Candi's Street Stories - Candi's Street Stories

Candi at age fourteen

Tiptoeing, bag in hand, Candi stepped outside and closed the front door behind her silently. Not because she was afraid of being caught—God knows she’d done this a hundred times before and her parents had never gotten out of bed to confront her. This time, she was quiet because they had been through enough trouble with her. She couldn’t stand the thought of bothering them ever again. Her dad was a gentle, kind soul and had to work in the morning, so she made sure not to wake him. The last thing she wanted was to disrupt his sleep.

In the cold night air, she walked alone in the silence of the dark, tree-lined street. Suitcase in hand, she looked at each house, one by one. Memories of the people, the parties, classmates, and friends who lived there washed over her. She reminisced of the time there had been an abundance of snow, when they had so much fun building a fort and making angels. The one string of Christmas lights her father would put under the eaves, playing badminton in the backyard… Many good times.

She exhaled clouds of steam that rose toward the sky. Her coat tied around her waist, her skin was cold, but she lingered. Candi wanted to savor the familiarity and comfort of that neighborhood. Cutting across the grade school grounds and parks she knew like the back of her hand it would be a one-mile walk and take her directly to the on-ramp for Interstate 5. As she hurried to the freeway, her thoughts turned to what her mother had said to her. She recalled her dad’s stillness as he stood behind her mother looking down at the floor. It all felt so unreal, as if she were asleep and having a bad dream. It would be a long night. Candi hadn’t even thought about where she was going when she arrived at the dark and foggy on-ramp. She raised her thumb toward the oncoming vehicles. As a car came to a tire-squealing stop, she was startled as if she’d just woken up. She didn’t say a word, just jumped in quickly. The man driving the car accelerated, merging with the other traffic. “Well, where you headed tonight?” “I’m going to LA.” Hour’s later, she’s relaxed and no longer sleepy or hungry, Candi let her mind wander as the miles passed. Brutal reality hit her like a gut punch. You’re completely alone in this world. Are you happy with yourself? Do you get it? It is real, you fucking idiot; you are on your own. It was up to her if she lived or died, if she starved, got beaten and dumped somewhere… She had no one to call.

It was late afternoon when she arrived. Standing on the sidewalk of a six-lane road, traffic whizzing by, she was paralyzed. A couple different cars, male drivers, pulled over to ask if she needed a ride. Both times she shook her head no. She knew she must have looked strange, standing on a busy street corner, suitcase in hand. She needed to get off that street. Looking around she saw a large, nice office building and walked to the other side of it. She could see the Queen Mary and the coastline. Not seeing any security guards, and noticing the flowering hedges around the building, she decided to hide and regroup. Laying out her jacket on top of the ground, she collapsed in total exhaustion. Panic hit her upon waking up. Disoriented, she reminded herself where she was and how she had gotten there. It was twilight but she had no idea if it was morning or night. Peeking out from the bushes, she looked for any indication. Seeing freshly showered people with newspapers in hand on the boulevard confirmed it was morning. She needed to plan her next move. Then, there it was: ROOM FOR RENT, WOMEN ONLY, $25 A WEEK. The sign was hanging just inside the small fenced front yard. A cute two-story house with old white eyelet curtains. Perfect.

Alone in her room, Candi wanted to jump on the bed in celebration. Her excitement stopped as quickly as it began. A dark cloud enveloped her; memories of her mom’s face telling her she needed to leave haunted her; giant tears started to fall. During the past two days of travel, Candi had used up every ounce of her strength fighting her emotions. Now alone, she was overcome with humiliation, the deep pain of rejection, shame, anger at herself, and extreme fear. Yeah, I did some really screwed up stuff to my parents, but don’t other kids do the same? I got into a bunch of trouble at school, is that why they didn’t want me? Everyone was smoking pot and doing drugs, right? Her mind went quiet. No, most thirteen-year-olds don’t shoot heroin.

One afternoon leaving work, she saw a girl close to her age sitting alone on a bench eating chips. She’s probably turning tricks. Curious, she walked up and sat on the bench next to her. “What’s your name?” Candi asked. “Sweetie,” she replied as she offered Candi some of her chips. “I just got to Long Beach and was wondering where people hang out and stuff,” Candi said. “Not much goes on here in Long Beach. I like to hang out at Huntington Beach,” Sweetie answered. “Where do you live?” “I got a guy who takes care of me, ya know?” Candi understood that meant she had a pimp. “Is he cool to you?” “Most of the time, ya know… Oh fuck, shit, it’s him,” Sweetie said when a cop pulled up in front of the bench. Candi stood up and began walking away, against traffic. As she looked back, she heard Sweetie say, “See ya.” She then got in the back door of the cruiser, and they drove off. “A cop is her pimp? That’s really fucked up,” she said to herself in disgust.

Later, Candi was walking down the main boulevard looking in the windows of the different shops and stores. She didn’t notice the cop car pacing behind her. He pulled ahead of her and stopped abruptly. Through the open passenger window, he said to her, “Hey, come over here!” Startled, she had to make a decision: Should I run? But she didn’t have time to react. The cop shouted, “Hey, get over here.” She cautiously walked to the open cruiser window. “Why did you leave so fast when you were with Sweetie the other day? You could have come with us and joined the party! What’s your name?” She hesitated. “Candi.” “Oh, that’s a unique name out here.” He laughed. “Okay then, Candi, why don’t you get in the back seat, and we can get better acquainted?”

Two days later, on her way home, a different police car pulled up next to her. “Are you Candi? Joe said I should get to know you.” A younger cop this time, but the same procedure was followed. She knew she had no choice but to comply. What could she do? Report it… No, this was the way of the street life. Her own mother had thrown her out of the house at thirteen. I deserve this life, Candi thought. Within a couple weeks, the moment she left the rooming house, day or night, they would be hiding in wait for her, different cops from various areas. She felt like a human pet, hunted, and caged by disgusting dog catchers in blue. Terrified of the consequences if caught, she plans a four-a.m. escape from Long Beach. She bolts to the Bay Area hoping life will be better for her there. But she is horrified to discover, it is cops everywhere who control the lives of young girls on the street.

END OF EXCERPT- More to come!

Candi’s story paints a searing portrait of survival by one girl who has lived through the horrors of child sex trafficking at the hands of power, and the defenselessness of a minor who slipped through the cracks.

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Police Sex Abuse of Minors- status

PREVALENCE OF POLICE SEX CRIMES AGAINST MINORS-

I was only thirteen and living alone on the streets of Long Beach, California when the first police officer sexually assaulted me. Taught to always respect law enforcement, when the officer told me to get into his cruiser, I complied.

When he pulled into a secluded area and told me, “Climb into the front seat and keep me company honey,” shock and terror filled me as I followed his sick commands. Within days, other officers pulled up alongside me demanding the same. They knew each other and passed me along as if I was their “Human Pet.” I escaped Long Beach one night, hitchhiking to the Bay Area believing the police would be different there but, they were even more brutal to street kids like me.

It would be forty-years until I understood what happened to me and, many other homeless kids on the street by police was called, “Sex Trafficking.” That laws such as, “Color of Law,” make police and law enforcement especially accountable to these crimes. Unfortunately, I remain profoundly skeptical even today because, only a very few police are ever reported and prosecuted.

Please take a moment to read the latest, important information below!

THE CURRENT STATUS OF POLICE SEXUAL ABUSE

Police sexual abuse in the United States is a serious and pervasive issue that undermines public trust in law enforcement. Despite the ethical and legal responsibilities of police officers to protect and serve, instances of sexual misconduct and abuse of authority continue to be reported across the country.

A comprehensive investigation by the Wall Street Journal, titled “Abuse of the Badge,” sheds light on the alarming prevalence of police sexual abuse. This report, published in 2021, involved an extensive review of court records, news reports, and documents. The findings revealed that from 2009 to 2020, over 5,000 officers were accused of sexual misconduct, with many cases involving minors. The incidents included a range of abuses, from harassment to rape and exploitation. The report highlighted that these abuses often go underreported and unpunished due to the victims’ fear of retaliation and the problems in proving such allegations against authoritative figures.

One significant finding from the Wall Street Journal’s report is the systemic failures within police departments to address and prevent sexual misconduct. Often, officers accused of sexual abuse face minimal or no consequences, with some retaining their positions or moving to other departments where they continue their predatory behavior. The lack of oversight and accountability mechanisms allows these abuses to continue. Additionally, the so-called “code of silence” within police culture discourages reporting among officers, further perpetuating the problem.

The prevalence of police sexual abuse is not confined to a single type of community; it affects urban, and rural areas alike. Vulnerable populations, including women, minors, and individuals in custody, are normally at risk. Studies and reports by various organizations, including the Cato Institute and the National Center for Women and Policing, corroborate the Wall Street Journal’s findings, showing that police sexual misconduct is a widespread issue that demands urgent attention.

Efforts to combat police sexual abuse have seen very little progress. Advocacy groups and lawmakers are calling for reforms such as stricter hiring practices, comprehensive training on sexual misconduct, the establishment of independent oversight bodies, and the implementation of zero-tolerance policies. There is also a push for better support systems for victims, ensuring they have safe and accessible ways to report abuse without fear of retaliation.

In conclusion, police sexual abuse in the United States is a deeply rooted issue that demands systemic change. The Wall Street Journal’s “Abuse of the Badge” report underscores the need for increased accountability, and preventive measures within law enforcement to protect citizens from those sworn to serve and protect them.

For more information:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/dc-md-va/2024/03/14/police-child-sex-abuse-how-we-reported/

https://www.cato.org/commentary/police-who-prey-victims

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