July 31--The #100days100nights campaign may be fake, but the fear in parts of South Los Angeles is very real.
"I've been in prison, and I've never been as nervous as I am right now," a middle-aged man in a baseball cap admitted to the crowd gathered for a community meeting Wednesday night-- one he had almost been too afraid to attend.
A summer spike in gang violence is nothing new in this neighborhood near Manchester and Vermont avenues: Days are hot, tempers are short and troubles tend to brew among aimless young men with nothing constructive to do.
Interested in the stories shaping California? Sign up for the free Essential California newsletter >>
But a recent flurry of gang shootings has unsettled residents. And social media posts that seem to promise 100 gang killings in 100 days have turned up the temperature.
Police officials and gang intervention workers are trying to debunk the missives, confident they're either pranks, odes to dead gangbangers or cyber posturing.
"The idea of '100 days' is to intimidate," Ben "Taco" Owens told the meeting of the Southern California Cease Fire Committee. "It's a mental game, like psychological warfare."
If so, the terrorists may be winning.
In a community where so many families have been touched by violence, it's easy to believe anyone can be a target.
Residents have heard rumors of children being fired upon. When a young man was shot dead two weeks ago, photos of his body sprawled on a sidewalk were posted on Instagram. A peace march last weekend had barely ended when a 47-year-old man was killed nearby.
"A lot of us thought we had moved past some of this stuff," said James Harris, 52, one of dozens of former gang members trying to mediate. "To be revisiting it now, it's kind of disheartening."
Social lives have stalled, children are kept inside, birthday parties have been canceled and family reunions called off. Nonprofits in the area have warned employees to be extra careful in certain neighborhoods. Some residents are avoiding big gatherings and busy parks.
::
"We are afraid," said a woman named Faye who has three sons; the youngest is about to start college.
"I've lived here for 16 years, I love my house. ... But I would like to leave," she said. "I raised kids and grandkids here. Now, when they come to visit, it's not safe for them to walk from their car to my house.
"We have to go out by the thousands and take our community back."
We declared war on gangs a generation ago. If street gangs were invading armies, that declaration might be easier to enforce.
The Cease Fire coalition has been meeting once a week for 10 years in a South Los Angeles church. The names of the groups involved suggest the scope of the problems they face: Girls N Gangs, Project Cry No More, Parents of Murdered Children.
Official crime stats don't suggest a homicide epidemic. But seven shootings in the area last weekend left one man dead and 11 people wounded. Police blame a long-running feud between neighborhood gangs.
Our fascination with social media may be fueling young gangsters' appetites for notoriety.
"You go back to the kid killed in the carwash for the red shoes," said Harris, referring to a shooting in May. "When that made the national news, everybody wanted to make the news."
The anguished folks at Wednesday's meeting were wrestling with a dilemma: They hate the sin, but can't afford to hate the sinners.
These gangbangers are their grandsons, their nieces, the neighbor boys who used to cut their lawns, the young fathers they see on the sidelines at football games in the park.
And there's plenty of blame to go around. Their schools are bad, their fathers are absent, their mothers curse too much. They've grown up around and become accustomed to violence. They have no jobs, no money, no skills, no voice; their only power courses through the barrel of a gun.
"They're disconnected from everything," Harris told me. "They're not listening to gang leaders or community activists."
Several OGs -- original gangsters -- stopped by to offer advice.
Donald Archie, 61, a contemporary of Crips co-founder Stanley "Tookie" Williams, promoted tough love. "Families have to get more involved and not be afraid to put their foot down," he said. "If we can't control them..." He was silent for a moment, then shook his head. "My only answer is God, God, God."
Melvin Farmer, 51, said he'd be willing to broker a dialogue with gang leaders. "Marching is not going to stop this," he warned. "These guys are not going to turn their guns in for concert tickets."
::
Some people at the meeting were angry to see so few city officials -- and so many TV news cameras. "Innocent people are dying on the street," one man said, his voice rising. "This is Third World country stuff, and nobody gives a damn."
Everyone there seemed to know someone who'd lost a friend or family member to violence. The man killed last weekend -- just blocks away from a funeral for another gang member -- worked nearby in a gang outreach program that's helped turn the local park from a gang outpost to a community asset.
I visited the sprawling Algin Sutton park on Thursday night. Councilman Marqueece Harris-Dawson was there; Mayor Eric Garcetti had visited the evening before. The playground, rec center and soccer fields were crowded with young people.
Park coordinator Marie Thomas called it a slow evening. "We usually get 400-500 people on a typical summer night," she said. "I've never seen it this slow."
Since the death of Anthony Cudger last weekend, people have been afraid to come out. But they'll be back, Thomas said: "This is a part of life in this community. You lose a lot of people you're close to because of gangs."
ALSO:
Attack on lifeguard at Venice Pier captured on video
A dark portrait emerges of the teen accused of killing Maddy Middleton
#100days100nights: Gang threats of violence on social media draw fear
