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
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tion.
Opinions expressed in The Battalion are those of the editorial
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The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper for students
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Mail subscriptions are $17.44 per semester, $34.62 per school
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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