A year ago, I ran the first in what will be a series of stories on a tragic fatal shooting that occurred in September of 2003 and left two young men dead.
Long last, I have the next chapter of that story, which I will post at around noon today. tonight*. In the meantime, however, I encourage you to reread Chapter 1, so you will be ready for Chapter 2 when I post it at lunch time.
Here are some opening clips, with a link to the rest:
Exactly five years ago today Karen Domaloan got the call.
She was lying propped up in her bed watching late night television waiting for her son Michael to come home.
She understood that was ridiculous to wait up for a twenty-one year old, but she couldn’t help it. She did her best not to over-mother Michael now that he had moved home after the big fight with his girlfriend, Monique, a few weeks before.
Karen pretty much figured the split was temporary, that the two young people would likely end up together. But that was the thing, they were young. The pair seemed very attached to each other, but they were also hot-headed and sometimes neither had the sense to back down when backing down was needed.
This argument was bigger than usual and, when the anger cleared, it was agreed that Monique would keep the apartment while Michael would pack his things and move into his childhood bedroom.
Karen adored having her son at home. She doted on her two girls, of course, Mandy and Nicole, his sisters. But she was uniquely close to Michael, the baby. A big, beautiful kid who was a natural athlete, looks-wise Michael took after his Hawaiian father, Melvin, who had been killer-handsome as a younger man. But while Melvin tended toward a Zen-ish sort of yep/nope taciturnity, emotionally, Michael was his mother’s child, expressive and awash with feelings.
He could also be tough.. Karen didn’t like to think about it, but she knew he’d been in fights, and that he was probably good at fighting. A few years back, when he was 15 or so he’d gotten in with the wrong crowd, there’d been a juvenile arrest and she’d had to put her foot down. Eventually maturity seemed to kick in. Now Michael was working construction, which suited him, and he was really busting his butt to move up the food chain on the building crew. Plus he was finally going back to school. First Pierce College in Canoga Park, and then, she and Melvin hoped, on to a four-year. Michael wasn’t academic like his sister Mandy, but he was a smart kid, and he said he wanted to have the degree, so Karen thought he might stick it out.
Through it all, even the rebellious times, she and Michael remained close.
When the phone rang at nearly 1 a.m. Karen assumed it was Michael calling to say he was on his way home, that she shouldn’t worry. She grabbed the cordless at her bedside.
“Hello?”
“You need to come to Northridge Hospital now…”
Read the rest here.
And I’ll be back with more shortly.
* As you can see from the correction, I will be posting tonight before the evening is out—without fail. But right now I must soon run out for a meeting and the post is not quite finished. Please do return as this is a story that I believe you will find worth following.
“Detective Orlando Martinez, one of the investigators on the case, said neither Domaloan nor Quiroz had any history of trouble….”
Did this Detective really tell you this….because that is so far from the truth.
Why didn’t Karen tell you the truth about Michael and his arrests?
P.
If you read the text carefully you’ll find that I am quoting the 2003 LA Times story on the incident, and they are quoting Martinez, which is plainly stated.
But I have spoken at length to Detective Martinez, which I’ll get to in chapter 3. Without giving anything away, I will only say that this is a long and complicated tale that I have spent several years pulling apart, talking to many many players.
But it is a story that needs to be told step-by-step, and then readers will be free to draw their own conclusions.
Real sad. The cloud of economic disparity and racism that floats of this city of Angels has claimed so many lives, and will claim so many more.
I hate to be a downer but jiminy crickets I could not sign up for RSS feed to save my life. Bunch of error messages and it froze up my computer. just thought u might like to know.
Please disregard any comments that use my screen name. They will eventually morph into irrational stupidity, I promise.
Thanks, Spy Camera Finder. I’ll see what I can figure out. Sadly my tech is in Hawaii with his girlfriend (which is not in the least sad for either of them).
Well, GJ, and Misfire, I reckon this is it – nuclear combat toe to toe with the Roosskies. Now look, boys, I ain’t much of a hand at makin’ speeches, but I got a pretty fair idea that something doggone important is goin’ on back there. And I got a fair idea the kinda personal emotions that some of you fellas may be thinkin’. Heck, I reckon you wouldn’t even be human bein’s if you didn’t have some pretty strong personal feelin’s about nuclear combat. I want you to remember one thing, the folks back home is a-countin’ on you and by golly, we ain’t about to let ’em down. I tell you something else, if this thing turns out to be half as important as I figure it just might be, I’d say that you’re all in line for some important promotions and personal citations when this thing’s over with. That goes for ever’ last one of you regardless of your race, color or your creed. Now let’s get this thing on the hump – we got some flyin’ to do.
King Kong should quit posting her AnonyMousa comments while drunk. Too many Ramos Gin Fizz drinks and a computer lead to her making miserable attempts at humor or paradoy. She is plain loca !!!!
I didn’t post the “Ditto” remark. Isn’t there someway you can control the trolling on the board Celeste? A password to post or soemthing?
Sure Fire, I’d prefer not to go the password route. But if the stealing-other-people’s-screen-names thing doesn’t get better I may have to reconsider.
I deleted that one post you flagged. If you find others, feel free to email me separately and tell me where they are. Or simply post about it. And I’ll delete the impostor emails as, once you point them out, I can go in see that they’re not you. But otherwise I’m unlikedly to notice.
AND TO ALL YOU DOING THE NAME SNATCHING, find your own noms de blog—or risk being deleted.
Thank you.
“risk being deleted”
Who will decide? Will there be ‘delete squads’ Celeste??
Hmmm. I like the idea of Delete Squads. And I think they should have outfits…you know, uniforms. I don’t think the city will give them carry permits, though, do you? Pity.
Our fair and fetching Celeste (Querida!), will now demand that all commenter’s on her blog meticulously follow her strict queuing, rules, and comment policies. Note: Failure to adhere to Celeste’s demands will bring the admonishment, “No comment for you!”, the commenter will be refunded his/her comment and denied his or her ‘voice’.