The Willow Glen Resident

Oscar Perez poses for his eighth-grade portrait.

Family remembers giving spirit of slain WG teenager

By Christine Frey

Fourteen-year-old Oscar Perez tossed a penny into the air and yelled, "Mom, make a wish!" Accustomed to her son's playful banter, Adela Perez simply laughed. Moments after their exchange, Oscar kissed his mother goodbye and left his Willow Glen home to walk to the local Jack in the Box, a trip he made often.

That June 13 evening was the last time Oscar's mother saw him alive. Today she regrets not having wished on that penny.

According to police reports, Oscar and his girlfriend were walking westbound on Willow Street at 5:40 p.m. when the two began to argue with a group of five to eight Hispanic males and females in their late teens or early 20s, who were driving by in a small white vehicle. The group in the vehicle chased and caught Oscar at Willow Street and Settle Avenue, where they stabbed him numerous times. He died the day before his 15th birthday.

Adela says investigators do not know who is responsible for the crime. "I'm hoping something happens soon. I can't have peace. [The murderers are] out there. I fear for whoever is out there--that this might happen to someone's baby."

And since her bebe, as she calls him, is already gone, all Adela can do is remember. Sitting in the front room of her mother-in-law's east San Jose home, the 32-year-old mother recounts her son's life. Her ex-husband, Oscar Perez Sr., 32, sits nearby, opening Otter Pops for two of their younger children.

Adela begins with a collage of family pictures from Christmases, Halloweens, weddings and summer vacations. In many of them, Oscar is hugging someone. "That [was] his favorite--to hug and kiss," she says, smiling tearfully.

He especially loved to hug and kiss his younger siblings. He often slept with his 2-year-old brother, Joseph; the baby still asks for him. "[Oscar] was so close to everyone. He loved everyone. Everyone loved him," Adela says.

Oscar's warmth extended beyond the family. An outgoing person, he would greet and compliment strangers he passed on the street. "He'd embarrass me sometimes," his mother laughs quietly. "People would look at him like he [was] weird."

But his concern for others was genuine. Oscar dreamed of becoming a doctor and offering free health care to those who could not afford it. "He just liked to help out people. If anybody ever needed him to help, he was there," Adela says recalling the many times he had her stop the car to aid someone on the side of the road. "He would always think of others before even himself. He had a good heart."

However, while in the eighth grade at Burnett Academy, Oscar became depressed. He wanted to give his family things they didn't have--a bigger house, a better life. "He would say, 'Mom, when I get big I'll be a doctor, and I'm gonna do this and I'm gonna do that and get you a house and get you everything you want.' " He said he wanted to leave school temporarily and return in the fall. Out of school, Oscar got a job. He also helped out around the house, cared for his siblings, drew, listened to oldies and danced.

Adela wrinkles her nose as she remembers Oscar's cleaning methods. "Sometimes I would get angry with him because he'd use so much bleach, and the whole house [would smell] like bleach," she grins, adding that Oscar discolored his jeans using the chemical.

"He was such a great kid, so I don't understand why this [his murder] would happen to him."

Adela warned her son about the dangers of gangs and bought him white T-shirts so he would not be mistaken for a gang member. She asserts that Oscar was not involved in a gang. When he left home that Saturday evening, he was wearing one of his white T-shirts.

The morning of the incident, Adela was planning the next day's birthday activities. Oscar Sr., a cook at a company cafeteria, would take his son shopping for shoes and clothes; Adela would go with him to the movies; and the family would celebrate over cake. "He said he was too big for birthday parties," she says. The youth had just started to shave a week before he was killed.

Saturday afternoon, Oscar and his father visited his 13-year-old brother, David, who is receiving residential care at a local hospital for attention deficit disorder. Visits are usually only two hours long, but a nurse allowed them to stay an additional two. At the end of the visit, Oscar suggested he and his brother trade their white T-shirts. Adela believes Oscar was leaving memories for David. "He was saying goodbye without him or anyone knowing," she says with emotion.

She cites another similar incident that occurred three days before Oscar's death.

When she returned home from work that Wednesday evening, Oscar suggested his family have a portrait taken. He had gotten a haircut and dressed for the occasion. But Adela, tired from working at her receptionist job, wanted to wait until Sunday--Oscar's birthday--to visit the photographer's studio. "Now I regret not going that Wednesday to take that family picture he wanted," Adela says, trying to hold back tears.

On Sunday, Oscar's birthday, the family gathered around his birthday cake and sang "Happy Birthday." David blew out the candles. Adela believes that Oscar was looking down on them from heaven. "We know he's up there as an angel now. He's going to watch over us," she says.

Now, Adela makes her own wish every night: "Just every night now I go to sleep, and I want to see him, hold him, sing to him like I used to. I can't do that anymore. I go to sleep and I say, 'Please be in my dreams.' "

Anyone with information regarding Oscar's murder should call San Jose Police homicide detectives Ernie Alcantar or Pete Ramirez at 277-5283. Those who wish to remain anonymous can call Crime Stoppers at 947-STOP.

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