Crying Blue Tears: Story of a Fallen Hoodstar

By Marlon Evans

Crying Blue Tears is a true story about the life of Marlon Evans and how he was framed for a quadruple homicide by Newton Division LAPD in retaliation for not confessing to allegedly committing two attempted murders on their fellow officers. Marlon's nickname in the streets was Baby Bam. He was introduced to gang culture from the age of two-year

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cadmus Publishing
• Release date: Jan 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781637511213

Marlon Evans

Marlon Evans is still fighting for his freedom and to clear his name after 29 years of incarceration. His appeals have been denied despite a recantation by Clarence Lavan in 2015, and other newly discovered evidence of his actual innocence.You can contact him personally at:Marlon Evans J67484CSP- SATF IIP.O.Box 5248Corcoran, CA 93212

Book preview

Chapter One

I almost didn’t make it into this world. Before I was conceived, one day my father and his father had a heated argument while at my grandparent’s home. My grandfather pulled out his .32 Revolver and shot at my father. However, the bullet missed him, but struck my mother in the head. My mother gave birth to me on May 7, 1973 at the age of 21 years old. I was her third child. My mother’s maiden name is Bertha Mae Nelson. She married my father Ernest Edward Evans a few years before I was born, but they separated months after I was born due to my father being physically abusive towards her. My mother is from Little Rock, Arkansas. My father is from California although his parents moved here from Louisiana.

My grandfather, Ernest Evans was born in 1907. Those were difficult times for black people in America. White racism and discrimination was the norm and many brothers and sisters struggled to find even menial jobs. My grandfather grew up in that environment which made him bitter towards whites. He and my grandmother, Vergie Evans fled Louisiana in the 1940’s after he killed a white man. They had seven children together. Bobby, who was the oldest and someone I knew nothing about until I was 43 years old, because allegedly he disowned our family years ago. My father, Edward, Robert, Jessica, John, Paula and Paul who were twins. Edward was a race car driver, a great mechanic, and a member of the Royal Aces'' motorcycle club which was located on 66th Street and Normandie Avenue. Edward used to work for Mc Donald Douglas and Northrop. His nickname was Wild Man." He had a good sense of humor, was headstrong, and intelligent. However, he didn’t raise me nor did he fulfill the father’s role in my life. I’d see him for the most part whenever I was at my grandparents home and he popped up. I never knew where he actually lived nor did I ever have a phone number to reach him.

Aside from my uncle George I never met any of my father’s cousins and relatives. George was an elderly man, slender, dark skinned, with short hair and steely eyes. He was allegedly a former pimp and was unapproachable. Whenever he visited my grandparents home he didn’t speak much. I assume that he did like being around family though. George didn’t have any children and his lovely wife. Aunt Hattie was a pleasure to be around. They lived across the street from my grandparents on 91st Street and Stanford. Hattie was never a prostitute so I didn’t know how uncle George got her to marry him. Hattie was the most gentlest, kind hearted, and sweetest woman I’d ever met in my life. I loved her.

I have a host of cousins from my uncles and aunts. Bobby has a daughter named Karen. Robert and Paul didn’t have children. Jessica had four children: Kim, Sharonda, Stephanie, and Frank. John had multiple children: John Jr, Jermaine, Usef, Andre, Jonathan, Josh, Shameka, Alicia, and a stepdaughter named Cashmere. Paula has four children: Duane, Nikki, Edwin Jr., and Paulette. Paul was gay and hilarious. He taught himself martial arts and became a third degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. He also had his own school where he taught martial arts.

My grandfather Ernest loved to go fishing. He had a lot of fishing poles. He was suffering from an illness which kept him bedridden and required him to wear an oxygen mask. Every time we went to visit my grandparents I’d kiss my grandmother and then go into their bedroom to see my grandfather. He’d get excited and start smiling. He’d tell me to come closer to him. When I did he’d pinch my cheeks. He loved me. I didn’t like my cheeks being pinched but I didn’t complain because I saw how it made him feel. I liked to see him happy. In 1979, he became fed up with living like he was and allegedly went into the bathroom and prayed to God to end his life and within the hour he died. That was the first time I’d experienced death in my family. Prior to that my brothers and I thought death wasn’t permanent. We were still waiting for Bruce Lee to come back to life in 1983. My grandfather had a brother named Otis who died in California. My grandfather was first cousins with Ida Little. Ida was Malcolm X’s first cousin as well. Although I share family ties with Malcolm X, I don't talk about it because I’ve never met any of his family members.

As for my mother’s side of the family, my grandfather’s name was Pete Nelson and my grandmother’s name was June. They had ten children. Ernest, Alvin, Odell, Robert, Sammy, Peter, my mother, Lena, James (Ledell), and Rosetta. I never met any of their relatives either with the exception of one of my grandmother’s sisters. I found it strange that my family didn’t keep in contact with their relatives. We never had family reunions so there was always a question in my mind of where do I come from and who am I? My grandparents lived in Watts in a two bedroom house on the corner of 109th Street and Willow Brook right across the street from the train tracks. My grandfather was distant and didn’t speak much. He didn’t spend any time with me whenever I visited and he wasn’t affectionate so I stayed out of his way. He wasn’t mean either. My grandmother on the other hand was affectionate. She used to hum songs in her head. She was soft spoken and rarely raised her voice.

My mother got pregnant with my brother Deon at the age of 15. He was born on December 1, 1968. My grandparents put her out. Deon’s father abandoned my mother and never came back around. My mother met Edward, married him and had my brother Pookie and I. Pookie’s birthday was November 4, 1970. Edward embraced Deon as his own son and Deon called him daddy. After my parents split my mother met Michael Garner. Michael was a former drug dealer and a player in the streets. He had a daughter named Trivette (pronounced, Tray-Vee-Ette). Her and Deon were the same age. Trivette lived with her mother but would periodically spend weekends with us. Therefore my brothers and I embraced her as our sister.

In a short time Michael and my mother became an item and we moved in with him on 61st Street and San Pedro. I was around six months old when these things occurred. Michael raised my brothers and I as his own sons. In 1980, he and my mother got married in Las Vegas, Nevada. The house I grew up in used to belong to Michael's parents, Charles and Doris Garner whom people respectively referred to as Big Daddy and Big Mama. They once owned the front and back house on the property but due to financial hardship the property went into foreclosure. Michael stepped in and took over the mortgages. He and my mother would eventually pay off the mortgages to both homes. The front house we lived in was placed in Michael’s name while the back house was placed in his parent’s name to ensure that they always had a roof over their heads. Michael’s siblings were Diane, Doug, Alfreida, Eddie (Spark), and Jeanette. Doug was murdered in front of the house before I was born.

My early childhood years were filled with joy, happiness, learning right from wrong, and getting acquainted with my environment. I was introduced to my parents' house parties where I’d hear oldies such as Do it till your satisfied by B. T. Express, When you smile by Leroy Hutson, Say the word by the Dramatics, and Just my imagination by the Temptations blaring from the 8 track stereo. My brothers used to call me Boo-Boo which didn’t stick as a nickname. I loved socializing and playing with our friends. We used to play tag, hide and seek, shoot marbles, wrestle, ride big wheels and bikes, climb trees and roofs, as well as cops and robbers. I loved guns too due to watching t.v. shows like Swat and Starsky and Hutch. I didn’t like CHIPS because they never pulled out their guns no matter what the situation was. Michael and his friends loved me. They would toss me in the air and catch me. Sometimes I’d cry out of fear. I didn’t like for anyone I didn’t know to touch me or pick me up. My parents called me a crybaby.

The back house was rented out to a Mexican family. My best friend at the time was Felipe. His family lived in the back house. They were a close knit family who was generous, kind, and respectful. Felipe had two older brothers named Guillermo and Himey. He had a little sister named Miraina. Our families were close. On occasion Felipe’s mom would give my mother a pan of enchiladas for our family. In those days neighbors looked out for one another. It was common for parents to send their kids to a neighbor's house to borrow a cup of sugar, flour, a stick of butter, or some milk. People didn’t despise one another but instead helped each other. They understood that we all were in the same boat subjected to the same conditions thus we were all one. Race didn’t matter much. Michael used to say that the best friend a black man could have was a Mexican. I saw some truth in that statement because Felipe and I were like blood brothers. We would fight one minute and be playing the next. No one else better lay a hand on either of us cause we’d jump him. We didn’t care how big the person was. Our birthdays were the same day but he was a year older.

There were also other people in our neighborhood who became family to us because we were so close. Michael was well known and respected in the hood. His nicknames were Touche'' and Tuda-Ray." Damon Campbell was an only child. His mother moved him to Los Angeles from New Jersey. His father wasn’t in his life. Mrs. Campbell was Godfearing and a devout Christian. She was humble and kind hearted. She was older than my mother and played the big sister role to her. Damon was two years older than Deon and became a big brother to us. We spent nights and ate meals at each other's houses. We were also close with the Lang family. Eddie, Edward, Frog, Danny, Tony, Leslie, Jackie, Ella, Wilbur, Burbanks, Carl Jr., Otis, Leroy, Darcy, Jerome, Dave Jr., Fanny Mae, Scottie, Kemo, Charlie, Tammy, Creshinda, Shane, Arkillis, Denise, Shawntang, and Dre were just a few members of the Lang family. Darcy was like an uncle to my brothers and I while Scottie, Kemo, and Charlie were like cousins so we called each other family from childhood. Darcy was from Six Deuce Neighborhood East Coast Crips at the time. He was a few years older than Deon. His nickname is Lil Dee. There were rumors that Scottie’s uncle Wilbur was actually his father. Allegedly when he found out he was devastated and became a functional alcoholic.

The Taylor family lived next door to us and became family as well. John D., Ernest (Popcorn), Linda, Barbara, Elizabeth (Liz), Roscoe, Andrew, Candy and Cokie. The matriarch of the family was Magdeline which everyone pronounced as, Maggaleen. Maggaleen was an alcoholic divorcee who drank most days from sunup to sun down. She loved her grand babies though. She had a reputation for getting angry at her children and others and throwing alcohol bottles at them. The vacant lot on the corner was filled with broken bottles which people attributed to her. Her brother was uncle Sugar. Sugar loved the liquor too. He sold joints of marijuana, rode around on a bike, and was a comedian. He drank so much that he walked with his hands behind his back for balance. His favorite lines were calling someone a goat mouth ass bitch or nigga! or telling someone to get their goat smelling ass out of his face! Linda had three children: Eddie Ray, Maya, and Jolie. Popcorn had sons named Osmond, Ernest Jr., and Poppa Doo and a daughter named Triecy. John D. had a son and an older daughter named Donna who was fine and thick. They also had a cousin named Charlie Mac. Barbara had two kids at the time named Monique and Shavonda. Barbara was married to Ronnie Rivers who was nicknamed Double R. Monique was conceived in a previous relationship before Barbara met Double R. Double R. and Michael were close friends. Double R. also sold PCP in those days.

Maggaleen’s ex husbands often came around. Their names were Daddy Rock and Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves was quiet and laid back. Daddy Rock was vibrant with a good attitude and a big smile. Both of them were good men. I remember one day Mr. Graves had the whole block crying in laughter. I don’t know what happened to piss him off but he stood up and loudly said, fuck all of you dick sucking bitches! He was talking about Maggaleen and her daughters. The Taylors became family to us as well.

Chapter Two

As a kid I saw a lot of violence, drama, and turmoil in my neighborhood. There seemed to be something happening all the time. There was never a dull moment. My parents used to let Quake and Bulla Cow from 62NHC take my brothers and I swimming up at Bethune Park on 61st and Hooper. They protected us and made sure we had a good time. In those days Quake had a reputation on the East Side for knocking dudes out. My parents were young with no experience in raising children. Them allowing Quake and Bulla Cow to take us to the swimming pool was a way for them to get some alone time. But it also had another unforeseen effect too.

My brothers and I were exposed to gang members and their culture. We knew many of the Six Deuces by name such as: Snow, Sad, Bubble, Fish, Bruce, Wooder, Sike, Ric Rat, C. L., Black Jesus, Flux, Boo, Insane Wang, Crazy Larry, Lil Oscar, Termite, K. K., Lil Cavers, Bob, Mr. Lil Cee, Peanut, Pounds, Too-Tall, Billy Bird, Cowboy, Ric ROC, Ghost, Big Ed, Limes, Lil Bam, Kev, T-Dog, Lil Sike, Hulio, Leroy, Tank, Will, C-Bone, Snake, Green Giant, Art, and Boxer. We knew the homegirls from 62NHC too. I witnessed fights, robberies, drug dealings, and shootings. For example, next door to my house (opposite the Taylor household) was a vacant house the 62’s used as a shack.

One night, I was in my yard and saw a man I didn’t know high off of PCP standing in front of the shack. He could barely keep his balance. Boo walked over to him and said something to him. The guy mumbled something then Boo walked away about the space of two houses where two other 62’s were waiting. They conversed briefly then Boo walked up to the dude high off PCP and socked him had in the face dropping him to the ground. The other two 62’s ran over and they began beating, kicking, and stomping him as they robbed him of his money. They left the dude unconscious as they ran away. I couldn’t have been no more than 5 years old when that happened.

Another time I saw Sike and Kev walking down 61st Street headed towards San Pedro. It was around 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon when a pickup truck with about 5 Mexican men pulled up on them and jumped out. They began fighting. Sike beat up 3 of them while Kev was struggling with the other two. They fought for about 4 minutes then stopped fighting. The Mexicans ran back to their truck. But one Mexican asked Sike if he could fight Kev head up. Kev said he didn’t want to fight anymore. Then Sike got upset and yelled at Kev, nigga you better get down with him, you don’t let no Mexican call you out! Kev and the Mexican fought and he beat Kev up. I was standing about 15 feet away from them watching the whole ordeal. That situation filled me with a sense of black pride and showed me that if I was ever confronted by someone of another race to a fight I must perform like Sike not Kev. I admired Sike from that day.

Another incident I witnessed was when Bruce and this black cop who lived in the neighborhood had a fight in broad daylight. I was walking down the street and just happened to stumble up on it. They were both fighting hard and had bruises. That was a trip. Michael used to tell us we don’t see or hear any evil. Snitching could get you killed. My parents didn’t shield us from life’s rawness. This guy named O.C. from the neighborhood got into it with Crumb at a motorcycle club and Crumb beat him to death. Crumb was a boxer. They found O.C. a couple of days later in a neighbors back yard with flies on his dead body. O.C. and Michael were friends. I remember my parents going around the corner to view his body still lying in the backyard and asking me if I wanted to go see him. I refused but Pookie went.

One thing was clear growing up in my neighborhood, one couldn’t be weak or soft if you planned on surviving. My parents loved us and would go out of their way to make sure we had what we needed. They both were disciplinarians. My mother was low on patience and high on attitude. We kept nice furniture and clothes and the yard was neat and clean thus we may have had the appearance of doing far better than what we really were. My parents didn’t have bank accounts and they struggled with money. Every dollar my mother saw she already had it spent.

My parents had their flaws. I remember seeing my parents snorting lines of cocaine off of an album cover with one of Michael’s friends. I recall the police raiding our house looking for drugs and taking Michael to jail. He got released a few months later. I witnessed domestic violence between them too. I remember walking home from a neighbor's house one day around 5 o’clock in the evening. I was 5 years old. I heard yelling and cursing coming from within my home. Neighbors were outside listening to my parents fight. In those days people didn’t intervene in other people’s relationships. I entered the house from the back door and walked into the kitchen. From there I could see into my parents bedroom. I saw my mother standing on the bed holding a glass A and W root beer mug which she was using to defend herself. Michael was on the floor trying to get to her. When my mother saw an opportunity she ran out through the kitchen and out the back door. The kitchen back door had a glass window.

Michael didn’t pursue her as she ran away. My mother stopped in the washroom, turned around and hurled the mug through the back door window shattering the glass all over the floor. Michael was livid. He chased her outside and caught up with her in the driveway. He held her down with one hand while hitting and slapping her with the other hand. My brothers had gone over to Mrs. Campbell’s apartment to call my uncles and my father Edward. I on the other hand walked up to Michael while he held my mother in a headlock and punched him in the mouth. He stopped fighting my mother and said, you gone hit me! I just looked at him as the neighbors broke out in laughter. They applauded me for intervening. Michael respected me for helping my mother. My mother told me not to intervene again. I couldn’t sit by and watch him hurt my mother. This incident taught me that it was wrong for a man to put his hands on his woman.

I experienced police brutality during that time as well. It was early Christmas morning 1978. My parents bought us a bunch of toys. Pookie used to love race tracks and cars that plug in, I’m assuming because Edward was a race car driver. Damon, Deon, and Pookie were outside playing and hanging out but in the front yard. Damon had on some brand new skates his mother bought him. All of a sudden we heard screaming and crying coming from outside. Michael opened the front door to see what happened and saw Damon and my brothers on their knees with their hands on their head. Damon was curled up on the ground because an officer had kicked him in his crotch area. I was peeking out the door watching. These officers were white. Michael was fuming as he cursed the police out for assaulting children. Damon was 12, Deon 10, and Pookie 8 years old at the time. One of the officers said that they looked like gang members. At that time joining a gang was the furthest thing from their minds. Michael standing up to the police showed me that I must stand against injustice and not be silent. That situation also taught me that cops don’t always uphold the law nor were they all good. I stopped accepting baseball cards from cops driving through the neighborhood.

When I was 7 years old, Liz died from an overdose. Allegedly her boyfriend had given her a deadly concoction of angel dust laced with PCP. They found her dead one morning lying naked in her bed. She lived across the street from us in a one bedroom house situated behind a two unit apartment Double R and Mrs. Campbell’s family lived in. Liz was a young mother of two children: Tone-Tone and Bib-Bib. Her death rocked our community. Bib-Bib’s father’s name is Calvin. Leroy from 62NHC and Calvin were brothers. A short time after Liz’s demise Calvin saw Liz’s boyfriend and shot at him in broad daylight. To make matters worse for Tone-Tone is the fact that both of his parents died within a year of each other leaving him to be raised by his grandmother Maggaleen. I empathize with him because I couldn’t imagine growing up without my parents. Life was too raw and scary thus I found myself being afraid at times from seeing so many traumatic events at a young age.

Another incident occurred when I was a child which left an indelible image in my mind. One night my parents took us to the drive-in movie theatre. When we got home our front door was opened and all of the lights were on in the house. Our house had been burglarized. When we walked inside I saw that the house was ransacked and every room had been rifled through. A lot of things were missing from clothes to silverware. Michael was upset about it. I was afraid and personally I felt a sense of betrayal because my family seemed to be liked and respected in the community. I wondered who did it and hoped that it wasn't the Six Deuces. Michael did his investigation and the next day he found out that my mother's best friend's brother broke into our house while high off of PCP.

My mother's friend's name was Lajuana and her brother's name was Herbert. Herbert stashed all of the merchandise under the vacant house next door to us in some cardboard containers thus we recouped all of our belongings. Lajuana had a son named Dee-Dee who I was close to. They too would become family to us. Michael forgave Herbert because he understood that PCP was a powerful hallucinogenic drug which caused people to do things they most often wouldn't remember doing. Prior to this incident Herbert used to try to outrun cars as they drove down the street while high. Nevertheless, shortly after this incident Lajuana's family moved. Herbert had broken a street code which was you never break into your neighbor's or anyone you know home because that would result in violence. Lajuana and Dee-Dee still came around though. All of these aforementioned events occurred by the time I was 8 years old and no doubt played a role in the person I would become.

Chapter Three

As a kid it seemed that fighting was normal and the way to solve one's problems. My parents took us to church and we learned the basics about the Lord Jesus Christ, his sacrifice for mankind, and we were taught to love our neighbors and to be forgiving. However, in the hood people were squabbling up. For example, one evening I saw my neighbors Andrew and Roscoe fighting like cats and dogs. For them to be brothers they fought like they were trying to kill each other. Andrew even picked up a pipe and hit Roscoe with it. Roscoe rushed him, took the pipe from him, and beat him up some more. Neighbors were all outside watching. One evening I saw Insane Wang chasing this dude from the hood named Burt whipping him upside the head with a gas can. Another day I saw Crumb knock out this dude from Hoover in the field a few yards away from our house. The Six Deuces and Hoovers used to set up fights between their homeboys, bringing some of their top fighters to go head up. I never saw Crumb lose. Deon had a bully in the hood named Duke they used to fight often. Me and Pookie would jump in hitting and kicking Duke to help Deon win the fight.

Another day I went outside after waking up from a nap. My mother and one of her girlfriends were sitting on the porch looking at something. I sat down and followed their heads to see what they were looking at and I saw Onion beating the hell out of Leroy from 62NHC. Leroy fought back but he was no match for Onion. Onion was an original east side Crip. In those days dudes could lose a fight and not come back with a gun. Home boys didn't kill each other over a fight. Raymond Washington was out of my neighborhood. He founded the Crips and he came up with the idea for all East Side Crips to turn East Coast Crips because he didn't like how the West Side Crips which Tookie is credited with starting began fighting among themselves.

At the same time Michael used to buy pairs of boxing gloves for Christmas and have me and Pookie fight as entertainment for him and his friends. I would lose the majority of the time but I fought back because I couldn't let