By George Chidi
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
GWINNETT CO., Ga. — Investigator Greg Ross wondered aloud if Squiggy was owed a beat-down.
First, Ross had to figure out what gang Squiggy belonged to, and who Squiggy might have ticked off. And, of course, Squiggy’s real name.
“If I hear Squiggy is having an issue, I need to know who Squiggy is,” said Ross, an investigator with the Gwinnett County Sheriff’s Office.
Ross specializes in gang intelligence — which prisoners are gang members, which gangs are feuding and how to tell who belongs to which group. It’s best not to have Bloods and Crips together in the same cell, what with a 40-year-old feud going on. It’s good to know that Folk Nation gang members use a six-pointed star as an identifying symbol while Peoples Nation uses a five-pointed star. They’re apt to kill one another, too.
It’s a unique job. Police departments across metro Atlanta have specialized units targeting gangs. Federal law enforcement has a gang unit. But Ross might be the only one around here specializing in gangs at the jailhouse. Neither Fulton County, nor DeKalb, nor Cobb have someone doing Ross’ job at the jail.
But with gang crime growing across Gwinnett, Sheriff Butch Conway’s office realized gang violence might start to spill into the jail. The office created Ross’ position to head off potential problems, said Ross’ supervisor, Maj. Carl Sims.
Roughly 8 percent of Gwinnett’s 2,400 inmates have gang affiliations, Ross said. Gwinnett’s jailers have identified members from about 30 to 40 gangs in Gwinnett’s jail.
Most are in jail in ones and twos. The Northside 14 gang probably has the most members in Gwinnett’s jail, with six or seven inmates, Ross said. Northside 14 is actually a loose federation of several other gangs, such as NRL 23 and the Latin Locos, Ross said.
“They had PL 14, but I think they got kicked out,” Ross said. “I heard they’re not allowed to wear red now.”
Ross gleans information from inmates’ letters about who’s joining which gang and where folks are meeting. He keeps a file with odd tattoos, watching to see who comes in with similar markings. And he listens to inmates.
“It takes a unique individual,” Sims said. “Most of what I’ve learned I learned [patrolling] the street. [Ross] doesn’t come from that culture. ... After a while you start to pre-judge people, an us-against-them perspective. You can’t do that. People sense your inner feelings about that.”
Before he joined the Gwinnett Sheriff’s Office six years ago, Ross, 28, worked retail security at department stores. Ross’ earnest, self-effacing charm belies the seriousness of his new career.
“A good gang investigator is someone who understands what they’re dealing with, that this is not a joke, or a fad or a passing fancy,” Sims said.
Indeed, three of Gwinnett’s cities have passed ordinances criminalizing some gang activities. The new laws make gang information more valuable to police, which may use the evidence in prosecutions.
But sorting through the gumbo of gangs’ shifting alliances and rivalries can be complicated work, Ross said. Following it is like following a soap opera, he added. Except the actors don’t like their audience very much.
As the tall officer from upstate New York walked into one cluster of jail cells, a reaction rippled visibly through the group of 30 or so inmates milling about on a recent afternoon. Prisoners tried to look at him without looking like they were looking. About half the prisoners left the room for the relative invisibility of the small enclosed yard.
Of course, gangsters generally don’t introduce themselves as such to Ross, he said. Being a gang member is an aggravating factor in some crimes, potentially tacking on extra time to jail terms. And no one wants to look like a snitch in jail, he said.
Ross often refers to “security threat groups” when talking about gangs, using police-ese because of the legal implications of declaring someone a gang member.
“There’s no fast-food, drive-thru way to tell” who is in a gang and who isn’t, Ross said. “When it was big to wear white T-shirts, all of them were wearing white T-shirts. When it was big to wear pink, all of them were wearing pink.”
For a time, Arizona Cardinals quarterback Kurt Warner’s red No. 13 jersey was big among gang members, Ross said. The number 13 has some significance with gangs affiliated with the Mexican Mafia. But a guy in his 40s wearing the jersey at the mall isn’t likely to get hassled, Ross said. His teenage nephew wearing baggy pants and tattoos with a hat on backward might, he said.
Ross will introduce himself when a prisoner is first admitted, he said. Ross asks, matter-of-factly, “I’ll need to know for your benefit if you have tattoos, if you have a problem with someone on the street which can cause trouble here,” he said. He keeps his tone neutral. He speaks fluent Spanish, which helps him connect with Hispanic inmates. But if someone tells Ross that he has nothing to say, then that’s that, Ross said.
Ross occasionally will try to talk to the relatives and friends visiting a gang member. But he has no power to compel a visitor to stop. And visitors are in shortage for some gang members. It’s a harsh thing to realize for people who have bought into the blood-in, blood-out culture of gang as family, Ross said.
Much of identifying gang members comes down to sussing out attitudes, he said.
Knowing who knows who also helps. When it makes sense, he passes on important data to police investigators. “I’m a go-between for information you can’t get to behind the walls,” he said.
And that can help solve other crimes, Ross said. Particularly when the cops come looking for Squiggy.
Copyright The Atlanta Journal-Constitution