Bamboozled Page 4
It turns out Santana had been brought in by the police earlier that night on an unrelated crime. He confessed to loaning Joey a .25 caliber automatic like the one used in the gas station murder. Santana told the police that Joey had confessed to the deed and even said, “I hope the fucker dies.”
Joey was returned to LA County Jail, where he says he received a visit from the FBI and the task force who had just arrested Luigi in Yuma, AZ; supposedly, according to what sounds like Joey’s wild imagination, driving a gas tanker full of weed and cocaine. Joey claims the FBI were tipped off by Ramirez.
Joey says the FBI brought up Uncle Frank Fratianno, 18th St., and everything people had given them to get reduced sentences. Joey claims he refused a deal and was charged with murder one, looking at the death penalty or life in prison without parole.
With Santana as the prosecution’s only witness, the DA was nervous enough about his testimony to offer Joey a deal: five years in juvenile hall.
Joey sat alone in the LA County Jail for a year, with decisions to be made. Joey says he was not happy with his “dump truck attorney” who offered him the 3-5 years in the Youth Authority with a “promise” that Joey would be out in 18 months. In the worst case scenario, according to Joey’s memory of their conversation, he could be held until he was 25 years old. The attorney informed Joey that the only evidence was Santana identifying Joey as the murderer, based on Joey’s confession that he beat Ramirez up, but not with the intention of murdering him.
Joey claims an off-duty officer identified someone else that saw him at the Texaco, who, finding this odd, went to look for Ramirez. Joey claims the officer walked into the office to find the body.
Faced with the death penalty or life in prison, Joey figured “Why not plead out and go get in shape to be out in no time?” The attorney supposedly advised, “They’re gonna bring out your organized crime history, your brother, Uncle Frank, and now the FBI is interested.” Putting his hand on Joey’s shoulder, he supposedly advised that Joey take the plea bargain.
The same day, at the sentencing hearing, the judge asked if any deals had been made in order to enter this plea of guilty. Joey stood and informed the judge that he was promised by the California Youth Authority not to exceed his 25th birthday if he entered a guilty plea. Joey claims the judge turned to the district attorney, who confirmed this oral agreement. Joey was ordered to another division to accept the plea.
COURT TRANSCRIPT:
Judge: Do you understand what robbery is, Mr. Torrey?
Torrey: Yes, I do.
Judge: Do you understand robbery is the taking of property from another by force or violence, and with the intent to permanently deprive that person of that property?
Torrey: Yes, I do.
Judge: Now, you also understand that if you wanted to go to trial on this case, that you have the statutory right to the process of this court to compel the attendance of all witnesses on your behalf?
Torrey: Yes, I do.
Judge: Do you give up that right?
Torrey: Yes, I do.
Judge: Do you further understand this: If you are sent to state prison, that upon release from state prison that you would be on parole for a period of up to three years?
Torrey: Yes.
Judge: You also could be sent to the California Youth Authority, in which event they could retain you there until the age of twenty five. Do you understand that?
Torrey: Yes, I do.
Judge: My further understanding is that the probation and sentence hearing will take place in Department “E” and our further understanding is that the judge in Department “E” has indicated that he will be committing the defendant to the California Youth Authority at that time. Is that correct?
Mr. Romeyn: That’s the people’s understanding.
Judge: Mr. Torrey, is that your understanding?
Torrey: Yeah.
7
With Donna Summer singing “Bad Boy,” the bus driver pulls into the yard at the Southern California reception center for the Youth Authority, in Norwalk. As the driver turns off the radio on a rainy February in 1980, the leg shackles are taken off.
The California Youth Authority of the 70s and 80s was violent, and Joey says his reputation as Boxer from 18th St. was known to the other residents from the moment he stepped off the bus. There’s a peculiar irony: No one challenges an Olympic swimmer to a race but every street fighter wants to challenge a ring fighter.
When Joey was sent to YTS, a youth facility in Ontario, CA, his reputation followed him—from the last guy he fought, to the people whose scam he was interfering with, to the older brother of the guy from the other side of the ring. As a fighter on the inside, a person’s worth is judged by the last ass kicked down the totem pole—until their friends come back to give you a beatdown. If you unknowingly brawled with a gang member from Temple Street, years later every member in the joint can be after you for that.
The week Joey turned 21 he says he recognized a face in his cell block but couldn’t place it. The man grinned at him, menacingly.
Joey says the man approached him in the gym, training. He claims the man called him a “no good Mexican” and he was “gonna pay” to which Joey responded “I am Puerto Rican, and in closing: Fuck you in the neck!”
The guards were watching so the man took off as Joey went back to work on the heavy bag. When Joey asked around, he learned this was the man who had shot him from Grape St., Watts. Joey claims he knocked him out the same night he learned the man’s identity.
After dinner the next night, Joey says he was warned to look out for a hit on him. A few days later he found his cell door abruptly opened. Guards ran in and handcuffed him, took him to a strip cell, hosed him off, and questioned him. The man who shot him had been hung in an apparent suicide—except with his hands tied behind his back.
Joey claims he spent his time in an empty cell with no light and one blanket, not even aware of the man’s death until the investigation about it.
After that incident, Joey was transferred to northern California, to a facility called Preston Youth Facility, in Ione, where he is again imprisoned 33 years later, on the same property as the Mule Creek State Prison.
In the summer of 1981, Preston was where “troubled” inmates were sent to separate them from rival gangs. In the 1980s, the Youth Authority focused on sports at least as much as rehabilitation, and it had a boxing program. So according to Joey, he was traded by the warden at Preston to the northern facility in return for a basketball player. Joey’s new home was heavily occupied by members of Mexican gangs.
After several trips to solitary confinement (“the hole”), Joey says he was put to work teaching boxing to the other inmates daily. He says they frequently embraced the contradictions of letting a rival gang carry one of their members off the floor instead of helping them up yourself.
Joey learned that he was a skilled illustrator and began creating tattoo patterns, portraits, and whatever people would commission from him, in exchange for food. His work began appearing in Low Rider and Teen Angel magazines.
Joey started to correspond with many people, re-building his connection to the outside world through the postal system. One woman who particularly caught his attention was Maria, who began visiting Joey with her son, TJ, on the weekends. Joey spent his days training in the gym, planning on making a comeback when he expected to be released in 16 months, despite statements that he was washed up and done for.
As his release date approached, Joey was issued a gate pass; meaning he could work outside of the prison grounds. He became a bus boy at the Denny’s in the port of Stockton. Joey said he would go through each week trying to remember to tell Maria to buy a gun at the pawnshop, but each time she visited, Joey says he would be distracted playing with TJ, and forget to mention it. So one day Joey returned to his cell block and wrote her a letter, instructing her to buy a gun. He says his reasoning was that it would be an item for her own protection until he was around to protect h
er, himself.
At Denny’s on Monday, while Joey was telling the waitresses about Hollywood and “the gangster life” and drinking a pint of Hennesy, he was called up front over the speaker to see the transportation cops.
Instead of the usual routine, they turned him around and put the bracelets on. Officer Rudy said they intercepted a letter saying that Joey was trying to purchase a weapon. Since all mail coming and going to the prison is read, when prosecutors reviewed the letter, it was clear to them that Joey was requesting that she obtain a gun for his use. He was caught as she tried to allegedly smuggle said gun into his lockup. He was apparently still feeling a little invincible.
Joey remembers the situation a little differently. He says that he had already told Rudy about the gun in advance but due to the Youth Authority being consolidated into the Department of Corrections in 1982, there was a need to crack down under the new management.
Joey was then transferred to Tracy Prison, which he claim was then known as “Gladiator School.” As a youth inmate in a state prison, Joey was put in a single cell, while other inmates were double celled. As he was brought in, the prison was on lockdown due to an ongoing gang war.
Joey says he sent a message to one of the guys from 18th St. asking for some coffee and 411. He received some coffee, a big knife, a chess board (to put in his pants as a shield) and a note that read, “It’s on! Watch your back!”
This particular prison’s cast included: the Mexican Mafia, La Eme, the Aryan Brotherhood, the Black Guerilla Family, and a melting pot of Cubans, Ricans, Haitians, Native Americans, and more. Every group has a designated shot caller, who represents the group to all inmates, administration, and guards. Like a state senator, the shot caller is a lifer who has the keys to the yard.
He was still a kid, really, and thought he was going home in a few months—working at Denny’s, drawing, seeing Maria… and now, facing a situation where he could expect to die in prison.
On his first Monday, Joey was guided out to the yard. Two men ran past and the 5th guy ahead of him was stabbed five times in the neck before they ran off. He died running after them. The prison stayed in lockdown for another month.
It is, at moments like these, a time to question how much rehabilitation is expected to occur in this institution, how responsibly public money is being spent, and to what end. When prisoners kill each other, it is merely held up as an opportunity to ask for more funding. Who is that helping?
8
Joey was scheduled for a parole board hearing in 1982 and he expected to go home, wherever that might be. Joey started working out hard and got down to 165 pounds. His knee was feeling better from the weights and his daily runs alongside the “onion field murderer” from Bakersfield. Once a week, Joey invited someone to his cell or the shower to box.
The next few weeks were the craziest. Joey was met in the big yard by a couple of La Emes who escorted him to their shot caller—“some fool from the Venice gang” that Joey had met when he lived with JoJo. The shot caller was cool and respectful to Joey but supposedly wanted 18th St. to pay La Eme. If they didn’t pay, a green light would be issued, meaning that any La Eme could kill an 18th St. member without ramifications. Joey explained that he was neither Mexican nor about to pay anyone.
In the eyes of any gang from La Cosa Nostra Joey was neither white nor Mexican, but Joey’s lack of racial identity was of little concern to any gang’s bottom line.
A few days before his parole board hearing, Joey says he started to carry a knife, the tip pricking his knee every time he took a step. He says it made him alert and never complacent. The night before the hearing, Joey stayed up all night with his legal folder, letters of support, and new marriage certificate to Maria. Joey had no family left—Luigi was in prison, the Gambinos, Genoveses, and Bonannos were dying or snitching each other out. His relationships mostly existed in the postal system.
Knowing the parole board could release him on the spot, Joey was eager to stand out. The morning as his name was called on the loud speaker to report, many lifers wished him good luck.
When Joey entered the parole board room there were three board members. He remembers them as: an older Latino man who smiled at him, an older white man who “looked like he wanted to be fishing,” and a woman with a sour look who waved him to sit down and state his name. Joey claims the men saw his fight at the Sacramento Auditorium. Then the woman went ballistic, “I have read your file and, I too, am from Compton and know all about 18th St. thugs. Just because you are an athlete, do not think you will get treated any different on your incorrigible butt.”
Joey says he laughed nervously, realizing he was not likely to be paroled, and was asked if he thought she was funny. “No, but there is no need to talk to me with such vile.” He claims the white man wrote down “Dolphins −3, Rams +7, Bears −10.”
The female paroler continued, “The new law that has taken affect this year is applicable to you, and under 1170.D and C, an inmate who is found to be incorrigible will be found unsuitable for the Youth Authority and returned to court for sentencing. You, Mr. T-O-R-R-EEEE are incorrigible!”
The Latino man informed Joey that he could appeal the decision and asked if he had anything to say. Joey responded that he understood he had a plea bargain and was told that the longest he would be in prison was when he turned 25. They asked for his Youth Authority ID card as a parting gift, as Joey was being transported back to LA County Jail for re-sentencing.
Joey woke up on the morning of his court date for his modification of sentence. He thought the worst that could happen was 3 more years in prison. Ten people arrived at the Norwalk Superior Court House early on Nov 6, 1982. Joey was appointed another public attorney named James Boedecker, who came to visit him in the holding tank. Boedecker informed Joey that he was in front of a different judge this time. Judge Stevens was not a fan of Joey Torrey and was not going to allow him to withdraw his plea or re-sentence him to three years. The judge was going to allow a plea of second degree murder for 7-10 years with credit for time served.
Joey told Boedecker, “Hell no, buddy. I have a plea agreement and now they want to re-sentence me and I will not plea again!” Joey says Mr. Boedecker assured him he would fight for time served in the appeals court until the end and that was the last time they saw each other before the sentencing.
Joey sat in the holding cell for hours until he was summoned into Judge Steven’s court, where the following was recorded by the court:
“Mr. Torrey, I am not going to allow you to withdraw your plea agreement and burden the tax payers of this state with a long drawn out trial. You plead guilty to 187, murder, and in about five minutes, that’s what you will be sentenced to. Numerous fights in YA and trying to purchase a gun while in custody. Bad places are for bad people, Mr Torrey, and you’re, without a doubt, bad people. Incorrigible is right. Your sentence is just the beginning as the Brigg’s initiative just passed on November of 1982, which protects minors, not adults or gangsters like you. You should not have been sentenced to the YA, and I am going to correct that wrong. You could not handle a 3-5 year deal and now you are back.”
The judge banged the gavel and asked Joey to stand back as he continued, “I hereby sentence you to 25 years to life in the California Department of Corrections. I will give you credit for 822 days that you served in the Youth Authority.”
COURT TRANSCRIPT:
Judge: Do you have further arraignment for judgment?
Boedecker: Yes
Judge: All right. Is there any legal cause why sentence should not be pronounced?
Boedecker: The legal cause has already been stated, as much as the court will allow him to state it.
Judge: All right. Stand up, Mr Torrey. (Defendant complies) For the offense of murder in the first degree, to which the defendant entered a plea of guilty as of January 9, 1980 the defendant is sentenced to the state prison for the term of 25 years to life, with the provision that the defendant is entitled to credit as follows: For
a total of 822 days time served in state institutions, including the California Youth Authority, plus 224 days under the provisions of Section 2900.5 of the Penal Code, and an additional 112 days, under the provisions of Section 4019 of the Penal Code. He is remanded to the Sheriff of Los Angeles County for delivery to the Department of Corrections.
Do you understand that punishment—that penalty?
Torrey: Yes, sir.
Joey says he had to immediately sit down. His knees were buckling. He was escorted out of the court room and met with Mr. Boedecker, who assured him that Judge Stevens sentencing him a second time for the same crime was “double jeopardy.” Joey was escorted out, put in shackles, and driven to the Southern Reception Center for the California Department of Corrections in Chino, CA.
That evening, in his cell, Joey heard the paper sliding into his cell that read, “Modification of Sentence: 25 Years to Life.” At the bottom it noted his parole eligibility, “June 13, 2002.” He says his soul began to rain and thunder as the radio blasted and the screams began. Joey says he did not eat breakfast the following morning. The boxing and cocaine has taken their toll on Joey’s brain on top of the fog of events from the day before. An old timer sweeping the floor in front of Joey’s cell asked if Joey remembered him from the Main St. gym. Joey did not. That night, the green light was put on the 18th St. gang.
9
Joey was told to request protective custody from the guards before people returned from lunch, or they were going to be ordered to move on him. Joey had no intention of requesting anything when “this fool from Clanton” stopped at his cell and said, “Lock up! Or when the bars rack, you’re dead!” Instead, the lock-up bell rang because someone got stabbed, and they were locked down for the night. Joey loosened up.