Corps Values

There, everyone was divided along racial and gang lines. Friends hung out together. Cell blocks were taken over by boys from certain neighborhoods. People fought all the time.

At boot camp, though, fights are rare. With half a dozen officers on duty at any time, violence is unlikely.

Besides, these boys were selected not because they were seen as irredeemably hard core but because police and social workers thought there might be some hope of turning them around.

Boot camp makes it almost impossible to connect with the gang members back home. Visits are allowed only on Sundays, and only from parents and siblings younger than 10. One monitored phone call to parents once a week is permitted. Letters are screened, any with gang symbols returned.

Even staring at-- "mad-dogging"-- another camper is an offense that can mean a couple of hours to work off.

But old habits die hard. A few skinheads from Ventura and Simi Valley would slyly raise their

hands in a Nazi salute whenever they had questions. And over time the boys developed keen skills for quietly tormenting their rivals.

Fernando and R.E. almost came to blows after trading insults on a work crew one day.

"R.E. can dish it out but he can't take it," Fernando boasted. "I think it's funny when he gets into trouble."

Afterward the two weren't allowed on the same crew.

A 17-year-old former high school football player named Eddie kept his eye on a guy from a rival gang.

"His friends jumped me awhile back. If we was in the Hall, we would have fought by now," said Eddie, who had been arrested for a string of robberies. "But it's not worth it in here."

Instead the boys focus on one thing: early release. It isn't worth getting into trouble and losing precious weeks.

After all, the days are long and hard at the camp.

From the three-minute supervised bathroom visits to the work details clearing brush in the forest to catch-up math and English classes, every minute of the 16-hour day is accounted for.

There is no idle time, and the boys are never alone. A juvenile detention officer--dressed in a blue polo shirt, camouflage pants and combat boots--is always looking over their shoulder.

But it's more than that.

It's the work, the foul bathroom smells, the constant commands, the rashes from the poison oak in the woods, the write-ups for tiny offenses such as having a pen in bed, the lack of privacy.

"You always got somebody sleeping next to you," Fernando said. "Somebody's smelly clothes in your face. They time you when you go to the bathroom and take a shower. There's no walls and everybody sees you. There's nothing to block them from seeing you. Sometimes it's embarrassing."

Those first few weeks, they all hated the boot camp and just wanted out.

Temptations to Defy the System

"I can get you out of here," said Miguel, the 15-year-old Oxnard gang member.

Miguel was bragging about it to his work crew one day.

He was younger than a lot of the guys, but Miguel still looked and acted like the oldest and toughest guy at the camp. He had a scruffy goatee and sideburns, and a big block-lettered gang tattoo on his biceps. He had a studied swagger and a don't-mess-with-me look.

"I know how to get out of here," the others would later recall him saying, urging them to join in the escape. "You'd be in Santa Barbara in 20 minutes, Ventura in an hour."

The crew--dressed in faded Branders blue jeans, scuffed combat boots and neon-orange sweatshirts--was picking up trash and clearing brush at Lake Cachuma.

Looking around at the lake and almost empty parking lot, Fernando and Jess thought about it.

With the detention officer out of earshot, Miguel egged them on. He had only been in for 10 days, and wasn't planning on spending his life here.

*

Ever since he arrived with Jaime, Miguel had been mocking the ones who jumped to the orders of the detention officers. Nobody could tell him what to do. He had been written up for getting in trouble at the hall and things weren't going any better here.

He was in for robbery, and had a couple of other charges hanging over his head.

The word was that they would eventually send him to the California Youth Authority for a year. Miguel acted as if he had nothing to lose.

Already, he had convinced a friend from Ventura County and one of the young guys from Santa Barbara to make the break with him. Now he was looking for more recruits.

He had a plan. He saw a pickup truck near where they were working and said he knew how to steal it.

Fernando and Jess heard the pitch. They weren't sure what they had to lose.

"Come on, man. I can get you out of here," Miguel urged. "Let's jam."

It was a tempting offer.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

About This Series

"County Report: Boot Camp Justice" is a three-part series that follows Ventura County teens through the Tri-County Boot Camp that opened in October. Today's story chronicles the adjustments the boys must make to the spartan, regimented life at the camp. County probation officials gave Times reporter Scott Hadly and photographer Spencer Weiner access to all aspects of the camp, but asked that the newspaper not print the last names of the boys there. In one instance, The Times is using a youth's initials.