It was about this time that I called the police. There was a payphone across the street from the second apartment at 4131 West End. Clarence owned the store across the street, and it had a payphone in front of the store. I was 11 or 12 at this time and I wanted freedom, I wanted normalcy. On that day when I got up the courage to call and let the officer Friendly cop know that things weren’t exactly right at my house. He said, “Stop playing on the phone.” Remembering this makes me relate to Gabriel Fernandez. This 8-year-old had a docudrama on Netflix. As young as he was, no matter how hard he tried to manipulate the system to his favor, there was nowhere for him to run. The system failed him, and he paid with his life. It’s called ‘The Trials of Gabriel Fernandez’, and it is one of the saddest cases I have heard. It was also an indictment on LA CA’s system of protection. I say this because due to abuse, you pay with parts of your life whether you continue to walk the earth or are laid to rest in it. That is not to belittle our Gabriels and Gabriellas who have paid with the ultimate sacrifice. His 8-year existence entailed repeated beatings by a man, not to mention his mother. He had to eat kitty litter which was found in his little tummy at his autopsy. His siblings tried to sneak food to him, but he was locked in a cage in his mother’s room. He battled with a hope that one of the professionals would serve his predicament. I remember that. Thinking that a person that was being paid and living a happy existence with a family would help me. Although some part of me knows that there are beacons of light in the system, I did not meet one that helped me. Note: Some people did try to help Gabriel Fernandez but as one of the people in the documentary said, “It was like he was on the road to die (paraphrased). They especially tried to help him at school where the whole class saw his badges of courage. The only crest he would receive was riddled with signs of ill treatment. His announcements would be from a mother telling him how shameful he was. His symbol-a community that did not help him. Ultimately, school was a place for him to get a meal and record his demise. For me, it was a 6-hour escape…I was pretty good in school.