DBeng21

This issue is dedicated to those who
have been falsely arrested or convicted,
and the families who have
been left in the wake of that injustice.
We honor your innocence.
01 ...... Falsely Arrested
03 ...... Deported for Graffiti
04 ...... I am Deported
05 ...... Lens and Pens
07 ...... Gay Teen Victory
08 ...... No Immigrants Allowed
09 ...... Por Vida
10 ...... SJ Sonidero
11 ...... Getting layed off
12 ...... Fresh off the College Boat
13 ...... Tow Truck Thieve’n
14 ...... Moving Companies Blues
15 ...... A Shot at Justice
17 ...... Building my own company
18 ...... Selling My Books
19 ...... Soul Striving
20 ...... The Young & the Damned
21 ...... SJ on Zero a Day
22 ...... R.I.P. Dr. Octagon
23 ...... Coming Out the Shadows
24 ...... Five Finger Discounts
25 ...... DB Summer Media Acadamy
27 ...... El Chilo
SJ on zero a day
Mothers fight back
Lens & Pens
A book by
Sean Boyles
and Abraham
Menor.
Editor’s Note:
The first time I saw Ramon Vasquez was through a glass window
in the main jail during a visit. His family had been coming to
De-Bug for a while, telling us about the life he had built, and the
situation he was in that threatened to destroy it all. Ramon was
falsely arrested for a serious crime he was completely innocent of, and if
convicted, would spend the rest of his life in prison.
Despite the context of the moment and place – Ramon was the man
his family promised he would be – charismatic, sincere, funny. But every
now and again, as he was recounting stories of his childhood or his experiences
as a father, he would stop, mid-sentence, suspended in a state of
shock. Inevitably, all of his life stories lead to where he was now, and the
uncertainty if he will ever return to what once was.
The first draft of his story he wrote from jail, shortly after our visit. We
were going to publish it in the last issue, but then the ending changed –
he was released.
When I see him now, coming through De-Bug after a day’s work,
before he goes off to coach his son’s football team, I am the one in shock.
How a man not only endures but prevails from such an injustice is a testament
of what is possible through courage, faith and family.
This issue is filled with similar testimonies of men and women facing the
most monumental struggles of their lives – the young man facing deportation
for graffiti, mothers who are fighting for their children’s freedom,
those beating substance abuse, and more. We are honored to be helping
these authors share their testimonies, and hope they inspire, enlighten,
and strengthen you, as their stories have done for us.
-- Raj Jayadev
Silicon Valley De-Bug is a project of:
NEW AMERICA MEDIA
Family to Family Support for False Arrests
What: An open meeting where families who have loved ones they
feel have been falsely arrested can find support and guidance from
other families who have gone through, or are currently in, similar
situations. Families can connect with one another as a community,
advocate for the rights of one another, and create solution-based
strategies. If you are an organization that would like to start a similar
process at your center, contact us for a presentation.
When: Sundays at 2:30pm
Where: De-Bug Community Center
701 Lenzen Avenue San Jose, CA 95126
Cover: Tiburon!F!B!
Art Direction/Layout: Adrian Avila
Translators: Angel Luna, Adriana Cabrera-
Garcia, Melody Valdez, Alejandra Lizardo, Laura Villa

By Ramon Vasquez // Photos by TIBURON!!F!B!
My name is Ramon Vasquez and I am a twenty-eight
year old father of two. I was born and raised in San
Jose, California, where I’ve lived my whole life. On
March 20, 2008 I was arrested and charged with a gangrelated
murder. It was a charge I was completely innocent of. I did five
months in jail, until they released me for lack of evidence. No apology
was given to me or my family.
I was arrested while leaving work, guns pointed at me, and
was interrogated for countless hours about something that I didn’t
know anything about. As I sit here typing this, I still can’t believe it till
this day. Apparently, I fit the description -- “Average Hispanic Male”
adult. That, along the fact that I have tattoos (none gang-related) was
01 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com
enough for them to peg me as a gang-banging murderer. Because of
the horrible mistake, my family had to move, I almost lost my job, and
five months of my life was taken from me that I can never get back.
Does having tattoos and being an “Average Hispanic Male Adult”
justify why I should have gone through this ordeal? I would sure hope
not. My tattoos come from my love and passion for Hip Hop, which
has been a positive force in my life. None-the-less, the police used
them to insinuate that any tattoo is gang affiliated.
When I went to my first court date it was then that I found out I
had two co-defendants that I’ve never met nor seen in my life. Now
at this point I was lost and in disbelief of what was going on. I still
thought that the police would still come and take me home. It didn’t
happen.
Sitting I my cell, the more I read the police reports that were
written by these police officers, the more I thought that I was being
railroaded. I would sit at night and cry asking myself “Why do I have
to go through this?” What did I do to deserve this? Why do my children
have to go without their father? Why is my fiancée forced to live
a single mother’s life?
All my questions still haven’t been answered months later. Let
me guess what you’re thinking. You’re probably saying, “Well, you
were at the wrong place at the wrong time.” But I wasn’t even there! I
was at home asleep with my fiancée and two kids with my mother-inlaw
there awake on the phone, but did the investigators want to hear
that? No. Whatever went against their story of what happened, they
didn’t want it to be discussed.
Initially, my family cooperated with the investigation until one of
the Sergeants made a statement to my sister-in-law. When she told
him that I was being falsely charged, he had enough cockiness to
say, “We arrest innocent people all the time, it might take a year or
two, but he’ll get out.”
I never thought this type of injustice happens, but I guess it does.
Later on in the investigation, when detectives found D.N.A. was left
at the scene by the suspects, and mine came back negative twice, I
thought that evidence would surely liberate me. Even then they still
held me, headed towards a path of life in prison for something I did
not do. I asked to take a polygraph test and passed it, twice.
Eventually, just a day before my preliminary examination (a sort
of mini-trial) I had an unexpected court date.
It was a Tuesday morning about eleven am. I was lying on my
bunker style bed cold as always thinking about the days to come. I
was in a daze deep in thought then all of a sudden the Correctional
Officer came to my cell door and unlocked it. “Vasquez, get up and
get ready, you have court!” I told him it couldn’t be me I had court
yesterday and I have court on Thursday. He looked at me like I was
stupid and said, “I don’t know they just called for you so let’s go.”
I was lead through the hallway to the elevator then to a waiting
holding cell. I was placed with some other guys that were going to
court as well. We were all talking and I was asked, “What do you have
today”? I replied, “I don’t know, I’m not supposed to have court until
Thursday.” Then some scruffy man in the back said, “It’s bad news,
it’s more charges!” After I heard that, my heart just stopped. Then the
Sheriff came to the holding cell and called out, “Vasquez, lets go!” I
was placed inside another elevator then guided to another holding
cell by myself. As I sat there I was shaking and my mind was racing.
My attorney walked in this room that connects to my holding cell:
he’s on one side and I’m on the other side of the graffiti marked window.
He takes one look at me and said, “Don’t look so sad, didn’t I tell
you I would take care of you?” Then he just walked out. At that time
the Sheriff, an older lady, unlocked my cell door and took me inside
the courtroom. When I walked in the court room I look to the right and
I saw my friends and family, some crying, some smiling.
The judged came in as, we all stood up, and the hair on the
back of my neck stood up as well. The District Attorney read off all
the charges against me, and finished with, “We the people drop all
the charges against Ramon Vasquez due to lack of evidence.” As I
heard that I dropped my head down with relief and finally let my guard

Sitting In my cell, the more I read
the police reports that were written
by these police officers, the more I
thought that I was being railroaded.
down for the first time in five
long months. The nightmare
was over. I started crying and
looked directly at the judge
and he gave me a smile. As
I was being removed from
my seat I looked at the D.A.
and said “Thank you.” He just
said, “Yah, I bet.” I was then lead to my holding cell and the Sheriff
said, “You can smile now, you’re going home.” That’s when it really
hit me. I fell to my knees in tears and thanked God for this miracle. I
was lead back to my floor and eventually my cell. The night, the time
when I would be released. could not come any slower.
When I was finally released at about three in the morning, the
first person I saw was my brother. He walked up and gave me the
tightest bear hug I’ve ever felt. I was eager to see Yvonne, my fiancé,
the woman who fought so hard for my innocence. So I raced to the
car only to find her asleep. She jumped out of the car and gave me a
loving hug that was from her heart. That’s when I knew my freedom
was real, and I looked up at the jail in disgust.
We then went to grandma Lucy’s house to see the kids and take
them home. I woke up my daughter, who’s five, first and she pulled
back from me and started crying as if I was some kind of stranger.
The same went for my 9-year-old son. He looked at me like if I was
some random man from the streets. I couldn’t really blame them because
during the whole time in jail I only asked to see them twice.
The reason I rarely saw my kids was because when I would
seen them I could see the pain in their eyes. When my daughter first
visited, in the middle of a conversation between me and Yvonne, she
started crying out hysterically, “I want my daddy!” It hurt my heart so
much I walked back to my cell holding in my tears, so I wouldn’t show
any sign of weakness. When I reached my cell I fell to the concrete
floor and balled like a baby. It came to a point where I couldn’t even
talk to them on the phone. I always told Yvonne that you put the outside
world out of your mind. I made it hard on my family by not calling
for days, but it made the time get easier for me to try not to think
about what I loved. Everything you love on the outside makes you
vulnerable on the inside, and you become a zombie, just a projection
of your environment. And of course, being incarcerated also has its
own challenges. I wish people wouldn’t limit themselves to their own
race when they go to jail because we are all equal and you can learn
so much from other races. I know about the pressures to stick to your
own cause, but be your own man, and it will show others that we are
all equal.
Being away from my family was one of hardest things I have
ever had to go through. Being a father, I never had been away from
my kids since the day they were born and now I was away from them
for a wrongful arrest. The time and distance hurt their little hearts as
well as mine.
Yvonne then took pictures of me the same night I was released,
because I came out looking like a P.O.W. You could see my ribs and
I was very pail. We took them to show the destruction that was done
to my body, but from the pictures you couldn’t see the damage done
to me mentally. In the days to come I had panic attacks to the point
where Yvonne had to console me because someone was at the door.
I always envision the police coming back for me to take me away
from the people I love. Even now, when I see police on the street or
even on my block I get very nervous and I’m reminded of the whole
ordeal again. This is something that I will have to live with for the
rest of my life because of the poor police work, but hey, they “arrest
innocent people all the time, it might take a year or two, but he’ll get
out.”
In the months to come I was involved in a battle with my employer
to get my job back. That’s when it hit me that even though we
proved my innocence, I was guilty in the courtroom of public opinion.
Eventually, I received my job back after two months of jumping
through hoop after hoop. Since I’ve been home, my life has come
back together but I still sit
and ask myself “What did I
do to deserve this?”
I’ve lost faith in the
criminal justice system because
they have let me
down. It’s funny because
every attorney I speak to
say the same thing “why did you talk to them?” Well isn’t that what
were taught growing up, to trust the police? Yet these same people
we are told are there to protect us, tried to take my life. I know I ain’t
the first, and damn sure ain’t going to be the last. I probably would
have slipped through the cracks and got convicted if it wasn’t for my
family’s persistence and De-Bug’s guidance.
When locked up, I prayed so much that what was done in the
dark is shown in the light, but when I was praying, I was talking about
the crime. Now I see it was really for me to show what the police do
and how unfair the system is.
All I ask of you reading this is don’t be afraid to be yourself and
educate yourself not only when it comes to the criminal justice system,
but everything in life. ◊
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 02

By ICE Detainee
I
n June of 2008 I was detained by Immigration Custom Enforcement
(ICE) because of a conviction from years back. My crime,
the one that might force my deportation, was graffiti.
My detention by immigration became an odyssey that I thought
would never end. And to this day, I still don’t know what will ultimately
happen with me. When I ended my time in criminal custody, I
was detained and transferred by ICE to an immigration facility in San
Francisco. In this facility they took my fingerprints, some mugshots
and told me that I was not eligible for bail until I saw an immigration
judge who would approve me for bail.
I got locked up in a waiting cell and I was
told I was going to see the judge the same day,
which never happened. They only gave me a
sandwich and orange juice for the whole day.
Later on, they brought more people and in a
couple of hours the cell got crowded. It became
so crowded that it was even difficult to breath,
and there was no room to sit. They had us
standing up the whole day.
During the night they got us on a bus to
be transferred to Yuba County. When we got
there, they took our chains off and then we got
pulled in a cell for a couple of hours and were told we were going to
be transferred to the ICE agency in San Francisco. We were supposed
to see the judge that day but we couldn’t, so we had to wait
until the next day.
That morning we got back to the agency and once again, we
couldn’t see the judge. Afterwards we were taken to the Oakland
airport where a Homeland Security airplane was waiting for us to
take us to Arizona. The guards and the people in charge of the airplane
were extremely hostile and very disrespectful. The ICE agents
treated us worst then animals. They would kick the little belongings
that we had, and they were talking to us in a very disrespectful way.
The actions and bad ethics of these individuals was tainted with racism
and abuse. We made a lot of stops in California before we got to
the airport in Arizona. A bus came to take us to our final destination
the ICE’s Federal Detention Center in Eloy, AZ. After two days in a
03 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com
My detention by immigration
became an
odyssey that I thought
would never end. And
to this day, I still don’t
know what will ultimately
happen with me.
row without getting any rest, the only thing that I wanted was to get
somewhere -- even it meant being detained for a long time.
Eloy is not to different from a county jail or to prison and the
treatment is almost the same. They even have similar ways to abuse
us. The only good thing about Eloy is that the food is a little bit better.
The health services in Eloy are low, just like the ones that we
received in the county jails and prisons. Inmates who needed medical
attention seemed to never receive them. I even saw a man die
in front of my eyes in the exercise yard. The staff eventually came to
help him, but they were too late, and the guy died. The first thing that
crossed my mind was the guy’s family and how
ICE was going to have to explain to them that their
loved one died because of ICE’s incompetence.
My point of view on being detained by ICE is
that we are treated like criminals and put in very
bad conditions when the only wrong thing that we
are accused of is violating is immigration laws. For
that we are put in county jails, state prisons, places
like Eloy and after all this we still have to explain
why deserve to stay here and not get deported.
For people like me, legal residents who have been
convicted of a crime, the punishment is double because
we have to pay for the same punishment twice. We have to
go and serve our time in a county or state prison, and after we are
done with that sentence we still have to go and serve time with ICE
for the same infraction.
I think that this is a new form of exploitation because they make
thousands of dollars a year for each detainee. And whatever they
bring in, it is certainly just profit, because that money does not trickle
down to care for the detainees. And regardless of how much money
that ICE makes, it can’t compare to all the losses and all the damage
that they have done to the families of the detained.
I think Obama and his administration should listen to our complaints
and they should start working on an amnesty. And while immigration
reform is being debated, they need to find an alternative
to detain the immigrants, because our immigration status does not
make us a danger to society. ◊

By Andrea Cancino // 19 years old
Illo by Fransico Garcia
Ayawn escapes my lips, as the back of my right hand catches
the sweat that is building on my forehead. I hear the
people around me laughing and whispering in Spanish. I
try to ignore the comments, trying not to grow more frustrated.
I have been deported to Mexico for three years after living in
the States without papers nearly all my life.
There is no doubt that the situation in Mexico is hard, but I would
have never known the exact extent of the situation until my luck was
changed on September 11th of 2008. I have been undocumented
nearly all my life, but in the process of getting them fixed, immigration
officials told me I needed to go back to Mexico and stay there
(here) for 3 years. I got on a plane, leaving
I have been undocumented
nearly all my life, but in the
process of getting them
fixed, immigration officials
told me I needed to go back
to Mexico and stay there
(here) for 3 years.
from the San Francisco airport, on my way
to Ciudad Juarez for an interview with immigration.
Nervous as hell I got myself on that
plane and left on a trip that went from one
week to three long and hot years. I was in
shock. A couple of months ago, I was a girl
in Redwood City, going to school, living the
California life, doing work for my community,
living with family. I would go to protests for
immigrant rights during the day and hang
out with my friends at night. I would proudly
identify as a Mexican woman.
The extreme cultural shock was intense, and the rejection of a
family that I did not know at all made my sentence feel more miserable.
They think I do not belong here, that I am not Mexican. “Apurate
Chicana!” my aunt laughed at my arm burnt and the machete
slipped from my hand from the sweat collected in my palms. “Aqui
no tenemos estufas electricas ni micro ondas ni nada de esa mierda
a la que te mal acostumbrastes. orale agase una mujer!” (In here
we don’t have electric stoves, microwaves or any of that shit that
had you spoiled, this makes you a woman) Her comments became
more and more annoying as she said them. I drop the machete and it
pierces the ground, letting it stand on its own as I see my little cousin
arrive with the water. I drink desperately and my tias exclaim, “Tranquila,
o te dolera la pansa!” I let the water bottle drop empty look up
at the hateful sun.
Was I wrong in the idea I had once before on what being Mexican
really was? I had been born in this land! I grew up here until I
became eight years old! I ran and played in these streets! Why was
it that now I could not handle something as simple as the people and
the customs? The question crashed against my skull like the heat
against my face.
What is it really to be Mexican? What is it to be a Chicana? I had
always considered myself full Mexican, because I have the nopal en
la frente (cactus on my forehead) but I have formed my ideas and
grew my customs according to what to them
is a Chicana. What am I then?
Is missing the home were I lived half of
my life really as wrong as they see it?
America does something to you. It reshapes
you as your mind opens to analyze
new ideas, new ways of living, new technology
and a new you. Even my mother, who still
believes a woman should serve a man and
cook and clean her life away has changed
and is judged back here in Mexico by the
family because she says “hello” instead of
“halo,” or “bueno.” We grow more apart each
generation. There are different types of Mexicans, those of us who
are more “Americanized”; and those who have stayed back and live
each day to the harsh reality of intense poverty, water wells, beans,
and tortillas with salt.
So am I a Mexican? Yes...
I am me, and that is Mexican. ◊
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 04

“Lens and Pens” a book by Sean Boyles
and Abraham Menor
This book features the collaboration works
of Sean Boyles and Abraham Menor’s art
and photography. They landed a collaboration
show at Black & Brown Clothing
Boutique back in 2008 and during the process
of creating work for the show, they
decided to flip a book. The book features
samples of Sean’s art and Abraham’s
photography. Most importantly, the book
showcases the creations that came out of
their collaboration.
One night, four months ago, Sean and
Abraham went to a copy center to make
copies of Sean’s sketchbooks so Abraham
can experiment with the sketches
on his photos. Abraham then gave Sean
a stack of photos for him to experiment
with his sketches and paintings to meld
the two worlds. From that point on, the
two kept flipping styles and ideas. The
“Paintographs” show allowed them to exhibit
their collaboration work in a physical
setting. “Lens and Pens” is a collection of
their work packaged in a sick little book
that people could take home with them
to enjoy. Here’s a sample of “Lens and
Pens.” ◊
05
80 Pages - Perfect Bound
Black & White and Color - Printed in San Jose
Seanboyles.com • Brainsoiled.com

Interview by
G.Melesaine
In the Feb/Mar 08’ issue of De-Bug, we
featured Rochelle and Cheri Hamilton’s
pursuit for justice. It was a struggle for
themselves, for Vallejo and for the queer
community. At the time, Rochelle was a high
school student at Jesse Bethel High School.
I had found Cheri’s story browsing through
a Myspace forum for parents of gay teens.
It had been almost a year and the mother/
daughter team of Cheri (mom) and Rochelle
Hamilton (daughter) were still fighting
against the homophobic harassment
against Rochelle’s school and teachers. Rochelle
was being told she was going to hell
because of her sexuality, teachers would
taunt her, “Why do you look like a boy?” and
other inappropriate comments. Rochelle
was forced to change schools because
she couldn’t take any more of her teachers
and staff’s daily homophobic comments,
and Cheri was still trying to get answers to
the repercussions of these actions, if there
were any. Recently though, I got a call from
Cheri, whom I’ve become good homies with
and talk to frequently, she said “guess what
foo?” Now if we weren’t good friends and
her next words weren’t the words she told
me, then I may have reacted differently. “We
won our case!” The mother/daughter team
who represented all parents/children who
have had to go through the same issues,
have won a historic victory. California law
requires schools to protect students from
harassment and discrimination based on
sexual orientation and gender identity. The
five-year agreement brokered by the ACLU
requires that the school district adopt a clear
policy against discrimination and harassment
based on gender identity and sexual
orientation, develop specific procedures for
handling complaints, and provide mandatory
training for teachers and staff and $25,000
dollars will go into a trust fund for Rochelle.
I spoke to the sheroes about their amazing
victory.
G: So tell me what’s this journey been like
for you?
Cheri: It has been long and painful. With the
support from De-Bug and the ACLU, I felt I
finally had people who understood our pain.
I had to write many letters and make many
phones calls not allowing the district to run
from this. Every issue Rochelle faced and
every tear she dropped I brought it to their
attention. Meanwhile, I held Rochelle, reminding
her that nothing was wrong with her,
that she was beautiful inside and out. As Rochelle
asked me why the teachers wouldn’t
stop, I reminded her what her father and I
endured for being a black and white couple,
and if we would have given into a hateful society
then she wouldn’t be here. As Rochelle
listened she realized that she also had to
stand up for herself and others. I was not
backing down and reminded the school administrators
that my daughter has a right to
be herself and receive an education in their
district. While Rochelle grabbed her strength
from me and as I counseled her through every
put down, Rochelle gained strength, and
became a shoulder or a ear for lgbtq friends
wanting to offer any support that they needed.
It reminded her on how important it was
for her to continue the fight for change.
G: What was some of the unexpected hardships
from this experience?
Cheri: Rochelle is going through the ongoing
process to regain faith in her teachers.
And she also lost a lot of school time, and is
trying to make up her lost credits and finish
school.
G: How was the schools reaction to case
and Rochelle? Were at least any of them
sympathetic, or apologetic to Rochelle?
Cheri: The school and the district chose to
be sympathetic but not willing to apologize.
The settlement agreement speaks loudly.
Rochelle and I have not focus on a pacified
5 letter word “SORRY,” but rather we fought
for a 6 letter word “CHANGE.” That was our
goal and we won what we really wanted, to
make Vallejo a safer learning environment
for all students.
G: Is there a message you have as being a
parent of a gay teen for other parents who
have to go through this as well and don’t
know what to do?
Cheri: Always have the will!!! You are your
child’s voice! They are not heard unless you
speak. Always be proud of your kids and remember
how special they are. Smiles last
forever in a mother’s heart. Listen to your
kids and find out what is going on at their
school, who their teachers are, and if your
child is complaining, upset or withdrawn, find
out why.
G: Rochelle, is there any message you have
for the LGBTQ youth going through the same
issues as you?
Rochelle: Don’t let anyone put you down
and tell you that you can’t do or be what you
want to be. It’s your life, live it how you want
to and stand up for your rights.
G: What do you two plan on doing in the future?
Rochelle: Mom wants to help other parents
of teen gays. I want to be a teen gay rights
activist and help students with the coming
out process so they are not alone and know
that they are wanted and loved for who they
are. I’m starting a Gay Straight Alliance at
my new school next year. GSA group. I want
to eventually have my own TV show.
G: How does justice feel and what do you
think about the change this will create for the
LGBTQ community?
Rochelle: This going to benefit Vallejo all
the way around. Vallejo now will be a safe
learning environment including staff and
students. Also we hope all the surrounding
districts will adopt the same training for their
staff and students recognizing how important
it is to keep our kids safe and free from harassment.
LGBTQ students now know that
we care and that they have rights too. Just
because your LGBTQ does not mean you’re
not American, we pay taxes too. ◊
Rochelle has been telling her story of
struggle and victory far and wide, speaking
at campuses across the country. She
was awarded KQED “Hero of the Year,”
and was a featured speaker at San Francisco’s
Pride parade.
07 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com

As a young Mexican immigrant you get used to certain things. Stuff
like harassment by police, discrimination by employers, as well as
Americans who look down upon immigrants is all part of growing
up for many of us. America creates hustlers out of my people, and
when they spit on our face and shut doors, we have to climb through
windows, find loop holes, and shape shift to the fit in the spaces that
will allow us in. And that includes the clubs.
I am no different than any young person in the world. I like to
party, socialize, have a few drinks, flirt with the honeys, and when it
feels right, dance the night away. It seemed that my only outlet for
doing such things were the downtown San Jose nightclubs. I could
have gone to any club in any given day and find friends to keep me
entertained. I guess I’m a likable guy and making friends comes easy
for me.
So this year, when the bars/night clubs
started denying my Mexican Matricula, a Mexican
government issued ID, I had to find different
angles to getting in. Knowing performers,
DJs,
and an array
of enthusi- astic people,
I was able to create
a system
of trial and
error to get
in. But none-the-less, it doesn’t
make any sense why the Matricula
-- a form of ID that is accepted at banks,
airports, government institutions, even by
San Jose Police Department on the street
– would be denied at a club.
I feel sad every time someone tells me,
“I’m having my birthday at (insert night
club name here), you have to be there.”
I always have to make excuses why I
can’t be at their birthday, but at the same
time I am running out of excuses. With
July rapidly approaching, the busiest
birth day month in my calendar I need to
come up with more creative reasons to why
I can’t attend.
I have tried to get in at the same time as my
friend, an international student from Japan, he got
in with no problem, I on the other hand was hated
on by three different clubs. And he only had a
Japanese version of a Matricula card. From
these type of social experiments I’ve done in
the downtown area, I’ve come to the conclusion
that it’s only the Mexican immigrant being
hated on.
A friend of mine who also uses a Matricula
Card as his form of ID was denied entrance
at Tres Gringos, a downtown club. When he
pointed out the irony to the owner that the club has
a Spanish-language name, yet is excluding Mexicans,
the owner laughed and responded, “Well, its
not called Three Beaners!”
I have been told that the Matricula card
cannot be accepted because it is easy to
it doesn’t make any sense
why the Matricula -- a form of
ID that is accepted at banks,
airports, government institutions,
even by San Jose Police
Department on the street
– would be denied at a club.
counterfeit. But that makes no sense. The argument that its easy
to counterfeit is invalid, because when asked “how do you know its
fake? The usual reply is “We don’t know…that’s why we don’t allow
them.” This is after he had told me minutes before that they had previously
caught many people with fake ID’s. If someone would ever
buy a fake ID it would be a California ID, not an ID that comes with
so much baggage and discrimination,
San Jose has a rich Mexican culture like no other city that I have
ever been to in this country. To think that the only
presence
we have in the nightclub scene is the
ones that hustle the system, and the
working hands that help the nightlife
stay alive, it’s a disgrace.
Although we
have been told
by both bouncers
and club
owners that that
By Tiburon!!F!B!
Illo by Jose Martinez
cannot accept
Matricula cards
because of San Jose
Police Department
(SJPD) rules, we have
found that argument to
be based on a lie.
In order to get to the bottom of this,
myself and another De-Bug member
met with the San Jose Police Chief
Rob Davis. Surprised by the excuse
the clubs were giving Mexican immigrants,
he assured us that the SJPD
does not enforce what forms of identification
is used by the clubs. He said
that that in fact had “no stakes in that
game,” and was concerned that certain
clubs maybe scapegoating SJPD on this
issue. Our meeting left us with more questions
than answers, as well as in the middle of a
maze with many directions that lead to battles.
Battles though we are more than willing to engage
in.
Now my existence in the downtown area is
limited to dive bars. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate
the dive bars but human beings have different
moods, so dive bars are not always the type
of environment that one desires. I could step up
my hustle but at this point it doesn’t seem a desire
of mine to be in the downtown area at all due to
the San Jose police targeting Mexicans for drunk
in publics, resisting arrest, and impounding cars for
not having a drivers license.
If San Jose’s aim is to get rid of Mexicans from
the down town area they have achieved that with
me, for now. I’m done playing games with the
downtown area, the aim now is to change their
system so that no one has to go through what I
and other friends have to go through. ◊
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 08

By Paco
Iwas born and raised in the eastside of San
Jose. Most of my youth was spent playing
sports, hanging out with friends, skating, and
music. Drugs weren’t a big concern in my life
until I reached fourth grade. I fell into a deep depression
with my problems at home. Smoking weed was my only
escape from these problems. Attending Dorsa Elementary School
also was a big escape for me. I would spend my days getting high
before, during, and after school. As I went on to attend 6th grade at
Fisher Middle School, I was introduced to alcohol. At that moment,
I didn’t need anything from anyone.
I was exposed to diversity, from race to other people’s financial
status. Even my manner of speech was uncommon. The only thing
I had in common with everyone else was getting high. I moved towards
the end of 8th grade to the South Side, graduated and went
on to Gunderson High School.
At that point I became conscious of the fact
that I could make money on the side by slanging
my supplies. Never attending my classes, doing
my business all the time and becoming gang
affiliated was my lifestyle. By this time my depression
only grew worse. The habits increased
once I had found out my homie, who became my
best friend, had been murdered that year. Things
weren’t looking good for my freshmen year at G-
town. My ambition to make money was a greater
one then graduating on time. Not even a semester into the school
year and a conflict with a bunch of my fellow junior varsity teammates
between the varsity team had caused me expulsion from the
district. I was gone as quick as I arrived. All this only made me bitter
about life and didn’t care where I ended up. I was living outside the
district and Oak Grove High became my new school.
No friends to get me through the day, not caring about my
education, and a new school to make more money. Once again, the
connection I had with everyone else we’re drugs. My deals became
frequent. But it was never enough to keep me content. I would itch
for more. As the business grew, so did my threats. It never fazed
me until I was warned that I would be killed if I didn’t break off my
dealing. That really brought a reality check to my life. So I backed
off from dealing and being seen around the block. The life I had was
taking me nowhere.
Music had always been a big part of my life but never took
initiative on pursuing it. It’s been my first calling ever since I can
remember. My objective soon turned to making music and less to
my business. I began projects here and there. Jamming with all
sorts people from before and new people I was meeting. When my
friends would get together it became a party ‘till we dropped. My
habits were still the same but by this time, they had become more
social. It went from parting every weekend, to parting everyday of
the week. But sophomore year at Oak Grove was life altering for
me. The person I become was no longer the person I was. I wanted
a change for the better, and making music became more central to
09 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com
I got into punk, metal,
screamo and hardcore
bands. Out of all of them,
the hardcore stuck out...
it has become a brotherhood
for me.
my life.
I got into punk, metal, screamo and hardcore bands. Out of all
of them, the hardcore stuck out for me the most. It has become a
brotherhood for me. Kids coming from broken homes trying to find
somewhere to belong is what built the connection for many of us.
Just having somewhere, something, to call our own. That’s how I
came a cross falling in love with the music. It’s about the message,
the music and always trying to brake away from this world. Never
trying to follow society or the new fads. Just having a mind of your
own to better yourself. Hardcore has become a lifestyle for me.
Maya Over Eyes (the band I’m in) and I have taken the message
and made it a bigger one. With heavy guitar riffs
and lyrics that come from struggles. The music
speaks for itself. As I got more involved in the
music, my other habits were falling off me. Something
in me made me want to graduate and not
just be another statistic.
Prior to this, my homie Sergio had always been
on my ass about my habits. But the choice I took
that sophomore year was one to keep me out of
trouble, and went completely straight edge – no
drugs or alcohol.
As I decided to become sober, a lot of my friends didn’t like
the fact that I no longer wanted that life. They completely ditched
my friendship because they took my new life as something I wasn’t.
Others saw it as a joke, and I was called a square, a loser and even
a Mormon. No one invited me anywhere because I was now as the
“boring” person. The question everyone would ask was, “How do
you have fun?” It amazed me how people only knew fun as getting
drunk, passing out and not remembering last night.
But my decision to become drug free has been the best and
most important choice I have ever made. I dropped my gang act,
my dealings, and all those homies who once were close to me but
only cause the drugs. It’s been five sober years.
Ironically though, part of the way I have been able to stay sober
for five years now is all the other people who judge me for being
straight edge. Another thing that I draw strength from is the music I
play and my straight edge brothers all over the world. Because this
isn’t a trend as most say or think. It’s a decision I took for myself.
It’s also saved me from a lot of grief and heartache. But one thing
is for sure, I don’t hate on people who don’t live a non-sober life.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I plan on being this way
for the rest of my life. Not for my friends, or my family, but for myself.

janitors in the malls, or at the supermarkets.
You probably came across one of them the
last time you went to the store and asked for
help to carry out your groceries.
And despite the fact that these DJ’s
rarely get paid to do what they love, a lot of
artists can attribute their success and stardom
to the DJ’s Sonidero parties. It is where
songs get known and build a street level fan
base. In neighborhoods all over Latin America,
people look to their local Sonidero DJ as
their voice for their hood, and their ear to the
Sonidero is a style of music
that comes from the neighborhoods
of Mexico that
consists of Cumbia, Salsa,
Mexican Rock and what ever
is popular at the time – all
designed by the mixing of
the all important DJ.
Walking through the industrial areas
of San Jose at night, you
may find more then than the
auto shops, machine shops or
empty warehouses you may have expected.
It will be the sounds that will get you – the
unexpected Cumbia music coming from one
of those warehouses and out of some really
big speakers. If you walk in, and are lucky,
you also may come across a pista clandestina
(clandestine dance floor) where your local
Sonideros get down in the get down. In a
building that by day might have just housed
broken down cars, this place will have been
transformed by the music and culture. It will
be lasers, fog machines and joyful crowds
dancing to the blasting Cumbia, which has a
bit of current popular local music blended in.
By Angel Luna // Illo by Jose Martinez
Sonidero parties pop up in the most unexpected
places in San Jose, and are bringing
a bit of Mexico to the city.
Sonidero is a style of music that comes
from the neighborhoods of Mexico. It is a
block party that consists mainly of Cumbia,
with a mix of Salsa, Mexican Rock and what
ever is popular at the time – all designed by
the mixing of the all important DJ. The dancing
is essential, and let me tell you that some
of the homies get down like James Brown.
San Jose is experimenting in a new wave of
Sonideros that not only appeals to the old
neighborhood in Mexico to the new immigrants
here in San Jose.
A lot of the immigrants that play this
type of music don’t look like your average
Hollywood DJ. Some work in carwashes, as
music scene at large.
In San Jose, we’re lucky to have some
of the best and well-known Sonidero DJ’s in
the world, a group called Sonido Torres Djs
– made up of Alex Torres, Edgar Torres, Geovany
Torres, David Torres, and Hector Torres.
And these guys are changing the game.
While Sonidero music is all about the local,
the neighborhood, Sonido Torres is finding
a way to connect hoods across the globe.
They converted their garage (what they call
with pride the “House of the Torres Dynasty”)
into the internet radio station -- Lapagiansonidera.com
on Thursday and Tigrsonidero.
com on Fridays. On those days, they rotate
and transmit religiously from 6pm to 10pm to
bring to the ears of the connoisseurs of the
sonidero their favorite tunes through cyberspace.
They also invite musicians to come
play live, and the feed that through the site
to fans everywhere. Their fan base goes as
far as Europe, Mexico, Central America and
the US.
I asked them why they do this and they
just simply told me with a lot a pride, “Because
this helps our brothers and sister to
get through the rough times and the solitude
of being in a strange please far away from
home.” They said that the music is a way for
immigrants to keep their connection to back
home. People even send dedications to their
loved ones through their station.
As migration is creating distances
among us, and between generations, this
new version of Sonidero DJ is bringing us
back together. So don’t be shy, send some
shot outs, and get your Cumbia on from the
comfort of your house. ◊
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 10

Human resource is the clean up crew
of any company. It’s the dumps, the
dirty work. It’s what your manager
doesn’t want to do. It was created
with the impression of keeping the employees
best interest in mind, but what it’s really
for is to cover the company’s ass from any
legal liabilities. I started working at a large internet
marketing firm about a year and a half
ago, looking for a more structured lifestyle.
This was what I thought I needed. At the time,
I wanted some kind of order…something that
gave me a sense of security. A friend of mine
worked at the same place I did and told me
about a job opening they had. I ended up getting
the job and never realized how getting it
and losing it would impact my life.
I was somewhat thrown into the job. I
started as a secretary, and due to my boss,
the HR manager’s neglecting of responsibilities,
I soon became the HR Assistant and
mostly responsible for all HR issues in our
building. I learned to do my job well, but also
grew to hate it. As time passed I felt chained
for someone of such a young age. Only 19,
working and going to school, both full-time,
started to weigh hard on me. I felt part of the
American natural order of things when that
has never been my way. I started to neglect
old thoughts, old lifestyles and pretty much
everything I ever used to love. The thing
about working in HR is that it consumes most
of your life. Emotional investments are abandoned,
stress begins to devour your mind
and body and you start to feel, in a sense,
lost. Corporate welfare becomes your only
concentration. The worst part was the constant
layoffs.
11 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com
By Irene Vargas
Illo by El Don Juan
Even though we worked mostly through
agencies and it was never my decision as to
who stays and who goes, I still felt the weight
of people lives being thrown on my shoulders,
so much that I literally started to get pains in
my upper back, often feeling like I was carrying
a small child on my shoulders. It was
tough making those phone calls. Knowing
that when an employee passed by my desk
on their way out of the building saying “Have
a good day Irene!” that it would be the last I
would ever see of that person.
The thing about working in HR
I
is that it consumes most of your
life. Corporate welfare becomes
your only concentration.
remember a time when I had to give an exit
interview to one of our employees. He was a
good worker and, in fact, I was the one who
got him the job there. This employee was my
friend, and about a year before this I was
grip-taping his skateboard at a local skateshop
I worked at downtown. “Work is too
slow right now, we cannot keep you. Please
know that you were a great employee and
we wish you our best regards. Unfortunately,
your work here has ended.” Slow words fell
from somewhere, which seemed was not my
own mouth. Who was I?
I had a false sense of power that did not
come from a high position role, but was only
given to me because no one else wanted to
do it. In that sense I was a bitch. I was the
company’s bitch and because no one else
wanted to own up to their decisions, it was
my job to make sure it got done.
Emotionally things got worse over time.
Early last year when the economy really
started to decline, I started reviewing overqualified
resumes. I got people who had college
degrees, years of experience in managerial
positions, people who were pushed out
of their previous jobs because of a declining
economy and downsizing. I’d look at them
and think, “Why would you want to work in a
production floor for a 5th of what you used to
make?”
The answer is clear, they wanted to eat
and they wanted their family to eat. Just like
I want to eat, and just like I sucked it up and
did what I needed to do to provide for my
bills. I should have known that soon enough,
even my role was not indomitable to our nation’s
waning economy.
Companies always make you feel like
you are part of them, like your job is completely
secure and that you would never see
that sort of wrath. This is especially true in
HR. So when I got laid off in January 09, this
immediately came as a shock to me. I always
knew who would be laid off at our company,
and now I was on the other end of the spectrum.
During my exit interview their reasoning felt
unjustified. It felt like I was being told, “We
don’t have to do this, but we are, just in case.”
It was humiliating. This is the same humiliation
I felt when employees asked me why
they had lost their jobs only weeks before
approached me. Even though they had assured
me that this was completely a business
decision and it had nothing to do with my performance
as an employee, I still felt like my
job wasn’t important enough to keep. In the
internet economy, it’s a dog eat dog business
as any other and I should have known that
even HR is not invincible.
So here I am now, with no job, but I still
continue to go school fulltime. I have no family
support and at a young age, am a very
independent person.
Even though I have an added burden on
my chest, as far as how my bills will get paid,
I also feel a huge load has been taken off of
my shoulders. I have never been able to do
anything I ever wanted to do or considered
doing because my job had tied me down. I
needed that job. Mostly because I needed
the car I drive to get to my job, and in order
to keep the car I had, to keep the job I had, I
need to work to pay for it. I sold my life to that
car, and it was a huge robotic cycle.
If that formation was interrupted I always
felt I would experience dire repercussions.
Only, now I’m at that point, and to be honest, I
feel fine. In fact, I feel like now is a better time
than any to change the route I’m traveling.
Now is my time to start a new chapter and
take advantage of the blessing in disguise
I’m given. I have always known that I did not
want this job; I just never had the courage to
do anything about it. Luckily, someone else
did it for me. ◊

By Lisa Madrid
Illo by Fransico Garcia
Just a few months after graduating college, our nation’s economy
hit the rocks. In the preparation of a new job, our state
was incapable of passing their budget. Just as many others,
I found myself in the midst of a terrible crisis that would soon
lead to complete devastation to the working world. Soon the working
class would become jobless and the jobseekers would become
desperate and discouraged. And here I was, fresh of the college boat
forced into the downfall of our economy on
the struggle to find work in a new city.
While I was preparing for my hopeful new job,
our state was already behind on passing their
budget. Since I wanted to become a substitute
teacher, I had to go through the state in
order to have a credential issued. With great
discouragement, processing times were not
only frozen but behind a few months. Here I
was beginning to become discouraged that it
just may be a long wait until I might see a first day of work. Nevertheless,
my application was sent off and my hold time was unknown.
In the meanwhile there were some job openings through the city for
tutors. With a significant background of being a tutor, this was a great
opportunity for me. I jumped on it right away and submitted my application.
About a month went by and I had heard nothing back. During
this time, our economy continued to crumble and layoffs were barely
beginning. At this time, an ideal job for me became hopeless.
In the midst of my job preparation I was confused about what
I would do next. I really didn’t have much of a backup plan so I decided
to wait it out a little bit. Since I just graduated college, a little
break didn’t seem to be such a bad idea. Well, the break didn’t go
well for me, I felt like I needed to do more. I was used to going to
And here I was, fresh of
the college boat forced
into the downfall of our
economy on the struggle
to find work in a new city.
school, working, and volunteering at the same time.
As time continued to pass by, I finally heard back from the city, and
our state still had not passed their budget. The city had good news
and this is where I became the least bit hopeful. A local library had a
position open so I jumped on it. After a tedious process, I was finally
hired and began working. The state had still not yet passed their budget
at this time, but continued processing the credentials I needed.
Not to mention, in the middle of all this I managed
to pick up a part-time job at a retail store.
Months later, I was finally working not one, but
three jobs. I found myself strategizing my jobs in
order to survive through our developing recession.
Since I now work for two school districts, I
make sure I work enough days at one district to
cover living expenses. My library job covers my
car payment, maintenance, and gas. And my job
at the retail store gives me one heck of a discount
on clothes. Last but not least the other school district brings me in
some profit. Everyone has their own way of hustling through this
economy, and this is mine. It can be very tiring at times and requires
a full nights rest. I need a great amount of energy in order to make
it through the day. Working with a different group of children and
customers on a daily basis can be mind bobbling. Working with different
attitudes and meeting the demand for thriving energy for each
job can be draining. Maintaining expectations and performing duties
can be exhausting. Not to mention, managing time can be difficult.
Despite these draining aspects, I enjoy what I do. Being able to help
and teach young children is a valuable feeling. I know that I have
made a positive impact and I am grateful to be working and doing
something I enjoy in a time so difficult.
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 12

By Adrian Avila // Illo by Mark Respicio
Ifeel the vibration in my pocket that lets me know my phone is
going off. It’s my mother and the first thing I hear is “Adrian, they
took the car!” in a very worrisome voice. The words send a cold
chill down my spine. This conversation is very familiar to me because
it was not the first time that our car had be taken, and I am
sure it won’t be the last.
Once again we had fallen victims to the
tow truck thieves. We all know who they are;
they creep around apartment complexes and
parking lots alike -- faceless criminals that
operate under the law and hide under a business
name. Think about it, who else can come
by your house pick up your property haul it
off to some grimy gated location, not tell you
about it and then to top it off won’t return your
property until you pay them some out of this
world price? The tow man can. The tow truck man and his trusty tow
truck.
After coming home from work at around 4 o’clock in the afternoon
my mom pulled into her apartment complex and parked in her
usual spot. She had forgotten her parking permit that usually sits on
top her dashboard up in her apartment so she went up to get it.
When in the house she ended up taking a phone call that lasted no
more than 10 minutes. After the phone call she headed downstairs
to put the permit on the car, but to her surprise there was no car for
her to put the permit on, and as easy as that, her 2004 white Toyota
that she worked so hard for had vanished.
At first she really thought that car thieves had taken her car
because there was no possible way that a tow truck company had
come and taken her car within 15 minutes. In fact she thought that
was losing it, and maybe she parked the car in another parking spot,
but a short trip to the apartment management office informed her
that her car had been taken by the East Side San Jose’s infamous
Rebello’s Towing Service.
With a Yelp review of one sad little star, Rebello’s Towing Service
has gotten a reputation of being an overpriced company that
13 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com
We all know who they are;
they creep around apartment
complexes and parking
lots alike -- faceless
criminals that operate under
the law and hide under
a business name.
takes advantage of everyday people and uses their cars as leverage,
in the sense that they know that people needs to get around and
would rather pay up rather than be with out a car.
Cars serve as such an important part of our lives; we depend on
them to get to work, take the kids to school and are the oil that keeps
our lives in motion. And to think that some guy with a tow truck can
come and take your car and disrupt that smooth flow that is your life
is mind-boggling to me.
After finding out that her car was not “stolen” in the traditional
sense but in the legal towing sense, she managed to get a ride to
their location right away, which meant that the
car had not been in their position for no more
than an hour. Never-the-less the tow truck company
felt that a $205 bill was a justified amount
for her to pay, $150 towing fee and some kind
of gate fee, and clearly made up charges to get
more money, like the-sun-is-out-fee.
Most people don’t debate that their car
was towed illegally; they just don’t understand
how and why the prices have to be so high –
reaching the upper $300 and sometimes more.
With the current economy crisis that we have on our hands, we
don’t have the luxury to be letting go of hundreds of dollars for some
guy to come take your car, and not to mention all of the time that is
wasted in the process -- miss work one day and bam you lose your
job.
And despite the recession, all indicators pointing to the tow industry
doing just fine, even growing by some accounts.
When all was said and done, my mom got her car back, but still feels
like there should be some kind of price control on the towing industry
in order to protect people from being taking for their last dollar.
There are a few way that people can protect themselves from
being victims, such as reporting any shady deals to the Better Business
Bureau, as well as website like Yelp. Also something as simple
as thinking twice about where you park, even in your own complex,
you never know when the next tow truck thieve will strike. ◊

By Martin Castillo
With the housing crisis, a lot of people are being forced
to move. And the last thing a lot of people worry about
is getting scammed by their moving company. But beware,
some companies out there are out to steal your
money. I worked for a short period of time with a moving company.
I know, I worked for one of these moving companies that was purposefully
deceiving families all the time.
Where I worked, we would offer our services to people looking
to move – and targeted senior citizens. I was given and rehearsed a
dialog which I was supposed to say to a potential
customers. I was told to make the service sound
really great, and that they should be grateful that
we would help them with there move. I got pretty
good at it too. I would offer them use of our moving
blankets, mattress covers, wardrobe boxes,
disassembly and reassembly from the old house
to the new house. I would also offer movers, 2-4
man crews, with a minimum usually of $95 per
hour with a 3 hour minimum. We would provide
the customer with a quote which would be around
$285 to $300. If the customer wanted to use our services we were
only allowed to let them know that their possessions should be properly
packaged.
All sounds like a pretty reasonable deal, particularly if you are
in a bind, need to move fast, or don’t have people who can help you.
But overtime, costumers learned they got gamed.
Take the packaging for example. Most people think “properly
packaged” means putting your stuff in a box and make sure it’s contents
won’t fall out. But according to the company, it means do it how
we want it or they will package it for you. Even that sounds nice, until
you see the bill. Our company would charge $15 for a medium size
box that would cost you 89 cents at Orchard’s Supply. Also, since
people are moving their whole lives from home to home, imagine
how many boxes that can become, and the cost skyrockets. And the
company doesn’t tell you how much the box cost you until your stuff
is on the moving truck. I heard about and saw moves which were
suppose to cost $300 or $400 end up costing $1,500 to $2,000. I
personally did not agree with this, but I needed a job.
This situation was horrible for the customer, but for us, the customer
service representatives, it was heaven because we were paid
minimum wage and commission. When the customer was given their
bill at their new address and they refused to pay because of the
outrageous amount, the movers would haul there stuff away and put
it into their own storage and add extra charges to the total amount. It
would be $95 for storage $90 for the month which you did not want
in the first place and $75 for loading your stuff from the truck to the
storage unit. Charges like these would just keep piling up because
the movers were paid by move and by commission on the boxes that
Beware, some companies
out there are intent to
steal your money. I know,
I worked for one of these
moving companies that
was purposefully deceiving
families all the time.
they use. This would make the movers want to
re-package most of the things.
Most senior citizens that were our costumers,
had no family around to help them
move and relied on their social security to get
by. This company would just rob them blind at
the most vulnerable moment of their lives. On
one occasion an older lady who was moving
from California to New York was surprised with
these charges. She did not have the money to
pay because she had not gotten her Social Security
check. The moving company ended up holding her stuff hostage.
This old lady had nothing and lived alone. This company didn’t
care if she had a bed and covers to sleep in at night. It took her a
month to get her stuff back.
As customer service representatives, we would be given fake
names, and were not allowed to used our real names. If a customer
ever wanted to talk to one of us after get done dirty, we were not
allowed to speak to them. We had to pass the phone call to our
dispatcher who was the rudest person in the building. The response
to most of the complaints was, “You signed the contract, we can do
whatever we want!”
I ended up quitting because I could no longer be part of something
like that. I would suggest that if you are ever looking to move,
grab a couple of friends ask them to help you. Have a good time and
buy the people you care about some lunch. ◊
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 14

MARIA CASTILLO
A mother and a grandmother, Maria Castillo was beat by San Jose police that
caused her to have her two front teeth knocked out, a deep cut on the lip,
bruises on the right shoulder, a scuff on the knee and a scar above her
right breast. Charged with resisting arrest and assault on an officer, she
was forced to take a plea or serve a longer sentence without anyone to care
for her 17 year old son. She sits here with her daughter, unafraid to speak out.
By
Charisse Domingo
“I’m in jail too,” Ora Johnson’s voice shakes, speaking of
her son Jambri who was sentenced to 107 years in prison. Her
story is multiplied by the thousands, and shared by mothers, sisters,
brothers, fathers, who share in the struggle of fighting the
injustice of California’s criminal justice system. Frame by frame,
this photo essay brings out the pain, fight, struggle, and strength of
the families who actively fight for their loved ones in the system. ◊
LUA FAMILY
Richard Lua, 26 years old, was tased and killed by San
Jose Police officers on Wednesday, February 11, 2009.
The family held a vigil at the Hank Lopez Community
Center to remember Richard.
15 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com
ANABEL
When Anabel saw her son being beat and punched by San Jose police in
her own home, the first thing she did was “hugged him and draped his body
over him so the officer would not hit him anymore.” But instead of stopping,
another San Jose police punched her in the mouth and continued to hit her
son until she begged them to stop.

REBECCA RIVERA
A second before she steps to the podium at her first press conference,
Rebecca’s mom holds her and says a prayer.
GAIL NOBLE
Gail Noble fought for her son, Karim, who was facing a felony strike within
the Santa Clara County juvenile justice system. Sitting in his room filled
with football trophies and posters, she takes a break from making a
home-cooked meal which she gets to take to him this day at the ranch.
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 16

By Miguel Suarez // Photo by TIBURON!F!!B!
It was around the summer of 2001, after being in the US for a
short period of time that I discovered the construction industry.
I learned from the beginning that it is very different that the one
in Mexico, from the way that houses are built to the salary that
workers get paid.
Every trade or job has ethics and rules
to follow, but over time they become obsolete
and very unfair in my opinion, because individuals
see their occupation as a job and not
a career. A lot of construction workers labor
under the unions, some others for big companies
and the rest are independent contractors.
The common thing between us is that
the majority of us don’t control our own time
or our salary. When I reached a point in my
life when I realized this, I made the decision
to start my own company.
I was in the 12th grade when I came up
with the idea, and I was almost done with
school and planning to go to a university to
become a lawyer. My low income status didn’t
interfere with my dream of becoming my own
boss, and even though people didn’t see me as a company owner
when I approached them to offer my work, I was not really stressing
about it, even although I didn’t have tools, a vehicle, or workers. I
was very optimistic and inside in my heart I knew that I was on the
right track.
All I needed was to get a job as a starting point. After having
a conversation with my J.R.O.T.C teacher, he mentioned that he
wanted to do some tile work in his condo. This was the moment that
I was waiting for. I had to decide quickly what was going to be my
decision; should I just pass this opportunity to my uncle who worked
in construction or taking my first job independently? My decision was
made; I took the job, so now I just had to figure out how I was going
to pull it off. My teacher asked me when I wanted to start working
on the project. That Tuesday I told him that I was planning to start
working on it during the weekend. I came up with a plan to make
it happen; I had three days to get the tools, find a ride, and decide
how I was going to charge him. I needed help and my friend Andres
partnered with me. Andres and I had similar necessities and dreams,
and we also had no idea of how to work in construction.
While getting ready, Andres told me that he was going to be
able to help me out here and there, because he had a part-time job
at McDonald’s. We both were 18 at the time, only had a couple of
weeks to go in order to finish high school and we had our first job
lined up, it was very exiting. The plan was to demolish first and to ask
for 25% of the pay. We got the money and then went to the store to
get a machine to cut the tile and then got the rest of the material that
we needed to finish the job. Andres and I finished the project fast
and just how we had planned it. With the money that we got, we had
enough to pay the expenses of enrolling in a community college. We
17 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com
My low income status
didn’t interfere
with my dream of
becoming my own
boss, even although
I didn’t have tools, a
vehicle, or workers.
THE TITLE NEEDS TO HAVE LITERALLY
UP
kept working and going to school together for a whole semester, but
Andres couldn’t keep going because he had bigger responsibilities in
the way.
At that point everything was on the air and I met a classmate
who until this day is one of my closest pals and business partner, he
is Russian and the way that we became friends was through conversations
about Communism. We had endless conversations about it,
sometimes talks got very intense, because he never totally admitted
that he was a Communist. I was not a Communist, but I was not
against it. I remember too that in more then one occasion I told him
that I hated capitalism and that I was not a capitalist. In our talks, it
came up that I had a business but that I was the only employee. He
showed interest and suggested getting a loan in order to buy more
equipment and to be able to hire more people to work with us. His
interest grew and after a lot of discussions we came to the conclusion
that we needed to do something with our complex convictions
and our ideologies so we started working on a plan fitted with better
values, morals, and principles than the traditional companies. The
next step was to come up with a name.
We decided on the name “Rumec Tile
Works.” We had it for more then three years in
which I obtained a better vision of the industry,
completing many jobs, then my partner left
to Russia and I stayed in charge of Rumec.
Although I had the experience of years being
a worker and an administrator and everything
that had to do with the responsibility of running
a construction company, it collapsed after
a while because I was not very wise on the
finances. I became aware of a new world full
of corporate monopolies, city regulations, and
mountains of legal paperwork. It took me a
while to assimilate to all this and to figure out
that the enemy of the worker was bigger then
what I thought. The way the process is setup
to take advantage of the workers through buying labor at the lowest
possible cost, and using them as disposable labor.
This motivated us to take action, so that’s why Rumec has taken
the initiative of forming meetings to brainstorm on improving conditions
and making people conscious of how they are being taken
advantage of. Such meetings gave fruit to a full blown corporation
that cares about the dignity of the worker more than profits. Rumec
is now a movement based on workers, architects and independent
contractors formally working together. We are heading to educate
workers on all the power that we bare together
At this point Rumec is comprised of an Architect, Surveyor, Interior
Designers, Sales Agents, Legal Advisors, an Accountant, as well
as construction crews for commercial and residential jobs. Recent
projects include local restaurants, designing and constructing a gas
station and development of an orphanage in Afghanistan, as well as
building homes from the ground up. We are proud to know
a lot of our clients are also independent business
owners that believe in our movement and are
aware of our vision, work ethic and our politics.
◊

By Marcos Reyes // Photo by
Walked out of my house the other the other day and
went to the recycled books store. I had gathered all the
books that I could get rid of off my bookshelf. I did not
want to part with some of them. I looked into my wallet
and I still had a twenty in there, I had been keeping it for the longest
time, about two weeks.
“ The economy is bad, and it’s going to get worse”, I hear people
say. Everywhere I can see the signs, I haven’t gotten a job for the
past 3 to 4 months. It’s strange that everything seemed to be going
well up to the time I got laid off.
I had started college and was passing with good grades, but
one day to the next everything started going down hill, I guess not
just for me, but for everyone. Through those month’s I relied on my
savings that since that time have vanished.
I gather my bag of books, ones that have shaped ad influenced
me in my life and thought I would always have if I had anything, and
rode the bus downtown. My education, and my collection of literature
is vanishing. I have to cut down on classes to be able to pay for them.
I am sure people around the country have lost more, they might be
living in the streets since the crisis hit us all.
Sometimes I would laugh about how people’s greed would consume
them. That the fall of civilization could be heard a mile away,
but it’s nothing to laugh about. Ever since then I can see how everything
has changed, for me too, a cautious person.
When I had a job, I worked as a construction worker. I worked
even when I was sick, I was scared of losing money, losing my job.
And then I was scared of not finding work.
I have worked through out the Bay Area, for large property owners
with abandoned buildings. When we left them they looked like
brand new office buildings ready for desks and cubicles. I remember
the day before Merrill Lynch crashed we had gone all the way to
Stockton to patch up the ceiling in one of their buildings. We had
been hoping it would have been large but the three hour job was
worth less than the long ride.
I have to go to school everyday, and I have given up in getting a
car. The day I went to the bookstore, I realized it was the beginning
of the month and did not have any money to buy the month pass.
I walked out into the street, scavenged for some quarters and
paid my fair. I stared out the window, I saw the stores were empty, I
watched people inside the bus filling up the seats, I knew why they
were there, it was mid day and they were riding the bus. They were
like me, they had lost their jobs too.
Santa Clara seemed like a dried up desert to me.
I waited for my books to be added up. Before I would have not
thought twice to buy two or three books and walked home reading.
Now I wait to get some of my money back.
The guy at the register says, “ It’s 16 dollars, or 20 dollars in store
credit.”
I couldn’t believe what had happened to me, I had spent my entire
morning picking out the books I wanted to part with, and I could
only get 16 dollars. Some of those books were new and its pages
were still unturned. I walked out with the cash in my hand, I thought
that all this was a waste of time, trying to sell old books for a chunk
of change was not going to help me.
I hardly spend any money, and contemplate more about my future.
When I was working I could hardly think. I was like a robot. Now
that I can no longer use my muscles, now that all the builders have
sunk with the real estate market, I have to use something else, my
brain.
I walked to the bus stop, upset at myself, upset at the economy,
but with the ray of hope that things will get better. My classes finally
paid and adding my money up I managed to get a month pass. I feel
at ease riding the bus towards school, it makes me feel I’m doing
something, like I’m going somewhere. ◊
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 18

By David Madrid
In the age of satellite radio, ipods and mp3 downloads, it’s almost
hard to believe there’s still folks that long for the touch and crackling
sound of spinning vinyl. That’s right; with a current generation
that can’t even conceive the use of a walk man, there’s a steady
growing movement of classic soul record collectors here in the Bay
Area.
American funk and classic soul by far is one of the most loved
and popular genres of music to be collected worldwide crossing generations,
borders and all color lines. I myself am a soul lover and host
of a radio show by the name of San Jo Soul on 91.5 fm KKUP. (Bay
Area/Central Coast) My show specializes in rare classic soul and
serves as an outlet for Bay Area collectors to showcase their music.
I was able to catch up with San Jo native Art Cordova a.k.a.
“The Duke of Soul”. The Duke has been collecting for about 15 years
now, not bad for a 32 year old. Although considered young by most in
the game, his deep love and extensive knowledge for the music has
earned him the “Duke” title and much respect from older and serious
collectors nation wide. World known collector Tommy Siqueiro gives
the Duke his props, stating that within a short amount of time he has
already passed up many seasoned collectors that have been in the
game twice as long.
The Duke got started collecting back in his teens, like many
young Chicanos he grew up listening to oldies. But it wasn’t till he
heard the jam “Gotta try to get you back” by Mike Kirkland that inspired
him to look beyond the common stuff and start digging deeper.
“I was intrigued by the rawness and depth of that song, ” says Duke.
He wasn’t satisfied with a C.D. copy he wanted to see the original
record spin.
“Soul music comes straight from the heart”, explains Duke. It’s
the melodies and lyrics the pleasure and pain that is captured on that
little 7inch record that gets people hooked. Collectors could spend
any where from fifty to a few hundred bucks on a single piece of vinyl
serious collectors could drop thousands. “It’s not about the money,”
says Duke “It’s about the individuals connection to that Rola (song).”
Collectors could spend years searching for a particular record, and
coming across it could happen once in a lifetime. So if it turns up you
better not sleep on it.
Soul collectors all tend to have their own style and flavor. Some
seek the slow paced ballard’s and group soul harmonies known as
“tearjerkers” and others prefer the up-tempo Northern Soul sound
known as “movers and groovers”.
There are also different eras and national regions that have their
own distinctive sound, like Philadelphia, Detroit and even Ohio for example.
The Duke say’s that we are fortunate to be in the Bay Area because
it’s one of the most musically sought after regions in the world.
“We had some of the baddest groups come out of the Bay” says
Duke, like the E.14th St. Band, The Fuller Brothers, Jesse James and
The San Francisco T.K.O’s to name a few.
I asked the Duke what makes a good collector? He says it’s all
about being educated in the music, knowing artist, dates and record
labels are the fundamentals. Good collectors are constantly studying
their soul bibles (Record catalogs) knowing what’s out there along
with its value and how to hunt for it. The Duke’s gone far as contacting
the family of old band members while on the hunt for records.
Having the knowledge is one thing but knowing what to do with it is
the key.
Being connected to the web is also crucial for any soul seeker,
“The scene has gone from hitting the local record shops to hitting the
Internet” explains Duke. Competing for bids on sites like E-Bay are
now commonplace for collectors, it’s now a globally connected community.
Duke laughs, “Them boy’s out in England swooped up on all
our soul” stating that the collectors from the U.K currently have some
of the most rare soul 45’s in existence, and with contacts made on the
web he is now able to track them down.
And currently because of the bad economy it’s an exciting time
to be on the record hunt says Duke, ”Theirs a lot of big collectors right
now hurting for cash.” And as a result there’s a lot of exclusive 45’s
starting to pop up on the scene. On top of that there’s also an
underground soul movement in full swing right now making
it interesting. Contemporary soul artist like “Lee Fields” and
musical groups such as the “Kings go Fourth” are recording
new music in true tradition of the 60’s soul era. I’m talking
deep lyrics, live instruments and recording on analog tapes,
they’re even pressing up their singles out on vinyl.
Over all, The Duke of Soul is a humble
and modest homeboy with straight passion
for that sweet soul sound. And although he
posse’s a soul collection any heavy collector
would kill for, he would never claim to
have them all. “There’s just so much music out
there,” claims Duke, and for that reason he will
continue to stay on the hunt. ◊
19 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com

SV De-Bug (dee • buhg) is a collective
of writers, artists, organizers, and
workers based in San Jose, California.
De-Bug started in the Spring of 2000
By Marcos J. Reyes // Photo by G.Melesaine
by reporting on the hidden experiences
of working people who were
My grandpas face is worn
Brown turning dark with wrinkles
employed as low-wage temporary
Like the cracks on a tree
workers. As we grew as a collective
His steps are slow
we began exploring all of the issues
And his eyes look tired
of our community - in the workplace,
He was once young
Like me like us
schools, streets, relationships, and everything
else.
He sang in Mexican streets to the women he
loved
A black smoking suit
De-Bug is about allowing everybody to
Shoes polished and shined
tell the stories of their lives, and their
A thin mustache pressed over his lip
opinions on the world, both near and
A shadow cast in the night
far. We operate by the principle that
He held knife fights in alleys
experience is the ultimate authority.
Raised his cup to his friends
In this way, we are creating a platform
Danced Mambo, Danzones and jazz
for otherwise unheard stories to be
The old man is aging but he will not go down
communicated to eachother and the
His stare was like mine
Like a leopard
world around us.
Waiting for its prey
Dark almost black
We use our bi-lingual magazine, website,
weekly TV show and weekly radio
Under thick brows
Now his gaze drips down
show to get these stories out to the
Looking sad
greater public.
His brow is gray
And his eyes are wrapped around wrinkles
For more information e-mail us:
Sometimes he drowns out his sorrow
svdebug@newamericamedia.org
Vodka
or stop by our center M-F 10-6pm:
Tequila
Mezcal
701 Lenzen Ave.
He sings out to his youth
San Jose, CA 95126
To the bohemio he was
Nothing new under the sun
Tragic love
Passing youth
Keep up with us on our
The wild
daily updated website.
The young
The damned
Stories, Photos, Comics, Videos
I was like you
& more
He says when he’s drunk
I thought the world was mine
That I could tame it with my hands
Sometimes he drinks till the morning
Crying and singing old songs
We watch the light creep over the world
His tears start to dry
The new day is coming
Men are fools thinking they can outlive the
world
He whispers into the light
He stares into me
Pointing old fingers into my eyes
Staring off into the horizon
Nothing new has risen under the sun
Tragic love
Passing youth
We the wild
We the young
We the Damned. siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 20

By FitzQuinn // Illo by El Don Juan
“Y
ou have talked so often of going to the dogs--and well, here
are the dogs, and you have reached them, and you can
stand it. It takes off a lot of anxiety.”
That was George Orwell in Down and Out in Paris and London
– read that if you think things are tough now. But being homeless
does challenge your assumptions … come on, you do suppose
certain things about the “street people.” After my mere two months
in that category, let me share some thoughts from someone who did
have a very middle-class upbringing and ‘ran off the rails’, as the
English say.
The homeless don’t get the jobs that are reserved for pretty
people with good clothes. Aside from that, they are suffering from
any combination of: bad luck, bad teeth, bad attitude, criminal record,
substance or mental problems, other disabilities … but whatever
you assume about one person is liable to be wrong.
Once with my son, we rolled past some street friend of his and
he yelled in a terrible voice: “BUM !” Sure, we laughed till we cried.
None of us is laughing anymore. I didn’t see the writing on the wall,
even as the temp work in my field was flying away to India or God
knows where. Finally I couldn’t even pay $475 a month for my space
and I said, “All righty then. Luckily I have a camper to live in.”
You read lately that a lot more “clean-shaven homeless” are
looking for services – they borrowed too much against their vacation
home, they got beat on their mortgage, they got canned after many
years of faithful service, it used to be an amazing thing when big
companies and private institutions went out of business, but not any
more.
There are problems you didn’t anticipate when you become
homeless like: Where to go if you needed an actual toilet in the next
hour? Or ten minutes at that. How to charge your phone if you don’t
have a nickel in your pocket and the libraries are closed? (Hint: the
large hotels downtown, if you’re sly and can blend in).
Yes, killing time is easier when you’ve got funds, for sure. You
start out thinking of what things you must keep with you, carry that
bag everywhere you go … extra checkbooks? Oh my, what if my
ID gets ripped off? You realize, though, that any one thing could be
either somewhere safe or you won’t die without it (sleeping bag a
possible exception).
In the old hobo days, the one thing you dared not lose was your
spoon. Imagine whole countries where there’s none of that -- welfare,
unemployment insurance, food stamps.
Shelters do exist, and they don’t even seem over run. Showers?
Free meals? It’s all out there, you just have to find it. Emergency
Housing Consortium, Boccardo Center, the Salvation Army, InnVision
– good places to look in on. You can get three meals a day,
seven days a week if you can get around. Get used to walking.
Sleeping at the shelter is its own issue. There’s a lot of regimentation,
sure – standing in lines for everything, but you will almost
always get a bunk or a mat on the floor, a blanket, sheet and towel,
dinner and breakfast of some sort. If you have any experience of jail,
you’ll say “This isn’t so bad.” But you’ve never heard such snoring
in your life.
And also, don’t camp by the river unless you can scare people
off, or in St. James Park (at night anyway), and if your clothes are
clean you can look like half the people who are vacationing here. The
economy could get a great deal worse, they say, and ecosystems are
collapsing, and the big earthquake could be any day. Happy days
may be here again eventually, but, it might be time to brush up your
survival skills. ◊
Food//Shelter//Showers
Emergency Housing Consortium:
2011 Little Orchard St., San Jose 294-2100 // 686-1300 for families
Sign up for “Continuum of Care” Card -- also good at Sacred Heart, InnVision
(If its your first time, get there well before 3:30 pm )
(Men’s location)405 N. 4 th St., San Jose // 282-1175
Showers: 10-11 am Mon-Sat sporadic
Beds (14, as available) lineup at 1:30 pm
Lunch Mon-Fri 12:15 pm Dinner: Mon-Sat 5:15 pm
InnVision:
358 N. Montgomery St. // 271-5160
Showers (Men) 8-10 am, 2:30-4 pm
Breakfast Sat-Sun 6:00 am Lunch: Mon-Sat 1:00 pm
Dinner: Daily, 6 pm Shelter
Services for Women/Children: 297 Commercial St., San Jose // 453-3124
San Jose Family Shelter: 1590 Las Plumas Av. San Jose // 926-8885
GROCERY BOXES:
Call Food Connection 800-984-3663 for referrals by Zip Code
21 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com

eyes a little more to the music video industry
and what a fun job/career it could be. After
that I decided I wanted to make as many as
I could. At the same time I was watching all
those palm pictures dvds of the works of Micheal
Gondry, Spike Jonze and Chris Cunningham,
which were really inspiring. I think
no matter who you are you just have to start
doing it, more than likely in the low budget
range.
new powerhouse has hit the scene. Kool
Keith has done it again; DOOOM 2. And director
Odin Wadleigh has made the cryptic psychedelic
hell into a gritty grind-house style masterpiece.
For anybody that has been under a rock
for the last 10 years Dr.Octagon AKA -- nogatcO
rD, Black Elvis Lost in Space, Spank Master,
ULTRAMAGNETIC MC’s and Dr. Dooom -- has
been leveling the hip hop scene with fiery mindf#ck
raps that have become legendary in elite
MC circles. And now, as the legacy is still being
written, an innovative video director, Odin Wadleigh,
has put a new vision to the many faces
of Kool “Black Elvis” Keith through the production
of a R.I.P Dr. Octagon video.
Odin took some time to share his experience
with Silicon Valley De-Bug...
JC- Odin, the video for R.I.P. Dr. Octagon is
one of the best videos out there, how did this
project come together?
OW- I had a little budget about $500, I wasn’t
getting paid, the money just went to the bare
essentials. I got a lot of free stuff. Shot it on
HDV. As far as crew goes, just two of my
friends as assistants, oh yeah, and one day
I did have a guy come out and shoot b roll --
slow motion stuff with his hvx 200. Keith and
Kurt said they wanted the video to be a sort
of cross between the Blair Witch project and
the Beastie Boys Sabotage video. I took it
from there. I wanted to capture the feeling of
a 70’s Horror film trailer, something that was
sort of disjointed, not totally linear. If there
is a story it does involve Keith and Kurt sort
of pursuing Dr. Octagon through the woods,
then Keith later disposing of the body. Glad
you dig it.
By Justin Collins // Photo by Stephanie Nice
JC-I can dig it. How could up and coming artists
go about making a legit video?
OW-As far as tricks of trade and technical
details concerning the video goes; I shot it
on 720p HDV (I have a JVC GYHD110U),
I then added an aged film filter in final cut
pro to give it that funky film projection quality.
We shot the hospital scenes at Cedar Sinai
hospital, which was totally awesome. A
friend of a friend got us in there for free. We
shot those scenes on Easter Sunday 2008.
The fake blood was made up of karo syrup,
non-dairy creamer and red food coloring,
supposedly the same recipe used on the evil
dead films. For the Dr Octagon costume I put
some LED lights gelled green over my friend
Tim’s eyes and stuck an afro wig on him. We
shot that in a friends garage, with one light
as back light and a smoke machine. That
was shot months apart from the stuff of keith
following in the woods with the green light.
I shot the video in April and didn’t actually
finish the edit until late July. I got to spend
a lot of time editing the video, which was
great, going back and forth trying different
approaches. We actually shot a whole other
night of driving around Hollywood with Kurt
and Keith, but it didn’t really fit, so all that
footage got turned into another video: “Take
that Ride”. Keith is awesome, he brings a lot
to the table. you won’t get a 12 hours shoot
day out of him though, more like 3-4 hours.
He definitely has a very freestyle approach
to everything. It’s good to have a wide angle
lens with him and not give him a lot of marks
and restrictions when it comes to the shot.
JC-Ok cool, You have a distinctive look to
your work. What kind of cinema shaped your
vision, what really influenced you?
OW-My favorite films: A Clockwork Orange,
Apocalypse Now, Natural Born Killers, The
Shining, Boogie Nights, Taxi Driver, Sexy
Beast.
JC-Yeah those are some of the greats. How
did you move from being in Film School at
Academy of Art to working in the music industry?
OW- I always dug watching music videos
growing up. In 2004, I took a music video
class in college, they forced us to go out
and make a video. That sort of opened my
JC-Great, so as an artist what is your ultimate
direction? Where do you want to go as
a filmmaker?
OW- I’d like to branch off into other genres
of music videos, I still haven’t done a rock
video. I’d like a chance to work with some
larger budgets. It would be great to be able
to make money creating more abstract pieces;
experimental pieces. I guess that sort of
content just needs a home or outlet. I’d also
eventually like to do some writing and make
one good feature film. As long as I’m able
to keep exploring different ideas, techniques
and styles thru moving images, I’ll be content.
JC-Word, how do you see yourself in 5
years? Any dream collaborations?
OW- Dream Collaborations: maybe do a
video for tom waits. Collaborating with Philip
Glass on some sort of motion picture would
be awesome. I usually shoot and direct myself,
but it would be nice to only direct and
collaborate with some amazing cinematographers
like Harris Savides, Robert Richardson
or Christopher Doyle.
JC-What kind of musical influences shaped
your vision as a film-maker?
OW- My musical influences are little bit of everything,
Nirvana, Beastie Boys, Beethoven,
Cut Chemist, Kool Keith, Nine inch Nails,
Philip Glass, Jimi Hendrix, Madlib, The Beatles...
JC-Do I still talk to keith?
OW-Yes. I shot another music video for him
a couple months ago. I finished the editing
recently, we haven’t even put it up on the
internet yet. It’s more of a cliche typical rap
video with girls in bikinis. the song also has
dennis deft on it. The beat is by keith himself,
it’s called “shopping at the mall”. Supposedly
we might do some more videos when he
comes to L.A. to again.
JC-What are your views on the world?
OW-I think it’s fundamentally flawed. There
is lots of striving for power and resources,
lots of misunderstanding and miscommunication.
I do believe in growth and change. I
do love people. ◊
Check out more of Odin Wadliegh’s films, photos
and work at:
www.odinwadleigh.com
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 22

Photos by Jesus Medina
With this photo essay I wanted to create awareness on
the issues affecting AB 540 students. These students
are the one wanting to go to college; these students
are the ones who work hard and want to create a better
life for themselves and their families. These students bear the
hopes and dreams of their parents who come to this country in
search of a better life.
Their only fault is not being born in the United States.
As an AB 540 student, you have no government financial aid and
can only apply to certain scholarships which makes going to college
seem unattainable. A lot of student loans have exorbitantly high interest
rates and require immediate payment while going to school.
For students who are working class and undocumented, the climb
seems steeper, and sometimes, the choice to work becomes an
easier one, despite the fact that you worked through high school
with the dream to get to college.
In these photos, I hoped to capture the anger and uncertainty of the
path of AB 540 students. The students I chose to photograph are
recent high school graduates who are in the process of attending
college. Through their hard work and struggles, they succeeded
and are on the path towards achieving their goals. ◊
23 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com

By Community Service Queen // Illo by Jose Martinez
It all started out at the mall and was the easiest and
the cheapest too. Anything I wanted, I could have.
And it can be really fun thing to walk out of a store
with whatever I wanted.
My friend (we’ll call “Veronica” for this article is
one of the closest friends I’ve ever had. She lives right
next door to me for nine years now. We got so close
over the years that we even started to call each
other cousins. After everything we’ve been
through together, this chick is more like
family. We did everything together,
even getting in trouble. Turns out
that easy and cheap and fun
thing – stealing – can get you in
some trouble.
Our run in with the law happened
at Target. I bet your thinking,
“Why would you steal at Target?”
Believe me, there’s plenty
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to take from there. Living so close
made it so easy to just go over, walk
in and take whatever we wanted. After
a couple of months, we started getting
better and more sneaky with stealing.
Any way that could have got us caught,
we beat it every single time. One day after
school, Veronica hit me up and said “Let’s
go to the spot, I need some stuff.”
She bought her friend so I was thinking it
would be twice as fun. One of our new strategies
was taking Target bags from my house. My
mom went shopping there a lot so she always had
Target bags in the kitchen. We each took three
bags and stuffed them in our purses. Another idea
of ours was getting extra big purses so we could fit more without
making it obvious. Big purses were in style anyways. We walked
to Target and just grabbed a cart. I liked the idea of picking out anything
and throwing it in the cart without worrying about a price tag.
We went down the make up and perfume aisle, and I started getting
a little nervous because the main places to get caught are make up,
perfume, and electronics. I never try to do anything sneaky around
there because I wasn’t trying to get caught up.
After we got everything we needed, we went down an aisle
where there were no costumers. Two of us went at each end of
the aisles, and kept watch. The third person took out the bags and
started putting our stuff in the bags. We started pushing the cart and
went towards the exit. Then. out of nowhere a guy came
running faster than I could have imagined was possible
and pushed the cart right out of the way and another
tall guy came and grabbed the three of us. We were
going to try to book it, but it all happened too fast and
we got blocked in.
They took us into this room and handcuffed us.
We stole stuff that came out to over three
hundred dollars. So right away they were
going to give us a felony. There was
just a rent a cop in the room and
some undercover guy who saw us.
Then the cops came. I like to wear
my sunglasses, so I was just wearing
them on my head. Since I was
handcuffed to the bench, whenever
I moved my head my sunglasses
would go lower. Eventually, they just
landed on my nose and I was wearing
them. As soon as the cop came in he
spotted me out and walked towards
me.
I’m a pretty calm and laid back
chick but I can get an attitude
sometimes and that’s what gets
me into more trouble. He looked
at me and yanked my glasses right off
my face. I got pissed off so I gave him
a dirty look and we just started going
at it. He kept blabbing, saying that
he’ll put me in jail for that “little attitude”
and I just tried to hold it all in.
Finally, my mom came and picked up
me and my cousin. After a few months
passed, and I didn’t see my cousin as
much. I also didn’t steal anything. I went to
a meeting and they said I wasn’t getting a
felony but I got stuck with probation and 50
hours of community service.
My probation is only for six months, I
can’t smoke, I can’t drink, I’m stuck with
curfew, and I gotta do a whole bunch of
community service hours. Being on probation
isn’t the most fun thing. I have to be careful
when I hang out with friends so I don’t get caught
up again, I had to go to awareness classes and
have my probation officer check up on me at school
every month, which is embarrassing. But I’ll be off
pro- bation next month.
I didn’t ever picture myself being on probation, especially at the
age of fifteen. If I could go back, I would change the way I did stuff, I
would change the way I went about things, I would change the way I
got so caught up in the five-finger discount. ◊
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 24

This summer, the De-Bug Center was bursting at the seams
with the next generation of media-makers through our
Summer Youth Media Academy. In the program, De-Bug
contributors – the same ones who write for our magazine,
produce for our television show, or post photos on our website –
taught high school and junior age youth in a multitude of media
forms. The course list included: black and white photography, street
photography, high fashion photography, video-making, music production,
silk-screening, make-up, and baking. Through creativity,
talent and hard work, these young people produced amazing projects
about their lives, dreams and imaginations.
De-Bug got a glimpse into the future of media through working with
these youth, and trust us, the media of tomorrow is bright, exciting
and full of limitless potential. ◊
Special thanks to the De-Bug Professors:
Video: Fernando Julian Perez, Moses Aviles, Angel Luna
Music: Chip Lyas
Black and White Photography: Charisse Domingo, Isabel Gonzalez
Fashion Photography: Tiburon F!B!
Street Photography: Jean Melesaine
Muralism and Silk-Screening: Adrian Avila, Francisco Garcia, Rolando
Burron
Baking: Lisa Madrid
Make Up: Lola
25 Summer 09 siliconvalleydebug.com

This summers YSMA was made possible
through the support of the City of San
Jose's S.A.F.E. Summer Initiative.
siliconvalleydebug.com Summer 09 26