October 23, 8:15 pm

Mateo Munoz told me once he had parents that didn't pay attention to the antics he and his older sisters were up to. They were the parents you saw bringing their children into a store that let their kids run around unsupervised, touch things, break things, shoplift, and when they left, the shop owner took a sigh of relief.

Mateo was known at school for partying like a rockstar. He bragged about tripping acid and trying mushrooms, alcohol, and sex. There were rumors at school that he and Josiah had gone to juvie for going downtown during the Denver riots and causing mischief.

The riots were incited after a white police officer killed a black man on the streets in broad daylight with many passersby that stood helplessly watching. Mateo and Josiah went downtown for protests. A rival of theirs was severely injured. I didn't know the gritty details but it had been assumed that one, or both of them, were responsible. Each were sentenced.

I laid the bike on the lawn out front of Mateo's house and stood at the front door. Now that I was there I doubted myself. What would I say? I'm here to find out if you killed my boyfriend? Would he see through my motifs? I stood there, unable to knock until I thought something up, but before I did the door was opened and Mateo's sister, Ximena, stood on the threshold. "Hey, you're that girl. The one that was dating Colton, right?"

"Yes. How did you know-"

"That you were standing there? We have a ring doorbell." She pointed to it. "Sends a video to my phone when someone's here. So, que pasa? What's up?"

"I-I," I stammered, "...I want to see how Mateo is doing." It was the truth. Specifically, I wanted to see if Mateo was mourning Colton or if he was indifferent.

She turned around, walked into the house, and called, "Mateito, it's for you."

I didn't know if I was expected to follow her inside or wait for him to come to the door. I waited a full minute and decided I should go in. On the kitchen island there were tacos, guacamole, and Pico de Gallo. I looked around feeling out of place like I had wandered into a stranger's house alone.

From another room I heard Ximena calling softly at first, and then frantically, "Ito, Ito!"

I jolted to look around the corner and saw Mateo's sister kneeling on the couch over him. He looked dead, laying limp on the couch with his head propped up on the arm of the loveseat. I ran to his side.

"He wasn't breathing," Ximena said as she shook him.

"I'm calling 911," I said as I started to dial.

Her eyes grew wide and she stood up and put her hand over my cell phone. "No! Can't you see?" She pointed to the coffee table where there was a white powder in a Ziplock bag, a syringe, a glass pipe, a tourniquet, and a mini spoon. "We can't call for help with these drugs here. I have to start CPR, now!"

"Oh my god! What do I do?" I said. I didn't want to stand there being useless like I'd been when Colton died. I couldn't let Mateo die too.

"His airway is blocked. Help me move him to the floor." She grabbed his arms and I took his knees. We lifted him and laid him flat. She put her hand behind his neck and tilted his chin up and pulled his mouth open. She clasped her hands on his chest. "Get rid of the drugs."

I grabbed the drugs and went to the bathroom where I dumped it into the toilet and flushed it down. I came back as Ximena was thrusting her palms into his chest. I cleaned up the table and collected the drug paraphernalia, putting it into a trash bag without getting fingerprints on it, then I threw it away in the trash in the garage. When I came back, I saw Ximena giving breaths. She looked up at me. "Ok, you can call."

I spoke to the 911 operator. They were on their way, which I learned from the time before can be a very long wait.

Mateo sucked in a breath. Ximena and I let out sighs of relief and I knelt beside her. She had put a fit bit on Mateo. "I'm checking his vitals."

"How did you know what to do?" I said.

"I used to be a nursing assistant. He's going to live."

I was relieved. I couldn't handle a second death.

"So, what do you want to see Mateo for?"

"I wanted to see how he was doing since Colton died."

"He hasn't been himself."

"How so?"

"He's been depressed."

He must have started the hard drugs to forget about it. "I wanted to ask him..." I tried to choose my words carefully, " ...what happened after we left the party?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Someone followed us from the party."

"You think it was him?" Her tone was defensive.

"No, I don't know who it was, but he might remember who left after us."

Her eyes flitted away from me and she turned cold. "I think you should go."

"No, please. What did I say wrong?"

"We've already been questioned, accused, and interrogated by police. The last thing we need is a rat poking around trying to find fault with us," she said.

"The police accused you?"

"Don't get any ideas just because they were questioning him. Mateo had nothing to do with Colton's murder."

"How do you know?"

"Listen, I don't have to prove nothing to you."

"I agree, but don't you want to help me?"

"Let's say I help you and you find out who killed Colton. Then what you gonna do? Hmmm?"

"I'm going to bring it to the police."

"Oh. You gonna bring it to police." Her tone was covered in sarcasm like it was too simplistic of an idea. "Just what you think the police are gonna do for you?"

"Arrest his attacker. They're going to put the person away. Make them serve time."

"Do you have any idea why they haven't already arrested the asshole that killed your boyfriend?"

"Why?"

"Your boyfriend was a criminal. A thief. A troubled youth. You know they probably think he deserved what he got? Police have work to do for people they want to give justice to. They don't care about everyone."

"That's not true. Colton was reformed. He was changing his life around."

"They don't see that. All they see is someone's rap sheet, they don't see who anyone wants to become."

"No, they serve and protect. Even if someone did something illegal in the past, police are there to uphold the law and treat people fairly."

"You believe in the ideology of a perfect world. We don't live in a world without racism or police officers that don't put their own interests above the law. They're human, and because they are put in a position of trust they can get away with anything they want."

"I know not all of them are good, but most of them are."

"You assume most of them are."

"Yes."

"So you would be shocked if you ran into a dirty police officer because they are rare?"

"Yes."

She chuckled.

"Why are you laughing?"

"We'll see how your investigation turns out."

"What do you mean by that?"

She shook her head, tight lipped. I decided to drop the subject. She was keeping something from me and she wasn't going to let me in on it. "So, if you don't believe in going to the police who do you go to with problems?"

"When there's a disagreement between the posse you go to the diplomat."

"Who is the diplomat?"

"I can't just tell you."

"Why not?"

"I don't know if I can trust you."

"You can trust me."

"No you know what? I'll set up a meeting for you."

"A meeting? Like when you're sent to the principals office at school?"

"No. Have you ever seen The Godfather?"

"No."

"Well, watch it. It's more like that. Learn the moral code."

"How?"

"The crew leader operates on basic principles created originally by Original Gangsters from the 1990's. A former rapper named Tupac called it the Code of Thug Life. Basically his theory was that a gang could be positive as long as they're organized. The members have to play by a moral code in order to be self-productive. If a crew member doesn't live with dignity and honor then the diplomat must step in and correct it."

"I don't think I understand what you're trying to tell me."

"One of the crew members killed another crew member. Now the diplomat should step in to correct the issue."

"What kind of punishment would this diplomat give?"

"Well, usually it's an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth."

"So, since this is murder the diplomat would order death to the other crew member?"

"He would listen to the other crew members side and decide what was fair."

There was a man's voice that called from the front door that was still open. "Hello, ambulance."

"Come in," Ximena called. "We're over here."

The EMT's brought a stretcher in and lifted Mateo onto it. "We can bring one family member."

"Thank you. I'll go," Ximena said.

"Wait, can I get your number, please?" I said. "In case I need to call you?"

We exchanged numbers. Ximena got on the ambulance with her brother and I got back on the bike and pedaled home.