Christmas tree hat

Steve Davis of Albuquerque drums up some christmas spirit with his unique hat and red nose while selling his goods Saturday afternoon at the Gallup Flea Market.

Photo by Nicole Goodhue

 

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Gallup juveniles arrested for shooting at cops
Youths open fire randomly at people along Route 66

Tanya Brazil
Staff Writer

GALLUP — Two Gallup juveniles were arrested Saturday night after police said they fired numerous shots at citizens and police near Butler's Square on Highway 66.

The two suspects, Kent Thomas Spiros, 14, and Shawn Randells, 16, were booked into the McKinley County Juvenile Detention Center on two felony counts of aggravated assault on a peace officer.

Randells also was booked for on a felony charge of shooting at or from a motor vehicle.

A witness told police that while she and her 9-year-old son were sitting inside her vehicle, she heard a loud thump on the top of the cab of her pickup truck.

After waiting a minute or so, she said she exited the truck and, upon checking the top of the cab, found a piece of scrap metal in a piece of slug of an unknown caliber, a police report said.

The victim told police she then heard several shots go off in the direction of the railroad tracks where two male suspects could be seen on foot.

When police observed the two males walking in the ditch next to the railroad tracks with what appeared to be a .22 caliber rifle, Santa Fe Railroads were informed to stop all incoming and outgoing traffic.

Hearing more shots fired, officers yelled out, "Gallup Police Department! Stop Shooting!" but the juveniles then began shooting in the direction of the officers, a police report said.

After taking cover, the officers called for back up before proceeding in the direction of the suspects and, while doing so, observed a yellow, older model pickup truck heading westbound within the ditch. The truck later was located at a residence north of East Highway 66.

The residence was called and the juveniles were advised to come out of the house without their weapons, to which they complied and were placed under arrest, police said.

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Navajo interpreters bridge language and culture

SALT LAKE CITY (AP) — For Navajo defendants charged with felonies, Salt Lake City's imposing federal courthouse can seem like a strange land where everyone speaks in a strange tongue.

That's because it is.

And it's up to Navajo court interpreters to translate both the language and culture.

"It is a foreign process to the Navajo people," said Salt Lake interpreter Bertie Kee-Lopez. "A lot of times they are very, very nervous. They're taken from the reservation and into federal court. ... I think that it has an emotional effect on the defendant."

Although misdemeanors committed on Indian reservations are handled by tribal courts, most serious felonies are prosecuted in federal courts. In Utah, that means at least a six hour drive north from the Navajo reservation to the capital.

Nationwide, nearly 95 percent of interpreters used in the country's federal courts speak Spanish, said Dick Carelli, spokesman for the Administrative Office of the U.S. Courts. Navajo ranks far down on the list of needed interpreters.

But in Arizona, New Mexico and Utah which share the Navajo reservation the need is great.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Chris Chaney, who prosecuted cases from Utah's tiny section of the Navajo reservation for three years, said he usually had about 10 cases pending.

He said defendants, victims or witnesses needed interpreters 30 percent to 40 percent of the time.

Chaney found that most tribe members younger than 25 are proficient in English but not in Navajo. Those between 25 and 50 are mainly bilingual, and those older than 50 usually claim Navajo as their first language, he said.

It's those people who keep interpreter Esther Yazzie-Lewis busy. In November alone, she translated for 22 cases in Albuquerque's federal court.

Yazzie-Lewis, who started out working as a radio dispatcher with the Navajo Nation police in Arizona, became a deputy court clerk for the tribal courts and with the tribal probation office.

When she began interpreting in the federal courts, she carried a notepad where she jotted down the translations of legal terms from Black's Law Dictionary.

From there she developed the English-Navajo Glossary of Legal Terms, which contains 2,000 definitions. Her glossary formed the basis of a certification test for interpreters used by the University of Arizona, where she now helps instruct.

Jonathan Levy, program coordinator for the university's National Center for Interpretation Testing, Research and Policy, said they have certified 79 Navajo interpreters since 1994. More than 150 people applied for 30 spots in the upcoming session.

The qualifications are stiff. Candidates must not only speak Navajo which virtually guarantees they are members of the tribe they must also be able to interpret testimony from expert witnesses, stomach graphic evidence and be able to explain ballistics, Yazzie-Lewis said.

"I think a lot of people go to training think they can speak English and Navajo, but they come out of training dumbfounded," she said.

Utah interpreter Rodger Williams agreed, saying it can be hard to relate the law in a Navajo way.

"To us laws are something like natural laws. They are constant. They never change. You try to explain it in white man's ways, there's all sorts of loopholes," he said. "That's why traditional people will say I don't understand the white man, they speak with forked tongues."

Kee-Lopez said translating Navajo is probably no more difficult than other languages, but presents some cultural obstacles.

For example, she said she has had cases where the defendant's family wants her to deliver a package from a medicine man, usually a bit of herbs. It's hard, she explains, to deny the family their wish, especially when they insist she and the defendant are members of the same clan.

"You feel the obligation after they tell you you're related. A lot of times I feel I have to help because I'm there for my people," she said.

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Women behind bars in Grants: Prison, motherhood and heartbreak

GRANTS, N.M. (AP) — When 4-year-old Brittney sees a chain-link fence, she points her chubby little finger and calls out "Momma."

"That's how she remembers me," said Loretta Ortega, an inmate at the New Mexico Women's Correctional Facility in Grants. "There's nothing but a bunch of guilt you carry. It's terrible. It's a consequence that you pay for so long."

A pretty, self-assured woman, Ortega cannot forgive herself for being away from her daughters Brittney Bowker and 10-year-old Chantal Bowker. They live with Ortega's parents in Santa Fe. Ortega, 32, is imprisoned for forgery crimes she committed with her now ex-husband while she says they were using crack cocaine.

Ortega's is a common story at the Grants facility, the only women's prison in New Mexico. There were 514 inmates in Grants as of Dec. 4, a number that has grown considerably since 1987, when there were 151 inmates, according to Gerges Scott, spokesman for New Mexico Department of Corrections.

Of the 514 inmates, about 86 percent are mothers, and 70 percent of the mothers have children under age 16, according to Betty Judd, program manager at the Grants facility.

Nationwide, there are about 48,500 mothers in state prisons 65 percent of the female prisoners with 115,500 children under age 18, according to a 1997 survey conducted by the U.S. Bureau of Justice Statistics, a statistical agency of the U.S. Department of Justice.

And 64 percent of the female prisoners lived with their children before their arrest leaving the mothers scrambling to find care for the children. Nationally, most of these children live with their grandparents. In New Mexico, about 48 percent of incarcerated mothers have no idea where their children are fathers have taken them without contacting the mothers, or the state has taken custody of the children, according to Angie Vachio, executive director of Peanut Butter and Jelly, a nonprofit organization that serves high-risk families in New Mexico.

Vachio bases her information on a survey PB&J conducted in 1997 of 25 percent of the women in the Grants prison.

"These are women who very much love their children, and these are children who very much love their mothers," Vachio said. "And they need to know they will be a family again. We need not to break that fragile bond."

The nights are the worst for Anna Hurtado, a Santa Fe resident serving eight years at the Grants facility. In the silent darkness, she broods over not being there to watch her 14-year-old daughter, Joelene, graduate or to see Alex, her 10-year-old daughter, go on her first date. She daydreams of eating dinner with her family and chastises herself for times she was tweaking too much to sit down and watch television with her daughters.

"Being incarcerated is not what people think," Judd said. "We deal with mothers who have feelings and the issues that come out when they're separated from their children. This time of year is especially difficult."

Hurtado is jailed for two counts of credit-card fraud and two counts of forgery crimes she said she never would have committed if she hadn't been addicted to crack cocaine. Her daughters now live with their father, whom Hurtado is in the process of divorcing.

"It took a long time, but I have forgiven myself," said Hurtado, a woman who looks younger than 35 with her long, thick braid and bright-pink lipstick. "I can't change anything or redo anything. Beating myself up just gets me depressed, and then I accomplish nothing."

In some cases, such as Loana Lopez's, mothers have better relationships with their children once the mothers are locked up and can no longer get high.

Serving 26 months for habitual possession of crack, Lopez is emphatic that she loves her two daughters. But they have spent most of their lives without her because she did not want them around her drug scene.

"It was a distant relationship," said Lopez, sitting in a dimly lit conference room at the Grants facility. "My mom had all the responsibility. I just came and went. And I was high half the time."

Once Lopez, 33, started serving time in November, her relationship with 4-year-old Kristina and 14-year-old Desiree became stronger than it ever was when she had her freedom.

"This was a big eye-opener for me," Lopez said. "In a way, I am blessed because I don't have to live like that anymore. I was there physically but not there mentally for my kids. I have a beautiful relationship with my kids now. I am able to enjoy them."

Lopez of Santa Fe paused to wipe away tears as she talked about being proud of Desiree for making the honor roll this semester. She acknowledges that she never would have known before, and besides that, Desiree earned Cs and Ds when Lopez was out of jail and using.

Vachio said children inevitably have feelings of abandonment when their mothers are jailed.

"The shame they have to deal with in the community is immense," Vachio said. "There's very little support for them to work through it. And there's anger involved at that parent, tremendous anger."

It is devastating for Ortega to realize how Chantal is affected by her absence. In therapy, Chantal used to draw lots of hearts colored black. When she played in a sandbox, she just buried all her toys.

"They concluded that she stuffs everything inside, that there's an empty, dark space inside of her," said Ortega, looking down at the prison's black slate floor. Because most women's prisons are in remote locations, children have to cope with their abandonment without even seeing their mothers for months or years at a time. More than 60 percent of parents in state prison are held more than 100 miles from their last place of residence, according to the national survey. Grants is about 65 miles from Albuquerque and 125 miles from Santa Fe.

The facility is tucked behind the town of Grants off a deserted, dusty road. All visitors must go through a metal detector after a
prison official searches their bags.

Because her friends cannot travel to Grants, Gloria Gurule, 33, has not seen her 13-year-old son since April. She is serving two years for possession of cocaine her second possession sentence. When she was jailed before, Patricio stayed with Gurule's mother, but since she died, nobody is there for him, Gurule said. He lives with Gurule's friends.

Nationwide, 54 percent of mothers in state prison and 42 percent in federal prison report never seeing their children during their incarceration, according to the 1997 survey. In some cases, the children are separated from each other and living with different relatives while their mother is in jail. Angela Vargas sees her 13-year-old son, Antonio, about every three months, but she has not seen her youngest, 6-year-old Max, since July 1999. Antonio lives with Vargas' mom in Espanola, while Max lives with his father in Llano.

"I'm pretty close with the oldest," said Vargas, a freckle-faced 28-year-old. "With the baby, I'm going to have to really work on it when I get out so we can get used to each other again."

About 38 percent of the women in Grants are there for drug-related convictions. Another 28 percent are incarcerated for economic crimes typically stealing for drugs, according to PB&J's survey of Grants. Nationally, one in three mothers committed her crimes to get drugs or money for drugs, according to the Bureau of Justice survey.

In the Grants facility, women in the therapeutic community unit take classes that include teaching them how to be better parents, how to manage their anger and how to change substance-abuse cycles.

"We also have a lot of programs geared to helping inmates overcome all the abuse they have sustained throughout their life,"
Judd said. "With the combination of groups, we're hoping to put out inmates better than what they came in."

Hurtado said she regrets not getting help for her substance abuse before she was arrested. As a mother, serving time is tortuous.
"There are so many mothers in here," she said as she folded and refolded a tissue. "I don't think society is even aware of it. So many are here because of drugs. I don't think they should be torn away from their families for so long. I don't think it serves a purpose."

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NNRCA recognizing gold card membersSantiago Ramos

Staff Sports Writer

CROWNPOINT — The Navajo Nation Rodeo Cowboys Association (NNRCA) is digging up old records of the rodeo association in hopes of recognizing former supporters with gold card status.

"We had a lot of supporters when the NNRCA started in 1974," NNRCA second vice-president Bill Johnson said. "The gold card members were our founders of the original Board of Directors that built this association to what it is today. We're hoping the old timers can come back and reestablish themselves with the association and give support back to the group."

Covering contestants in the states of New Mexico, Colorado and Northern Arizona in Region 6, the NNRCA was grown from its start in 1975 to 26 years later with its current 497 members. After holding its initial NNRCA regional finals in 1975, the Indian National Finals Rodeo (INFR) gave birth the following year in 1976. The INFR recently celebrated its Silver Anniversary this past December with its finals in Albuquerque.

Johnson said that the NNRCA which has its rodeo headquarters in Crownpoint, was started when several rodeo contestants decided that a second rodeo association on the Navajo Reservation was needed to compliment the former All Indian Rodeo Cowboys Association (AIRCA).

"They decided that one association wasn't big enough especially on the eastern side of New Mexico," Johnson said. "The contestants used to travel to the AIRCA rodeos."

Johnson said that the NNRCA logo was put together by Willie Murphy using an image of former saddle bronc season champion rider Tex Arviso in 1975.

The NNRCA was founded by the late Jake Antone along with John Perry Jr. The current NNRCA officers are president Alvin Smith of Crownpoint, first vice-president Dennis Clah of Fort Wingate, second vice-president Bill Johnson of Crownpoint, secretary-treasurer Karen Bateman of Thoreau and Central Entry System Victoria Pablo of Crownpoint. On the NNRCA Board of Directors are (bareback) Beverly Coho of Window Rock, Ariz., (saddle bronc) Jerry Sliver of Crownpoint, (bull riding) Rick Leslie of Tohajiilee, (calf roping) Alfred Bates Jr. of Crownpoint, (steer wrestling) David Becenti of Crownpoint, (barrel racing) Sue D. Pablo of Standing Rock, (breakaway) Alfreda Bates of Crownpoint with rodeo sponsor representatives Ray Emerson of Gallup for New Mexico and Nelson Claw of Chinle, Ariz. for Arizona.

The current list of NNRCA gold card holders are Lorraine Adakai, James Allison Sr. (deceased), Jake Antone (deceased), Lou Antone, Herman Arviso Sr., Paul Arviso, Ben Bates Jr. (deceased), Calvin Becenti, Monty Becenti (deceased), Mitchell Capitan, Lucy Becenti Cayintido, Al Charley, Dennis Clah, Donald Daswood, Emma Daswood, Wayne Dennison, Sam Duboise, Larry Duncan, Kee Etsitty, Leonard Francisco Sr., Bobby Holyan Sr. (deceased), Benny Jaye, Lee C. Jim, Sonny Jim, Robert Long (deceased), Lucia Loretto, Frankie Marianito, Gerald Moore, Harry Moore Sr., Lawrence Morgan, Ray Morgan, Loretta Morris, Raymond Morris, Wilbur Murphy, Tommy Nez Sr. (deceased), Harrison Pablo, Jimmy Pablo,
Wilma Pablo, John Perry Jr., Wilson Stewart Sr. (deceased), Dan Tenequer, Allen Tom, Mike Tully and Franklin Yazzie.

"Each year we have four or five contestants that quit competing," NNRCA first vice-president Dennis Clah said. "The idea is to keep them in the association."

Clah said that a new gold card association has been recently started with former NNRCA president Lou Antone of Crownpoint.
Rodeo old timers are asked to contact the NNRCA to be included on the gold card list by contacting Willie Murphy at (505) 786-5378 or Bill Johnson at (505) 786-5669.

The NNRCA is planning on recognizing the gold card members during its annual awards night that's set for Saturday, Jan. 27 at Red Rock State Park in Gallup.

The NNRCA will also holding another meeting Thursday, Dec. 28 at the Crownpoint Tribal Water and Sanitation conference room at 6 p.m.

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Woman dies after I-40 accident

Tanya Brazil
Staff Writer

GALLUP — A Lakewood, Colo. woman died Thursday after police said the vehicle she was traveling in drifted off the road and rolled over in the median near mile marker 7 on Interstate 40.

The passenger, Elsa Hamilton, 82, was pronounced dead at about 5:30 p.m. after being taken to Rehoboth McKinley Christian Hospital with possible internal injuries received in the accident.

Her husband, Eugene Hamilton, 82, also was taken to RMCH and later flown to University Hospital in Albuquerque after sustaining possible internal injuries and a collapsed lung.

Police said the driver was traveling eastbound on I-40 within the speed limit when the vehicle began to drift off the roadway...

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Powerball winners to decide on options

ALBUQUERQUE (AP) — Remember that group of 14 Sandia National Laboratories employees who won a $131 million Powerball jackpot last month?

If you thought the keys to luxury cars were waiting for them under their Christmas trees, think again.

The security police officers and lieutenant, who pitched in $10 each to buy 140 lottery tickets, haven't seen any of their winnings yet.

Charles Tabet, spokesman for the officers, said he hasn't heard of any spending sprees by his co-workers...

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Deaths

Pete Delgado

GALLUP — Services for Pete L. Delgado, 93, will be held at 10 a.m. Wednesday, Dec. 27 at Saint Francis Church. Father Diego will officiate. Burial will follow at Sunset Memorial Park.

A rosary will be recited at 7 p.m., today, Dec. 26 at Rollie's Mortuary.

Delgado died on Dec. 23 in Gallup. He was born April 29, 1907in El Paso, Texas.

Delgado worked for AT&SF Railroad, Gallup Brick Plant and Matthews Furniture Co. He was also employed as a coal miner.
He was a self-taught musician and involved in regional Mariachi music.

Survivors include his sons Juan Delgado of Gallup and Vincent Delgado of Albuquerque; daughter Lucy Harris of Gallup; 13 grandchildren, 31 great-grandchildren and one great-great grandchild.

Delgado was preceded in death by parents Juan Pablo and Josephita Delgado; wife Mary M. Delgado; daughter Orlene ; brother Vincent Delgado and sister Mary Mares.

Pallbearers will be Harry Athens, Andy Carbajal, Mike Chavez, Tom Devlin, Fernie Otero and Robert Rosales Sr.

The family will receive friends at the Sacred Heart Cathedral Family Center following the internment.