Former thug: It brought out the devil in me
“Speedy,” 28, was born in Central Islip and joined MS-13 when he was 16. He refused to be identified by his real name or even his old underworld moniker. Although it’s been nearly seven years since he left the gang, he still fears reprisals. Speaking with The Post’s Isabel Vincent, he shares his story for the first time.
IT happened in a park at night. Three gang members kicked and punched me all over my body — my arms, my back, my stomach, my hands, even my groin. Nothing was off-limits. They beat me for exactly 13 seconds. One of the gang members kept time, counting slowly.
I was 16 and had just been initiated into the most powerful gang, MS-13. I gritted my teeth, so I didn’t scream out as they beat me. Moments later, I was in so much pain I could barely stand up. But eventually, I grew to enjoy beating others.
Hurting others made me feel invincible, like nothing is against you. If you have sadness inside you, it makes you happy.
The gang knows your weak spot. They understand you. They hear you. When they find your weakness, they go all the way in.
I was pretty weak when I first met them. I was also pretty much alone.
My family came from Guatemala, and I lost my mother to cancer when I was 6. My father died of cancer when I was 14. My younger sisters — 10 and 14 at the time — were put in foster homes. I barely saw them. I lived with uncles and aunts. I was back and forth between their houses and after a while, I just wanted to be alone. That’s when MS-13 said, “Come join us.”
I knew who they were. They approached me at school. They knew my parents were dead, and they started to hang out with me and made me feel good. They would hang out with you, smoking, drinking. They would get you girls, anything you wanted.
Before MS-13, I belonged to a clique called Latinos for Life. We started it in middle school, and it got so big that the MS-13 guys said we had to join them or be against them.
I actually wanted to join because I felt I would have more power in MS-13. Nobody could hurt me if I was one of them. We used violence to send a message, to make it known that we were in control.
Stabbing others became very normal for me. So did shaking people down. At the beginning, I felt bad, but then I got comfortable with my emotions.
We knew when people who worked in the farms got their paychecks, and we went after their cash. I got really good at sticking a knife in their back or pointing a gun if they were in their car at a stop sign.
If there was a party going on, we’d crash it. We would bring our machetes, sometimes guns, and take everyone’s money. It was always about the money. But we’d also take their food, their drinks. And if anyone ever looked at us the wrong way, we’d beat them up.
If people owed us money, 20 to 30 guys would go to their house, and we would break down their door. Whoever was at home would take a beating. If the person in question wasn’t there, we would beat up their family. It didn’t matter if they had children. We would beat them up, too.
The gang has its own detectives, so if you don’t cooperate, they will find and kill your family in El Salvador, or Honduras or any other place. Or they will rape your daughters, girlfriends, sisters. If a father doesn’t want to cooperate, they will do something to his daughter. I never raped anyone, but others did. If a member was interested in a girl, he would rape her and claim her as property.
We had a very close-knit group of about 50 guys. We treated one another as men, and we’d walk together for protection. We functioned like a paramilitary organization. If any one of us ever felt in danger from another gang, help was a phone call away. It was a great feeling to be so protected.
Sometimes when we wanted to find out if people were snitching on us, we would summon the devil. The devil for us was a symbol of protection. We used a Ouija board to call him. Once, the devil took over my body. I went into a crazy state. I didn’t know what was happening, and it took 10 members of the gang to hold me down. In a trance, some gang members would give up names of people to target. It was a loyalty test, and we called it “taking a soul.” If the devil gave you a name, you had to go out and mess that person up. You had to take their soul.
I never killed anyone. I stole drugs. I shook people down for cash. I stabbed people, and I shoved a guy through a glass door once. It was self-defense, but I still went to jail at different times for assault, burglary and grand larceny.
The first time I was in, I had just turned 18. In jail, the cops would tell you who snitched on you. They knew MS-13 would kill the snitch. I had the chance to take care of those who snitched on me, but I didn’t want to. I never wanted to kill anyone.
After about five years in the gang, I decided I wanted to leave. I was 21. The leaders said “no.” They said I had too much information. I left anyway, and they shot up my house. Luckily, no one was around. That’s when I went to a different place. I had to leave Central Islip to get my life back.
That was seven years ago. I go to church now. I have a son. I’ve completely changed my life, and I want to be a good father.
I’m back in Central Islip, but I’m not worried about running into gang members. I look completely different. I wear different clothes, and I have lost a lot of weight. My gang tattoos are always covered.
And most of the guys I hung out with in the gang are either dead or in jail.
Now I want to get an education. And I want to help kids get out of the gangs. I want to help them find a different life.
MS-13 is a virus. And like every virus, you have to figure out where it comes from, and you have to kill it.
Stabbing others became very normal for me. So did shaking people down. —“Speedy,” a former member of MS-13