DEATH HAUNTS SEPULVEDAS

Every Sunday, the Sepulveda family goes to see "mijo."

The family leaves its Highway Village home in north Modesto, and
gather at his grave, in a northeast pocket of a Scenic Drive cemetery.

It has been this way for the family for nearly four months. It will
continue this way, the Sepulvedas say, for the rest of their lives.

At the grave, Sonia Sepulveda kneels, silently wiping away the week's
wear from the tombstone of her younger son, her "mijo." She rubs her
frail fingers around the edges of his seventh-grade picture embedded
in the granite.

Over time, fresh roses, carnations and calla lilies have replaced the
flowers that were taken to the grave from the altar that was erected
in front of the Sepulveda home shortly after his death.

Alberto Sepulveda Andrade would have celebrated his 12th birthday on
Nov. 5. His mother would have made a cake for her "mijo," an
affectionate term for son in Spanish.

In December, the Sepulveda family would have festooned the home with
holiday decorations. The Sepulvedas would have traveled to Mexicali,
Mexico, along the border, to celebrate "posadas," Christmas and the
new year with relatives.

But there were no celebrations this year. No candles on the birthday
cake. No holiday lights.

Alberto was shot to death on the morning of Sept. 13 during a drug
raid on his family's home.

Wednesday, the Modesto Police Department released the first report
into the shooting. It concludes, as police did from the start, that
Alberto's death was an accident.

No matter the outcome of the various investigations, people who know
the Sepulvedas say it is not likely to bring closure.

"They are inconsolable; I don't think there will ever be a day where
they don't think about him, are sad about what happened to him and
miss him," said Rosamaria Barajas, a legal assistant for San
Francisco attorney Arturo J. Gonzalez, who represents the Sepulveda
family.

"They just keep asking: 'Why? Why? Why?' There are no answers."

Family Life

The Sepulvedas were unavailable for comment for this story, on the
advice of their attorney.

For insight into how the family is coping with Alberto's death, The
Bee talked with Barajas, who said she has developed a close
friendship with the family.

Other comments came from people who see Moises Sepulveda daily at
work. He operates Sepulveda's Auto Repair on Crows Landing Road in
south Modesto.

"He's always sad; I can see it in his eyes," said Araceli Paz Gomez,
co-owner of Neon Auto Sales, a neighboring business. She and her
husband, Antonio Gomez, rent space to Sepulveda for his auto shop.

"At Christmas, they were so alone. They didn't do anything for the
holidays. Everyone was so sad."

Sonia Sepulveda finds comfort reading cards from Alberto's classmates
at Prescott Senior Elementary and friends from Chrysler Elementary,
describing how they knew and liked her son.

Fourteen-year-old Moises Jr., a high school freshman, goes through
the motions, rarely speaking publicly about what happened to his
brother -- a sharp contrast to the teen-ager's outspoken criticism
before the City Council and the media days after his brother's death.

And every night, Alberto's sister, 8-year-old Xitlalic, peeks out her
bedroom window at the slightest noise, making sure no one is out
there.

Similar Case

The Sepulvedas' legal action so far consists of a wrongful death
claim against the city. No one can sue a public agency without first
filing a claim. The City Council has yet to act on the claim.

Attorney Gonzalez handled a similar case out of Tulare County, where
in 1997 Dinuba police -- while serving a search warrant for Visalia
police -- shot and killed Ramon Gallardo during a raid at his home.

Gonzalez represented the farm worker's family in a federal lawsuit
against the city of Dinuba. In March 1999, after a three-week trial
in U.S. District Court in Fresno, a jury awarded the family $12.5
million. The city of Dinuba appealed the verdict, and the family
reached a $7 million settlement early last year.

The Sepulveda family, Barajas said, hopes legal action will force
police departments to change SWAT raid tactics, especially on homes
where children live. But, beyond that, Alberto's parents do not want
officials to give them lengthy explanations on what went wrong inside
their home.

"What's to understand?" Sonia and Moises Sepulveda Sr. asked Barajas
in a recent interview. "Our son is dead."

Candle Burns Continuously

Hours after the shooting, Moises Jr. and his uncle tore out a patch
of blood-stained carpet where Alberto died. Moises Jr., at the time,
said he did not want his mother to see it.

A piece of black carpet now covers the area. The bunk bed the
brothers once shared has been moved to the other side of the room.
Alberto's "Dragon Ball Z" blanket still drapes his bed.

His brand-new school clothes hang, untouched, in the closet. His
small collection of foreign coins and newly minted state quarters
remains tucked in a bureau drawer.

A short trail of black scorch marks from the SWAT team's flash-bomb
grenade is still visible on the white tile living-room floor.
Alberto's school picture, taken five days before his death, is just a
few feet away. A white candle burns continuously in his memory.

"They do not want us to forget that they were a family," Barajas
said. "A family that was betrayed."