Chris Blatchford - The Black Hand: The Bloody Rise and Redemption of Boxer Enriquez, a Mexican Mob Killer

ON MARCH 22, 2002, I DEFECTED FROM THE MEXICAN MAFIA. AT THE time, I knew it would be a life-altering decision, but I didnt have a clue as to how much. Now Im housed at an undisclosed location nearly a thousand miles away from my old haunt at Pelican Bay State Prison, and my life seems so removed from the man I used to beBoxer from the Mexican Mafia.

Today Im just Rene Enriquez. Im no longer a Mafioso or a figurehead for a crew of murderous, drug-dealing gangsters, but just a regular Joe clawing my way out of a dark, evil abyss and back into the grasp of humanity.

The transition has been a difficult challenge for me, as if I were Superman turning back into Clark Kent forever. But each day that passes I feel a little bit closer to becoming a normal person.

I no longer have to wake up with a fear of Mafia politicsplotting someone elses death before they plot mine. There is no longer a need to constantly arm myself with a prison shank in an unceasing state of war-readiness. Nor do I have to continually question the motivations of supposed brothers in crimemen of poor intellect who cant think beyond their own megalomaniacal sense of entitlement.

Even though I am still living behind bars, life now has a true, unfamiliar sweetness to it that is almost beyond my ability to describe with words. Ill try by saying that simple pleasures mean so much more to me. Things I had given up hope of ever feeling again have enriched me: the touch of my wifes hair, the smell of perfume on her neck, the occasional warmth of an embrace by my mother and father, and kisses from my children. These are all experiences that were lost during years of prison visits where I was separated from loved ones behind glass partitions. Under my current housing conditions, I even get to taste the gift of home-cooked food with some regularity. And for a man who loves to eat, that is truly heaven.

Most importantly, Ive pulled from the ashes of my past life what I believe is a nobler calling. Every time I am given the opportunity I strive to educate law enforcement, academics, behavioral scientists, and the general public about the national threat of urban street terrorism and nontraditional organized crime.

In reality, its not the threat of Al-Qaedaimprovised explosive devices (IEDs) that imperils the streets of Los Angeles. Its street gangs that pose the greatest single threat to public safety and that contaminate our youth with a bankrupt moral code. Gang proliferation and gang migrationmostly emanating from southern Californiahas spread across the United States and into a number of foreign countries as if it were a disease.

Clearly, I dont possess a cure for that plague, but what I can do is offer the reader an insiders view into a prison and criminal subculture that should scare the hell out of the public.

The Mexican Mafias tentacles reach far beyond the walls and razor-wire fences of prisons. And sadly, its influence also continues to ignite racial violence between blacks and Latinos in schools, as well as racially motivated street gang wars. The Mafia-induced subculture destroys our most precious commoditythe minds of our young people.

There is no doubt that some skeptics will say this book is nothing more than a glorification of the Mexican Mafia and gang violence. I believe the opposite is true. Laying out the stark brutality in the pages of this book is an attempt to deglamorize the gang philosophy that many young people embrace as a viable status mobility system.

If the publication of this story dissuades one person from participating in the gang lifestyle, enhances the knowledge of even a few law enforcement officers, or enlightens a handful of educators, then the author and I have accomplished our goal.

Also, it would be remiss of me not to acknowledge the carnage of thousands and thousands of victims of gang violencemuch of it due to Mexican Mafia brutality. Recognizing my personal responsibility for twenty years of organized crime violence and the negative impact that it has had on others is only a small step in my long walk toward redemption.

Ive told these Mexican Mafia horror stories numerous times, but I have never seen them in print. Reading the material in one sitting actually startled me. I was shocked at my own inhumanity, my capriciousness, and my lack of compassion. Intellectually digesting the animalistic way I lived was difficult. The realization that my life was dedicated solely to crime and violence was painful.

I wanted to teach people about the dangers of the Mafia after I dropped out, but a funny thing happened along the way. I ended up learning about myself. Some will understandably believe this turnaround is a manipulative play to get out of prison.

Im not attempting to hoodwink anybody here. Readers will formulate their own opinions about Rene Enriquez. In all likelihood, many will see me as a monster, and I understand that.

At one point I recall wanting the author to somehow mitigate my responsibility and pretty me up to make me appear less evil. But then it dawned on me early on in this project that there are no swans in the cesspool. This story had to be told as the author wrote it, warts and all.

Regardless of how I am portrayed in this book, those who know me best see that I have changed for the better. My new wife had much to do with that. During one of her visits, I was depersonalizing some of my past victims and rationalizing that they all fell into the NHI category: No Humans Involved.

They were only mobsters, I said. No harm, no foul.

She reacted angrily. How dare you say such a thing! Those people were loved by someone. They were somebodys son, father, or husband. Then she hit me with an illuminating question: How would you feel if somebody murdered one of your sons, Rene? I was at a loss for words, dumbfounded. My wife in a burst of anger taught me a quality that was anathema to a mob guyempathy.

I know that I am no swan, but believe me when I tell you that I no longer want to live in the cesspool. Others will argue that I am not far removed from the criminals who come alive on the pages of this book. What is now different about me? At least I chose to pull myself out of that cesspool. They continue to wallow in it.

Ill probably spend the rest of my life paying for the wrongs that Ive doneeither physically locked up in prison or emotionally trapped with the ugly memories of what Ive done to myself and others. However, I find some comfort in the fact that Im a better man than I was yesterday, and I will strive to be an even better one tomorrow. I owe that to my devoted wife; my family, who should have bailed on me years ago; and the law enforcement officers and attorneys who took an interest in me, believed in me, and gave me another opportunity for redemption. And lastly, I owe it to myself.

Today Im just a regular Joea son, a husband, a father, a grandfatherand for once in my life, Im okay with that.

IT WAS NEAR THE END OF A LONG DAY IN OCTOBER 1995 WHEN THE phone rang at my office desk. I had just finished presenting the third segment of a long investigative story that explained how a convicted triple-murdereracting as his own attorneywas abusing the court system to facilitate Mexican Mafia business. It was a court case that launched Operation Pelican Drop, an expensive, secret, top-security transport of more than a dozen of Californias worst high-risk inmates, including Rene Boxer Enriquez, whom I described as a notorious mob hit man.

While chasing different organized crime stories in the past, Id experienced my share of angry calls and more than a few death threats. I wasnt in the mood for any fresh ones, and I hesitated to pick up the receiver. But I did.