Family, friends to rally in Watsonville for victims of violence (Peace and Unity 2004)

By TOM RAGAN

Sentinel staff writer

Erick Lopez never lived to see the new millennium. Never got to dance with his sister, Elva, when she turned 15. Never went on to become a disc jockey.

Instead his world ended on Halloween night in 1999 after someone in a skeleton mask walked up to him and shot him in the neck with a sawed-off shotgun.

He was 19. He died instantly. There were no last words. Police never found a motive, though from the get-go it was suspected to be gang-related.

He’d been showing some girls a puppy outside his house on Lawrence Avenue and had been talking on the telephone, according to his mother, Martha Valencia.

After he was shot, his younger brother, Steven, then 12, had to move him to get to the telephone and call police.

His mother will always remember her dying son’s last look.

"His eyes were wide open," she recounted Thursday at Santa Cruz Memorial Park, where he is now buried. "And even though he didn’t say anything, it was as if I could hear him saying, ‘Why me, Mom? Why me, Mom?’ "

She then knelt beside the simple, gray gravestone and touched the engraving, which says, "Stay with God and we will meet you there."

Some day, she plans to.

"It’s the worst thing that can happen to a mother," she said, "losing her son."

Peace and Unity
On Sunday, Valencia will march alongside hundreds of others who have lost family and friends to acts of violence in the Pajaro Valley. They will gather at the plaza just off Main Street to share their stories and march through the streets — in what is called the Peace and Unity March.

After the march, a peace rally will be from 1 to 5 p.m.

It’s the 11th straight year the march has been held, and that throngs have gathered, many of them carrying pictures of their sons and daughters, their brothers and sisters, their husbands and wives.

The hope is that the victims will not have died in vain; that their memories will live on; that the violence will someday be slowed, if not entirely stopped.

But even organizers realize that putting an end to violence is wishful thinking, something that occurs only in an ideal world, not in a city like Watsonville, where gang violence has a history that reaches as far back as Mexico.

"Our goal is to try to keep the violence to a minimum," said Luis Alejo, one of the organizers of the march and an attorney for the California Rural Legal Assistance in Watsonville.

"We’ve got so many people losing their lives that we can’t just sit by and wait until people die here. We need to be more proactive. We need to inspire young people. We need to give them more options."

Jessica & Jorge
The Peace and Unity March began in 1994, in honor of Jorge Cortez, 16, and Jessica Cortez, 9, both of whom were shot to death outside El Nopal Bakery on Feb. 13, 1994, just south of the Pajaro River.

First, the brother was shot, then gang members reportedly went back and killed his sister because she saw them do it and they wanted to get rid of a potential witness.

"They went to the bakery to get some bread, and they never made it back home," said Jose Sanchez, who, as a member of the Watsonville Brown Berets — a group of Latino activists — helps organize the march each year.

"It’s important that we always remember their story and the stories of all those who followed them," he said.

Since the march began, 58 people have been murdered in the Pajaro Valley, either at the hands of gangs, domestic violence or somebody drinking too much and going over the edge, Sanchez said.

And there’s a story behind each and every victim. Some times the details are murky. Many of the mothers insist their sons were not members of gangs but hung out with the wrong people at the wrong time.

Unfortunately, more than half the killers have not been arrested, said Alejo, 30, who’s been following the violence closely since he was a junior in college and got involved in the march.

Capt. Eddie Rodriguez with the Watsonville Police Department said the chances of arresting somebody generally increase when there are witnesses and those witnesses must be cooperative.

Whether gang violence is on the rise, he does not know, statistically speaking, but he says it seems to be holding steady.

"It hasn’t gotten any worse or any better as far as I can tell," said Rodriguez.

Justice not served
Some of the mothers whose sons have been killed, however, feel justice isn’t always served because, as Valencia says, often "it’s just Mexicans killing Mexicans, and nobody pays attention after a while."

The gang member who shot Antonio Ramirez Valdivia, 19, as he was leaving an afternoon beach party at Manresa State Beach in June 1994, for example, only served six years in prison, said Rosa de Ramirez, who, to this day, insists her son was never a gang member.

But people never believe her. Too often, she said, the boys are guilty by association.

"He grew up with the guys who were in the gangs, but he was never a member himself," she said. "God knows better, and that’s all passed, but I march every year because we have to show other parents that what happened to us can happen to them if they don’t pay attention."

But even when attention is paid, there are some things that are simply beyond a parent’s control.

Valencia knows this all too well. She paid a great deal of attention to Erick.

She still does. She visits his grave at least once a week, whether it’s planting flowers or just saying "Hello."

Some day, she said she hopes to reopen his case and find the killer.

Carlos Echevarria, 29, of Watsonville was arrested in connection with Erick’s death but was acquitted in Santa Cruz Superior Court nearly a year later.

He told police that somebody framed him by beating him up and stealing his Ford Thunderbird, the vehicle last seen at the scene of the crime.

"Whoever it is, I’d like to see him brought to justice," she said. "Not only for me, ... but for Erick."

On Aug. 14, Elva, her daughter, turned 15.

At her quinceañera, she brought out the framed picture of her brother and danced with it. It’s the same photo that’s on his gravestone.

"It was sad," said Valencia, who cleans houses for a living and has since moved from Watsonville to Scotts Valley. "But he was there in spirit, and we sent him an invitation by balloon."