The Same Story: Gangs Fill Void, So To Beat Them You Gotta Compete With Them
Gangs grow on riskyneed for `family'
Ex-members call sense of belonging big draw
FRED KELLY AND KYTJA WEIR
The Charlotte Observer
At 13, "Diamond" started selling drugs, stealing cars and hanging out with one of Charlotte's biggest street gangs, the Kings.
Now 17 and separated from her old ways, the girl says the camaraderie and excitement of gang life is driving a recent jump in membership.
"Nobody understands," says the teen, whose mother asked that she be identified only by her nickname for fear of reprisal. "The gang is family. It's love. Nobody else is looking out for you."
The pull described by Diamond and other factors have sent the number of documented gang members to 1,240 from 853 since last summer, Charlotte-Mecklenburg police told the City Council on Monday.
Police, who say gangs are responsible for crimes ranging from graffiti to murder, have formed a special gang-intelligence unit. City officials are lobbying the legislature to toughen penalties for gang-related crime.
Gangs have long taken hold in some neighborhoods, including Hidden Valley in north Charlotte. .
On Wednesday, pastor Charonn Barnette, 33, pointed out the small, aging brick house where he lived when he joined the Hidden Valley Playas at 13. The gang later became the Hidden Valley Kings, a subset of the Kings, he said.
Now he walks the neighborhood weekly to proselytize to gang members and at-risk youths. He and a friend, Trymaine Gaither, try to recruit them to church or a youth dance program called RIZE, based at the West Charlotte Recreation Center.
"Walking around here you better know somebody," Barnette said.
Police Capt. Eddie Levins said gang and other crime problems in the neighborhood have quieted since a slaying late last year, but he supports efforts to reach youths before they join gangs.
"The chance of saving people in gangs is pretty slim."
A void
Polite but outspoken, Diamond said she felt a void before she joined the Hidden Valley Kings. She had to commit a crime to join, but won't say what she did.At that time, she said, she didn't have a relationship with her father. She didn't listen to her mother and felt different from her two sisters, who were both cheerleaders and got good grades at school.
"I wasn't the pick of the litter," she said. "I wasn't going to be a cheerleader. For me, robbing and stealing was fun."
She said she left the gang after she started attending church last year. She is studying for her GED and doesn't stay in contact with her old friends.
"If I talk to them," she said, "I'll be tempted to go back."
Police have identified 191 suspected King members in the department's gang database, the largest number of known members for any Charlotte gang.
In 2003, most King members were clustered in the northern and western parts of the city.
Although the Kings cribbed style and history from national gangs, it has remained a homegrown group.
Levins said some members have left to join rival groups like the Bloods that boast national ties.
But at least 10 times last year, police said, members of the Hidden Valley Kings fired shots at one another in their own neighborhood.
On Nov. 28, a shooting in Eastland Mall led to a rolling shootout on North Tryon Street among members. One man was killed, and five men were charged with murder.
Solutions
Barnette, the pastor, recalled that he did not plan to become a gang member, but joined when friends who smoked marijuana with him asked. Soon after, he said, he started carrying a gun and selling drugs.
He sports dreadlocks and wears baggy clothing as he and friend Trymaine Gaither tell passersby how they found God and turned away from street life.
Many youths, Barnette said, are just like him when he was younger. They live in single-parent homes, have little contact with their fathers and seek a sense of belonging.
Solutions such as tougher penalties won't work, he said.
"They need love, but the system is set up to punish," he said. "They are not scared to go to jail. After so much pain and rejection, you reach a point where you don't care."
Like family
Two years ago, Marcus Alexander belonged to the Crips gang when he started attending the RIZE program at the recreation center.
Now he is a freshman at Benedict College in Columbia and studying to become a computer designer.
"I wanted to do something positive," he said.
At 15, he officially became a gang member when he fought six other members at once for one minute.
At the time, Alexander was not getting along with his mother and was not speaking with his father.
"I was feeling lonely," said Alexander, now 19. "If you're by yourself you feel vulnerable. They were like family, so they had my back."
Ex-members call sense of belonging big draw
FRED KELLY AND KYTJA WEIR
The Charlotte Observer
At 13, "Diamond" started selling drugs, stealing cars and hanging out with one of Charlotte's biggest street gangs, the Kings.
Now 17 and separated from her old ways, the girl says the camaraderie and excitement of gang life is driving a recent jump in membership.
"Nobody understands," says the teen, whose mother asked that she be identified only by her nickname for fear of reprisal. "The gang is family. It's love. Nobody else is looking out for you."
The pull described by Diamond and other factors have sent the number of documented gang members to 1,240 from 853 since last summer, Charlotte-Mecklenburg police told the City Council on Monday.
Police, who say gangs are responsible for crimes ranging from graffiti to murder, have formed a special gang-intelligence unit. City officials are lobbying the legislature to toughen penalties for gang-related crime.
Gangs have long taken hold in some neighborhoods, including Hidden Valley in north Charlotte. .
On Wednesday, pastor Charonn Barnette, 33, pointed out the small, aging brick house where he lived when he joined the Hidden Valley Playas at 13. The gang later became the Hidden Valley Kings, a subset of the Kings, he said.
Now he walks the neighborhood weekly to proselytize to gang members and at-risk youths. He and a friend, Trymaine Gaither, try to recruit them to church or a youth dance program called RIZE, based at the West Charlotte Recreation Center.
"Walking around here you better know somebody," Barnette said.
Police Capt. Eddie Levins said gang and other crime problems in the neighborhood have quieted since a slaying late last year, but he supports efforts to reach youths before they join gangs.
"The chance of saving people in gangs is pretty slim."
A void
Polite but outspoken, Diamond said she felt a void before she joined the Hidden Valley Kings. She had to commit a crime to join, but won't say what she did.At that time, she said, she didn't have a relationship with her father. She didn't listen to her mother and felt different from her two sisters, who were both cheerleaders and got good grades at school.
"I wasn't the pick of the litter," she said. "I wasn't going to be a cheerleader. For me, robbing and stealing was fun."
She said she left the gang after she started attending church last year. She is studying for her GED and doesn't stay in contact with her old friends.
"If I talk to them," she said, "I'll be tempted to go back."
Police have identified 191 suspected King members in the department's gang database, the largest number of known members for any Charlotte gang.
In 2003, most King members were clustered in the northern and western parts of the city.
Although the Kings cribbed style and history from national gangs, it has remained a homegrown group.
Levins said some members have left to join rival groups like the Bloods that boast national ties.
But at least 10 times last year, police said, members of the Hidden Valley Kings fired shots at one another in their own neighborhood.
On Nov. 28, a shooting in Eastland Mall led to a rolling shootout on North Tryon Street among members. One man was killed, and five men were charged with murder.
Solutions
Barnette, the pastor, recalled that he did not plan to become a gang member, but joined when friends who smoked marijuana with him asked. Soon after, he said, he started carrying a gun and selling drugs.
He sports dreadlocks and wears baggy clothing as he and friend Trymaine Gaither tell passersby how they found God and turned away from street life.
Many youths, Barnette said, are just like him when he was younger. They live in single-parent homes, have little contact with their fathers and seek a sense of belonging.
Solutions such as tougher penalties won't work, he said.
"They need love, but the system is set up to punish," he said. "They are not scared to go to jail. After so much pain and rejection, you reach a point where you don't care."
Like family
Two years ago, Marcus Alexander belonged to the Crips gang when he started attending the RIZE program at the recreation center.
Now he is a freshman at Benedict College in Columbia and studying to become a computer designer.
"I wanted to do something positive," he said.
At 15, he officially became a gang member when he fought six other members at once for one minute.
At the time, Alexander was not getting along with his mother and was not speaking with his father.
"I was feeling lonely," said Alexander, now 19. "If you're by yourself you feel vulnerable. They were like family, so they had my back."
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