It took Kermit Alexander three decades to tell his horrific story. His book, “The Valley of the Shadow of Death—A Tale of Tragedy and Redemption” (Simon & Schuster, 2015, $26), reveals in graphic and often heartbreaking detail how the morning of Aug. 31, 1984 not only changed the lives of he and his family, but also brought to light the terrible onset of gang-drug violence in South Los Angeles that has resulted in a once vibrant community held hostage to wanton violence.
When the public heard the news that Alexander’s mother, Ebora, sister Dietra, and nephews Damani Garner and Damon Bonner were savagely gunned down in their Hyde Park home, the first thing that may have come to mind was: “What was Kermit Alexander into?” Was it drugs? Gambling? Someone settling an old score? The former UCLA standout and All-Pro defensive back with the San Francisco ’49rs and L.A. Rams had his life upended when members of the Rolling Sixties Crips burst in while his mother was sipping morning coffee and killed everyone inside.
The public soon learned that it was a case of mistaken identity. A young, ultra-violent hood named Tiequon “Little Fee” Cox along with two other Crips gang members, were supposed to kill a woman who threatened to sue a nearby nightclub owner, after she was paralyzed in a bar fight. The killers went to the wrong address. Southern California residents may know what was in the public record, but the book gives an inside view of the torment, rage, satisfaction (for the arrest/prosecution of the killers) and the ultimate redemption for one of the city’s favorite sons. Alexander achieved great acclaim in the National Football League, only to find himself armed and looking at night for revenge in the squalid streets of his old neighborhood, while watching his remaining family fall apart because the gravity of the horrible event found many eyes focused on him. At one point, he even slept in the cemetery where his loved ones were interred. Mayor Tom Bradley, an early mentor, called Alexander to his office one morning and then called in LAPD Chief Darryl Gates to discuss progress in the case. When Alexander left the meeting, Bradley would later say to Gates: “You find the killers … or we’ll surely have another one here.”
Readers will discover that it was very difficult for Alexander to recount the terrible ordeal, specifically describing the murders and subsequent search and capture of the killers. He describes how a violent childhood led Cox from being merely an angry, grade-school bully and shakedown artist to a murderous sociopath and the youngest member of San Quinton’s death row.
The book is remarkably informative about the history of Black families in South Los Angeles and recounts the familiar tale of resettlement after World War II, escaping southern “segregation defacto” for western “segregation de jour.” Yet for his and many families it was a chance for viable employment, to purchase a house, rear a family and witness a child rise from humble origins via hard work and determination to become a nationally-known sports star.
There have been a number of books that have attempted to describe life in South L.A., most of them over-the-top (exaggerated in their depiction of the area and its long-time residents). Alexander’s book shows a different aspect of the region in that the lives of the older generation are presented with great sympathy. The sadness ensures as they watch the youth—their youth—get trapped in gang life and devolve into a menace to the community which, itself, fell into disrepair because of decades-old neglect.
Alexander had always been a booster of youth sports. What is most interesting is that a decade or so earlier while coaching Pop Warner football, Alexander ran across the boy who would later kill his mother. When at first he saw the killer in court—along with the boy’s family—Alexander’s sister nudged him and said something amazing and totally unexpected: “Kermit, do you know who that is? That’s the boy you coached years ago—the one you said was so angry … so difficult [to reach].” Alexander searched his memory and saw that the defendant was indeed that boy whom he’d “let get away.” His mother, affectionately known as “Madee,” had encouraged Alexander early on to take an interest in the local youth, to steer them into something positive, to introduce character and self confidence. That boy appeared too “angry” and too “wild” for counseling or mentorship. Alexander regrets deeply his inability to step in years earlier and effect positive change in the future killer.
Cox was sentenced to death, and for the last 30 years has sat on death row. The other two convicted killers were each given life sentences.
Although three generations of Alexander’s family died that tragic morning 30 years ago, there is great redemption within his story. Alexander remarried, and he and wife, Tami, adopted six Haitian orphans. But even that benevolent deed was not without tragedy because the process took place during the 2010 Haitian earthquake. Today, the family resides in the Inland Empire—a “Full House” as Alexander describes it—and the virtues of application, strength and determination taught to Alexander as a boy are being repeated to these young people in ways that only his mother could have envisioned. It’s as though “Madee” was overseeing the rebirth of her son’s life.
“The Valley of the Shadow of Death” is worthwhile reading because it goes far beyond Alexander’s and other such violent [gun] tragedies that take place so often in South Los Angeles, and instead introduces the reader to new levels of courage and faith.
