Quiet, Unnoticed Tragedies Tug at Conscience, Social Fiber

Because Teresa Blass is a nobody and her tragedy is so common, it went unnoticed when her attacker pleaded guilty to nearly killing her.

There were no newspaper stories.

No politicians mounted their pulpits and demanded to know how this outrage could have happened. There were no passionate calls for change.

No $250-an-hour attorney from a high-rise law firm was assigned to find out why the social service and legal systems failed to protect Blass from a dangerous husband.

No newspaper editorials demanded accountability from public officials. No lawsuits demanded access to documents. (In truth, the documents are public and easily attainable.)

If Blass had had a run-in with a cop, there would have been a hue and cry. If she had been an illegal alien hassled by a North County storekeeper, the full fury of the advocacy corps would have rallied to her side.

Maybe if the details had been more salacious, or if Blass and her husband had been from a higher income bracket, the case would have generated more public notice. Maybe “Hard Copy” would have been interested.

As it was, the Blass case was typical of its grisly genre. More violent but still ho-hum typical.

A juicy $100,000 sex scandal happens once in a generation at City Hall. But there are hundreds of Teresa Blasses every year in San Diego.

“You wouldn’t believe how desperate these women are,” said Deputy Dist. Atty. Kerry Wells, head of the district attorney’s domestic violence unit. “I see desperate women in here day after day.”

Blass’ husband, Ismael Samaniego Lara, beat her continually during their 10 years together. He threatened their six children.

Fear and economic dependence kept Blass quiet.

Finally, Lara beat and kicked her so badly that she called the police to their Logan Heights home and had him arrested.

She took refuge in a shelter for battered women. She got a restraining order from the court to keep Lara away from the family home.

As it does to many husbands, the restraining order seemed only to enrage Lara. Of course, Wells said:

“Things like that only work on reasonable people. It just won’t work against a truly violent man.”

As soon as Lara was out of jail, he bought a gun and stormed the family home, banging on the door and breaking the windows. He had been drinking.

He dragged a terrified Blass to the porch and ordered the SWAT squad to back off. Shots were fired.

Lara shot Blass point-blank in the head, barely missing her brain. The bullet ripped through her skull and embedded in a wooden trellis--along with a bloody clump of her hair.

Before the shooting, the couple ran a small restaurant. Now, the family is on welfare.

Blass, 31, is permanently disabled: severe loss of hearing, blurred vision, a metal plate in her head.

Lara’s relatives blame Blass for her own brutalization, which is also typical of such cases.

A few days ago, Lara, 37, pleaded guilty to attempted murder and three counts of assault with a deadly weapon. He faces a possible life sentence.

All of this is not to suggest that nothing is being done for women like Blass: there are shelters, the D.A. is seeking tougher jail sentences, a task force of prosecutors, police and social workers soon will issue its recommendations.

But mostly the press and the politicians have turned to sexier topics and away from intractable problems.

After all, Blass is a nobody and there are so many cases like hers.

The Loss of a Friend

The death of a friend.

* William Endicott, Capitol bureau chief of the Sacramento Bee:

“In an era when people in politics and people in political journalism trust each other about as much as a chicken trusts a fox, Otto Bos managed to bridge both worlds with exceptional good grace and humor.”

* Gov. Pete Wilson broke into tears Monday during a private meeting with state Sen. Ken Maddy (R-Fresno) to discuss budget strategy.

Maddy had mentioned Bos.

* How did Bos, who was born in the Netherlands and became a naturalized U.S. citizen, also become an honorary Bolivian?

By starring a few years back on a Bolivian soccer team whose members were living in Southern California.

* San Diego attorney Phil Connor has an idea for a memorial to Bos.

Build a youth soccer field on undeveloped parkland at Jackson Drive and Mission Gorge Road. And name it for Bos.