Before Venus Montoya was killed, when Danny was in the halfway house on a drug charge, he'd contacted Lynn. He'd seen what the program had done for his brother, and now, under forced sobriety, he asked about getting into Amer-I-Can. Maybe, Danny said, he could get some of the other guys interested. But at the time, Lynn had no funding for the program. And so when Danny got out, it was back to the bottle and back to the streets.
"Here is a man who has mortgaged his house to try to keep his program alive. A man who wants to work with these kids. But we'd rather throw all these young men and women into a prison, where we don't have to worry about them...until they get out."
February 26, 1999
One more time, a fifth-floor courtroom is filled to capacity as everyone awaits a verdict. Brandy's family members sit on one side, holding hands, glad the trials will finally be over.
Angela plans to speak at Francisco Martinez's death-penalty hearing in May. Not to call for retribution and a lethal injection, but just to tell him about her little girl and how much she misses her.
Before this, Angela was against the death penalty. Now she has mixed feelings. But while they've put her through hell, she doesn't hate the young men who killed her daughter. Like Theresa, she feels there were many lives lost that night, many families shattered. She is not alone in her grief.
Angela feels only an emptiness that was once filled by a daughter's love. While other parents have scrapbooks detailing their children's accomplishments, she has one filled with newspaper clippings. While other parents can touch their children, hold them close, she has to visit a steel cross at highway mile marker 269.5.
She knows that as the blood poured out of Brandy, her last thoughts were that if she could just get to her mother, she would be all right. Brandy was always worried that something would happen to her mom. Just the other day, Angela had found a note Brandy wrote. Please God, don't ever let my Mom die.
But the hill Brandy had to climb that night was too high. Sometimes Angela goes there and a butterfly circles her head or a warm breeze caresses her cheek, and she chooses to believe that it's Brandy saying hello. It's no replacement for a lost child.
Across the aisle, Theresa has let friends and family members know that regardless of the verdict, she doesn't want any outbursts. Out of respect for Brandy's people.
Raquel hurries in, late, trembling and fearful that it is already over. Her mother calms her. Antonio wanted to be here, too. But Theresa wouldn't hear of it. Instead, she put Patricia on a plane so that she could visit him while the trial was going on. She smiles, recalling her granddaughter's two favorite memories of the trip: The sand was soft, and she saw sharks at an aquarium.
Danny used to see the world like that...as a great, big, wonderful place that demanded he be up and out of the house at the crack of dawn. And now look...
The jurors enter the courtroom. The judge has allowed Theresa and Raquel and a few other members of the family to sit in the first row close to Danny. Her boy leans forward in his chair, his hair in a ponytail, his elbows on the table and hands clasped in front.
As her family and friends draw closer, all holding each other, struggling for control, Theresa is ready. She trusts that whatever this jury's decision, God will see that it is the right one. She couldn't ask for more...except, perhaps, for the opportunity to reach out to Brandy's mother. You carry them in your womb, you love them, you set them on the road and hope.
The judge is handed the verdict forms. "In regard to counts one and two, first-degree murder...we the jury find the defendant Daniel Martinez...guilty."
The word drops into silence. Heads on both sides of the aisle bow, hands reach out to each other.
With the judge's thanks, the jury is excused. Danny stands and the handcuffs quickly circle his wrists. Before he's led away, he turns and tells his family, "I love you."
"We love you," they respond quietly.
"Thank you, Your Honor," Danny says. "You're welcome," the judge replies. And then Danny is gone.
There are no angels here. No devils. There are only the lost, and those who mourn them.
See I have not forgotten you. I have carved you in the palm of my hand.
Visit www.westword.com to read parts one through three of "Dealing with the Devil.
