Skin for Skin

By Jaime Alvarez

"THE BOOK THAT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE AND VIEW OF THE CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM"

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468509533

Jaime Alvarez

JAIME ALVAREZ was born September 14,1949, in Mexicali Mexico, to U.S. citizen parents. Throughout Jaimes life being a true and faithful family man has always been his priority. On December 2, 2018, Jaime and his childhood sweetheart, Eunice, celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary. They have been blessed with four amazing daughters, Leticia, Marisela, Elena, and Gina. Included in what Jaime calls, His Village, are 13 grandchildren and 5 great-grandchildren. Jaime is most proud of being a faithful husband, father, and grandfather. Jaimes first book is entitled, SKIN FOR SKIN. It is the true story of his family ten year struggle against false criminal charges and how they were exonerated. THE COLLECTIVE WORKS of JAIME ALVAREZ, including DICHOS DE MI MADRE, was Jaimes second book. It was dedicated to his mother who passed from alzheimers Disease in 2015. SUDDEN DEATH BEAUTIFUL LIFE, is Jaimes third published book. It is about the amazing story of how he and his family survived sudden cardiac arrest. Over 300,000 people die annually from sudden cardiac arrest only one in ten people survive, sudden cardiac arrest. The book tells about the incredible challenge his entire family had to endure and what can only be called miracles they witnessed. 50 YEARS AND COUNTING, How to be happily married forever. is the true story of Jaime and Eunices 50 years of marriage. In its pages, you will find practical wisdom and advice for any couple contemplating marriage. The book does not color coat the challenges involved in creating a healthy and long-lasting marriage. Being married so many years brings with it many new changes requiring resiliency and sometimes reinvention. It is spiritual but not religious. It is a must-read for anyone for all young couples. JAIME ALVAREZ is an author and inspirational speaker. He can be contacted at [e-mail].

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© 2012 Jaime Alvarez. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 1/9/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-0954-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-0953-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011962577

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

CHAPTER I

CASA DE GRANDE AMOR

CHAPTER II

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

CHAPTER III

PRE-EMPTIVE STRIKE – OPERATION THUNDERBOLT, LIGHTNING FROM ABOVE

CHAPTER IV

THE PEOPLE OF THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA VS.JAIME ALVAREZ ETAL. (MI FAMILIA)

CHAPTER V

DEFEATING THE CRIMINAL INJUSTICE SYSTEM

CHAPTER VI

LAWYERS, LIARS AND LIZARDS

CHAPTERV II

PEOPLE OF THE LIE- SKIN FOR SKIN

CHAPTER VIII

LIFTING UP THE DOWNTRODDEN

Introduction

On March 14, 2001 after a three year criminal investigation, the San Bernar-dino County District Attorney filed criminal charges against Jaime and Eunice Alvarez, their married daughters Marisela and Elena Labastida, and Gina Bosch. Two of their husbands, Hector Labastida and Jason Bosch, as well as their niece Adrian Holes. They were arraigned within twenty-four hours and bail was set at one million dollars ($1,000,000) each.

This book is about a family’s love and courage that empowered them to withstand what can only be called vicious persecution by powerful enemies endowed with complete immunity. It is about having the character to stand up and fight for truth and justice. To Americans, our freedom is sacred! But, even in our great country these blessings can be stolen by those who are indecent and corrupt. It proves that in some cases even good people can and do get sent to jail by those who represent not our justice system, but their own corrupt objectives.

Skin for Skin is not about being victims. Our family has always rejected the false religion of victim-hood. It requires its’ followers to worship the false idols of self-pity, anger, and hate.

This book is not about unjustly condemning all of law enforcement nor all those involved in the criminal justice system. The great majority of these public servants are honest and decent people. It is about a few individuals that felt they were above the law. I refer to these individuals as ‘people of the lie’. These individuals that possessed great power and immunities wanted to destroy our family and business. They managed to destroy our business and reputations by means of their outright lies and defamation, but never our family! Ten years later and over one million dollars ($1,000,000) spent on attorney’s fees, our family is more united than ever.

Skin for Skin above all else is about faith, love, and meaning. Faith in our factual innocence and full knowledge of the fact that we were not criminals. The kind of love that never fails within a family, and our ability to sustain each other through the most difficult of circumstances.

It is my sincere hope that this book will lift up those who are downtrodden and give them renewed hope and courage, to press on with their fight whatever it might be. Those decent people who have been unjustly targeted by a system that at times fails all of us. I hope that the meaning of your unsolicited suffering will be revealed to you and your loved ones as you read of our family’s struggles. Please remember that it is the moral of your story which is important and everlasting!

Sincerely,

Jaime Alvarez

SKIN FOR SKIN

THEN JEHOVAH SAID TO SATAN ‘JUST WHERE DO YOU COME FROM’? AT THAT SATAN ANSWERED JEHOVAH AND SAID: ‘FROM ROVING ABOUT THE EARTH AND FROM WALKING ABOUT IN IT.’ AND JEHOVAH WENT ON TO SAY TO SATAN: ‘HAVE YOU SET YOUR HEART UPON MY SERVANT JOB? THAT THERE IS NO ONE LIKE HIM ON THE EARTH, A MAN BLAMELESS AND UPRIGHT, FEARING GOD AND TURNING ASIDE FROM BAD? EVEN YET HE IS HOLDING FAST HIS INTEGRITY, ALTHOUGHYOU INCITE ME AGAINST HIM TO SWALLOW HIM UP WITHOUT CAUSE’. BUT SATAN ANSWERED JEHOVAH AND SAID ‘SKIN FOR SKIN’. EVERYTHING A MAN HAS HE WILL GIVE UP IN BEHALF OF HIS SKIN. JOB 2: 1-4 The Bible

"THUS IT IS SAID THAT ONE WHO KNOWS THE

ENEMY AND KNOWS HIMSELF, WILL NOT BE

ENDANGERED IN A HUNDRED ENGAGEMENTS"

SUN TZU- THE ART OF WAR

DEDICATION

Sons-In Law Victor and Hector Labastida, John Eastland, and Jason Bosch

My grandchildren

Jenaru V. Eastland

Jasmine Eastland

John Jaime Eastland

Priscila Labastida

Hector Labastida

Katrina Labastida

Isaac Labastida

Leonardo Labastida

Victor Labastida, Jr.

Seth Labastida

Ivana Bosch

Vivian Bosch

Sophia Bosch

Brother-in Law Reuben Vizcarra and nephew Phillip Markes and his wife Adrienne Markes.

No greater blessing and responsibility does a man have than a faithful wife and strong loving daughters. If so blessed, the meaning of life and its pathway to happiness will be revealed to his soul. I thank my family for giving me the greatest cause of all.

Special thanks

Congressman George Brown- Posthumously, Congressman Jerry Lewis and his bride Arlene, Frank and Eloise Reyes, Jessie Gomez, Maurice and Dorothy Calderon, Alex and Marie Alonzo, Phillip Kassel, Teri Rubi, Jess and Josie Gonzales, and my secret friend!

CHAPTER I

CASA DE GRANDE AMOR

I have written this book out of necessity. It is important that our grandchildren and their children never forget the real events that are central to our families’ life experience. Incredible events that taxed us beyond our physical capabilities. Events that occupied our ongoing life story and engraved in our hearts and minds the power and strength of familia.

On December 2, 2007, my wife, Eunice, and I celebrated our fortieth wedding anniversary. We were married at eighteen years of age, right out of high school. I graduated from El Monte High School, in California, in June of 1967 and we were married in December of 1967.

It would be dishonest of me to say that I understood the challenges of marriage at that tender age. No way could I have said that my marriage would follow the fine example that my father showed me. He was a destructive man who constantly belittled my mother and physically abused her also. I can still play the videos in my mind of the violent fights that were so predictable when he would come home drunk after 2:00 a.m., when the bars closed. Being only twelve years old, but big for my age, I felt it was my responsibility to try and protect my beloved mother. The two hundred and fifty pound drunken beast would be home soon and the inevitable pending onslaught would be repeated again.

Now it was time to wait for my father to come home safely. I learned to play games as I watched the car headlights pass our rented house in El Monte. My father’s car was sure to be amongst the next twenty car lights that I would count. There was a long dirt driveway that would lead to our little two bedroom home that I shared with two brothers and two sisters.

Once she told me: Mijo, you’re a hard worker. I said in my heart, Just like you mother. Such a simple compliment by my mother became a touchstone I have carried throughout my entire life.

My mother always had that old house super clean and nicely decorated, despite my father’s destructive behavior. Most of the pictures on the walls covered holes that my drunken father punched with his fists. In the front yard my mother planted sweet peas, their colors were soft and the fragrance was pleasant. Come to think of it, I never saw my Father even cut the grass, mother would do that too. Come to think of it, I never saw my Father even cut the grass, mother would do that too.

Once she told me: Mijo, you’re a hard worker. I said in my heart, Just like you mother. Such a simple compliment by her became a touchstone in my life. To me a touchstone is an experience in one’s life that gives you the ability to become aware of something. It allows you to deal with something in a skillful and wise manner. Her excellent qualities and example helped mold me.

At that point in my young life my Mother was my hero. Sometimes I would join her with a shovel in hand, or I was assigned to kill weeds or remove overgrown grass. It was challenging to try and keep up with my Mother, it seemed like she was tireless.

She worked five or six days at a patio furniture factory sewing buttons on cushions and still come home to clean and cook. It certainly wasn’t fair but my dear mother accepted the circumstances of her life without ever com-plaining out loud

My older brother Bill, was sixteen months older than me, but I don’t remember him staying up with my mother and me, (until two or three in the morning) waiting for Mi Padre. Recently I had a heart to heart conversation with my older brother who is now sixty years old and suffers from congestive heart failure. Much to my surprise he remembers staying up and waiting for my father to come home drunk. He too remembers the violent outbursts my father would put on display for all his children and wife to witness. He remembers on many occasions helping me hold our father down as we struggled to keep him away from our mother. My brother Bill, developed bleeding ulcers by the age of fifteen.

Maybe it was the fear and fog of those violent episodes that caused my mind to erase everybody else from the scene. I do know this, we never played theheadlight counting game together, I asked him. It was me and me alone that would over and over again reset the game of counting the headlights from our living room window. My mother would be heating and reheating his delicious dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. Even at 2:00 in the morning, she knew that he would be expecting her to serve him dinner and make him flour tortillas. Maybe my dear mother was playing a counting and waiting game too.

At 59, I now look back and realize that I was bonding with my mother during those terrifying nights. Even though I was only eleven or twelve years old, I felt like a man that needed to protect her. The ferocious fight was inevitable but it had still not started. My mother and I had precious time together during that calm before the storm. Throughout the night she would constantly warn me, Remember, no matter what, he is your father and you must always respect him. Out of my child’s mouth I would foolishly tell her with all sincerity, Please try not to get him mad, okay Mom? After our loving encouragement she would go back to reading her Atalaya (Watchtower) magazine and wait. As for me, the headlight counting game continued. After an hour or so, my anxiousness and apprehension were mixed with quick prayers and silent tears.

I did not want my mother to see or hear me cry, so I would press my forehead against the living room window-pane hard and silently pray to God that my father would come home safe. Please protect him and don’t let him get in a car accident I would beg. My breath would start to fog up the window so I had to wipe it so I could see and count the headlights. It was so quiet I could hear myself breathing. My mother was napping, she looked so peaceful. It was good that she was resting. Maybe this time my father would make it home safely and go straight to bed. Maybe this time he wouldn’t slam his plate of food against the floor making a mess on the linoleum I saw my mother mopping and cleaning earlier that evening. Maybe this time he wouldn’t get that look in his eyes and coldly ask my mother, Que te pasa? Her response was submissive and it was always Nada. Maybe this time he wouldn’t slap her and grab her by her beautiful long dark hair that I was so proud of.

Maybe this time I wouldn’t be forced to confront him while trying to pull him off of her and have him direct his anger and rage toward me and not my beloved mother. That way I would not have to experience the difference of a grown man’s strength versus a boy’s. Maybe this time I wouldn’t hate and fear him so much. Sad to say my memory of my father is that there never was a this time. He was abusive and mean to his dying day. I realized that I had no power to even try and change him. It was his choice.

Weakened by stomach cancer and diabetes he shriveled away to seventy pounds of skin and bones. Finally he died on August 17, 1981 at sixty-one years of age. He was totally bedridden the last year of his life. His faithful wife, my mother, tended to his every need before he died. Even when his stomach cancer surfaced out of the gaping hole from his previous operation, it was my mother who had to deal with those cancerous tumors that were consuming him. He was literally rotting away and his stench left no doubt. It was the smell of death. The same woman that he abused so much was loyal to him until he died.

In life you can learn lessons from peoples’ good examples and their bad examples. My father did teach me a very valuable lesson before his pathetic death. I had provided a small house for my father and mother