By Rolando Larraz
A woman is dead and her daughter is left bound to a wheelchair for the rest of her life after her husband emptied all the bullets of his gun into them both.
The FBI is aware of the perpetrator’s location, the name he is using, and other details that would make it easy for them to pick the assassin up and make him pay for his crime — but it is not happening.
It seems like President Trump is right — the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) is not doing its job the right way, and I could add that the top law enforcement agency in the best country of them all doesn’t know how to do its job or is afraid to do it and arrest the assassin that killed one senior American citizen and left her daughter, the mother of four American citizens, to spend her remaining days wheelchair-bound.
That woman now in the wheelchair gave all her four children an education, making every one of them a professional and making them all proud of their mother. I understand that going after the President, the president’s attorney and the president’s friends brings more publicity, more importance, and less risk than going after a cold-blooded killer, but those middle-class citizens also have family and feelings…and the right to justice, too.
I know that the days of Frank Serpico are over; there doesn’t seem to be any more brave public servants. I realize that the days of real undercover work are over; it’s easier to depend on the materialistic street snitches than risk the life of a human being that chooses of his own free will to become an FBI agent or a police officer for the salary, the pension and the retirement benefits the job offers.
I know I am old when I can remember the status of being a federal agent was respected and admired by everyone, but it seems like all that is gone when the (Special) Agents can find safer, more financially beneficial ways to ignore the common murderers and go after the president they don’t like and did not vote for.
They are even on a recorded conversation assuring someone that “we won’t let it happen,” referring to a presidential candidate the Agent doesn’t like or agree with.
Yes, I know what my detractors will say after reading my column — that I am anti-police or anti-government like former Sheriff Douglas Gillespie said to me once, but that is not true; nothing is further from the truth.
I grew up in a military environment. In fact I was born on a military base, and due to my family’s government position, I grew up seeing a soldier and a policeman guarding my family’s home. I was raised respecting law enforcement agents or officers, but unfortunately those agents or officers of the old days are not the same as those of today; I was raised to respect my elders, teachers, and any adult older than me.
Unfortunately, that kind of respect is a thing of the past. You see something wrong today and try to stop it and a young punk will look at you and tell you to “mind your own business or else,” and show you a seven-inch blade—if you are lucky— otherwise, he will pull out a gun and shoot you. But because the young punk is only sixteen, the law “doesn’t apply.”
There is no more respect; I don’t even know if the new generation knows how to spell respect because in today’s texting world, grammar is not important; everything is written in abbreviations and if the one on the receiving end of the text is not on the same abbreviation wavelength, he or she will have to guess what the other person is trying to say or give their own interpretation to the text.
But here I go again getting off the main reason for this week’s column and trying to fix the world—or trying to make it as it used to be a few generations back.
The electronic era has nothing to do with not being educated and polite; I use a computer and talk on a cell phone, but I wear decent clothes when I sit down at the dinner table to have supper with my family regardless of how cold or hot the weather is outside. My grandfather used to wear a three-piece suit when sitting at the dinner table, so I guess I am becoming a modern snob in my own way.
But to finish up what I started to write about, I hope that before I am gone I can see the federal agents doing their job and going after that piece of trash who ended the life of one decent human being and changed the life of another. The only mistake they made was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I pray that they will bring him to justice and give him the sentence that he truly deserves.
For those who may think that I only write about people that I know, I would like to remind them that this space is my own, as the top of the column clearly explains; it is MY point of view, and here I write whatever I want—but as a way of a disclaimer I have to say that I have never met the lady in the wheelchair or her late mother, and I had never met the man being abused by the Public Guardian and the St. Rose De Lima Hospital, until he walked into my office with his story, which we have already written about three times. Publishing this newspaper has taught me that stories will always find us; we do not simply go
around picking and choosing the stories.
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.
A woman is dead and her daughter is left bound to a wheelchair for the rest of her life after her husband emptied all the bullets of his gun into them both.The FBI is aware of the perpetrator’s location, the name he is using, and other details that would make it easy for them to pick the assassin up and make him pay for his crime — but it is not happening.
It seems like President Trump is right — the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) is not doing its job the right way, and I could add that the top law enforcement agency in the best country of them all doesn’t know how to do its job or is afraid to do it and arrest the assassin that killed one senior American citizen and left her daughter, the mother of four American citizens, to spend her remaining days wheelchair-bound.
That woman now in the wheelchair gave all her four children an education, making every one of them a professional and making them all proud of their mother. I understand that going after the President, the president’s attorney and the president’s friends brings more publicity, more importance, and less risk than going after a cold-blooded killer, but those middle-class citizens also have family and feelings…and the right to justice, too.
I know that the days of Frank Serpico are over; there doesn’t seem to be any more brave public servants. I realize that the days of real undercover work are over; it’s easier to depend on the materialistic street snitches than risk the life of a human being that chooses of his own free will to become an FBI agent or a police officer for the salary, the pension and the retirement benefits the job offers.
I know I am old when I can remember the status of being a federal agent was respected and admired by everyone, but it seems like all that is gone when the (Special) Agents can find safer, more financially beneficial ways to ignore the common murderers and go after the president they don’t like and did not vote for.
They are even on a recorded conversation assuring someone that “we won’t let it happen,” referring to a presidential candidate the Agent doesn’t like or agree with.
Yes, I know what my detractors will say after reading my column — that I am anti-police or anti-government like former Sheriff Douglas Gillespie said to me once, but that is not true; nothing is further from the truth.
I grew up in a military environment. In fact I was born on a military base, and due to my family’s government position, I grew up seeing a soldier and a policeman guarding my family’s home. I was raised respecting law enforcement agents or officers, but unfortunately those agents or officers of the old days are not the same as those of today; I was raised to respect my elders, teachers, and any adult older than me.
Unfortunately, that kind of respect is a thing of the past. You see something wrong today and try to stop it and a young punk will look at you and tell you to “mind your own business or else,” and show you a seven-inch blade—if you are lucky— otherwise, he will pull out a gun and shoot you. But because the young punk is only sixteen, the law “doesn’t apply.”
There is no more respect; I don’t even know if the new generation knows how to spell respect because in today’s texting world, grammar is not important; everything is written in abbreviations and if the one on the receiving end of the text is not on the same abbreviation wavelength, he or she will have to guess what the other person is trying to say or give their own interpretation to the text.
But here I go again getting off the main reason for this week’s column and trying to fix the world—or trying to make it as it used to be a few generations back.
The electronic era has nothing to do with not being educated and polite; I use a computer and talk on a cell phone, but I wear decent clothes when I sit down at the dinner table to have supper with my family regardless of how cold or hot the weather is outside. My grandfather used to wear a three-piece suit when sitting at the dinner table, so I guess I am becoming a modern snob in my own way.
But to finish up what I started to write about, I hope that before I am gone I can see the federal agents doing their job and going after that piece of trash who ended the life of one decent human being and changed the life of another. The only mistake they made was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I pray that they will bring him to justice and give him the sentence that he truly deserves.
For those who may think that I only write about people that I know, I would like to remind them that this space is my own, as the top of the column clearly explains; it is MY point of view, and here I write whatever I want—but as a way of a disclaimer I have to say that I have never met the lady in the wheelchair or her late mother, and I had never met the man being abused by the Public Guardian and the St. Rose De Lima Hospital, until he walked into my office with his story, which we have already written about three times. Publishing this newspaper has taught me that stories will always find us; we do not simply go
around picking and choosing the stories.
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.
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