You are now in the middle of a kill zone between two rival and highly agitated gangs. You watch in slow motion as they drop their wounded and draw their guns. It is as though they cannot even see you or recognize your uniform or police vehicle. You are not the intended target, but you could easily be collateral damage.

Hear Richard Valdemar take part in radio discussions about Los Angeles gangs.

LASD SEB (SWAT) was called in. They approached the structures in an armored car. Suspect Kueck engaged the SEB vehicle with his .223 assault rifle giving away his position. A heavier LAPD SWAT armored battering ram was brought up and tear gas was fired into the wooden structure.

For several months prior to the riots, intelligence reports rolled across my desk about activity in the Jordan Downs, Imperial Courts, and Nickerson Gardens Housing Projects. Drug dealers were financing meetings of gang members from rival gangs, and these meetings were being arbitrated by OGs (veteran gang members) or the Fruit of Islam, Black Muslim security units.

We had just saved the founder of the Mexican Mafia’s life by arresting him and sending him to prison. But he wouldn’t be grateful. He would quickly eliminate anyone he suspected of making the heroin buy for the police that got him arrested until he narrowed it down to Buzz.

Each former or active Sheriff’s detective was there to pay his last respects to a neighborhood hero. No one made them come, and many of their peers would have probably ridiculed them for coming to the funeral of a “snitch.” But none of the ridiculers knew what Mad Dog had done to make Los Angeles a safer place. Not many people knew, not even his own family.

The two burly deputies wanted to book him, but I was interested in hearing his story. Hype gang members do not normally seek out the police or walk into a police station. Just for my safety I patted him down for weapons and had him remove his shirt. I saw that he was heavily tattooed with prison and gang tats. His arms proclaimed that he was “Spider” from the infamous “White Fence” gang.

“You have who!” I overheard the other party yell over the phone. “He is a four-man escort here at Folsom, a member of the Mexican Mafia, and a danger to all inmates and staff. He is a convicted cop killer!”

I was assigned to L.A.’s Men’s Central Jail, Module 2400, without the benefit of any custody training at all. There were about 250 inmates divided among the four rows of the module. Rows A and B were on the bottom and rows C and D on the top.

Suddenly, a night of fun became a night of terror as multiple muzzle flashes lit the night from the interior of the blue Impala. Bang! Bang! Bang! “Crip!” Followed by: Bang! Bang! “Palm ‘n Oak!” echoed in the crowded streets. Streaking sparks marked the bullet strikes as they ricocheted off the streets and sidewalks. The crowd ran in panic in all directions from the sounds of the gun fire. Some victims fell wounded. But inside the blue Impala the occupants were laughing. They got off a few more rounds and careened away.