Image provided by: Texas A&M University
About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Dec. 5, 1986)
Page 2fThe Battalion/Friday, December 5, 1986 Opinion Son’s crime doesn’t justify keeping mother in the dar Until recently, Benita Te- jera shared her home with two of her sons, 21-year-old Elvis and 14-year-old Ron ald. Her meticulously well- Mike Sullivan Guest Columnist the Tejera family, and that’s why it hurt the Teje- ras so much when he was killed. kept north-Bryan home is no bigger than a two-car garage, and she can’t afford such modern ameni ties as a telephone or a car. Without the help of the Housing and Urban Development program, Be nita, who speaks only Spanish, couldn’t afford her home, and without food stamps her family might not eat. But Benita and her family don’t complain about being poor because being poor is all they’ve ever known. Her family stability doesn’t come from money, it comes from love and a sense of family unity. A big source of that family unity was Elvis. Benita’s daughter-in-law Belinda is married to Elvis’ older brother, Rudy. Belinda described Elvis as a person who always was outgoing. “Elvis had a lot of friends and girlfriends, and he always liked to dress nice,” Belinda said. He made dressing well a career for a little while, work ing as a model. In his scrapbook are pictures of El vis modeling clothes for a large audience at a mall and some candid shots of him laughing with friends. Elvis, who worked as a security guard last sum mer, was shot twice and killed by College Station Police as he and two others attempted to rob a local 7-Eleven store Oct. 26. More than a month after his death, Benita feels the sting of her son’s loss as though he were killed yesterday. And because she still doesn’t completely understand the circumstances surrounding Elvis’ death, the pain is not likely to subside. The Tejeras readily acknowledge that what Elvis did was wrong and that he should have been pun ished for his crime. All they want to know is why he had to die for it and if the police could have han dled the situation in a better way. Translating for Benita, Belinda explained what happened the night Elvis was killed and what the College Station Police told Benita about her son’s death. Tuesday night Elvis took Belinda, who was visit ing Benita, home at about 11:30 p.m. He said he would return home after dropping off his sister- in-law, but that was the last Benita heard from her “He was always goofing around, pretending he was a singer like Michael Jackson,” Belinda said. Elvis and his upbeat nature were a big part of At about 11 a.m. the next day, Benita said, three College Station police officers came to her home and told her that Elvis had been killed at about 2 a.m. Wednesday as he was attempting to rob a 7- Eleven store. She didn’t get the details of the shooting from the officer’s explanation. An autopsy was done on Elvis’ body, the results of which have not yet been released, and he was buried on Friday of that week. A few days after the funeral, two more College Station police officers and a Houston police officer visited Benita. She said the officers asked questions about Elvis, but didn’t tell her any more about the shooting. “They told her that there was a police report, but because we’re the family they couldn’t show it to us,” Belinda said. Benita said that she and her family have called repeatedly to get a copy of the police report and have visited the police station, but the person they have been talking to at the station hasn’t let them see the report. However, Rita Watkins, the detective handling the case, said there is a police report, and the Teje ras may see it, but it first must be cleared through the district attorney. Although Benita hasn’t seen an autopsy report, her husband, who identified Elvis’ body, told her that Elvis had been shot twice, once in the lower back area and once in the neck area. Police con firmed that and said Elvis, who was holding a hos tage, was shot first from behind by a hiding officer — it’s unclear whether the officer identified him- self to Elvis or not — and then in the throatatetH an officer standing directly in front of him. Officers say Elvis looked like he was aboi shoot and they had no choice but to lire on The hostage said he believes the second sho the throat area, killed Elvis. According to police, Elvis never fired » at j on weapon and the other two men, one unarmedaBgies ev< the other armed with a mat hete, also wereshoi sloppin police. Polite said the entire ordeal was over in® Ihis minutes and a total of eight shots were firedM still i "■oker ? two officers. Merd higher store Until the Eejeras recently read a iiewspawH “Ever hi: m ploymer molts,” arket account of the shooting as given by a hostage another employee in the store, they didn'tka the circumstances of Elvis’ death, and thevd don’t have all the facts. jp m ] ' w , The College Station Police DepartmentofiSirt of 1 im > li< >stage < i ims 11 uming l< >i its officers,houeijB'-" •‘■ ll Bia/os ( (»unt\ grand |iu\ said that even suc h spec ial training the officers who did B 1 . shooting acted properly. Bj ,| ie |, But 15 (lavs altei the shooting, CollegeStaBiuragii police si 11| I i.i \ < mil e \ | clan led to the TejerasojB 1 1 hi tl\ what happened and why they had tokillElwN <Mn & ^ oi l mi ■themt Belinda is pool. she can t afford anattornei | was ( | e fj she deserves to know whs her son is dead. lie Frid Mike Sullivan is a senior journalism major staff writer /or The Battalion. “I saw Health club's closing not a catastrophe Jmm e>l<?86HCU$|Crt|W Good news! My health club has closed. It’s the one right around the corner from my office, the one so close that there was (almost) no excuse not to go to it daily. It’s the one I joined to re tard aging, fight death, bring back Richard Cohen the body I never had in the first place, give me legs that are legs and arms that are arms instead of the ones I have been using all these years, which, to tell the truth, lack tone. Like my grandfather before me, I have the body of a pinochle player. weighed on me. I felt as I had in high school when I didn’t do my homework. Once, out of guilt, I dropped by and did 100 miles or so on the stationary bicycle. The staff greeted me cordially, took out my file and remonstrated with me: Where had I been? Didn’t I care about my body? Lacking courage, I said noth ing about preferring to read, about for saking muscle tone for a hour with my pal, Franz Schubert. Instead, I made up all kinds of excuses — overseas, busy. And then the worst lie of all: “I’ve been running outdoors,” Not that pinochle is my game. No sir- ree. 1 am an aging yuppie, born in the age of racquetball. I used to go to the club daily. I ran on a conveyor belt, lifted weights, did push-ups and sit-ups and got stern lectures from instructors who informed me that muscles I did not think I had were atrophying. In the last year alone, by their count, I lost 16 mus cles for all time. Another year and I’d look like the Elephant Man. Nothing was simple in my club. If I curled weights for my biceps, I was told that my arms would soon be out of balance. If I ran on the conveyor belt, I was told that I was developing only half of my legs. For every, muscle firmed, there was another that de manded attention. I was always out of balance, both too strong and too At night, instead of running the treadmill to oblivion, I sat in my office and read. I caught up with papers and magazines, put the mail in neat piles and listened to music. Novels beckoned, worlds opened. My stomach sagged; my mind firmed up. My muscles returned to balance — weak balancing weak. I was at last in decadent equilibrium. Recently the health club called and left a message. I did not return the call. They surely were going to ask where I had been or tell me I owed money. I could not face telling them the person I had become. Their very bodies — mus cles balancing muscles —would mock me. There were probably new charts on the wall, something lountry Jay and leople ii “If I h At cur tpulatio pie by Itln lining Become [treed Tl B “I thinl there is s | Work ethi told the a ms and led “Afri spo Students he 20th c i W Ipll 1 My broker is Ivan Boesky— and when Ivan Boesky talks 1 new in diet, yet an other food that could give you can- cer, whole new ways of doing sit- ups, a major break through in push ups. A couple of days later, I picked up the phone: “Ri chard, this is Sally at the health club.” Caught. “Oh, hi, Sally, I’m glad you called. I was just about to come down and. . . .” Counties should recognize need for extension agents Funding system for TAEX offices needs to chonge It seems every thing in Texas is hitting rock bot tom these days, from the slumping Bob Grube Guest Columnist weak, and constantly in danger of punching myself in the mouth. Another 10 minutes at this; another 10 at that. Given a full day of exercise no less than five or six days a week, I could have a nearly perfect body. But what about my mind? I asked my self. The time I spent exercising could be spent reading or listening to music. What if I could read the Great Printout In the Sky and discover that by exercis ing dutifully for the rest of my life, I would live one year longer? And what if that same printout calculated that I would spend a total of a year of my life exercising? Would I do it? Would I trade a year of pain, boredom and inane lectures from triceptologists for another year at the very end? One day, in the locker room, I posed my question to a group of naked men. At first (except for the whir of the hair dryer), there was silence. As one of us kept an eye out for the crack staff of bruisers, we discussed the pros and cons of the situation. We came to no agreement, but one by one, I noticed, my fellow exercisists dropped out of the program. Sometimes I was the only one in the locker room, naked and lone some. And then, without actually doing so, I quit. But the very existence of the club Then she said they were closing — lost their lease or something. My heart soared, but I didn’t let on. “How awful. I’m so sorry. What will I do now?” I bounced over to the club to clean out my locker. 1 said goodbye to the staff, promised I would check out their new location and then, as soon as I was out of sight, bounded up the stairs, gig gling all the way. Death will now come sooner, I know. But at least when it comes, the new me will be prepared for what follows. Deal me in. Grandpa. Copyright 1986, Washington Post Writers Group oil industry to the defense-less Dallas Cowboys. But just as Randy White shouldn’t take the blame for his team’s downfall, neither should the county agriculture agents of the Texas Agricultural Exten sion Service have to shoulder the bur den of the state’s budget cuts. But that’s exactly what’s happening in all 254 counties across the state. The TAEX has an extension office in every Texas county. The offices are staffed according to the county’s pop ulation and needs. The TAEX didn’t es cape the Grim Reaper’s double-edged funding axe as it chopped away at not only state funds, but at staff positions, too. However, the spectre of drastic lay offs and budget cuts never appeared as ominously as people had feared it would, and the cuts turned into more of a pain in the neck than a major problem for state agencies. But this isn’t true for the TAEX county agents. At first glance, the TAEX seems to have gotten a reprieve from the swing ing funding axe, losing about $3 million of its $39.8 million 1986-87 budget. Compared to original expectations of a 13 percent cut, the TAEX appears to have come out OK. But a closer look reveals that the TAEX is having to continue Gov. Mark White’s hiring freeze to keep from los ing more money to budget cuts. And this is what is so unfair to the county agents. They are having to cover two or more vacant staff posi tion and a sense of duty can last on| long. 1 he TAEX funding system for county offices needs to change, rently, the counties are responsible about 20 percent of the agents’salai When the state has a budget cut axes funding for the other 80percen' the agents’ salaries, the counties erf say they can’t take up the slack Unfortunately, all county creases must be approved bythecoi courts, which don’t dispense thusiastically. But the counties® 1 make a decision soon some things. and priori The Battalion (USPS 045 360) Member of Texas Press Association Southwest Journalism Conference The Battalion Editorial Board Cathie Anderson, Editor Kirsten Dietz, Managing Editor Loren Steffy, Opinion Page Editor Frank Smith, City Editor Sue Krenek, News Editor Ken Sury, Sports Editor Editorial Policy The Battalion is a non-profit, self-supporting newspaper oper ated as a community •service to Texas A&M and Bryan-College Sta tion. Opinions expressed in The Battalion are those of the editorial board or the author, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of Texas A&M administrators, faculty or the Board of Regents. The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper for students in reporting, editing and photography classes within the Depart ment of Journalism. The Battalion is published Monday through Friday during T exas A&M regular semesters, except for holiday and examination periods. Mail subscriptions are $17.44 per semester, $34.62 per school year and $36.44 per full year. Advertising rates furnished on re quest. Our address: The Battalion, Department of Journalism, Texas A&M University, College Station. TX 77843-4 111. Second class postage paid at College Station, TX 77843. TER: Send address cna tions and are working double time with no extra pay. The Brazos Gounty agent’s typical day begins about 6 a.m. and ends about 10 p.m. He also works several hours on week ends, and he’s been doing it since February. This isn’t fair to him or his fam- They must 11 cide what is t important: kef county agents paying them they are wortt saving theesj money, lo agents, and ^ q uently, quality exteo 11 program. It is cleartM 1 agents are u 111 ' paid and o' 1 worked. Thevi 11 he offered a t® ily. How long can a person be expected to do double the work for no increase in pay because of job satisfaction or a sense of duty to the 40,000 people he comes into contact with each year? POSTMASTER: Send address changes to The Battalion, De partment of Journalism, Texas A&M University. College Station TX 77843-4111. Eventually programs will have to be cut that many people depend on, and then, if that doesn’t ease the agents’ workloads, the agents themselves may become f rustrated and quit. Job satisfac- petitive salary and a reasonable' 1 load. It has been estimated thattb f tension agents come into contact more than 6.5 million Texans a whether it’s regarding ranching, ing or rose bush fungus. Can T exas afford to lose these icated men and women? r i Bob Grube is a senior journalism and a staff writer for The Battalion