Hector Cedillo’s Road to Redemption
It is Sunday afternoon in Macarthur Park. Pastor Hector Cedillo strides to a familiar location just below a tree in a sunny and grassy corner. With a snappy looking broad-brimmed straw hat on his head, he sports a spotless white shirt and matching pants.
As he has done for five-years, he opens his bible and begins reading a passage aloud, first in English and then in Spanish. Cedillo’s message is in marked contrast to others who will often shout a fear-based message to the downtrodden, “Repent you sinners before it is too late.”
Cedillo instead speaks of God's love, forgiveness and redemption; even in the most desperate of times and dire personal situations. It is a message that resonates with people in the park and draws them closer to his "pulpit."
A few grizzled men begin to straggle over to the periphery and listen. Some smoke cigarettes and all keep a distance from the Pastor. At the same time, four small Hispanic women with very small children sit together to the Pastor’s right, but are careful not to mix with the other tattered white, black and Mexican men who continue arriving. The women, we learn, are from El Salvador. For reasons not revealed, their husbands are nowhere in sight.
A bearded young man in his twenties with a shock of unkempt, unwashed jet black hair, a torn tee shirt and filthy slacks straggles in. He is wearing only one shoe and appears to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol or both. He collapses on the lawn within hearing distance and appears to be sleeping. More distressed men continue to wander in and sit or lie down at a distance.
Cedillo’s assistants know their role and ever so gently begin to encourage these bedraggled men to venture closer, offering them chairs. The quiet but persistent encouragement from the “ushers” continues until an approximate semi-circle is formed around Cedillo. The Pastor continues to read and speak his message, seemingly oblivious to the unkempt assemblage around him.
Just who is this pastor and what is it that motivates him to minister so passionately to the homeless, the drugged and mentally ill population? When you read Hector Cedillo's story, then you will understand how he knows, first hand, the battles so many of these men are fighting.
Hector's Odyssey
Before coming to the United States, Hector Cedillo lived a simple life growing up in a small town just north of Mexico City. He’d been as far north as Tijuana, selling tacos as a street vendor. However, in the summer of 1969, as a young man, he left his family, friends and familiar surroundings to emigrate from Mexico into the United States.
“When I was in junior high school, I got hooked listening to radio stations in Mexico that exclusively played the American music. I fell in love with the songs and believed that I was observing the brink of a musical explosion. I did not understand the words but I was easily able to identify with the groups such as Chicago, The Doors, The Mamas and Papas, Sly and the Family Stone, and others. It was so exciting for me to hear this music.”
Through the music, at seventeen years, Cedillo was slipping under the spell of a seductive culture from the north that offered a life of mind-expanding experiences (enabled by psychedelic pharmaceuticals) and the possibility of free love (presumably with lots of willing, nubile, young women). In stark contrast to the limited possibilities of a life in tradition-bound Mexico, what could be more exciting to a young man reaching the prime of his life during the ‘60s?
His father lived in Los Angeles and was pretty good at managing creative immigration documentation. He needed Hector’s income to supplement his young family. Cedillo’s temporary, Tijuana-crafted passport (of dubious legitimacy) would do nicely. And so Hector embraced his new life initially as a field worker in the Central Valley harvesting crops.
“Later I came back to (the industrial district of) Los Angeles to work in a textile factory on Third (street) and San Pedro. I lived with my father and his wife with their young children. I made about $75 a week of which I kept approximately $10 or $15. I made a commitment to my father to stay and work in the job for a year.”
Upon his arrival in a new country, Cedillo faced lifestyle choices. How would he relate to those around him? What would he wear to make sure people knew what his values in America were about?
“I could be either a ‘gang banger’ or a ‘hippie.’ After some thought, I decided to embrace “peace and love.’”
“The first music concert I went to was at the Greek Theater.” Cedillo’s eyes light up at the recollection. “Chicago was there and I loved their music. I couldn’t speak a word of English and I just listened to the sounds from the outside.”
Cedillo remained outside the venue because he did not have enough money for a $12 ticket. Each subsequent night, he pan handled paying customers outside the Greek Theater entry way for any extra change, and on the last night of the engagement, he was able to pay for a ticket and watch the concert from a seat inside.
“During that same summer, the Los Angeles County Museum offered a concert featuring Sly and the Family Stone, Stevie Wonder, the Bee Gees and Ray Charles. It was like heaven. I was completely blown away by the music.”
Cedillo's life followed a pattern; he worked in the factory during the day and partied at night. If he had any cash in his pocket by Friday, he’d look for concerts he could afford on the weekends.
“I loved my summers in the ‘60s and met all kinds of fantastic people who were really friendly to me. The first thing they would do is to introduce me to drugs. It was perfectly cool and people from San Francisco were doing drugs openly in the streets. ‘Try this or try that’ my new friends would say, offering me pipes and joints. I gladly accepted.”
The English language still eluded him, His inability to converse with his new friends and the women he would meet frustrated him. He wanted to able to have conversations, so he went to Adams High School to expand his English vocabulary and improve on pronunciation. During this time, he met a Mexican woman. They decided to live together; she became pregnant and so they got married.
“During that period of my life I would travel to San Diego or San Francisco and I would almost always meet the nicest people who would willingly share their living space and drugs. I never took my wife. She stayed home with the baby. I discovered the music of Jerry Garcia, the Grateful Dead, Santana…”
As time went on, Cedillo was introduced to the harder drugs, Cocaine and Heroin.
“I really loved Cocaine. It made me feel like Superman. It made me think that I know everything. I could establish any kind of conversation with anybody when I did Coke.”
When the sixties ended, times were indeed changing, but not for the better. There was a harder edge to the parties. He began to change jobs and found himself dissatisfied, searching for something but unsure of what it was that he desired. Because they were plentiful and available on the street, he continued to take drugs, but he also began attending classes at East Los Angeles College. He took computer and business classes to improve his chances for jobs that would keep him off the factory floor.
As changes swept through his life, his love for the music remained a strong influence. “Anyone who was big at the time, I saw them,” Cedillo explains. “Police, Led Zeplin, Berlin, Men at Work…”
One day, a stranger came up to Cedillo who was spending much of his free time “hanging” with a group of drug-using friends in Macarthur Park. He isolated Hector from the group and said, “I think you are just the guy I’m looking for. I need someone who has a good business sense to move some product for me.”
“During that same summer, the Los Angeles County Museum offered a concert featuring Sly and the Family Stone, Stevie Wonder, the Bee Gees and Ray Charles. It was like heaven. I was completely blown away by the music.”
Cedillo's life followed a pattern; he worked in the factory during the day and partied at night. If he had any cash in his pocket by Friday, he’d look for concerts he could afford on the weekends.
“I loved my summers in the ‘60s and met all kinds of fantastic people who were really friendly to me. The first thing they would do is to introduce me to drugs. It was perfectly cool and people from San Francisco were doing drugs openly in the streets. ‘Try this or try that’ my new friends would say, offering me pipes and joints. I gladly accepted.”
The English language still eluded him, His inability to converse with his new friends and the women he would meet frustrated him. He wanted to able to have conversations, so he went to Adams High School to expand his English vocabulary and improve on pronunciation. During this time, he met a Mexican woman. They decided to live together; she became pregnant and so they got married.
“During that period of my life I would travel to San Diego or San Francisco and I would almost always meet the nicest people who would willingly share their living space and drugs. I never took my wife. She stayed home with the baby. I discovered the music of Jerry Garcia, the Grateful Dead, Santana…”
As time went on, Cedillo was introduced to the harder drugs, Cocaine and Heroin.
“I really loved Cocaine. It made me feel like Superman. It made me think that I know everything. I could establish any kind of conversation with anybody when I did Coke.”
When the sixties ended, times were indeed changing, but not for the better. There was a harder edge to the parties. He began to change jobs and found himself dissatisfied, searching for something but unsure of what it was that he desired. Because they were plentiful and available on the street, he continued to take drugs, but he also began attending classes at East Los Angeles College. He took computer and business classes to improve his chances for jobs that would keep him off the factory floor.
As changes swept through his life, his love for the music remained a strong influence. “Anyone who was big at the time, I saw them,” Cedillo explains. “Police, Led Zeplin, Berlin, Men at Work…”
One day, a stranger came up to Cedillo who was spending much of his free time “hanging” with a group of drug-using friends in Macarthur Park. He isolated Hector from the group and said, “I think you are just the guy I’m looking for. I need someone who has a good business sense to move some product for me.”
That would be the beginning of his dealing days, selling a very intense powerful type of Marijuana known on the street as “Columbian Red.”
It was a great opportunity and sales were brisk. Cedillo could afford to buy a car and could wear nice clothes. Unlike the movies or television, Cedillo’s drug contact was a professional. Once the money was exchanged they would have conversations just like any business acquaintances might. Cedillo had very few concerns about whether selling dope was ethical. On the other hand, he was certainly not eager for his family to know what kind of “business” he was in.
“Sure, I knew that dope was illegal, but I did not believe it was wrong. So many people were doing dope and they were always happy when I sold it to them. I never thought too much about it.”
Cedillo pauses to think back about the period and says, “Remember, at that time, there were ‘head shops’ doing business all over L.A. You could go to any of 25 stores on Hollywood Boulevard and openly purchase all kinds of glass pipes in every color of the rainbow. These pipes were not used for tobacco. Drugs were simply part of another style of living.
“I had several friends at that time who would stop by and buy bricks at $200 to $300 apiece. Of course I was smoking a lot of that stuff too. I had all kinds of cash and it was easy for me to impress everyone by picking up the tab whenever I went out. I bought a Nissan 240-Z that was army green and had leather interiors. Then I bought a van. I drove it on all kinds of vacations. I never sold ‘dime bags,’ however. That street-level trade was beneath me and not my style.”
Family and the Business
Cedillo’s younger brother noticed that there was money to be made and began selling marijuana in dime bags in Lafayette Park near Hoover. He was new to the trade, much less experienced in knowing his customers, and generally less circumspect in an industry that requires a high degree of discretion. It wasn’t long before he was spotted by undercover police, arrested and put in jail.
“My brother’s wife, Silvia, came to me and said, ‘You know what? They busted your brother.’ I’m going to give you 24-hours to get him out of jail. If you don’t spring him I’m going to tell everyone in your family and their friends what you have been doing.”
Cedillo immediately felt a chill. For the first time, he experienced intense pressure to preserve his reputation…such as it was. He made contact with everyone he knew to get his brother out on bail. A cousin put up her house as collateral. The incident was a seismic jolt to Cedillo’s overconfident attitude. He now realized just how much risk he was assuming.
“If that happened to my brother…well then…I’m probably next. I began to think about how ashamed and embarrassed I would feel if my family would have to come to jail to see me. It would be very hard on my mom and dad. I resolved that I could not let that happen”
In a high-risk move, Cedillo approached his drug supplier, explained his fears and asked to be let out of the business. His supplier was openly disappointed and told Cedillo that he would miss the money, but surprisingly allowed him to discontinue dealing.
“I was always up front with him and I think that kept me on his good side.”
In addition to some factory work, he supplemented his adjusted income by working for his father taking Polaroid portrait photos of people during the weekends in Macarthur Park. He needed the money for the apartment he and his wife rented. His wife also worked to support their meager income.
Life Speeds Downhill
The drug use continued and eventually ended the marriage. Cedillo’s cocaine habit was spiraling out of control. It began as one gram, but soon escalated to three grams a week with no end in sight. Increasingly estranged from his family, Cedillo began to spend more time living in Macarthur Park. His sole passion was to do Coke on a daily basis.
In an unfortunate bit of luck, he met a well-placed connection in the park who showed him how easy it was to manufacture and distribute “crack.” Crack is a solid, smokable form of cocaine. It is a freebase form of cocaine that can be made using baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) or sodium hydroxide, in a process to convert cocaine hydrochloride (powder cocaine) into methylbenzoylecgonine (freebase cocaine).
He would accept a kilo of pure cocaine, divide it into three separate bricks and then subdivide the bricks. With trusted friends, they would find a safe kitchen in a motel room where they could mix and cook the blend. Some of the product would be smoked, some packaged for later use and the rest of the inventory would serve as income to repay his supplier. Crack provided Cedillo with a steady income. At the same time, it took away any interest he had in anything other than getting high so it wasn’t long before he walked away from his job.
Living in Dangerous Times
“I had lost any interest in working or returning to my wife in our apartment. All I wanted to do was get stoned on crack or heroin. When I needed to sleep, I would lie under a bench in the park. I hung with group that I shared my drugs with, and these people, in turn, would watch my back when I was high or asleep.”
The park was (and continues today to be) a jungle. To survive among fellow dope users, alcoholics, the psychotics, petty crooks, and gang bangers, he willingly shared anything of value he had on his person including his drugs. He would get food for friends if they were hungry and had no money. This helped to keep his daily relationships with a population of less than desirable characters from turning into more dangerous conflicts. Good fortune, frequent acts of generosity and increasingly well-honed street smarts kept him from being injured or killed.
Cedillo created and utilized several secret places in the park where he would hide his stash of drugs. These proved to be very effective.
“We relied on a special warning whistle when the police or enemies came around. It was amazing how the police searched the area time after time. They would hassle and search me repeatedly, but were never able to find any of my drugs on me or around the area where I camped. My friends and I would laugh at them.”
In terms of measuring his self esteem, Cedillo took pride in the fact that he was “doing his own thing” without reliance on a job or the charity of others. He had convinced himself that he was a “businessman” and not in the same straits as the homeless vagrants all around him.
“I kept myself neat and clean and I shaved every day. I maintained an account with Bank of America where I deposited sums of cash. I even had a car that was parked on Wilshire Boulevard where I kept my clothes. I wore neat, clean clothes because I did not want to look like I was homeless. If I had the money – not everyday, mind you, but during a week - I would rent a motel room and take a shower. If I had a woman, we would spend a couple of days in a motel room and then I’d return to my life in the park.
“Because of the crack, I could go for days without eating. But, once in awhile, could go to Langers Deli on Alvorado and purchase my favorite item, a turkey drumstick.”
An Awakening Near Christmas
In the rare times when he wasn’t high a small glimmer of awareness began to gnaw at Cedillo concerning his situation: After three years of doing his own thing, he had not only lost any contact with his wife and children, he was living full time on the ground in a public park, fully exposed to the elements. The veneer of self deception about his status had worn thin. Perhaps it was a touch of nostalgia or loneliness that caused him to question his life in December of 1982.
“Christmas in Mexico is a big event. On December twenty-third, out of no where, I asked myself, what am I doing here when I could return to Mexico and be embraced by my whole family? Perhaps, at some low conscious level, there was a pervading feeling of loneliness and I was looking to find the unconditional love of my family.
“I had close to a thousand dollars in my bank account from crack sales. Without any hesitation, I booked a flight to Mexico City. Of course, I hid some drugs and took them with me as they were an important part of my life.”
Cedillo citizenship status was “illegal immigrant” at that time. It did not matter. His mind was not focused on the risks of a trip across the border. The draw of his family was all consuming.
The reunion was warm and festive. Cedillo was hallucinating on the drugs he’d ingested, but, after so many years of abusing substances, he was able to maintain a calm external appearance to those around him. No one knew what he was doing. The visit was an excellent chance to catch up and meet new members of his extended family.
A Chance Meeting
At his family’s home, Cedillo met a 19-year old young woman, Luz, who was a cousin to his older brother’s wife. According to Cedillo, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his entire life. Cedillo, who was 29 years old, was taken by her beauty and poise. They talked at length, yet she remained detached.
He soon would be returning to his “business” in Los Angeles but asked if he could write to her so that they could stay in touch. She passively agreed.
Cedillo was able to return to Los Angeles without getting caught by agents at the airport and once again resumed his life in the park.
Cedillo’s older brother called to inform him that he had decided to work in the United States. Further, he would be getting a small apartment in Los Angeles and would like Hector to join him and his wife to help with the rent. Then he dropped a bombshell. Luz would be coming from Mexico to live with them in the apartment, as well.
It was an ideal, cozy living arrangement as far as Cedillo was concerned. Luz wanted to go to church on Sunday, but Cedillo was not interested in religion. He preferred going to Venice Beach or getting high and taking in the laser show at the Griffith Observatory in Griffith Park.
The Crisis
When the living arrangement began, Cedillo would not reveal that he was engaged in drug dealing, indicating only that he had “things to do” each morning. The vagueness gave the impression that he might be gainfully employed. But as a nightfall came and Cedillo’s return home became less certain, his brother, sister in law and even Luz began to suspect that he might be involved in something like hanging out with friends and drinking.
It was worse. Cedillo had slipped again into a pattern of living some nights in the park, but then returning after a day or two to the apartment and Luz. His pattern of returning predictably after two-days absence was grudgingly accepted. There was no longer any pretending that his was a normal life. No one could have predicted what the pattern would lead to or how dangerous it would prove to be.
In the following weeks a particularly self destructive period ensued. Cedillo’s use of heroin increased. At a party of fellow dealers, he became high and decided to take a “speedball.” He accepted a cocktail of heroin and cocaine mixed together in the same needle and injected the substance into a vein. What a celebration!
This potentially lethal concoction allowed the cocaine to act as a stimulant, raising Cedillo’s pulse to an all-out sprint. But then its effects wore off more quickly than those of the heroin coursing through his blood, which, in turn, put on the brakes and rapidly slowed the beat of Cedillo’s heart. As a result, Cedillo experienced a delayed "overdose" (technically, a severe respiratory depression).
“I was on the fifth floor in a room and lying at an odd angle on the floor. A young man was standing near me, but I could not communicate to him that I was in deep trouble. I could not move. I wasn’t able to think clearly and I could not speak, I was dehydrated as I’d had not eaten nor taken any water for at least four days. Nothing. For the first time in my life I was afraid that I was about to die. What had I done to myself? I desperately needed help.”
When Hector had not returned home after four days, it was a departure from his normal pattern. Luz became increasingly worried and asked Cedillo’s brother to try to locate him. The brother went to the park and was told by some of the drug users that Hector was last seen in a flophouse hotel on Alvarado. They pointed to the hotel.
“Somehow my brother found me and got me back to the apartment. I was carried into the bedroom next to sleeping infants. When she saw me and the shape I was in, Luz wept but never rebuked me for the stupid things I had been doing to my body. Even then she had no idea how long I had been abusing or how many different drugs I had tried.”
Luz filled a basin with warm water and gave Cedillo a warm bath. She literally nursed him back from the brink with tender care and mercy.
“In return, I felt terrible because, while I was being loved, I knew that I had spent the rent money, the grocery money, money for gas, every single cent on the drugs that very nearly killed me. The four days proved that I’d lost control of the drugs and that they held a control over me. I yelled out, ‘I cannot believe how stupid I have been.’ And I started crying.”
Luz came into the bedroom and looked at Hector. She caressed his sweating forehead and asked, “Are you okay?” She knew what he was going through. He was about to withdraw from his addictions “cold turkey” and the prospect was daunting.
Then she said, “You have been so fortunate not to have died from those drugs you took. Perhaps God was watching over you. You tried all those things…you are amazing. But you have so little to show for it…why don’t you try God?”
Cedillo was not open to such a proposition, at least not initially.
“I couldn’t sleep thinking about what she had said. I asked myself, what is ‘God’ and how do I relate to the idea?”
Luz had been going to church with other women. On Sunday morning Cedillo even amazed himself by asking her if she would take him to church.
Hector Cedillo told Luz, (Now Mrs. Luz Cedillo) “I’m going to go forward full blast and accept God in my life.”
After five years, Rev. Hector Cedillo continues as the pastor of a church he planted in MacArthur Park. The “Church by The Lake” attendance consists of about fifty percent homeless, alcoholics and drug addicts. Rev. Cedillo launched a second church in 2004 called La Luz, and an additional two more churches are now being led by men he has trained.
* * *
It was a great opportunity and sales were brisk. Cedillo could afford to buy a car and could wear nice clothes. Unlike the movies or television, Cedillo’s drug contact was a professional. Once the money was exchanged they would have conversations just like any business acquaintances might. Cedillo had very few concerns about whether selling dope was ethical. On the other hand, he was certainly not eager for his family to know what kind of “business” he was in.
“Sure, I knew that dope was illegal, but I did not believe it was wrong. So many people were doing dope and they were always happy when I sold it to them. I never thought too much about it.”
Cedillo pauses to think back about the period and says, “Remember, at that time, there were ‘head shops’ doing business all over L.A. You could go to any of 25 stores on Hollywood Boulevard and openly purchase all kinds of glass pipes in every color of the rainbow. These pipes were not used for tobacco. Drugs were simply part of another style of living.
“I had several friends at that time who would stop by and buy bricks at $200 to $300 apiece. Of course I was smoking a lot of that stuff too. I had all kinds of cash and it was easy for me to impress everyone by picking up the tab whenever I went out. I bought a Nissan 240-Z that was army green and had leather interiors. Then I bought a van. I drove it on all kinds of vacations. I never sold ‘dime bags,’ however. That street-level trade was beneath me and not my style.”
Family and the Business
Cedillo’s younger brother noticed that there was money to be made and began selling marijuana in dime bags in Lafayette Park near Hoover. He was new to the trade, much less experienced in knowing his customers, and generally less circumspect in an industry that requires a high degree of discretion. It wasn’t long before he was spotted by undercover police, arrested and put in jail.
“My brother’s wife, Silvia, came to me and said, ‘You know what? They busted your brother.’ I’m going to give you 24-hours to get him out of jail. If you don’t spring him I’m going to tell everyone in your family and their friends what you have been doing.”
Cedillo immediately felt a chill. For the first time, he experienced intense pressure to preserve his reputation…such as it was. He made contact with everyone he knew to get his brother out on bail. A cousin put up her house as collateral. The incident was a seismic jolt to Cedillo’s overconfident attitude. He now realized just how much risk he was assuming.
“If that happened to my brother…well then…I’m probably next. I began to think about how ashamed and embarrassed I would feel if my family would have to come to jail to see me. It would be very hard on my mom and dad. I resolved that I could not let that happen”
In a high-risk move, Cedillo approached his drug supplier, explained his fears and asked to be let out of the business. His supplier was openly disappointed and told Cedillo that he would miss the money, but surprisingly allowed him to discontinue dealing.
“I was always up front with him and I think that kept me on his good side.”
In addition to some factory work, he supplemented his adjusted income by working for his father taking Polaroid portrait photos of people during the weekends in Macarthur Park. He needed the money for the apartment he and his wife rented. His wife also worked to support their meager income.
Life Speeds Downhill
The drug use continued and eventually ended the marriage. Cedillo’s cocaine habit was spiraling out of control. It began as one gram, but soon escalated to three grams a week with no end in sight. Increasingly estranged from his family, Cedillo began to spend more time living in Macarthur Park. His sole passion was to do Coke on a daily basis.
In an unfortunate bit of luck, he met a well-placed connection in the park who showed him how easy it was to manufacture and distribute “crack.” Crack is a solid, smokable form of cocaine. It is a freebase form of cocaine that can be made using baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) or sodium hydroxide, in a process to convert cocaine hydrochloride (powder cocaine) into methylbenzoylecgonine (freebase cocaine).
He would accept a kilo of pure cocaine, divide it into three separate bricks and then subdivide the bricks. With trusted friends, they would find a safe kitchen in a motel room where they could mix and cook the blend. Some of the product would be smoked, some packaged for later use and the rest of the inventory would serve as income to repay his supplier. Crack provided Cedillo with a steady income. At the same time, it took away any interest he had in anything other than getting high so it wasn’t long before he walked away from his job.
Living in Dangerous Times
“I had lost any interest in working or returning to my wife in our apartment. All I wanted to do was get stoned on crack or heroin. When I needed to sleep, I would lie under a bench in the park. I hung with group that I shared my drugs with, and these people, in turn, would watch my back when I was high or asleep.”
The park was (and continues today to be) a jungle. To survive among fellow dope users, alcoholics, the psychotics, petty crooks, and gang bangers, he willingly shared anything of value he had on his person including his drugs. He would get food for friends if they were hungry and had no money. This helped to keep his daily relationships with a population of less than desirable characters from turning into more dangerous conflicts. Good fortune, frequent acts of generosity and increasingly well-honed street smarts kept him from being injured or killed.
Cedillo created and utilized several secret places in the park where he would hide his stash of drugs. These proved to be very effective.
“We relied on a special warning whistle when the police or enemies came around. It was amazing how the police searched the area time after time. They would hassle and search me repeatedly, but were never able to find any of my drugs on me or around the area where I camped. My friends and I would laugh at them.”
In terms of measuring his self esteem, Cedillo took pride in the fact that he was “doing his own thing” without reliance on a job or the charity of others. He had convinced himself that he was a “businessman” and not in the same straits as the homeless vagrants all around him.
“I kept myself neat and clean and I shaved every day. I maintained an account with Bank of America where I deposited sums of cash. I even had a car that was parked on Wilshire Boulevard where I kept my clothes. I wore neat, clean clothes because I did not want to look like I was homeless. If I had the money – not everyday, mind you, but during a week - I would rent a motel room and take a shower. If I had a woman, we would spend a couple of days in a motel room and then I’d return to my life in the park.
“Because of the crack, I could go for days without eating. But, once in awhile, could go to Langers Deli on Alvorado and purchase my favorite item, a turkey drumstick.”
An Awakening Near Christmas
In the rare times when he wasn’t high a small glimmer of awareness began to gnaw at Cedillo concerning his situation: After three years of doing his own thing, he had not only lost any contact with his wife and children, he was living full time on the ground in a public park, fully exposed to the elements. The veneer of self deception about his status had worn thin. Perhaps it was a touch of nostalgia or loneliness that caused him to question his life in December of 1982.
“Christmas in Mexico is a big event. On December twenty-third, out of no where, I asked myself, what am I doing here when I could return to Mexico and be embraced by my whole family? Perhaps, at some low conscious level, there was a pervading feeling of loneliness and I was looking to find the unconditional love of my family.
“I had close to a thousand dollars in my bank account from crack sales. Without any hesitation, I booked a flight to Mexico City. Of course, I hid some drugs and took them with me as they were an important part of my life.”
Cedillo citizenship status was “illegal immigrant” at that time. It did not matter. His mind was not focused on the risks of a trip across the border. The draw of his family was all consuming.
The reunion was warm and festive. Cedillo was hallucinating on the drugs he’d ingested, but, after so many years of abusing substances, he was able to maintain a calm external appearance to those around him. No one knew what he was doing. The visit was an excellent chance to catch up and meet new members of his extended family.
A Chance Meeting
At his family’s home, Cedillo met a 19-year old young woman, Luz, who was a cousin to his older brother’s wife. According to Cedillo, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his entire life. Cedillo, who was 29 years old, was taken by her beauty and poise. They talked at length, yet she remained detached.
He soon would be returning to his “business” in Los Angeles but asked if he could write to her so that they could stay in touch. She passively agreed.
Cedillo was able to return to Los Angeles without getting caught by agents at the airport and once again resumed his life in the park.
Cedillo’s older brother called to inform him that he had decided to work in the United States. Further, he would be getting a small apartment in Los Angeles and would like Hector to join him and his wife to help with the rent. Then he dropped a bombshell. Luz would be coming from Mexico to live with them in the apartment, as well.
It was an ideal, cozy living arrangement as far as Cedillo was concerned. Luz wanted to go to church on Sunday, but Cedillo was not interested in religion. He preferred going to Venice Beach or getting high and taking in the laser show at the Griffith Observatory in Griffith Park.
The Crisis
When the living arrangement began, Cedillo would not reveal that he was engaged in drug dealing, indicating only that he had “things to do” each morning. The vagueness gave the impression that he might be gainfully employed. But as a nightfall came and Cedillo’s return home became less certain, his brother, sister in law and even Luz began to suspect that he might be involved in something like hanging out with friends and drinking.
It was worse. Cedillo had slipped again into a pattern of living some nights in the park, but then returning after a day or two to the apartment and Luz. His pattern of returning predictably after two-days absence was grudgingly accepted. There was no longer any pretending that his was a normal life. No one could have predicted what the pattern would lead to or how dangerous it would prove to be.
In the following weeks a particularly self destructive period ensued. Cedillo’s use of heroin increased. At a party of fellow dealers, he became high and decided to take a “speedball.” He accepted a cocktail of heroin and cocaine mixed together in the same needle and injected the substance into a vein. What a celebration!
This potentially lethal concoction allowed the cocaine to act as a stimulant, raising Cedillo’s pulse to an all-out sprint. But then its effects wore off more quickly than those of the heroin coursing through his blood, which, in turn, put on the brakes and rapidly slowed the beat of Cedillo’s heart. As a result, Cedillo experienced a delayed "overdose" (technically, a severe respiratory depression).
“I was on the fifth floor in a room and lying at an odd angle on the floor. A young man was standing near me, but I could not communicate to him that I was in deep trouble. I could not move. I wasn’t able to think clearly and I could not speak, I was dehydrated as I’d had not eaten nor taken any water for at least four days. Nothing. For the first time in my life I was afraid that I was about to die. What had I done to myself? I desperately needed help.”
When Hector had not returned home after four days, it was a departure from his normal pattern. Luz became increasingly worried and asked Cedillo’s brother to try to locate him. The brother went to the park and was told by some of the drug users that Hector was last seen in a flophouse hotel on Alvarado. They pointed to the hotel.
“Somehow my brother found me and got me back to the apartment. I was carried into the bedroom next to sleeping infants. When she saw me and the shape I was in, Luz wept but never rebuked me for the stupid things I had been doing to my body. Even then she had no idea how long I had been abusing or how many different drugs I had tried.”
Luz filled a basin with warm water and gave Cedillo a warm bath. She literally nursed him back from the brink with tender care and mercy.
“In return, I felt terrible because, while I was being loved, I knew that I had spent the rent money, the grocery money, money for gas, every single cent on the drugs that very nearly killed me. The four days proved that I’d lost control of the drugs and that they held a control over me. I yelled out, ‘I cannot believe how stupid I have been.’ And I started crying.”
Luz came into the bedroom and looked at Hector. She caressed his sweating forehead and asked, “Are you okay?” She knew what he was going through. He was about to withdraw from his addictions “cold turkey” and the prospect was daunting.
Then she said, “You have been so fortunate not to have died from those drugs you took. Perhaps God was watching over you. You tried all those things…you are amazing. But you have so little to show for it…why don’t you try God?”
Cedillo was not open to such a proposition, at least not initially.
“I couldn’t sleep thinking about what she had said. I asked myself, what is ‘God’ and how do I relate to the idea?”
Luz had been going to church with other women. On Sunday morning Cedillo even amazed himself by asking her if she would take him to church.
Hector Cedillo told Luz, (Now Mrs. Luz Cedillo) “I’m going to go forward full blast and accept God in my life.”
After five years, Rev. Hector Cedillo continues as the pastor of a church he planted in MacArthur Park. The “Church by The Lake” attendance consists of about fifty percent homeless, alcoholics and drug addicts. Rev. Cedillo launched a second church in 2004 called La Luz, and an additional two more churches are now being led by men he has trained.
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