Such was the funeral of Hector, killer of humans

Less than a mile from my home yesterday afternoon, at 84th Street and Amsterdam Avenue in Manhattan, a hoodlum named Hector Quinones murdered three men—Carlos Rodriquez, Jr.; his father, Carlos Rodriguez, Sr.; and the latter’s father in law, Fernando Gonzalez—in their apartment, apparently over a drug deal. Quinones then attempted to harm two female Rodriquezes, who both escaped with their lives. Then:

Fleeing empty-handed, Quinones ditched his gun, a .380-caliber semiautomatic pistol loaded with hollow-point bullets, and made a dash down a rear fire escape.

But again, his low-slung pants fell to his ankles, tripping him and sending him falling three stories to his death, authorities said.

Homicides are comparatively rare in this part of New York City, as you can see by checking out the New York Times homicide map which I discussed earlier this year. The accidental death of triple murderers as a result of tripping over their low-slung pants is ever rarer.

The story is in today’s New York Post:

Massacre on the UWS
December 18, 2009

The holiday-season cheer of the trendy Upper West Side was shattered yesterday when a career criminal slaughtered three members of a family in their apartment—then plunged to his death after tripping over his baggy pants.

The bloodshed began when the killer barged into the family’s third floor apartment and opened fire at around 1:45 p.m., near a string of upscale shops on Amsterdam Avenue near West 83rd Street.

Gunman Hector Quinones blew away 24-year-old Carlos Rodriguez Jr., and his father Carlos Rodriguez Sr., 52, and then repeatedly stabbed grandfather Fernando Gonzalez, 87, to death before the elder Rodriguez’s wife and adult daughter walked unwittingly into the carnage in the apartment they all shared.

As soon as Gisela Rodriguez, 49, and her daughter, Leyanis, 28, walked inside, Quinones, 44, opened fire again at the mother, grazing the back of her head, cops said.

Were you at the scene? Send us your photos to share with other Post readers.

He then went after Gisela’s daughter, who scrambled for safety and ran to a nearby bedroom. The killer was inches away from grabbing her but tripped over his low-slung pants, sources said.

The horrified woman managed to slam and lock the door just in time, only to find the bloodied bodies of her brother and dad inside.

A relentless Quinones kicked the door in and lunged for Leyanis, but she was able to make it to a fire escape, screaming for help to construction workers on the roof of the building next door.

“She just ran in and told the contracting guys there was a shooting, there’s somebody who got shot,” said the building manager, who declined to identify herself. “She was hysterical, she couldn’t talk.”

Meanwhile, her wounded mom scrambled to safety out the front door.

“They rushed her into the ambulance,” said Dmitri Vezyrakis, 42, the owner of Caesar’s Palace Pizza. “I saw blood on the covers of the sheets.”

She was later taken to Roosevelt Hospital in stable condition.

Fleeing empty-handed, Quinones ditched his gun, a .380-caliber semiautomatic pistol loaded with hollow-point bullets, and made a dash down a rear fire escape.

But again, his low-slung pants fell to his ankles, tripping him and sending him falling three stories to his death, authorities said.

Investigators found a “significant amount” of heroin and a smaller amount of cocaine inside the apartment, as well as a cash-stuffed lockbox that cops confiscated, Commissioner Ray Kelly said.

The suspect, who has 14 prior arrests for offenses that include manslaughter, assault, drugs and robbery, knew Rodriguez Sr. from when they were in prison together, sources said.

He’d been released from prison in August after serving seven years on the manslaughter charge.

Rodriguez Sr. had eight arrests—mostly for dealing drugs—and had met Quinones when they served time together in the 1990s, sources said.

“This was a drug robbery gone awry,” one source said.

The elder Rodriguez was arrested last month for carrying a knife, and Kelly said there had been a report that the younger Rodriguez had been dealing drugs on the street, although he was never arrested.

Investigators found the Rodriguezes—who both worked as construction workers—dead in the bedroom. Gonzalez was stabbed to death in the bathroom.

Quinones, wearing leather gloves on top of rubber ones, ransacked the bedroom after killing the three men, police said.

A bloody knife—with an 8-inch blade and a 4-inch handle—was found in the kitchen.

After getting out of prison, Quinones was friendly with the elder Rodriguez, who was known around the neighborhoods as Fat Boy and Pecal, said neighbor Mike Garcia, 20.

“It’s a tragedy,” Garcia said. “Something like this happened 10 years ago around here, but not now.”

Gonzalez was nicknamed Cubano and neighbors said he loved walking his 10-year-old granddaughter and 7-year-old grandson to school at PS 78 every morning.

“He never bothered anyone,” said neighbor Dileen Costas. “It was like clockwork—a little after 8, he’d walk his grandkids to school. He loved those kids.”

Longtime family friend Joey Columbus, 24, was devastated at the loss of Carlos Jr.

“He was a family man,” Columbus told The Post, after walking out of the 20th Precinct station house. “He loved his nieces and nephews.”

Additional reporting by Murray Weiss, Ebony Clark and Edmund DeMarche

- end of initial entry -

Dean E. writes:

Tripped on his thug pants—this is almost funny. For readers not familiar with the style, on the streets of New York you can see these guys, usually black but sometimes Hispanic, wearing baggy pants with the waist belted way below the hips and five inches of boxer shorts exposed above. Are they idiots? Why would anyone wear their pants like that? They wear their pants like that because it’s the fashion in prison, where prisoner’s belts are confiscated (to discourage suicide and murder), so thug pants slide down low. The first time you see one of these fashionable criminals out on the streets with their pants falling off you can’t believe what you’re seeing—how can they walk around like that? Not just because it looks heinously stupid and physically hazardous, but simply indecent.

In any sane society, which is to say, a non-liberal society, this sort of flagrant sociopath would be immediately arrested. But in liberal society, where every manner of degradation and perversity is tolerated if not celebrated, tattooed career criminals with their rear ends sticking out their pants have the right to walk around giving hapless burghers the finger. And now one of these criminal morons has killed himself tripping over his idiotic pants. It’s really quite satisfying. Maybe one day liberalism will trip over its pants too.

Dean E. continues:

P.S. “SUCH WAS THE FUNERAL OF HECTOR, KILLER OF HUMANS “—Careful, man—your reputation for humorlessness is at stake.

LA replies:

Thanks. Partial credit for this goes to a reader. I had read the Post article in a neighborhood coffee shop and was planning to write it up, but hadn’t noticed the dead killer’s name, Hector. When I got home, there was an e-mail with the subject line, “The death of Hector.” The e-mail said, “You above all will appreciate this,” followed by the passage from the Post article about how Hector Quinones met his fate. That gave me the idea of doing a take-off on the last line of the Iliad (in Richmond Lattimore’s translation):

Such was their funeral of Hektor, breaker of horses.

Ferg writes:

I always wondered if they could run while wearing those pants. Guess not. We suffer their presence here in the Twin Cities too. Black, Hispanic, and wannabe whites. I have been told by law enforcement people that part of the reason for the style is that it is easier to hide a large gun in those baggy low slung pants. It also indicates a certain attitude toward society in general, and white society in particular. Whatever the reason, they are truly ridiculous. Glad to see one bad guy paid the price for his attitude. Too bad so many others had to suffer too, although it sounds like they were far from innocent.

Paul K. writes:

The story about the murderer in the low-slung pants who tripped over them and fell three stories to his death made my day. One should cast a practical eye on one’s apparel before setting out on a murder spree, I should think.

I was reminded of something I saw last year during a driving sleet storm. I was waiting at a stoplight in my car, watching a young black man walking into the wind, wincing as the icy slush pelted his face. I could imagine him thinking, “If only they made baseball caps with brims that faced forward, rather than backward, I wouldn’t have this problem. But it was not meant to be.”

LA replies:

Just as a liberal cannot conceive of doing or saying something that would mark him as a non-liberal, a black youth cannot conceive of doing somethingt that would mark him as a “white.” such as wearing a baseball cap with the brim forward.

James M. writes:

In the future, any time liberalism fails itself, we can say “_______ tripped over his pants.” It could become a snappy, fun-to-say utility phrase, like “jumped the shark.”

LA replies:

James, that’s really funny. And I think it could work.

James M. replies:

The more I think about it, the funnier it gets to me.

You’ve got the influence … : )

Aaron S. writes:

Great story.

On my drive to work there is a huge, largely black city high school that from all appearances requires the use of uniforms. One can always tell the difference between morning and afternoon by student pant levels. In the morning they are departing their buses, queueing up in a very orderly fashion, trouser waists at near-standard height. By the late afternoon, pants have achieved sub-buttock status, students scattering chaotically across the boulevard. Is this the late-liberal version of a sundial? I.e., “What time is it?” “Half past gluteus!”

In my less charitable moments, I’ve recalled a footnoted passage in Rousseau’s Second Discourse on Inequality, where a Western educated Hottentot renounces his “Christian clothing” to run off into the wild.

In answer to Dean E., I doubt police will be arresting people for low-slung pants anytime soon. I would prefer that they clamp down first on another black “fashion,” the habit of driving cars in an almost fully-reclined position. Do any readers have insights into the origin of this absurd and dangerous practice?

December 19

Jack from Long Island writes:

Being a city dweller, you may not have appreciated what Aaron meant by Non-Asian Minorities’ habit of driving while slouching.

I think it epitomizes the Leap into the Abyss urge of liberalism.

Daniel B. writes:

In response to Aaron S.’s question concerning driving while reclining (here to refered to as a DWR), the first I heard mention of it was in that catchy little ditty by one Snoop Doggy Dog, “Gin and Juice.” While the verses are primarily concerned with copulating with various women of ill repute, the refrain definitely refers to the commission of a DWR (as well as a DUI and various other nefarious activities.):

Rollin” down the street smokin” endoe sippin” on gin n juice
Laid back—with my mind on my money and my money on my mind

Rollin” down the street smokin” endoe sippin” on gin n juice
Laid back—with my mind on my money and my money on my mind

Ferg writes:

You I believe, live in NYC. Your best bet is to contribute LARGE amounts of money to the Mayor’s campaign committee, do the Liberal cause cocktail party circuit, get friendly with Liberal judges, and get to know the police commissioner. Or, as I said, move. However, I guess you wont want to do any of that, so I think you are out of luck. The other choice is to work very hard in political action and spend large amounts of money on political work to get pro carry people elected to your state legislature. They will have to pass State preemption laws to cancel out New York City’s anti gun laws. Then they will have to pass “shall issue” permit laws, or better yet, Vermont style law, no permit required, your permit is your good name. Alaska did the latter a few years ago. You might engage an attorney who is knowledgeable in the gun laws of your State and City, and see if there is any way to do it, short of those I mentioned above.

Mark A. writes:

In reply to Aaron, that driving position is known as a “gangsta lean.” Innumerable rap songs contain the phrase. I’m unsure of its origins, but in true white fashion, my first instinct was to look in a dictionary.

Rob C. writes from Missouri:

Regarding the black practice of driving while reclining, it’s always been my theory that it’s done to achieve the effect of making one’s car look larger than it really is. In the 1960s and ’70s it used to be that, by definition, driving a Cadillac, Buick Electra or similar high-end vehicle meant that you had a very large car, and enjoyed an attendant boost in status. If one found oneself with only the means to drive an Olds Cutlass or similar lesser Detroit iron, though, then reclining as far back and sitting as close to the center line of the car as possible while still being able to reach the steering wheel and pedals, made it look like you inhabited the same cavernous interior as the esteemed Caddy driver did, at least to the automotively ignorant, which probably included most of the ladies they were attempting to impress. Of course, Cadillacs and the like have been downsized, along with every other marque, in the wake of the OPEC oil embargo and the general increase in the price of oil, so that they are no longer the land yachts of yore. But the practice of “driving while reclining” has seemed to carry over.

December 22

Irv P. writes:

Yes, it made my day too when I read about the killer who died tripping over his pants. I also got a kick out of the reader who wondered about the reclining drivers. I want to add to that by asking the question: why do all of these characters drive as though they were at the go-kart track? They constantly go 20 to 30 mph over the limit and cut everyone in sight off by a margin of about 3 inches. They particularly like the small Honda for these activities, but there are many other go-kart models on the road.

I also wanted to comment on the picture of the guy who may or may not have killed the cat as he was leaving court with his wife. These are a couple of real beauts. Makes me proud that folks of this magnitude cancel out my wife’s and my vote. Yes, democracy, just as the founders envisioned it. By the way, does it make any sense for a person who doesn’t pay any income taxes to vote? Just wondering.

And finally … why worry about “Sean Bell Way”? We no longer have High Schools in NYC named after Andrew Jackson and Woodrow Wilson. We have High Schools named after Norman Thomas and Paul Robeson and these moves took place long before Jada’s daddy had a mere street named for him.

Posted by Lawrence Auster at December 18, 2009 06:01 PM | Send

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