Gruesome Toll Alongside Fires: 66 Gun Deaths

The Halloween candy should all be gone by now, and a couple of alleged ghouls are under arrest. This year they came as arsonists, arriving early and staying late. When the Santa Anas come to visit, when the air blasts in off the desert so hard, hot and dry, the power of just one malevolent soul with a matchbook is awesome and awful.

Once upon a time, I loved Halloween, just like every kid. I loved the Santa Anas too. The winds were a wonder of nature and a curious source of community pride. I grew up in Santa Ana, you see, and the winds derive their name from Santa Ana Canyon, the narrow pass where they blow especially hard. The wind was hot, but we kids thought the name was pretty cool. The wind belonged to us.

But this Halloween season, warped by the wind and heat, was unhappily long. Hundreds of families have lost their homes. Scores of people were injured. Three people were killed. But as Southern California burned, another catastrophe went about its deadly business. If the firestorms were a horrible spectacle, the gunfire seemed horribly routine.

Just out of curiosity, I asked Scott Carrier of the Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office how many people were killed by firearms in the 10 days from Tuesday, Oct. 26, when the first of the fires ignited, to Thursday, Nov. 4, when evacuees went home to Malibu.

Take a guess. Thirty? Forty?

Fifty?

The answer is 66.

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Sixty-six deaths. Now, this is somewhat above the normal pace, which may lend an ounce of credence to Raymond Chandler’s musings that the Santa Anas have a way of pushing people over the edge. But the wind, I submit, has gotten a bad rap. It doesn’t make the gun. It doesn’t sell the gun, buy the gun or steal the gun. It doesn’t spend millions lobbying against gun control. It doesn’t pull the trigger.

The Santa Anas don’t kill people. People with guns do.

Of the 66 victims, you are no doubt aware of at least three. These would be the Pasadena boys, ages 13 and 14, who were ambushed in a hail of semiautomatic weapons fire as they toted bags of candy home from a Halloween party. Three friends, also 13 and 14, suffered wounds described as minor. Authorities suspect the gunmen were gang members but say the victims were anything but. Detectives are left to ponder possible motives: A gang initiation rite? A case of mistaken identity? A thrill kill?

That leaves 63 gun deaths that, unlike the fire victims, didn’t make the front page or lead the 11 o’clock news. For a Los Angeles shooting to merit media coverage these days, it requires an interesting “angle.” Maria de Jesus Garcia, 47, is newsworthy only because she was standing on the altar of Verbo de Dios Church when struck by a bullet fired through the sanctuary’s doors from a passing car.

Among the 66 gun deaths, more than 20 occurred within Los Angeles city limits. One LAPD spokesman described the crimes as “garden-variety homicides.”

The other night, for example, South Bureau detectives concluded that the death of a 19-year-old man found in a car was “gang-related.” A few hours later, they were called to the scene of a saloon argument. The winner shot the loser five times.

Such crimes are barely a blip on the community’s conscience. “We’ve become desensitized. . . . That we’ve learned to live with it is the unfortunate thing,” says Lt. John Dunkin, an LAPD spokesman.

In this garden of death, domestic disputes have always been an excellent fertilizer.

A custody battle led to the slaying of Kenneth Lisi, a 43-year-old music producer who worked for the Walt Disney Co. Lisi had been awarded custody of his two daughters, ages 4 and 11, and when he arrived at his former Northridge home to pick up the girls, police say his 73-year-old mother-in-law gunned him down at the door.

Jo Lula Haynes is facing murder charges. Her daughter’s attorney described the grandmother as “very nice . . . a very gentle lady.”

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Halloween started to lose its luster for me the night a teen-ager stole my bag of candy, laughing as he bicycled into the night. But I still like the holiday. Like its Mexican cousin, El Dia de los Muertos, or “Day of the Dead,” it’s a ritual in which we confront our fears. And today, there’s more to fear than a bully on a bike.

As for the Santa Anas, well, we’ve never been able to do much about the weather. But just as we can do a better job of fire prevention, we can do a hell of a lot better job of containing the plague of the gun.

In the meantime, children continue to get robbed of their childhood. Whether you call it Halloween or El Dia de Los Muertos, it’s only supposed to come one day a year.