Groups, Networks, and Organizations: Case Study

When Junaid joined the Gang, his initiation had two parts. Heres the first:
How old is you now anyway?
Eleven, but Ill be twelve in November.
I never saw the blow to my head come from Ozair. Bam! And I was on all fours. . . .
Kicked in the stomach, I was on my back counting stars in the blackness. A solid blow to my
chest, exploded pain on the blank screen that had now become my mind. Bam! Blows rained on
me from every direction. . . .
Then I just started swinging, with no style or finesse, just anger and the instinct to survive.
. . . [This] reflected my ability to represent the set [gang] in hand-to-hand combat. The blows
stopped abruptly. . . .
My ear was bleeding, and my neck and face were deep red. . . .
Junaids beating was followed immediately by the second part of his initiation. For this, he
received the name Monster, which he carried proudly:
Give Junaid the pump [12-gauge shotgun]
. . . Tonight we gonna rock they world. . . . Hand slaps were passed around the room. . . .
Junaid, you got eight shots, you dont come back to the car unless they all are gone.
Righteous, I said, eager to show my worth. . . .
Hanging close to buildings, houses, and bushes, we made our way, one after the other, to within
spitting distance of the Bloods. . . .
Ozair and Omar stepped from the shadows simultaneously. . . .
Boom! Boom! Heavy bodies hitting the ground, confusion, yells of dismay, running. . . .
By my sixth shot I had advanced past the first fallen bodies and into the street in pursuit of those
who had sought refuge behind cars and trees. . . .
Back in the shack we smoked more and drank. . . .
Ozair said, You got potential, cause you eager to learn. Bangin [being a gang member] aint
no part-time thang, its full-time, its a career. . . . Its gettin caught and not tellin. Killin and

not caring, and dyin without fear. Its love for your set and hate for the enemy. You hear what
Im sayin?
Junaid adds this insightful remark:
. . . The supreme sacrifice was to take a bullet for a homie [fellow gang member]. Nothing held
a light to the power of the set. If you died on the trigger you surely were smiled upon by God.
Excerpts from Scott 1994:813, 103.