By Anthony Rifilato
Despite being one of the most sought-after gang specialists in the Northeast, Sergio Argueta wasn't the main speaker at a forum on gang violence at the United Cerebral Palsy Association in Roosevelt two weeks ago. Most audience members probably weren't even aware of who Argueta was as he unassumingly sat among them.
But when the 25-year-old Uniondale resident spoke, people listened. While most of the main speakers used measured tones, Argueta -- wearing a white T-shirt and baggy jeans -- sped from zero to 60 in a matter of seconds.
"We can't count on the police to solve the issue," he said, telling the audience how his friends were brutally gunned down and demanding that his listeners get involved and "step up."
"I was one of those kids," he told them. "If you think [the police] are going to be able to do this, you're mistaken."
A former gang leader in Hempstead, Argueta is one of the Nassau County Youth Board's secret weapons against gang violence. Surviving a maelstrom of violent deaths and a turbulent street life, he became a powerful speaker and activist.
"It wasn't planned," he said of his foray into activism after the
meeting. "In my wildest dreams I never thought I'd be working on this issue."
The first time Argueta was arrested, he was 13. While he was in handcuffs, the officer told him he'd better get used to it, because he would be in them for the rest of his life. And although Argueta's young life could have reached that bitter end, he made a spectacular turn-around and proved the officer wrong.
A shooting shifts his priorities
As a child, Argueta moved to Hempstead with his mother, who is from El Salvador. He was a good student up until middle school, when it was no longer cool to be a good student and the animosity between the black and Latino kids intensified.
Emulating the Latin Kings, a violent street gang, Argueta and his friends began calling themselves R.P., or Redondel Pride, named after the housing complex where they lived. They wore colors -- red, white and brown -- and went from fistfighting to mugging kids at the mall for their beepers and money. At 16 Argueta became the group's leader, and he said he was drunk with power.
"I wasn't willing to let that go," Argueta said. "People literally put their lives into my hands."
Perhaps the fulcrum of change in his life was, ironically, a shotgun. He had bought it to avenge the death of his friend Indu, who was shot in the head by a rival gang. When his friends Ricky and J.C. found Indu's killers outside a Hempstead nightclub, there was a scuffle, and Ricky drew the shotgun. Amid the commotion, Ricky pumped three rounds into the crowd. He accidentally shot and killed J.C.
The young men were devastated. Ricky was arrested for manslaughter and went to prison in 1997, where he is still serving. "I felt extremely responsible," said Argueta. "I made the call to buy that gun."
It was then that he started to question his life, and after a long talk with Ricky in prison, who told him to do what was right, Argueta decided to make a drastic change. At 18, he left R.P., graduated from high school and enrolled at Nassau Community College, where he studied criminal justice and became student body president.
He was accepted to Columbia University, and for the first time, things were looking up for him. He couldn't believe it, he said. For a while he was a typical college student, but, concerned with high tuition costs at Columbia, he transferred to Hofstra. And as a result of another tragedy, Argueta would not remain a typical college student for long.
Staying STRONG
In 2000, a friend of Argueta's, Eric Rivera, was killed by gang members as he headed home to Uniondale for carrying a Puerto Rican flag after the Puerto Rican Day parade. Argueta decided it was time for him to directly address the issue of gang violence. "I couldn't wait for these politicians to do something," he said.
In response to Rivera's death, Argueta formed STRONG (Struggling To Reunite Our New Generation), a Garden City-based non-profit organization that addresses youth issues and gang violence. Through this, Argueta and others speak to junior and senior high school students throughout the Northeast and work with law-enforcement agencies to create anti-gang workshops for kids.
"I'm more of a grassroots activist," explained Argueta, who recently graduated from Hofstra and is planning on getting a master's degree in social work. In January, he was tapped by the Nassau County Youth Board for a new position to deal with the county's gang problem. There Argueta not only goes on speaking engagements, but helps develop and implement programs for at-risk youth.
"I knew the issue of gang violence was a major topic," said Youth Board Director George Siberon. "The second I saw him speak, I made up my mind. I went over and told him, 'You're going to work for me.'"
Argueta says most kids don't want to hear about alternatives or be preached to. In his presentations, he shows slides of the stereotypical faces and images of the gang lifestyle, such as The Sopranos, rapper 50 Cent, and Al Pacino in "Scarface."
But just as the images of Hollywood gangsters disappear from the screen, Argueta's lecture becomes alarmingly real. He displays newspaper articles and photos of victims of gang violence. A kaleidoscope of victims flashes across the screen -- 14-year-old Jose White, who was shot in the back in Freeport; a mother who was shot in the throat because her son was mistaken for a gang member; a 10-year-old girl who was killed in gang crossfire; Eric Rivera, whose attackers beat him with baseball bats.
Argueta doesn't always dwell on the morbid, but he said that because of all the deaths, many young people have become desensitized to violence. "You have to find ways to empower people to stay out of gangs," he said. "The only way to resolve this issue is through education."
Argueta's message resonates with teens, say his colleagues, and he has become a role model for at-risk youth. "A lot of teenagers are impacted when they hear him speak," said Issan Rodrigues, a friend of Argueta's who assists at his speaking engagements. "He speaks from the heart. I've seen people break down and cry."
One of the last photos Argueta shows teens is of Damian Corrente, a 21-year-old pre-med student at Stony Brook who was caught in the crossfire of a drive-by shooting in 1999. The last image is of Corrente in his coffin. "Unfortunately," Argueta will say, "the last view [his mother] had of him was this."
