The Wonderful Transformation of Kartoon's Battlefield

Jan, 25, 2014

Back in the '70s and '80s, when Ronald "Kartoon" Antwine got into a fight, he was the Goliath, a six-foot four, 240-pound menace to Watts with a mad-at-the world scowl on his face and a sawed-off shotgun beneath a long, black leather jacket.

He was stationed on Monitor Avenue, the Eastern front in the battle between his gang, the Bounty Hunters, headquartered in Nickerson Gardens, and their deadly rivals, the PJ Crips of Imperial Courts. Across the street from his house there on Monitor between 113th and 114th, was an acre-sized lot with weeds as tall as Kartoon. Here, gang snipers fired, trashed was dumped,  hope was discouraged and darkness reigned.  For decades, it was a symbol of the despair and abandonment of Watts.  

But, on this lovely winter Saturday morning, thanks largely to Ronald "Kartoon" Antwine's determination, that ugly plot of earth became a symbol of all the things it wasn't -  hope, play and brightness -  as the first shovelful of its dirt was overturned, the opening  salvo in the transformation of the old battleground into Monitor Avenue Park. 

"Today I make amends to you," said Kartoon, as he spoke before a crowd of 150 that included California State Senator Keven De Leon, Los Angeles City Councilman Joe Buscaino and acting General Manager of the Dept. of Parks and Recreation, Michael Shull. "I helped destroy this neighborhood. I was a gang member. I was a drug seller. But, this is my amends."

Antwine details his battles against landowners Union Pacific, his fight against having a housing tract developed on the vacant lot, and how he refused to sellout, even with the promise of riches, in his own words here,  http://krikorianwrites.com/blog/2014/1/25/ronald-kartoon-antwines-fight-for-a-park-in-his-own-words

"We were the little guy against Goliath. We were the David," he said adding that blacks and Hispanics came together, signing petitions. going to meetings and overcoming obstacles, to make this park happen. "This is not my park. This is our park."

Antwine singled out Tori Kjer of the Trust for Public Land as a tireless advocate for the park. He called her "my baby mama": their "baby" being Monitor Avenue Park, Kjer in turn credited Kartoon with doing "the fighting for the park and getting other members of the community involved in the fight."

Antwine also thanked his lifelong best friend Greg Brown for his support.  

Local residents were thrilled the long-awaited park, which is expected to open toward the end of 2014,  was finally becoming a reality

"This park will lend a little life back into this community," said Angela Johnson who has lived in Watts for 11 years.  "I think it's great because we have some real men, like Kartoon, encouraging more young people to do the right thing."

Other people spoke, the state senator De Leon, council member Buscaino, even the pastor of the Macedonia Baptist Church down 114th Street, but this was Kartoon's day.

"My mom, Ruby Joyce,  was a religious person, but one day, about 40 years ago,  she lied and said there was a dead body in this lot, just so the police would come and clean it up."  For a moment, the big, tough guy was quiet. Then he continued. " It was a long fight, but this park is really going to happen. I am hopeful my kids' kids will be playing in this park long after I'm gone. I mean that, from the cavity of my heart and the depths of my soul."

(FTRecord : I've been  knowing Kartoon about 20 years. Here's how he  got his nickname. He would be at home on Monitor,  doing homework and the neighborhood boys would pound on the door wanting him to come out and play. Embarrassed to say he was doing homework, he would tell them he was busy in watching cartoons. The spelling of "Kartoon" is with a "K" because he was from Bounty Hunters and Bloods are not fond of the letter "c".)

Kartoon with Tori Kjer from the Trust for Public Land

"Southside" on "Big Deals" list, $1.99 for Kindle Version 'til Super Bowl

When I first saw that Amazon had lowered the price of the Kindle "Southside" to $1.99 I was bummed. What is it, some bargain basement shit? I'm like 'fuck those motherfuckers'. I'm talking more trash than Richard Sherman on Michael Crabtree. Then, the pubic relations guy at my publisher emails me with a "Congratulations "Southside" was selected by Amazon to be part of their "Big Deals". I'm told this program gets more readers for the selected books and, somehow, that even gets more people to buy the hardback..

Oh, Okay. Like good for Amazon, They're a smart juggernaut . I take back what I ranted.

Most of my 467 Facebook friends, they've been too busy to get and read my book.  I get that. Or even too broke. I totally get that. I know sometimes $20, $25 for a book is a luxury one can hold off on. I hear a lot of "I'm going to get your book". But maybe now, with it at two bucks, the Kindle version, at least, some of them can  get what the San Francisco Book Review called "One of the top thrillers of the year."

Now, anyone reading this far, they are friends and probably already have "Southside", my first novel. So I'm asking you folks to help pump up Southside and tell your friends, even Facebook friends, that it is only two dollars and give it a shot..

In the words of Michael Connelly, "Southside has muscle, insight and all the right stuff. Krikorian is an exciting new writer who has put all his experience and wisdom to work here. ”

http://krikorianwrites.com/book/

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Seven Questions with L.A.Times Photojournalist Luis Sinco

When I read recently the volatile Iraqi city of Falluja was back in control of various militant groups, I immediately thought of my friend Luis Sinco, who, as a L. A. Times photographer, covered the fierce "Second Battle" there in November, 2004 when the Marines took the city.

Lee, as Sinco is known to colleagues, took the iconic photo of the Iraq war,  a weary, cigarette-smoking Marine   resting for a moment after intense fighting on a rooftop. The photo, which became known as  "The Marlboro Man", catapulted Marine Lance Cpl. James Blake Miller to fame and garnered Sinco much admiration. But, both men were damage by the war.  

I e-mailed with Lee about Falluja shortly after he shot the BCS college football final Monday at the Rose Bowl

1. Krikorian Writes   -When you first heard Falluja had been taken over by militant groups, what were your thoughts?
 

Luis Sinco - I thought that less than 10 years after I covered the bloodiest battle of the Iraq War, the Marine assault to regain control of of the city from insurgents in 2004, nothing had changed. The U.S. shed a lot of blood and expended a great deal of money to destroy that city in order to save the country from complete chaos. Thousands of insurgents were killed as well. The dead consisted mainly of young men on both sides. And it didn’t change anything, really. It allowed a constitutional referendum and subsequent political processes to elect the Iraqi leadership. However, Iraq has been in a constant state of instability since the invasion of 2003 and American occupation. Our effort to instill democracy there resulted in one man, one vote --- and Iraq was and is 65 percent Shia Muslim. Did we really expect the Sunnis, who had held power for three plus decades under Saddam Hussein, to roll over? No. there’s simply too much at stake. Too much oil in the ground.

2. KW -  Are your thoughts any different today than from when you first heard this news?
 

LS - I have come to the realization that t’was ever thus, for the reasons I have stated above. Saddam Hussein was not a nice guy, even when we counted him among our “allies.” And then we invaded Iraq for completely bogus reasons --- non-existent links to 9/11 and Al-Qeda, non-existent weapons of mass destruction, our belief that democracy would fit among a people whose religion and culture generally treat half the population (women) as second-class citizens with limited civil rights or, in some cases, no rights at all. P.J. O’Rourke was on “Real Time With Bill Maher” and said it best: “We should have paid for the oil instead of trying to steal it.” Let’s be blunt. This was a war for oil. And for some $10 billion in infrastructure and political investments, the Chinese now are exploiting that resource. The U.S. bill reached into the trillions of dollars, and hundreds of thousands of American and Iraqi lives.

3. KW - Back on the rooftop with Miller,  i've read his account where he heard footsteps, turned around , rifle ready and then realized it was you . Can you take us through your point of view of that moment?
 

LS -  Everybody in that house was on edge. We had spent the entire night before pinned down behind a six-inch-high curb that ringed a traffic circle at the edge of town. In the morning, we came under heavy fire as we made our way through the streets of the city. It was estimated that some 2,500-3,000 insurgents had dug in and were waiting for the Marines. The company I was with got into an intense firefight right away, and we broke into a house to shelter from incoming small arms fire and rocket-propelled grenades. I had just transmitted some photos from the second floor and ran up to the rooftop to catch more of the action unfolding around us. In my haste, I did not identify myself as a “friendly” as I ran up the stairs. For all Blake and the other Marines knew, I could have been an insurgent running up to do them harm. It was that tense, chaotic and dangerous.

4. KW  - When was the last time you talked or communicated with Miller and how was he?

LS - I spoke with him by phone last last week and he is doing well. He has had intensive psychotherapy and is taking medication to help with his ongoing psychological trauma. He is worried that the Veterans Administration wants to cut off his disability benefits, and will do all he can to fight that. Despite having filed for divorce several years ago, he now is back together with his wife Jessica and they have a young son. They are also caring for a little girl that is his from another relationship. I cannot say much more than he is doing well. He is happy to no longer be in the public eye.

5. What affect did being in the Second  Battle of Falluja have on you?. I know that question could easily take a day to answer. 

LS - In short, I suffered psychological trauma as well, but was in deep denial about it for a long time. I am currently in intensive pyschotherapy. I came to the realization that I had a problem, when my wife of of 16 years and the mother of our three children, told me she had had enough and filed for a divorce. My journalistic career has been largely traumatic, whether through covering violent conflict, covering human poverty and misery, covering issues and people involved in crime, or covering environmental problems. Knowing the truth about the world as it is sometimes leaves you feeling despair and hopelessness. And that is trauma in itself.

6.  Any advice for a journalist going to the front?

LS - Do it if you feel the conflict is important enough for your readers to know about. But just realize most people don’t give a flying fuck.

7. . After being in Iraq with the Marines, can the BCS football game at the Rose Bowl be thrilling?

LS - I appreciate it for what it is — a game between two of the best teams in the country, with very fine athletes on both sides. Nothing more, nothing less. I do not consider it a stressful assignment or feel any undue pressure. After witnessing and documenting the state of so much of the world and its people, both within and without our borders, I can appreciate what real stress and meaning is.

Final Notes

Lee said  three photojournalists covering conflicts he really admires are Ed Ou, Javier Manzano and John Moore

After Lee answered my questions I was saddened to hear how tore inside he was and that covering the war had probably cost him his marriage. I emailed him. "I went to your wedding. wasn't it on the beach in san pedro? and the reception at some place down there.?  Clarence [Williams] and I got into a fight with some guys at another wedding. Your wedding was right on the sand, right?

He replied - You are right. It was beautiful

Quote of the Year 2014 Already Announced, Regards Falluja

Sunday Jan 5, 2014, on page A-10 of the New York Times, I read the quote of the year. Yes, as of now, 358 days remain in 2014 to top this quote, but it won't happen.

To make it more impressive as a great quote, it was a kicker, the end of a story, the last line of a journalism piece  I don't know if they call it a "kicker" in other writing forms, novels, screenplays. If so, then "Nobody's perfect" was the kicker of "Some Like It Hot".

So the kicker quote comes from Fallujah, the defiant city of Iraq's Anbar Province. Nearly a decade ago  Fallujah became the symbolic front line  of the Iraqi insurgency when on March 31, 2004 four American security contractors from Blackwater were killed there, their corpses burnt and two of the bodies hung across the Euphrates River for the world to gasp.

Two intense battles later, the  U.S. Marines took over the city in November, 2004 and the Iraqi government had it under relative control for nearly a decade. Then, the first week of 2014, it was announced that Fallujah was no longer in control of the Iraqi government but split between militant factions; including the Islamic State of Iraq and Levant (ISIL) and militias of Sunni tribes

The Jan. 5. Times article has the bylines of  Yasir Ghazi (from Baghdad) and Tim Arango ( from Istanbul). But, an unnamed NYT correspondent "reporting from Anbar Province" had to get the quote of the year.

Here's the two last paragraphs of the story :

"A heavy firefight also erupted on the main highway linking Baghdad and Anbar, with fighters taking three tanks and other military vehicles, according to police.

"The fighters, though, apparently did not know how to use the tanks, and got out a call over a mosque's loudspeaker. "If anybody knows how to drive a tank. please come to the mosque."  

Top that.

A Christmas Tree For Murder Victims

The police were putting a sheet over a dead body when Ramona McClinton showed up. She scanned the growing, curious crowd for her boyfriend. She cell phoned him. A light came on under the sheet.

Ramona's story was one of the many heard Wednesday night in a meeting room with probably the highest concentration of heartache in this city. It was LAPD's 77th Street Division's "Tree Trimming", an annual event where family and friends of homicide victims gather to talk about their tragedies and how they are coping, receive toys from Santa and thank detectives.

The actual tree trimming occurs when photos of the homicide victims are secured to a Christmas tree in the lobby of LAPD's South Bureau on Broadway and 77th Street. Angie Moreno of the Los Angeles City Attorney's Office Victim Services is driving force of this somber event which  started in 2002. Some of those remembered died years ago, Many others were killed this year.

"How robbed I feel. How violated I feel," said Jackie Walker, whose 24-year-old grandson Marcus Quinten Rogers was killed in March, 5 this year on 110th and Main streets. Moments later, Jackie rushed to the podium to support her daughter, Marcus' mother. 

Patrice Morgan said she was so depressed over the death of her brother Keyonta Muhammad Ansari that she contemplated suicide. Ansari, 22, was shot in the back of the head on Van Ness Avenue near 53rd Street on his way to play basketball. Now she is forming her own victim's assistance program in his honor.

On and on the aching stories went. They talked about how the news of sudden death came to them and how it "seems like yesterday". How Christmas is so  hard. How "you can lose a mom, you can lose a dad, but when you lose a child..."

Still, there was a common thread in everyone's talk, praise for the homicide detectives handling their loved one's case, even if it had yet to be solved. 

Commander Bill Scott also lauded the murder cops.  "There is not a more determined and dedicated group of detectives in the country, probably in the world, than the men and women of South Bureau's Criminal Gang Homicide Division.  We can never say we know your pain. But, we understand it. It does matter to us."

Family and friends of murder victims at LAPD's 77th Street Division of SouthBureau

My Improbable Redemption

December 09, 2012

In 1985, I shot someone.

It happened outside the Rustic Inn, a bar in an unincorporated section of Los Angeles near Compton, which was where I spent most of my free time back then.

Moments before the shooting, I had been in a barroom brawl. My friend George and I were drinking Heinekens and taking sips off a half-pint of Seagram's VO we'd stashed atop a rickety wooden beam at the beer-only bar's side-porch entrance.

Three guys walked in and began staring at us. George, a big guy quick to unleash his fists, asked them — in Comptonese — what they were looking at. It was on.

I'm not a great brawler, but I'm a good friend, and I couldn't let George go one-on-three. The fight moved two steps down from the bar where two pool tables sat — five men punching, kicking, gouging, ducking, yelling, swinging pool sticks, hurling pool balls. My most vivid memory of the fight is an orange-and-white pool ball whizzing by my face and — amid all that chaos — thinking to myself, "That's the 13."

George and I got the upper hand and the three guys ran outside, one of them yelling, "Get the gun." That was chilling, even to a drunk.

It just so happened I had an AK-47 in my trunk that night.

Come on now? Really? It "just so happened"?

It did. Two days earlier, my cousin Lynn told me her husband did not want me to stash "that machine gun" at their Torrance house anymore. I picked it up and put it in my trunk.

As the three guys got to their car, I popped that trunk. I fired 17 rounds, I later discovered. I tell myself I fired to scare them off, not to hit or kill. But one 7.62-mm bullet hit a leg. Another busted a window and went into the wall of a room where two people were lying. I could have killed them both.

Witnesses led detectives to me. I was arrested for several crimes, including attempted murder. I faced 15 to life. I remember hoping, wishing, even praying I would only get six years in prison and do three.

But because my father paid $5,000 for a lawyer, because of a "them or me" argument, a plea deal, and because I'm Caucasian, I got 30 days in the county jail. Thirty days! If I was black and had a public defender, no doubt I'd have been Folsom-bound.

I quit drinking after that. In the 1990s, I was a reporter for the Los Angeles Times covering Watts and South Central. I've often said a political reporter should know something about politics, a medical writer should know about medicine, and a crime reporter — well, you get the idea. I became friends with gang members. When they went to prison, I'd write to them, and sometimes enclose a $20 money order or a book.

They wrote back. They were not forgotten. They appreciated it. Some shouldn't have been in prison. Others, like me, should have.

Never one to analyze my actions too closely, it wasn't until a couple of years ago that it struck me that one reason I wrote those letters was because it could've been me in there. It wasn't that I felt guilty. I was guilty.

It could have been me thinking, "I'm gone and forgotten." How good it would have been to get a letter, to get 20 bucks, to get a book that would take me outside the prison walls for 300 pages.

My sobriety lasted years. Then I decided I could handle a beer, a glass or two of red wine, and still stop. Surprise! I couldn't. So, after a few months of drinking, I'd quit again for month or two. This went on for years. I never intended to quit for good. I was just "on the wagon" and looking forward to tumbling off.

But earlier this year, I went on a wretched binge. Two 750s of Smirnoff ruined my balance. I tripped and cracked open the back of my head on the bedroom dresser. Blood spurted onto three walls. My girlfriend was out of town, but my sister, warned by worried friends, came to the house that day. She walked into that horrific scene. She got me to an emergency room. Twelve staples in my head.

That was eight months ago. I quit drinking. Again. But now I no longer say I'm on the wagon. I say, "After a long and storied career, I have retired."

Early on, I went to a few AA meetings. I don't like them. Maybe I hit the wrong meetings, but they seem to focus on backsliding, and how you can come back from it. I don't want to hear that.

I know I can't drink anymore. I also know that maybe I will. I can't even say with certainty that I won't be drunk when I read this in the paper. But don't bet on it.

I bring all this up because those letters I sent to prisons paid off recently. I heard from an inmate, Kevin "Big Cat" Doucette, a legendary shot caller for one of L.A.'s most notorious street gangs, the Rolling 60s Crips. Many years ago, police described him as one who "instills fear in the neighborhood."

He's also my friend. I've known him for 17 years. Somehow, Cat heard of my latest, inglorious Smirnoff defeat and sent a letter that inspired me to stay sober more than any AA testimony group session.

After two paragraphs describing life in federal prison, he switched his tone. Here's what he wrote, as he wrote it:

"My dude, you and drinking, yall dont go together at all.... Anything that you cant control that controls you; that aint tha set, Mike! I've got love for you, so when I speak as I do, know that I mean nothing but good: find you another high in life. A positive one ... try life itself. My Man, we both know that life is to short as it is for us to be twisted on anything, fo real it is."

I keep that letter in my wallet. It reminds me of drinking. It reminds me of prison. It reminds me of two people lying in a room my bullets invaded.

http://articles.latimes.com/print/2012/dec/09/opinion/la-oe-1209-krikorian-arrest-prison-shooting-20121209

Richard Fausset on the Morning after Robert Blake's Wife Was Killed

Richard Fausset near Mexico City, Mexico   

An old but telling anecdote about the novelist Michael Krikorian: On the morning of May 5, 2001, I was cold-calling police stations from the old LAT Valley newsroom when some random desk jockey at LAPD North Hollywood--trying for cop-cool but coming off half-hysterical--mentions that Robert Blake's wife had been shot to death in her car around the corner from Vitello's Restaurant in Studio City. I had to let Google remind me who Robert Blake was: "Baretta" had been off the air for nearly a quarter century. Oh shit: *that* Robert Blake. 

I flew to the crime scene, all cub reporter elbows and knees, tongue hanging from mouth, and soon joined in the LA sunshine by a thousand vultures and buzzards and hacks and hyenas in Clarks comfort shoes who smelled a classic hunk of bloody LA noir: the scrupulous and unscrupulous were there, the NY Times and the National Enquirer, local cop-shop dorks with coffee stains on Arrow shirts, nearsighted police-scanner junkies, and, this time, hordes of well-moussed national TV hacks, salivating as they imagined the animated graphic and the whoosh and the theme music that would soon accompany this particular loss of human life, the weeks of whodunnit Hollywood scandal coverage that would allow their viewers a break from the complicated and depressing reality of places like Afghanistan, and characters like Mullah Mohammad Omar, whose followers had just dynamited the Bamiyan Buddhas: in retrospect, our generation's Bad Moon Rising. 

So anyway, anyway... eventually Krikorian gets there, fire-red eyeballs hanging out of his head and looking like he'd gone to sleep in his blazer. I worked, and as I worked, I watched Krikorian work, dancing from place to place, recreating the scene, imagining motive, footsteps, angles, collecting scraps of dialog from witnesses and neighbors. And I distinctly recall--as the scrum of reporters reached peak mayhem, as the deadline clock ticked, as assistant city editors, following orders from editors from other tax brackets, jangled our cell phones every 25 seconds for scraps of updates-- I remember how Krikorian randomly picks out this floral-print dress from a rack outside of a curio shop on Tujunga Blvd. and holds it in front of a pretty blonde. "You know, you'd look fantastic in this," he says, with that charming, napalm-strafed wreck of a voice. The blonde looks back, pauses for a second, and decides, after brief internal deliberation, to smile generously. Because he was right: The dress would have looked great on her. He noticed that it matched her eyes.

So that, for me, is the genius of Michael Krikorian: elegance amid the ugliness, an eye for beauty and detail, love and blood, sunshine and death. And now he has a crime novel out that's been well-reviewed and blurbed by the likes of Michael Connelly. I'm looking forward to reading it. You can order it on Amazon:

Manual Arts student, 14, killed in Vermont Square

 "You never know, i mean, you know what you've got, but you never really, really know 'til it's over and it's all gone."  - Carresha Skiffer on the killing of her 14-year-old son Elawnzae. 

Saturday night, Nov 9, after working out, Elawnzae Peebles was walking toward 47th Street and Kansas Avenue in Vermont Square. He was roughly 200 feet from his cousin's house where he had been living for the last two months. You know what's coming.

One, maybe two cars rolled up on Kansas Avenue. Gunshots. Elawnzae, a Manual Arts HIgh School student, was struck. He managed to run around the corner to 46th Street. But, there, a shooter finished off the boy, according to the street. Elawnzae was not a gang member,  according to everybody, including the police.

Monday, at the first shooting scene, there was a hasty memorial  - a photo of a smiling boy surrounded by murder candles -  the grim urban prop known on almost every corner of the Southside of Los Angeles.  Elawnzae's grandmother, who had raised him,  arrived as local television news stations were filming that familiar, awful tribute.  

"Is this where it happened?" grandma Brenda Chatma asked in a weary voice. She bowed her head and decried the violence. She had raised the boy when his mother was unable to. 

Standing solemnly on Kansas Avenue,  his cousin, Josiah, 15, and his friends, Wisdom Muhammad, 17,  and Elijah Phillips, 15, told how Elawnzae kept to himself, never bothered anyone, liked to crack jokes and loved to eat.   

 "He was little, but, man, could he eat," said Elijah.  "We just went to Denny's the other day. He got the unlimited pancakes and a smoothie."

"Mango," said his dejected couisn Joisah.

 "He almost ate all the pancakes there," said Wisdom with a sad laugh.

A minute later, a member of the local gang, the Rollin 40s Crips, walked up and tried to console Elawnzae's mother and aunt.

"He was a good kid," said the 25-year-old gang member who asked that his name not be used.  "Hell, no, he wasn't in the 40s or any gang. I used to tell him to stay in school. It ain't the world, it's the people in it, You feel me?"

Elawnzae had been living in Lancaster with his aunt Falesha - who gave him his unique name -  but moved to Los Angeles in September to be closer to his mother Carresha.

"I talked to him on the phone after he worked out Saturday night," said Carresha.  "The  last thing I said to him was "You get home safe."

Elawnzae doing what he loved to do.

Marlo Stanfield Is Now Det. Harry Bosch's Partner

Facing life in prison for conspiracy to operate a drug organization and orchestrating dozens of murders, Marlo Stanfield has agreed to enter the Actor's Protection Program, where he will pretend to be the detective partner of MIchael Connelly's iconic LAPD  homicide investigator Harry Bosch for an upcoming Amazon series.    

Using the alias Jamie Hector, the once-murderous thug who took on the Avon Barksdale gang in West Baltimore while trying to repulse a rampage by Omar Little, was on the set of "Bosch" as they shot Wednesday on the roof of LAPD's  Hollywood Station,  Take after take, Hector appeared from a darkened stairwell to met Bosch, played by Titus Welliver, who was smoking a cigarette and contemplating his latest difficulties with the LAPD brass. 

"Man, this is acting is harder than simply telling Chris and Snoop to go kill someone," said Marlo, oops, I mean Jamie,  who, nevertheless seemed to be coasting into the role of Bosch's partner, Det. Jerry Edgar.

"He's doing great," said real life Det. Tim Marcia of LAPD's Robbery Homicide Division.  Marcia regaled Stanfield, oops I mean Hector, with colorful stories of being on patrol in LAPD's dangerous Southeast Division.

"I wish he was my boot," said Marcia, referring to the term for a police officer straight out of the academy.

The show is expected to premiere on Amazon's Prime Instant Video in early Spring, 2014.

Classic combination  Detective Tim Marcia actor Jamie Hector and writer Michael Connelly on the set of "Bosch"