Border Crosser

1 Border Crossers

It was pitch black, the screaming, the crying, the pounding, the sound of bone shattering and the ungodly scraping of bone against steel reach Marial’s ears. She held her six-year-old daughter’s and her nine-year-old son’s heads against her chest and prayed. She asked forgiveness for her sins as she took her last few breaths.

Her life in Guatemala had been hard and she had lost her husband when the rebels came into her village and raped her. He had defended her only to have his head cut off by a machete.

Her two children had been out playing and had survived.

She had chosen to try to escape the horror. The long road up through Mexico had been hard but she thought of it as the road to a place where there was hope. A place where she and the children would find peace. A place where they would grow and prosper.

She had traded the one small treasure, two ounces of gold that she and her husband had saved. It was their dream to leave their village. They had talked about making the journey to the promised land.

When she crossed the Rio Grande, she felt a surge of hope. When she ran and got into the back of the large white van, she felt a surge of hope. Hope continued to carry her as in the pitch black the van ran for hours. Then the van shuttered to a stop and hope began to ebb and was slowly replaced by fear and then fear was replaced by despair.

She sat quietly in the dark singing softly with her children in her arms. In the pitch black, her dreams were replaced with the nightmare she was now living through. She was sure that the nightmare had only one ending. It was an ending that she had never envisioned. She felt each of her children stop breathing. She knew she was next and once again asked for the forgiveness of her sins.

Ian watched as the news camera zoomed in on the back of a panel truck. It had been found by the Arizona highway patrol abandoned in the scorching hot Arizona sun. The external temperature had reached an ungodly one hundred thirteen degrees.

The truck was filled with more than thirty bodies. It was clear by how they were piled up trying to scale the interior wall of the panel truck that the occupants had used their hands or a boot trying to break out.

Ian was sure that to the end the occupants were desperately shouting, crying, and pleading to be let out. The backdoor was bent, and one occupant had broken his leg, and the bone was exposed in a grotesque angle. The hands with their fingernails ripped back clearly indicated to Ian the final desperate efforts to claw their way out.

Ian absorbed the scene as the camera pulled to a distant view and then zoomed in on a mother cradling a young girl and boy to her chest. The three seemed to be in a Cinderella sleep just waiting to wake up.

The reporter walked away with a cloth over his nose as he commented about the stench of death. Some bodies were already beginning to bloat. There seemed to be an even mix of men, women, and children. It was clear to Ian that this had been mostly family units trying to get into the US.

The woman holding her children to her chest became the focus of the reporting. The report was picked up by all the national news channels and it went viral on the personal chat sites. The picture went viral with multimillions of hits in just one evening.

Ian let out a groan when he heard a national news caster say, “We need action to be taken against those trafficking in across the border people smuggling. We especially need someone to take action against smugglers that abandon people in locked trailers. This has got to be fixed.” This Ian knew was clearly a message for him to act. He was the problem-solver.

Ian watched several other major channels and listened to the same message, saw the same iconic picture of the mother holding her two children to her chest. There was no doubt. The message could not have been clearer.

Ian left the grand family room. It was the place where he spent each early morning with a cup coffee and listened to Morning Joe before tuning in on BBC, CNN and then going on to Fox. He liked to keep a balanced perspective on what was being watched by the rest of the world. So much of what was presented as news was actually biased opinion by one side of the political aisle or the other. The worst of the group seemed to be Fox

Ian went down the hallway to his study.

He walked in and took in the book lined shelves along the two side walls of what had originally been a large spacious home library but over the years had become his office. The mahogany desk with a black three-foot-wide all in one computer faced the rear window overlooking the tennis court and the lawn around it. The Library was where he spent many hours doing research.

Ian booted up the computer and began his search on the topic of smuggling people.

After a moment he opened the bottom left hand desk drawer and extracted a locked box from the very back. He opened and picked up an older phone that did not have GPS as a function. He slowly dialed a well memorized number. It was immediately answered. By the tone of the voice, he was sure the person on the phone had been expecting the call.

“Send me everything you have on smuggling people across the Mexican border. Set me up as an FBI agent with orders to go to Arizona. Give me the name of the current field agents name that manages that area. Arrange for me to get there in two days. And thank you,” Ian said as politely as possible.

Early in his career as the problem-solver he had tried to be friendly, but he was soon calibrated on the fact that the people on the other end of the line were to remain anonymous.

Whoever they were and however many made up his support team was unknown to him. He had envisioned a large work area all full of people doing his bidding and he had also envisioned a gray-haired old lady with coke bottle bifocals sitting in a darkened closet like office. He would probably never know which of the two scenes was the closest. All he cared about was that his support team always delivered what he needed. His support team showed up in the field in various ways that helped him but once again he never directly saw any of them.

The requested material began coming in almost immediately. They must have anticipated his request. He reviewed the information from past reports on the smuggling and movement of those coming across the border. It was very thorough and detailed.

He learned of an earlier abandoned truck full of people. It had not made the news.

The fact that two trucks had been abandoned in the last two months seemed to indicate carelessness, disregard or perhaps it was the result of an increased pressure by local law enforcement that frightened the drivers and caused them to abandon their trucks.

Smugglers always preferred to remain anonymous. Getting caught was one of their greatest fear. Subsequent publicity meant exposure and scrutiny which meant that their bosses were as likely to kill them as anyone.

The US border patrol preferred to keep the media at arms-length which meant they whenever possible kept their actions and findings under wraps.

Inadvertently this penchant to keep press coverage low caused the police to aid the smugglers.

Ian looked up the local law enforcement officers in Phoenix. Phoenix was where the Highway Patrol, the Local county sheriff and the FBI regional offices were located.

He reviewed the background and assignments of the local FBI Phoenix office chief. He seemed to have a well-rounded background including a stint in the Army. He appeared to be a solid individual with personal integrity.

The human smugglers had to get past the security, monitoring and patrolling done by Homeland Security. In fact, the border patrol units of the Homeland Security organization were highly trained and highly motivated. Ian’s assessment was that they were good at their jobs.

He also suspected that some of them must play some part of the smuggling operation. The crossers had to get past the field teams and that indicated some sort internal agents working for the cartels. These agents most likely were bribed and receiving some sort of monthly amount of money.

The local sheriffs and State Highway Patrol seemed to be vigilant in their efforts to intercept the cars and trucks involved in the smuggling. They seemed to focus on looking for those being smuggled. It was unlikely that they had any direct involvement, but he would at this point not rule it out.

Ian suspected that there were a few bad actors in these organizations that would cause the good side to get a black eye. He was certain that there was one or more bad apple in the local law enforcement agencies.

He listed the ways people could be crossing the border and not be getting caught.

There could be participation by local law enforcement personnel. There could be a group of border guards that would look the other way. In all cases it appeared that those doing the smuggling had help on the US side of the border. Help that with the right incentive would let the smuggler get the people seeking to get into the United States get past the border security.

Ian knew he needed to go to the field and get firsthand knowledge to understand the true situation.

He had already asked for his FBI persona to be reactivated. He was Herman A. Lunquist, senior FBI investigator.

Ian reviewed his past history as Herman. It had continued to be updated and he laughed about some to the more current compliments and his work performance evaluations. Someone on his support team was having a good time fabricating and building his history.

He had many personalities on record but only a few got reactivated as often as Herman had been. For his Journey into the Heart of Russia, he had become a naturalist. In taking care of the Three Bad Pennies in the Gaza, he had become a cameraman.

This was a natural build because he had taken on the role of a cameraman on a team of National Geographic photographers out to document the Elephant Ivory trade plight. For fighting the Pirates off the coast of Africa he had become a sailboat captain.

Ian let Lesley know that he had an upcoming business trip out west. She immediately knew what kind of business and as always gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him to be careful. Over the years Lesley had come to accept the fact that Ian would remain a problem-solver for most of his life. She constantly reminded him that they had the small fortune most people dreamed of having and that they did not need the money.

Ian gave her a hug and thanked her for loving him.

Herman Lundquist had a high status as an FBI agent. He called Mike Lancaster the local FBI branch manager, introduced himself and let him know that he was coming to do some field work in his domain. Mike had agreed to meet him at the airport and escort him to the local FBI office.

As he came to the end of the airport concourse and walked out of the security area Ian spotted Mike almost immediately. Mike was roughly six two with dark hair that was cut almost in a short military style. Ian put him in the handsome category. He smiled as he thought that in his dark suit he could have starred in the movie, Men in Black.

Ian could tell that Mike was nervous and probably wondering why he, a senior FBI investigator, was there. In the car on the way to the office Ian explained that he had been sent to work with him because the FBI hierarchy was feeling pressure about the fact that two loads of people had died in the back of trucks and there seemed to be no solution in stopping it.

Mike thanked Ian for clarifying his presence and that he could see the reason he had been sent. He wondered what Ian was going to do.

Ian admitted that initially he planned to get a lay of the land and see if anything popped up that would help him determine what he could possibly do that had not been done so far.

The FBI office was in the local Federal building in the heart of downtown Phoenix.

On their way up from the basement parking lot, Mike informed Ian that an office had been arranged for him and that they would share Mary Gems as their secretarial support.

They approached Mary’s desk where Mike introduced Herman Lundquist.

After some small talk and asking about her family, Herman asked if she would set up breakfast or lunch meetings with the leaders of the Highway Patrol, the Sheriff’s office, and the Homeland Security Leader.

Herman made the point that he wanted his meetings to be on an informal basis. He did not want formality to become a barrier. He wanted everyone to know him on a more personal basis and feel somewhat relaxed around him.

Mary agreed to do so but made the point that the Homeland Security Leader was located in a small town about two hours away.

He suggested that meeting be arranged to meet the Homeland Security Leader’s timing.

Mike next led Herman to an office next to his.

Herman commented that he hoped not to be at the desk at all.

Next Mike walked to a small room with a coffee pot, a shelf full of cups, a small refrigerator and stainless-steel sink.

“This is as good as it gets here in the office. If you want something better, May’s restaurant just down the street makes a great breakfast and lunch and serves a variety of soft drinks, iced tea as well as great cup of coffee,” Mike fired off in rapid order.

Herman could tell that Mike was still nervous.

He had a good feeling about Mike. He could see them working well together.

Herman followed Mike out of the coffee room

He asked Mike to bring him up to date on the investigation of the deaths of the people found in both of the abandoned panel trucks.

Mike said that the trucks were registered to two separate local truck rental companies. The rental companies had contracts on file for the trucks and everything was in order. The persons renting the trucks and their driver license information were fake. The information on both rentals led nowhere.

The FBI was working with the state and states around to see if they could determine who the drivers might have been. The trail at this moment was cold.

The records of the companies were being reviewed to determine how many other times a truck had been rented under a fictitious name. The net had been cast wider and truck rentals from all rental companies were being scrutinized.

Mike commented that it would take time to get through this investigation.

Herman commented on the impressive and solid approach Mike was pursuing. He went on to describe how great it would be if the two of them solved this current case and put an end to trucks being abandoned.

He asked Mike to speculate what action he would take if he could take any action he wanted. What would he do?

There was a soft knock on the door just as Mike was about to answer. Mary opened the door and informed them that she had set up breakfasts for the next three days for the two of them.

Herman thanked Mary and she closed the door.

He then suggested that he and Mike continue their discussion over lunch.

Mike led the way to May’s. He said that he recommended the Reuben special.

After lunch Mike dropped him off at the downtown hotel.

Ian checked in and went up to his room. After a long shower, he sat down and turned on his computer and thoroughly reviewed the information he had on each of the law enforcement leaders.

Mathew Martin was the leader of the highway patrol. In his mid-fifties Mathew had served in the Marines. He had a wife and three children, all now in their late teens and early twenties. He had an impressive record and had quickly risen in the state’s highway patrol organization. It made no sense to Ian that he would be involved.

Bill Peters was the local sheriff. He too had the same family profile. He had an Army background and had been elected sheriff four times. He was known for his active participation in getting downtown Phoenix renovated and well-lit, so people could safely enjoy their time in the city.

It made no sense to Ian that either these two would be involved.

He, however, did not rule out the fact that someone high in their organization might be involved.

The next morning, he walked to May’s diner. The appealing smell of fresh rolls, bacon and was trumped by the smell of coffee. As the waitress poured his coffee it immediately captured Ian’s mind and made his stomach growl. He sat down and looked around. He had arrived early, so he could watch the customers come in.

Someone in a dark blue city police uniform with a gold badge on the chest came in and sat in a far corner booth. A moment later a person in a tan uniform with State Highway Patrol embroidered where the sleeves met the shoulder came in and joined the person in the corner. They both looked over at Ian.

Ian took in the two seasoned, well-aged older men sitting in full uniform at the booth. He stood and walked over and introduced himself as Herman Lunquist. He had planned to meet first with the highway patrol leader, but it was clear they had talked to each other. The Highway Patrol leader introduced himself as Mathew Martin and then introduced the City Police Chief, Bill Peters.

Mathew said he preferred to be called Matt, said that the two had talked and decided that they would meet the investigating FBI leader together.

Herman thanked them for having breakfast with him.

At that moment Mike walked in and came over to the table. He apologized for being late.

Ian noted that Mike seemed to be treated as one of them.

Herman was the odd one out and was the one they all seemed to be wondering about. He surprised the group by asking about their families and the age of their kids. He had the statistics of each family, but he was interested in listening to how each of the people at the table related to their family.

The discussion that followed made it clear to him that “Matt” and Bill were old and good friends. He made note that these were family men, proud of their work and solid in their integrity. This made it easier for Ian. If there was corruption in their organization, it would involve those below these two. The problem would be deeper in the organization, but he would not be fighting the organization leaders.

After breakfast, Ian accompanied by Mike went on tour of the border and to the office of border security to see how they operated.

The drive to the office of border security took over an hour. Ian used this time to get to know Mike. He listened as Mike described coaching his two sons in soccer, baseball, and basketball. Mike did not want his sons to play football because of his own experience and the injuries that were only getting worse with age.

They arrived at the Homeland Security office and met with Ricard Butterfield the regional director. Rick, as he wanted to be called, showed Herman a map and the way the area was patrolled. He invited Herman on a drive through tour along the border.

Herman gladly accepted. Rick led the way to a large, air-conditioned trail buggy and for the rest of the day he, Mike and Rick drove the route that his border guards patrolled.

It didn’t take Ian long to figure out that the guys in the field needed directions from the drones that flew overhead.

They and their dogs made great teams. The dog handlers all took to Herman once their dogs allowed him to scratch them behind their ears. Their dogs showed them that Herman was OK. They commented that Herman was one of a handful of people that the dogs accepted.

Ian laughed and replied that his wife thought he was a dog too.

The team described how they went about their normal daily patrol. Their manner was professional, thorough, and very conscientious.

After learning about how the field teams were guided, Ian asked to tour the drone control office and understand how they interacted with the ground team.

Rick said the tour would need to be the next day around noon. He was joining Matt and Joe for his usual midweek breakfast at May’s. He asked whether Mike would be there.

Mike answered in the affirmative and looked at Ian to see what his response would be.

Herman answered that he wouldn’t miss it.

The next day after breakfast Mike and Ian followed Rick back to the Border Patrol offices. Rick led the way in and walked Ian and Mike through the normal observation shift and the communication with the border patrol vehicle surveillance and the dog patrol teams.

It was clear the drone handlers had the best vantage point to see almost everything. A mole on this team could easily provide the information that would misdirect those on the ground.

On the drive back, Ian asked Mike to check on the background of all the drone operators.

Ian again guided the conversation to Mike and his family.

Mike described his home as strategically located between the Middle School, where his youngest son and middle daughter attended, and the High school where his oldest son was now in his junior year.

The family church was just beyond the middle school. The family doctor was located across from the High School and a hospital was just a stone’s throw north of the high school.

He and his wife belonged to a health club less than three miles away. Mike described it as a convenient arrangement for the entire family.

He had a large two story, five-bedroom home on a corner lot that faced third street and was blessed with a dead-end street to its right. That meant a quiet back yard and a street with almost no traffic on one side.

Mike made a point of mentioning the nine-foot interior ceilings of the house that kept the air conditioning bill reasonable. He liked the fact that the large size of the house and the relatively small size of the lot made the yard work reasonably easy and the entire package affordable.

Mike extended an invitation to Ian to a family grill out. He explained the grilling would happen out in the backyard, but because of the heat everyone would be taking shelter in the air-conditioned back patio.

Ian said he would love to meet his family and looked forward to the grill out.

Ian spent Saturday sleeping in late, taking a swim and working out. He took in a movie and spent some time reviewing the case.

Sunday morning early Ian took a walk-through downtown Phoenix. The heat of the day was building when he flagged down one of the few cabs and gave him Mike’s address. He sat back and enjoyed the short ride out.

The grill out and meeting the family put Ian in a good mood. Then toward the end of the day Mike received a call. He beckoned Ian over and quietly shared the fact that the border patrol had lost a large group of border crossers but had seen a light grey or perhaps dirty white panel truck leaving the area.

Ian and Mike agreed to meet early before going to and figure out what to do before going to breakfast.

That evening Ian began to study the routes that he would choose if he were transporting illegal aliens and wanted to minimize his chances of getting caught. Based on the mileage of each of the two confiscated trucks that had been previously used Ian plotted various routes. He decided to check these routes with Matt and Bill at breakfast on Monday morning.

Ian met Mike at the office and suggested that they have breakfast at Mays. He had questions for both Bill and Matt.

Mike was especially interested in Ian’s study on possible travel routes and wondered why his team had not done something similar.

Ian pointed out that he had no clue about travel in the region, but he didn’t know what else to do so he was doing what he always did best. He created his own sandbox to play in and hoped there was no cat shit in it.

There seemed to be one route that best fit the miles. It also ended just shy of Interstate 40, which was a main East-West traffic corridor. Ian had used a red pen to trace Highway 80 north, to 75, to 78, to 180 then on to 32, 36 and finally 117. This brought both trucks very close to Interstate 40. It was a slow tedious route, but it certainly kept the trucks off the main thoroughfares.

Ian figured that it was probably around this area where a transfer to other modes of transport would be made. There could be may second leg routes depending on the mode of transportation that had been arranged. There were endless dispersal scenarios that Ian could think of.

Matt and Bill concurred on the route Herman liked best. They figured it was as good as any and asked what good knowing this would now do for those who had died.

Herman agreed that it did nothing for them, but he felt it might help to be ready for the next time. And he pointed out that Rick had let Mike know on Sunday that a white panel truck had left the border.

Ian decided to drive and feel out the route he had mapped. He figured his chances were very low of finding anything, but the drive would occupy him and give him time to decide on the next steps he needed to take.

He asked Mike if the office kept any cases of water handy and found out that indeed they had extra cases on hand. He asked that several cases be put in the trunk.

Mike said he would have one of his guys put it in the back of the car Ian was being issued and asked if Ian was expecting to find a truck load of people.

Ian replied that he had no clue, but he was going to be Boy Scout ready.

Ian walked out to the assigned car, checked the trunk, and threw in his small personal needs bag.

Ian left Phoenix and began what he decided was a scenic drive through the scraggly pine covered mountains surrounded by a wide skirt of sage, cactus and tumble weed stretch of barren desert. Ian encountered almost no traffic. An occasional car or truck going the opposite direction broke the otherwise monotonous drive.

He was thinking through what he had learned so far and almost missed what he was looking for. He was almost all the way to Interstate 40 when a white panel truck stopped on the side of the road caught his eye. He slowed down as he drove past.

He saw no one.

The truck seemed to be deserted. A red flag went up in Ian’s shocked mind. Unbelievably it was the exact scenario he had imagined.

Ian decided to go back to the truck and take a closer look. He parked just past the truck on the opposite side of the road and carefully approached the truck. He looked out to the right of the truck to see if the driver was out in that direction. The underside of the truck was clear. It seemed the truck was deserted.

It was just not possible went through his mind.

He walked up to the cab and stepped up on the sideboard to look inside.

Almost immediately there was pounding on the panels from inside the back of the truck. He walked to the back of the truck. The doors were locked.

Ian pounded on the backdoor and in Spanish he told them to wait a moment. He would open the back doors.

The truck had a cross lug nut wrench but no straight bar. Ian went to his car and came back with the hockey stick style lug wrench most cars carried. The lock was a standard case quarter inch shank. It snapped on his first hard twist.

A swoosh of hot air from inside hit him as the doors came open. Ian was almost overwhelmed by the smell of sweat and urine. He was immediately angered by these conditions. The relief of finding everyone alive was the only thing that placated Ian. He helped those inside get out.

The people needed help and they needed water. Ian knew that his earlier premonition that caused him to ask for the two cases of water now confirmed why he was still alive today. He always seemed to have these premonitions.

Ian passed the water out and told everyone to drink slowly so they would not be sick.

He got everyone out and had them sit in the shade of the truck.

Ian saw a white van approaching slowly from the direction of Interstate 40. He took a bottle of water and went to the front of the panel truck. He stood leaning against the front of the truck. The heat of the radiator hitting his back added to the heat of the sun. He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The oncoming van stopped about twenty feet from the truck. Two men with guns drawn got out and approached him.

They asked what the hell Ian was doing letting the people out of the truck.

Ian calmly told them to take it easy and that he had stopped to see if he could help. Ian pointed to the engine compartment. He told them that he was a mechanic in Phoenix and just happened to be driving back from a job he had just finished. Ian went on to claim that he had fixed hundreds of engines of this type and that he could help them.

The taller of the two said they would fix their own truck and Ian should just get on his way.

Ian took note that the group along the side of the truck were now standing and quietly watching. The presence of the group seemed to distract the two gunmen.

The two had finally reached the distance when Ian could go into action. He waited until the two took their next step forward.

The taller of the two took the step forward that Ian had been waiting for. Ian threw his water bottle at him and took a long step forward. He deflected the gun hand with his left hand while at the same time stepping down hard on the arch of his right foot. He kept the gunman’s body between him and his partner. The final stiff finger stab to his throat took him down.

As the taller gunman was just beginning to crumble, Ian delivered a round house kick to the second gunman’s temple area and followed it with a downward fist blow to his nose. The second gunman fell down on his knees holding his nose with two hands and then toppled over. Both gunmen were out.

Ian quickly picked up the two guns and checked the two for any other weapons. Both were carrying large hunting style knives.

Ian threw the knifes back into the on-looking crowd.

He asked the on lookers to take off the men’s boots and pants and to throw them both into the back of the truck.

Ian was surprised by the energy and enthusiasm the crowd displayed as they picked the two up and took off the articles Ian had specified. They literally threw them into back of the truck. There was a cheer when the doors were shut. It was clear that the two had earned the displeasure of the people they had left locked in the truck.

Ian would interrogate the two but first he had to disperse the people that were now looking to him for guidance.

2 Imelda

Elisa lay against her mother’s side. She was hot and thirsty. She and her mother had been riding in the absolute black darkness in the back of a truck for a very long time.

The truck started jerking and then stopped.

When they had first jumped into the truck Elisa had been happy because they had escaped the patrol dogs. Her friends had told her the dogs ripped people apart and ate them. But now she was hot, thirsty, and really scared. She could not even see her mother’s face, and the air smelled really bad. She kept her head on her mother’s chest and listened to her mother’s heartbeat. Her mother kept praying and singing, which really worried Elisa.

Imelda hugged her daughter. The heat was unbearable. They had not been given any water or provisions. She and the others in the group that were in the truck with her had crossed the border into the US during the night.

They had come through a hole cut in a fence as the guide brought them across the river and then they had jogged for about a half mile to where the truck was waiting for them.

Imelda When she picked up Imelda so the two of them would not be left behind, she had dropped her bag with all her valuables. They had all jumped into the back of the truck and the doors were shut. It was hot, and the ride was bumpy and bruising until they reached what must have been the highway. Then it was a long monotonous ride in the pitch-black interior of the truck.

The heat and the bad smell seemed to go up simultaneously. She hugged Elisa to her chest and said a quite prayer.

She was on the way to meet her husband in Cincinnati, Ohio. He told her he had a small place to live and was working for the state as a gardener in a local state hospital. They had agreed it was time for her to bring Elisa and come live with him.

Now as she sat in the back of the truck she wondered if their lives back in Oaxaca had been all that bad. Carlos and she had been friends since they were kids. Their families lived on adjacent small farms and did fairly well. They grew most of their own food and raised a few goats and sheep. Their chickens provided eggs and meat.

It was a simple life. It was a good life for a poor family. But it held little hope that the future would be any different than the past.

The two had married shortly after getting out of high school. Carlos went to work for a local building materials supplier. He got his pay partly in goods and a small amount in cash.

He got permission from both of their families to build a small home on the boundary property where the two farms came together.

Carlos and Imelda had sketched out a small single story two-bedroom home. A tiled entry hall split the home with one bedroom on each side. The bathroom and shower were on the left back corner. The kitchen was the biggest room in the house and featured a large table at its center. A window over the sink looked out to the outdoor cooking area.

Every day Carlos would bring home a few bricks or bags of cement. Every weekend the two would work at building the next part of their home. It took them almost a year to build their home. The two had worked together every evening. This was a fond memory for Imelda. They had grown closer together with each brick they cemented into the wall. Each was a gold brick that strengthened their love for each other.

There was a big party to celebrate the completion of the home. They moved in and immediately they felt a new surge of hope for the future. Imelda became pregnant only a few weeks later. Her pregnancy was another cause for celebration.

The next big event was the drilling of the well and then having electricity brought to the house. Each was followed by celebration.

Life was good.

Elisa was born in December. Dark brown eyes, a full head of black hair, blessed with all her fingers and toes, she was a perfect child. It was the most joyous of times. She was their Christmas baby.

Carlos was a consummate father. Always good with his work roughened but skilled hands, he made a crib by hand for Elisa and a rocking chair for her. Both were treasures Imelda cherished.

For a few years, their lives seemed to be going smoothly and making progress.

Then the economy went bad. Carlos lost his job. No matter how hard he tried he could not find another.

He was despondent and had a feeling of hopelessness. Their few chickens and small garden kept them from going hungry but there was no income and they had little money in reserve. Carlos was despondent and shared his feeling of hopelessness.

A friend of Carlos told him about working in the US and how several of his friends were up north and sending money home to their families. The jobs were not hard to get and if one lived economically the money was enough to send home and to save.

Shortly afterwards Carlos made up his mind to cross the border to the US. His friend’s friend lived in Cincinnati and vouched that there were abundant jobs to be had.

Carlos experienced an easy trip. His crossing went smoothly, and he quickly made his way to Cincinnati. Once he arrived, he called back home and told Imelda how easy it had been. Only the border crossing itself had been somewhat challenging and scary, but the rest of the trip was no different than taking a trip into Mexico City. His calls and a few letters shared the various part time jobs of gardening or working on small construction projects. The money he sent home was more than enough for Imelda to live on and to provide some extras for Elisa.

Life on the farm was again good but Carlos was missing.

When he landed a permanent job, he asked her to come to Cincinnati. He felt the US offered a better chance for their family to get ahead. Elisa would get a good education and have the chance to go to college. Carlos was thinking ahead about what was good for his family.

Imelda shared her decision to go to Cincinnati with both sets of grandparents.

At first both grandparents asked her not to go. They understood the bleak future that staying in Mexico meant for Imelda, but they wanted to have their only granddaughter close at hand.

All of them saw how much both Imelda and Elisa missed Carlos and they then became supportive and wished her good luck. Imelda turned down their offer of money and instead left most of what she had saved with her mother.

She and Elisa were now into their second week of travel. Elisa had been especially afraid of the border crossing. They made the crossing with a group of about twenty people made up mostly of young men. Counting herself there were four women in the group. She was the only one with a child.

When border guards seemed to approach them with dogs, their guide told them to run as fast as they could to a white panel truck waiting for them. Imelda had dropped all her belongings, as she scooped up Elisa so she could run and keep up with the rest.

They all jumped into the truck and the doors were closed. The truck lurched forward and went speeding away. It was pitch black in the truck and everyone remained quiet. Someone with a cigarette lighter flicked it on and they all got a quick look around the empty truck. There was no water or food.

Imelda now had a new worry. She had no money, and she did not have a way to get to Cincinnati.

Occasionally there were some whispered conversations. Otherwise, there was only darkness and silence.

Imelda softly hummed some of Elisa’s favorite songs. They were together and soon she hoped that somehow, they would get to Cincinnati.

Then the truck sputtered, shuddered, jerked and came to a stop. Everyone got ready to get out, but the doors did not open.

Fear slowly crept into Imelda’s mind. She hugged Elisa to her and made a prayer to the Virgin Mary asking that the doors would open.

Someone pounded on the side of the truck. Another group kicked at the backdoor.

Imelda just kept praying.

It seemed they had been still for a very long time when suddenly the truck leaned as if someone was getting into the driver’s side of the truck.

Almost everyone began pounding on the side of the truck walls and yelling at the top of their voices.

Imelda just kept repeating, “please open the door.”

The rattling of the lock on the back door caused everyone to suddenly become silent.

Then in what Imelda considered the best bad Spanish she had ever heard; someone call out and let them know that he was going to open up the backdoor.

She knew it was not either of the two who had been driving the truck. They were Mexican and spoke perfect Spanish.

Imelda crossed her herself and thanked the Virgin.

As the doors opened, the people in the back rushed out. It was hot out in the sun but there was fresh air to breathe.

Imelda led Elisa out and into the shade that was on the desert side of the truck.

She was surprised to see a total stranger, a gringo, helping them.

She watched as he went to the trunk of the car across the road. He had two young men carry two cases of bottled water across the road.

He took the first two bottles and gave them to her and Elisa.

He kept a third for himself but did not open it.

Imelda had tears in her eyes as she thanked him.

Everything went silent as they heard a van was coming toward the front of the truck.

Imelda watched as the generous man that had opened the door went to the front of the truck. All he had was a bottle of water in his hands.

Two men got out of the truck. Imelda realized they had their guns aimed at the person that had freed her.

This time her prayer was for him.

It seemed that the person she was praying for had no idea about the danger he might be in.