Cavazos - Honor Few, Fear None: the Life and Times of a Mongol

M y name is Ruben Cavazos. Everyone calls me Doc, so you can too. Im fifty-one years old and the national presidentI guess now you could say international presidentof the Mongols Motorcycle Club. Weve been called the most violent outlaw motorcycle gang in America and a lot of other things, most of which are B-movie fantasies. These fantasies have great power.

But the thing thats true about the Mongols is that we will not roll over and play dead. We will not turn tail. I can say proudly, both as a Mongol and as an American, that these colors dont run. We stand up. When we are attacked, we defend one another and our community, and that makes us a target from both sides of the law, and that makes for some pretty hairy times. There are things Ive seen and done in my life that you may find unbelievable. I want to tell you about them and also about me. Ride with me for a while, and then make your decision.

A bout seven in the morning on May 19, 2004, I woke up to an explosion. I had just come home from my job as a radiologic technologist and slipped into sleep in my house in Pico Rivera, east of Los Angeles, when an enormous Boom! rattled the windows and shook the entire house. I jerked up in bed and let loose a string of curses, thinking for sure I had a gas leak in the house and something had set it off. I threw on some clothes and ran downstairs to the front door, waving to my son to stay where he was on the second floor. I didnt know if there was a fire or what. The noise seemed to come from the front, so I jerked open the front door to find out what the hell was going on.

The first thing I saw was a dozen red dots weaving around on my chest. The next thing was the string of police cars lined up along the street, diagonal to the curb, and guys crouched behind them with handguns and rifles. The red dots playing tag on my chest were the laser sights of their weapons.

I gave them the finger and slammed the door.

I might have laughed if I werent so madthere were a dozen police out there with heavy artillery just to take down me and my twenty-seven-year-old son? Maybe I should take it as a sign of respect, but I dont think so.

I went back to Little Rubes and told him, Were being raided. Just sit tight and Ill see what I can do. He knows the life, so he nodded and went back into his room. Luckily my brother, Al, who also lives with us, wasnt there at the time. I picked up the phone to call one of my brother Mongols to arrange for someone to get us out of jail, since thats certainly where we would wind up. The police are after us so often that part of our club dues goes to bail and legal defense, and we always have someone we can go to for help.

But there was no dial tone. Instead, the police were on the line. They barked, HOW MANY OF YOU ARE THERE IN THE HOUSE? COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP! I told them to fuck off and hung up. I picked it up again and they were still there, so I hung up again and tried to figure out where we stood.

I knew from experience that they probably had the house surrounded. The explosion, I found out later, had come from what they call a flash-bang grenade theyd tossed at Hooch, my dog, to let him know that he should keep out of the way. A flash-bang grenade makes a lot of noise and light but doesnt throw shrapnel. Then they would have scaled the fence until they were squeezing the house like a tourniquet. Once they were ready, they would smash the door in with a battering ram. If it came down to that, I was prepared to defend myself. Because I never know what might be coming at me, Im always well armed.

Little Rubes came down to see what was going on, and thats when I realized I had to surrender. I didnt want anything to happen to my boy. I told him calmly that we were surrounded and that the best thing we could do would be to run with it until we could get help. Bring some clothes, I said, because it looks like were going to be locked up for a while.

Now maybe they would tell me why they were attacking me. I honestly had no idea. As the head of the club, especially after all the bad publicity about us, I was under a microscope. My house was under surveillance, I was followed constantly, and my phones were tapped. I would have to be a total fool to be doing something illegal. And I wasnteither a fool or committing any crimes. Thats not why Im in the Mongols, and thats not why the Mongols MC exists.

I picked up the phone again and told them we would be coming out. HOW MANY OF YOU ARE IN THERE? they said, just like a recording. I guess they were really scared that there was a gang of us ready to shoot it out with them. I hung up without answering. When Little Rubes was ready, I took him with me to the front door, pulled it open, and waited.

PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEADS!

We didnt say anything. I certainly wasnt going to raise my hands like the bad guy in a Roy Rogers movie. But they kept yelling, so finally I raised my hand. To give them the finger. Luckily, no one was trigger-happy, and Little Rubes and I walked out into the street.

They were mostly agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, which made me think that they were there looking for illegal weapons or drugs. That didnt worry me too much. There werent any drugs in the house because I dont do any, and all my weapons are legal and registered. Im not going to try to convince you that Im Snow White. Ive used drugs in my life, and I love guns. I love to shoot them, I love the way they look, and I wouldnt hesitate to use one in self-defense. But I wasnt living in a fort either. I had a nice two-story, four-bedroom house with a swimming pool and a Jacuzzi in the back. Someone had even put in lighting to show off the palm trees. It wasnt the place to hold off a siege.

The ATF agents told us we were under arrest, handcuffed us, and then took us back into the house. They made me sit on the living room couch and put Little Rubes in the kitchen for the next nine hours, during which time they turned the place upside down. After a while I asked one of the agents if he had a warrant. He threw it in my face. It said they had the right to search the house and confiscate any documents, weapons, bottles of pills, and so on and on. They could also take any cash or jewelry they found worth more than a thousand dollars.

What this means is this: Suppose Im there and Ive got four hundred dollars in my pocket. Ive got a gold watch and some rings. Al is keeping three hundred dollars in his dresser drawer. Little Rubes has two hundred and fifty dollars and has a beautiful bracelet he was going to give to his current girlfriend. Its worth a hundred and fifty dollars. In the kitchen, we all throw our change in a huge jar, and theres sixty dollars in it. Pretty soon, the police are saying things like We confiscated several thousand dollars worth of cash and valuables in the Cavazos residence. All of which they keep . As evidence. They can figure out the crime later.

Anyway, theyre tearing the house apart, looking under the carpets, flipping through every piece of paper while Im sitting there. And sitting and sitting and sitting. Im totally furious, yes, but I keep myself in lockdown. This kind of thing happens when youre the target of the police, as almost all Mongols are, all the time. We learn to face down the anger and adrenaline and just go with it. Its part of our lives. Its been part of my life from the time I was a child.