Mail Tribune
Eddie Esquivel spent much of his adult life behind bars, his upper body covered with prison tattoos proclaiming his former allegiance to the Surenos gang in Southern California.
His wife Sholo’s skin is scarred from years of heroin addiction that have left a broken needle still lodged in an arm she almost lost to gangrene.
"We would have never gotten out of that life if we hadn’t moved to Oregon," she says.
The Gold Hill couple, both 44, say they are alarmed at a rise in gang activity locally. Law enforcement has identified roughly 300 people who have affiliations with gangs, 75 of them core members.
"We’ve seen it growing slowly here," says Sholo. "It is getting more serious."
"This is like virgin land for a gang member," adds Eddie, also a recovering heroin addict who works as a tree trimmer.The Esquivels applaud efforts by local authorities to get a handle on gang activity before it gets out of control. And though they have some misgivings about revealing their story, they hope recounting their experiences will serve as a warning to the community and its youth about the devastating effects of gangs.
Eddie came from a troubled home and spent years in foster care. At age 12 or 13, he joined a gang while living in the Santa Barbara area.
He was nicknamed "Big Oso," or Big Bear. He once had to fight a rival gang member just because he had the same nickname.
Eddie eventually became hooked on heroin, feeding his addiction even though he would vomit three or four times a day after shooting up. The stomach acids eventually ate the enamel of his teeth, rotting some of them away.
He spent much of his 20s in and out of prison, mostly for burglaries to pay for his addiction.
That’s when he received the tattoos over his upper body to let other prisoners know his gang affiliation. On his right shoulder, he has a tattoo with "SUR," standing for Surenos, a Southern California gang. On his stomach in big letters it says "Santa Bruto," slang for Santa Barbara.
Embarrassed now to show his tattoos, he says, "I don’t like other people to see them."
Sholo came from a more stable family and though she ran around with gangs, she didn’t become a permanent member. She, too, became addicted to heroin, as did one of her brothers. Another brother became an alcoholic and is now in rehabilitation.
Despite all her troubles, Sholo says, "My family never turned their back on me."
Sholo says she got hooked on heroin after caving into peer pressure to use the drug, even though she knew it was the wrong choice to make.
"In my heart, I knew I really didn’t want to do it," says Sholo. "That’s why I think it was so hard on my body."
She occasionally rubs the needle under her skin that broke off when another addict was shooting her up with heroin. Doctors told her it would do more damage to the surrounding muscle tissue to remove it.
The effects of gang activity and drug abuse have taken a toll not only on Sholo, but on loved ones as well.
"I’ve lost friend after friend after friend," she says.
"I’m not stupid, but I’ve done a lot of stupid things," says Sholo, who adds she has shot up heroin in every part of her body, from her neck to her feet.
"Once you’re hooked, it owns you and not the other way around," she says.
When the couple first met at a library about 16 years ago, they quickly figured out that they were both recovering addicts and knew the odds were against them.
"People kept telling us: ‘One dope fiend is another dope fiend’s nightmare,’" says Eddie.
He remembers feeling fearful the first time he went to meet Sholo’s family members, who weren’t gang members themselves but lived in a neighborhood run by the Nortenos gang. Eddie avoided wearing any telltale colors and made sure he wore clothing that covered up his tattoos.
They hoped that by moving to Oregon it would help lick their habit for good.
Eddie says he spent most of his 30s avoiding trouble and prison. But six years ago, temptation led them both back into heroin.
They remember being shocked when they heard of a Portland couple addicted to heroin who committed suicide together.
"It just as easily could have been us," says Sholo.
Eddie remembers being agonized at their situation. "We were on our knees asking God for help," he says.
Their problems culminated in a 1998 arrest in a drug deal gone bad in Klamath Falls.
Eddie got a year in prison for possession and Sholo spent four years behind bars for delivery of the drug, getting out in 2002.
Eddie went through a six-month rehabilitation program that he says finally made him turn the corner in 2000.
Eddie realized that the gangs and colors had lost their significance when a pastor he hadn’t seen for a while asked him for a hug.
"The pastor says, ‘You gave me a hug and I’m wearing red,’" Eddie remembered him saying. "That opened the door and I realized it wasn’t just about colors."
Sholo says their battles with addiction have been tough on them both, almost ending their marriage.
She adds with conviction, "We’re not going back to that."
Sholo and Eddie would like to get more involved in the community to share their story with others, hoping to spare some children from the life they’ve led.
At this point, they don’t see gangs overrunning the valley, but the potential is there and they want to keep as many youngsters as possible away from older, seasoned gang members.
"Right now it is not together, but it will get that way anyway," predicted Sholo. "Still you want to save a chunk of them."
Eddie says he saw two youths each wearing the color of a rival gang walking down a street recently. In certain California communities that would be unthinkable. "They’re wannabe gangsters," says Eddie.
The Esquivels remain vigilant about who they associate with, avoiding anyone they suspect of using drugs.
They try to lead a quiet life in a trailer they own in Gold Hill, staying clear of any drug, including alcohol.
The couple dream of one day owning their own business, and possibly working with children who are in danger of falling prey to gangs.
Sholo, who is looking for a job, says she wants to one day own a home and says she can’t get enough of the home improvement shows on television.
In the meantime, the Esquivels have vowed to be careful.
"Right now in my life I have to pick and choose my friends," says Eddie. "I want, for once in my life, to have a true friend."
Reach reporter Damian Mann at 776-4476, or e-mail dmann@mailtribune.com
