apartment building. He told of seeing a passing car whose driver made a crude hand sign of the rival Hoover Crips. He told of seeing Moses yell to Francis, “Get him.” He told of seeing Francis pull out a gun, fire one round, then chase after the car and fire two more shots. One of those two shots entered the library and hit Perez.

But on the witness stand, McClenand said he noticed the suspects, saw the car and the gang sign, but that instead of seeing Moses yell to Francis to get the rivals, he merely heard it. He also testified that he only heard the shots and couldn’t see who fired the gun.

Glaviano, who had questioned McClenand gingerly, did not ask him to reconcile the two versions of his story.

After McClenand was excused, Glaviano played the audiotape of the interview with the detective. Jurors were left to decide which McClenand version they believed.

In his closing argument, Glaviano told the jury not to forget that McClenand changed his testimony. “He has to live there. He has to go home,” he said.

Home is the turf of the Denver Lane Bloods, 198 members strong, according to one LAPD gang expert.

One of the original Denver Lanes is Lil’ Don, 38, who proudly shows off his badge of courage--a puckered round scar on his chest, courtesy of a Crip bullet.

“Of course they gonna intimidate witnesses. It just looking out for your fellow man,” he says.

A.C. Moses says he started the Piru gang in Compton, one of the original Blood gangs. He, too, talks casually about intimidation.

“If we can get to them, if they are accessible, then they get intimidated. Just like that,” he said.

Det. Marcella Winn of the LAPD’s South Bureau homicide unit says McClenand’s father and mother had pleaded with their son not to testify.

McClenand was not the only witness who some believed had been intimidated.

On the first day of the trial, prosecution witness Antoinette Ramclam surprised prosecutor Glaviano, saying for the first time that during the shooting she was on the phone with defendant Moses--an unanticipated alibi.

Shortly after Ramclam’s revelation, her mother, Toni Ramclam, seated in the courtroom, became hysterical. “They’re gonna kill us. We need an escort,” she told a deputy.

After the mother was escorted outside the courtroom, she told a reporter that Denver Lane members had threatened her daughter. The reporter’s observation that her daughter’s testimony gave one defendant an alibi did nothing to calm her. “They said they were going to kill her,” she said. Her daughter declined to comment.

The mother said she left the neighborhood because of the constant threats that started shortly after the shooting.