Color of Authority Chapter 21 Rooster Giles

Chicago gangster turned West coast Big Homie, matches wits with the system.

Rooster had survived Chicago's treacherous Westside by natural pragmatism. Recognizing he didn't have the greatest retirement plan, he wasn't averse to being ruthless when he had to be but his main attribute was shrewdness. He had a keen sense of human nature and a unique ability to discern and accommodate the needs of others. He garnered his street name, not because it was short for Roosevelt, or because he was cocky, but because of his distinctive walk. He walked with a kind of soft strut that conveyed assuredness sans self aggrandizement. He simply carried himself like the cock of the walk.

Rooster was twenty years old in the spring of '92 when he'd landed at LAX. He'd made his first money in L.A. by taking advantage of the Rodney King riots that were in full effect on the night he got to town. What some had seen as catastrophic social disintegration, was to him, the greatest stroke of luck ever.

Eventually the Governor sent in the Army National Guard and President Bush the 1st, deployed the 7th Infantry Division and the 1st Marine Division to the area. But before order was restored, 63 people died (officially), 2,383 people were injured, and more than 12,000 were arrested.

Odell Roosevelt Giles wasn't included in any of those numbers. By the time the military showed up he'd made enough money to nail down a 1 bedroom apartment in Inglewood.
His instincts eventually led him to the local Bloods gang.

Combining his understanding of human nature with carefully selected key alliances, Rooster rose quickly through Blood ranks. Inside of two years he'd become the gang's top earner. Not only was the Chicago connection a distribution goldmine, but he'd made a veritable fortune in the L.A. crack market.But before all that happened, he'd first made his reputation the old fashioned way.

On a grey evening in late June Rooster coasted a battered VW bug to a silent stop along the curb on Van Ness street. He walked the last two blocks to the tidy craftsman in the quiet neighborhood. He didn't want to be seen carrying a gallon of high octane gasoline and an A-K 47 down the street so he kept to the alley.When he'd gotten to the house in question, he'd looked around the backyard for kid's toys. Not seeing any, he'd laid the A-K on the ground and deftly unscrewed the top of the gas can. He stuffed in a short rag and with a flick of a Bic, the rag was lit. As soon as he'd gotten both hands on the handle, he'd half discus slung the container through a second story back bedroom window. A giant fireball exploded as he'd picked up the A-K, walked calmly around the side of the house and planted himself in the front yard. The explosion immediately brought out the neighbors.Rooster listened as shouts from inside the house were followed by the front door bursting open. He waited until everybody made it out before he squeezed the trigger.The chipper clatter of the short bursts didn't so much as set off a car alarm but they did achieve their objective. As the neighborhood watched, Rooster walked up on the porch, stood over the fallen bodies and emptied the clip into the corpses.He'd pitched the Russian import into the burning house as he'd run off. He’d left the hoopty on the street, and caught the bus back to Inglewood. He'd learned some things about L.A. since the riots. He wasn't going to risk a random traffic stop. Odell Rooster Giles was after all, a practical man.