Manuel Michel And Joanna Marquez-Michel
Crystalyn Aguilar
Gabby Sanchez
Dieztel Campos
Dolly Mac, aka Ashley Macias
Krystal Luna-Delgadillo
Raquel Cabrero
Kym Le Simmons
Elizabeth Garza
Mara Salazar
April Gomez And Bianca Gomez
Juliet Barron
Gloria 'Danna' Elizarraras Plata And Lynn Ochoa-Trejo
Adelisse Tavaras
Javier Mendoza (far left) And His Family
There are many who can say their high school days were the best days of their lives. There are those who can say they had friends in high school. There are those who had a special someone who they later went on to marry and enjoy a peaceful life with. But as for me, I cannot say the same for myself. My high school days at Chavez High School were the worst days of my life. In the four years I attended that wretched hellhole, I endured torture, bullying, beatings, and even attempts on my life. And the only reason I endured such evil was because of my high intelligence and my ability to study hard. Because of the cruel and inhuman treatment I suffered at the hands of these malcontents from hell shown in these photos here, my life has never been the same way again for many years since I walked on the graduation stage with this base-born excrement in May 2005.
In August 2001, I was enrolled in one of the worst backwater schools in all of HISD: Cesar E. Chavez High School. I would be in a state of jeopardy for the next four years there as I suffered all manner of evil at the hands of my fellow students, who hated me for my intelligence. Many of them also hated me because I was not Hispanic, as they were. Their passionate hatred of me seemed to seethe and swell higher and higher every day I was with them there.
In September 2001, as the terrible events of 9/11 were taking place in New York, Pennsylvania, and Washington, D.C., I watched in horror as the World Trade Center was destroyed and the Pentagon was attacked, and as an airliner crashed near Pittsburgh, killing thousands. But my fellow classmates laughed at these terrible events like they were a circus. I told them they should be ashamed for laughing at these events. They then proceeded to knock me to the floor of the classroom and kicked and beat me nearly senseless. Only the arrival of our teacher, John Garner, saved me from being killed by my fellow classmates. In the event, those who attacked me that day are serving time in prison presently for non-related crimes.
In January 2002, after much wrangling with school officials, I was mainstreamed into regular courses at Chavez. And that was where the real hell began to break loose between myself and the bulk of my fellow students in these regular classes. They already knew somehow that I was a special needs student, so they made it their mission to see me exterminated. Their chance for that would come as we prepared for graduation.
In April 2002, the spark for these hoodlums' hatred of me went off when one day my history teacher, Dawn Kotecki, assigned me to create a presentation on the Texas War of Independence. I did the project with diligence and historical facts. When I presented my presentation before the class, many of the students hissed like a hot teakettle. One of them, Joanna Marquez, even went so far as to threaten me and vowed to have me dead before too long. She even berated me by calling me a racist pig and a sorry bastard. Even my teacher telling her and indeed the rest of these crazed hoodlums that what I said was true did nothing to quell their seething hatred toward me. In fact, nothing ever would.
As 2002 became 2003, it would become ever more apparent that these hoodlums' hatred of me would never be quenched. It became evident at first when I was refused permission to attend several school functions, such as the French club. Later it resorted to even worse when in April 2003 a young freshman girl and her friend, who I knew, were murdered at the hands of one of these hoodlums in what was obviously a message to me. One was run down by the assailants' car, and the other was shot in the eye. The message sent by this horrible act of violence was simple: these hoodlums were willing to commit murder to take down anyone who stood in their way, including myself.
This act was committed on the orders of the most vile gangster in all of Chavez High School: Manuel Michel. Manuel was a walking nightmare. His girlfriend, Joanna Marquez, the very girl that berated me in 2002, was using him as a weapon in her ridiculous war on me. He was a leader of a local gang known as the Southeast Side Gang. They waged a nonstop war in the streets around Chavez High, selling drugs and performing acts of violence against any perceived rivals. Their turf extended around a big portion of southeast Houston. They would stage fights in the school cafeteria on a nearly daily basis against their enemies, some of which could turn deadly. So it was no surprise that Joanna had these snakes as her weapons to use against me.
In 2005, the violence perpetrated against me by these miscreants reached new heights as we approached graduation. The first sign of this came as early as the late spring of that year, when all of the girls I had asked to be my prom date refused to go with me, on the grounds that they would rather die than go anywhere with my “fat, four-eyed ass.” I was totally caught off guard. I was also woefully unprepared for the final onslaught that these hoods had prepared for me. In May 2005, at our three senior events, I would be bullied, tortured, mocked, ridiculed, and even nearly murdered by these foul creatures. The disgusting and vile acts committed against me by these criminals would forever change my life.
Our senior prom was originally slated to be held on Galveston Island, which these criminals would have preferred it to be held, since they were plotting as early as the previous year to murder me there and then dump my body off where no one would find it, like Natalee Holloway some time before. Before long, however, a change of venue was required. So, in the end, they decided to hold it at the Downtown Aquarium, near Downtown Houston. But change of venue or not, their plans had hardly changed.
I would be the only senior there without a date or any companion. I was not bitter about it, nor did I complain about it. But eventually, when they began to dance, I was left alone at a table by myself. I was so upset that I wept bitterly. And that was when they sprang their trap on me.
Two girls, Crystalyn Aguilar and her friend, Adelisse Tavaras, came to my table. They pretended to act sorry for me by asking me to take a photo with them. In the spirit of goodwill, I agreed, and they took me to the photo section, where Crystalyn's mother was waiting. Suddenly, they grabbed me violently and shouted, “Get the racist pig! Death to the fucking racist pig Sammie!”
As I struggled to free myself, two other girls, Cindy Gonzalez and Yessenia Davila, were approaching me with knives in their hands. Manuel and Joanna were behind them, also armed with knives. I knew then it was a gang hit. I then proceeded to bite Crystalyn's hand and then I stomped on Adelisse's foot, and finally freed myself from them. Crystalyn's mother tried to grab me, but I managed to evade her arms. I then made a break for the exit. But then, as I approached the door, I was overtaken and knocked to the floor by Cindy and Joanna. They told me, with their knives pointed at my throat, “Tell anyone about this, motherfucker, and you are a fucking dead man!” They then kicked me in my stomach and my groin, and ran off. Somehow, I struggled to my feet and to my mother's car.
But that was not the last act of evil I would suffer at the hands of the brutes of Chavez High School. Two weeks later, at our senior field trip in New Braunsfels, I was once more made the victim of these bullies. It was at a swimming resort, recently opened not long before. When we arrived there, I noticed the girls of my graduating class dressing in obscene swimwear that had expressly been forbidden for the trip in a notice given out a week before the trip began. As we entered the resort, I witnessed these animals engage in sexual megalomania and other perverted acts. Some were having oral sex in the water, and others were having anal sex. It became so unbearable for the other guests, they began to exit the pool. One asked me how I could be associated with such filth. I was unable to answer, as flabbergasted as I was at what these creatures were doing. I simply got back on our charter bus, feeling sick to my stomach. The driver then asked me if I knew those girls, because he wanted to have his perverted way with them. In disgust, I told him it was none of his business. He sat back down, grumbling under his breath.
A few hours later, the other students came back aboard the bus, smelling like they were heavily drunk. Turns out, one of our chaperones, Maria Aguilar, mother of Crystalyn Aguilar, had bought these hoodlums beer at the pool tavern, in spite of the fact they were underage. I found that out when Aguilar quipped later that night that she could ‘care less about the law and more about a brew.’ Along the way back to Houston, we stopped at a burger joint, and those hoods filed off the bus to stuff their faces while leaving me there for two hours without knowing what was going on. They then got back aboard, and we continued on to the city.
As we moved on, these sick hoodlums started engaging in bizarre sexual acts with each other, like an orgy. They stripped off their clothes, and started performing lewd acts, including oral and anal sex, regardless of gender. I was so disgusted at what they were doing, that I told them they should be ashamed to call themselves high school graduates. That was when all hell broke loose. Led by Manuel and Joanna, these animals threw trash and even their underwear at me, then knocked me on the floor of the bus and pinned me down with their combined weight. They then told me, “Fuck with us again, and you are a dead motherfucker!” They then kicked me and beat me senseless, and then Manuel threw his shoes at my head, one after the other. I temporarily blacked out, and when I came to, we had arrived back in Houston and those bastards had already got off the bus. Feeling woozy, I managed to find my way off the bus, and to my mother. One of our chaperones, Miss Swepston, offered to drive us home, and we accepted. All the way home, she drove erratically, for she was more than a little drunk. When we arrived home, she said, in a drunken voice, “Hope it was worth it.” In other words, she was saying that I should have never went on that trip.
The final act of evil I would endure at the hands of these monsters was at our senior graduation at Reliant Arena in southwest Houston. As we were dressing up in our graduation robes, Maria Aguilar, mother of Crystalyn Aguilar, said with a calculated degree of coldness, “You got what you deserved, Sammie, because you are no Mexican. Take that and chew on it.” The other students then laughed at me in unison with her. I was so upset and angry, I felt like crying, but determined as I was not to give those asinine idiots another chance to attack me again, I held firm and swallowed my tears, for the time being, until after the ceremony was finally over. Afterwards, I felt like committing suicide.
That is the true story of what I endured at Chavez High School, the worst hellhole in all of the Houston Independent School District. It is for you, people of the world, to judge whether or not I speak the truth.
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