Eugenio Olmo, an elderly Puerto Rican man with a face cracked by wrinkles and wisdom, stood on a corner recently, watching flashing police lights in front of his house.
"For me it has been great living here," he said, his Spanish words barely audible over the autumn wind and the noisy sirens. "No one messes with me."
"But around the corner," he pointed to a street of shuttered homes that began three feet from where he stood. "It is very hot. They have just killed three people down there."