Grieving Family Prepares for Tearful Thanksgiving

Joseph and Claudette Valencia raised four God-fearing children in a Mid-City neighborhood plagued by gang violence. But don’t ask them what they’ll be thankful for Thursday. They will cry.

Three months ago, their 19-year-old son, Giovanni, a Marine at Camp Pendleton, was shot and killed in broad daylight while waiting for a bus at a busy intersection.

Giovanni had just come home for a visit. Recently promoted to lance corporal, he was about to leave for his first overseas posting in Okinawa, Japan. The Valencias, immigrants from Belize, were overjoyed: Giovanni was about to escape the neighborhood and its perils forever.

Instead, he died hunched over in a pool of his own blood while running an errand for his mother.

Now the killer’s trail is growing cold. Homicide detectives are running out of leads. A desperate Joseph Valencia has taken to sitting at the murder scene at Wilshire Boulevard and La Brea Avenue with a large poster:

“His Name Was Giovanni and He Was Murdered Here. . . . Please Help Identify His Killer.”

Thanksgiving has always been a special time for the Valencias. The family, including an army of uncles, aunts and cousins, gets together to celebrate the holiday and the birthdays of two members: Pearl Flowers, Giovanni’s grandmother, who turns 75 today, and Giovanni, who would have turned 20 on Friday.

The day after Thanksgiving, the family--50 to 60 strong--charters a bus to Las Vegas. This year, Claudette, Joseph Sr. and their three remaining children will not be going.

“I’m still waiting for him to walk through the door,” Claudette Valencia said. “I’m still waiting for him to say, ‘Mom, it’s me.’ ”

Two years after Giovanni was born, the Valencias decided to move from Belize to the United States, where other relatives had settled. They lived in South-Central Los Angeles, then moved to a rented Mid-City home 11 years ago.

Growing up, the routine for Giovanni and his older brother, Joseph Jr., was always the same. “From school to home and home to school, all their life,” Claudette said. That was the only way Claudette and Joseph Sr. knew to protect their children from the dangers of the streets.

Claudette taught first grade at the same Catholic school that Giovanni and his brother attended for much of their youth. Joseph Sr. worked 14-hour days as a sanitation worker, doing odd jobs on the side to pay for small luxuries like cello lessons for Joseph Jr.

In 1996, as a senior in high school, Giovanni was among 10 African American and Latino students from three Los Angeles schools selected to travel to Israel in a program called Operation Unity. It was his first plane trip.

Upon his return, he spent a year at Santa Monica City College, following in his brother’s footsteps. While his brother became a stockbroker for PaineWebber, Giovanni decided to join the Marines, hoping to eventually become an FBI agent.

He came home on a week’s leave Aug. 4, ready to say goodbye to his family before going to Japan. About 1 p.m. the next day, he hopped on a bus north, heading for a bank to make a deposit. That done, he stopped for a fast-food meal. Then he and a friend walked across the street to a bus stop.

There, Giovanni exchanged stares with another teenager. Glowering led to words. Words led to punches. Giovanni had the upper hand, witnesses told police, when his opponent backed away and reached for a zippered binder he was carrying. His hand emerged with a gun. He fired once. Giovanni crumpled to the sidewalk, mortally wounded.

Within minutes of the shooting, police had swarmed to the scene and fanned out throughout the block, quizzing store owners and passersby for clues. A police helicopter arrived and scanned the streets from above.

Police were initially optimistic, but they ultimately came away empty-handed.

Joseph and Claudette had just sat down for dinner that evening when they noticed an unmarked police car drive by slowly. A few minutes later, they heard a knock at the door. Two detectives broke the news.

“I felt like a heat going over my body,” Claudette said. “I couldn’t cry. My sister burst out. My kids started crying. My husband cried. I just couldn’t cry. No tears were coming. My body was on fire.”

These days she sobs quietly. Joseph Sr. cries bitter, angry tears.

The Los Angeles City Council has offered a $25,000 reward for information leading to the arrest of the killer. But so far all the detectives on the case have are three bulging binders full of suspects they have eliminated.

Two weeks ago, Dets. Bob Felix and Tracey Benjamin thought they might have their man. The suspect fit the description perfectly. Moreover, on the day before Giovanni’s death, he had been kicked out of school. He even carried the same type of zippered binder. But the primary witness in the case failed to identify him.

“You’re always thinking about it,” Benjamin said. “The one thing we want to do in this world is to knock on their door and tell them we’ve got him.”

Frustrated, Joseph Sr. got permission from his employer two weeks ago to takeWednesdays off to set up camp at the bus stop where his son was killed.

Last week, Joseph was running late. He hurried to the corner, carrying a table and two posters. He returned quickly to his car for the rest of his gear: a family photo album, a framed photo of his son in his Marine uniform, two chairs, tape and the composite police sketch of the suspect.

Motorists driving by craned their heads to read the sign. Some raised their eyebrows in shock as they mouthed the words. Others looked at Joseph standing behind the table, then quickly averted their eyes.

Joseph stood resolutely for nearly the entire four hours. He said he would conduct his weekly vigil for as long as it takes, and might quit work in January to pursue his quest full time.

“It’s going to be a lifetime job for me to find his killer,” he said.

Claudette thinks about how time is supposed to heal all wounds. “I don’t know,” she said. “Losing a child is losing a part of you.”

When the Valencias gather to pray this holiday, they will include a wish for the police.

“I pray for the Lord to send the Holy Spirit to just guide them and give them the gift of knowledge to put the puzzle together,” Claudette said.