By Rolando Larraz
I have always been a very independent, self-sufficient, human being; and now, in my old age, I find myself being a part-time newspaper operator, which is very difficult for me to accept.
The only thing that has not changed is that I want to be on top of everything; I have to know every move that takes place in my place of business.
Once I was called “a control freak,” but that is not true. I just want to be informed of everything that takes place in my office, on my property and in my domain, because I earned the right to know.
Why did I earn the right to know everything that happens in my domain? Because I have to take responsibility for everything that happens under my roof, good or bad. I am the captain of the ship and the line ends with me.
I used to drive some people crazy when I used to tell them that I want to know if someone sneezes, if someone coughs, or if someone walking by was asking for directions. I want to know everything because I don’t like surprises and because I am ultimately the person responsible, so I have to know.
Unfortunately nowadays, I am not at my post at six in the morning as I used to be, but I am on the telephone with my inquiring mind asking questions and expecting the right answer; the truth, only the truth, and nothing but the truth.
Last week, Tuesday night, the Wednesday edition of the Las Vegas Tribune was almost finished when there was a call notifying us that my dear friend Gordon Martines was found dead at his home. Immediately, Don Snook, Maramis, Sunny Day and Perly Viasmensky, knowing how close I was to Gordon, went to work, striping some articles or perhaps some paid space of advertising to include the tragic news of my friend’s death. And for that, I am grateful to all of them; that is what I call “teamwork.”
Even if now I do not believe that Gordon Martines’ death was natural, at the time they considered the source credible and went with what they did have, knowing that Gordon has been in my office a million times with the lady who was nice enough to call us with the sad news; she knew what Gordon meant to me and was kind enough to think of me and immediately call my office.
Honestly, at this point I don’t give a flying fig what anyone thinks or says; we did our job notifying all those friends out there who needed to know what happened to Gordon; they did not go into any of the personal information they may or may not have known; they did not
go into the reason for his death; it was just information that needed to be disseminated as soon as possible.
Those who took the liberty of notifying other newspapers about Gordon’s death thinking that they were bypassing me were doing the
right thing because the more of the news was put out there the more people learned about the death of a good man, a wonderful human being and an asset to our community.
What really seems odd to me is that his son has taken over all the arrangements — who to notify, who to deny giving information to about the arrangements, the services or even the result of the autopsy; I couldn’t care less when, where, and how the services were going to be handled because I am not going to be present anyway. I can’t be there because I am too far away from Las Vegas; and even if I were to be there, I am not up to being among so many two-faced hypocrites who never wanted to accept the fact that Gordon was my friend, my dear friend.
Every time Gordon and I met we left our cell phones turned off in our cars and walked clear and clean to a different location other than
where we said we’d meet over the telephone, and we talked about many different subjects; and I prayed to the Good Lord that I’d never find out that my friend Gordon Martines had lied to me or mislead me.
Gordon has expressed to me many times that he and his son were estranged from each other and that’s why it seemed to me awkward now that his son is leading the parade.
Gordon was the only member of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department who had the guts, who was brave enough, to sue the former and present police administration in a federal court while still carrying a badge, wearing the police uniform and carrying a
department-issued firearm. Most people do that after they quit or have been fired — not Gordon; he did it from within.
Gordon’s son is also a member of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department and I wonder what his relationship is with the same
administration that hates his estranged father. I also wonder how he learned about his estranged father’s unexpected death, and I wonder about the whys and wherefores of his taking the administrator position on his estranged father’s funeral arrangements, along with lots of other things.
Gordon, my friend, I will miss you forever. I don’t have the resources to dig into the truth of your death, but I will leave it to the Good
Lord to make those guilty of your death, if I am right, to pay for it. Rest in Peace, my friend.
My name is Rolando Larraz, and as always, I approved this column. Rolando Larraz is Editor in Chief of the Las Vegas Tribune. His column appears weekly in this newspaper. To contact Rolando Larraz, email him at: Rlarraz@lasvegastribune.com or at 702-272-4634.