If you’re in a gang, the law can impose harsh penalties. But even though the police think they’ve got all the signs of gang membership down pat, it turns out that you can’t really tell just by looking.
The Bandidos, Texas’s biggest motorcycle gang, say goodbye to one of their own.
How the feds went after Thick Neck, Guilty, Stomper, Gunner, Lucky, Menace, and the rest of the Amernian mob in Los Angeles.
The gangs of Brooklyn’s Brownsville, an area with the higest concentration of public housing in America.
On the rise of Indian Posse, the largest of Canada’s native gangs, and the fall of its leader.
A respected anti-gang crusader shoots and paralyzes another man.
A Hells Angel informant’s path from destruction to redemption and back, and a family’s trouble with witness protection.
The triple life of G-Rock: upscale house painter, lifelong Crip, FBI informant.
On L.A.’s Homeboy Industries, which offers former felons—including at least one disgraced CEO—the chance to work.
Rogue cops in the LAPD Rampart division’s anti-gang CRASH unit (Community Resources Against Street Hoodlums) were involved in everything from drug smuggling and bank robberies to, allegedly, the murder of Christopher “Notorious BIG” Wallace.
Chains, knives, fists, and, of course, those crude and unreliable homemade affairs called zip guns were the staples in the more vicious gang wars in the 1940s and 1950s. Today there is scarcely a gang in the Bronx that cannot muster a factory-made piece for every member—at the very least, a .22-caliber pistol, but quite often heavier stuff: .32s, .38s, and .45s, shotguns, rifles, and—I have seen them myself—even machine guns, grenades, and gelignite, an explosive. One gang, the Royal Javelins, has acquired some walkie-talkie radios.