“OK,” I said. “I'll write those names down. And I guess if I decide to look around the barrio you guys could help me out, right? Is it safe to walk around out there, with all these gangs running around shooting at each other?”

“No problem,” he said. “We'll even let you ride around in a radio car with some of the officers.”

I said that would be fine. What better way, after all, to get the inside story? Just spend a few days touring the barrio in a cop car. Particularly right now, with everything calm and peaceful.

“We see no evidence of any political tension,” the Lt. had told me. “We have a great deal of community support.” He chuckled. “And we also have a very active intelligence bureau.”

“That's good,” I said. “Well, I have to hang up now, or I'll miss my plane.”

“Oh, then you've decided to do the story? When will you be in town?”

“I've been here for two weeks,” I said. “My plane leaves in ten minutes.”

“But I thought you said you were calling from San Francisco,” he said.

“I did,” I said. “But I was lying.” (click)

It was definitely time to leave. The last loose end in the Salazar case had been knotted up that morning when the jury came back with a “guilty” verdict for Corky Gonzales. He was sentenced to “40 days and 40 nights” in the L.A. County jail for possession of a loaded revolver on the day of Salazar's death. “We'll appeal,” said Acosta, "but for political purposes this case is finished. Nobody's worried about Corky surviving 40 days in jail. We wanted to confront the gabacho court system with a man the whole Chicano community knew was technically innocent, then let them draw their own conclusions about the verdict.

“Hell, we never denied that somebody had a loaded pistol in that truck. But it wasn't Corky. He wouldn't dare carry a goddamn gun around with him. He's a leader. He doesn't have to carry a gun for the same goddamn reason Nixon doesn't.”

Acosta had not stressed that point in the courtroom, for fear of alarming the jury and inflaming the gringo press. Not to mention the cops. Why give them the same kind of flimsy excuse to shoot at Gonzales that they already used to justify shooting Ruben Salazar?

Corky merely shrugged at the verdict. At 42, he has spent half his life gouging Justice out of The Man, and now he views the Anglo court system with the quiet sort of fatalistic humor that Acosta hasn't learned yet. But Oscar is getting there fast. The week of April Fools Day, 1971, was a colossal bummer for him; a series of bad jolts and setbacks that seemed to confirm all his worst suspicions.