America Libre (17 page)

On a foggy spring morning, an Orange County deputy, responding to a call from an Iowa tourist, found the bodies of three men
at the foot of a cliff along a deserted stretch of shoreline. Two of the men had been shot in the head in what appeared to
be execution-style slayings. One was identified as Walter O’Connor, age forty-three, a Realtor from El Segundo. The other
was Darren Strachan, a twenty-three-year-old convicted felon paroled from San Quentin five months before. The third body was
that of Michael Walker, twenty-five—another felon recently released from San Quentin. The cause of Walker’s death was listed
as “blunt force trauma.” Although authorities later found O’Connor’s realty office ransacked, the motive for the killings
remained unclear.

Over the next two weeks, the greater Los Angeles area was hit by a wave of similar killings. All eleven of the men slain were
former San Quentin inmates.

Shortly thereafter, the vigilante raids into East Los Angeles ceased.

Across the rest of the Southwest, however, the drive-by shootings by Anglos continued, spawning a vengeful spiral of violence.
Each vigilante attack triggered more protests and rioting; each disturbance in the barrios provoked more attacks by the vigilantes.

Even in Los Angeles, where the vigilante attacks had stopped, rioting still broke out in response to Anglo raids in other
cities.

Three months after the notorious ambush on L.A.’s Agnes Street, local authorities throughout the Southwest were confronting
a surging tide of anarchy. Government buildings, utility companies, malls, corporate offices, colleges, and sports stadiums
all became the scenes of demonstrations that often turned violent.

Repression is a revolutionary’s best recruiter. It will create more converts than a thousand rousing speeches.

—José Antonio Marcha, 1978
Translated by J. M. Herrera

R
osa emerged from the bodega keeping Elena close by her side. The chance of trouble was growing worse each day, but bringing
her five-year-old shopping seemed less risky than leaving her home alone. She scanned the street and noticed a patrol of six
National Guardsmen moving in her direction. Fearing the soldiers might attract trouble, she went back inside the store.

Through the front window, she watched the heavily armed men draw closer until they were just outside the store. One of the
Guardsmen drifted away from the others and approached Sofia and Julie Cardona as the teenagers walked by.

The soldier tilted back his helmet and leered. “Hello, pretty señoritas,” he said, revealing a row of crooked teeth.

The young girls giggled, whispered something to each other, and kept walking.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said, his tone suddenly harsh. “Halt!”

The girls froze, suddenly uncertain.

“Don’t you bitches play hard to get with me,” he sneered. “How much? I’m ready to do both of you if the price is right.”

Sofia and Julie stared back in shock.

“Come off it,” the soldier said. “I know this innocent bit is a trick to jack up the price. What’s it gonna cost me?”

The girls looked at the ground, too embarrassed to speak.

“What’s the matter, don’t you know English? You understand this, don’t you?” he yelled, grabbing his crotch.

Sofia covered her face, suddenly in tears.

Another soldier approached them. “C’mon, Davis,” he said, pulling his comrade toward the rest of the patrol. “Leave these
skanks alone. We’ll find us some good whores back at the base.”

Davis turned to the girls again. “What? You beaners think you’re too good to fuck a white man?” he yelled before returning
to the other soldiers.

Rosa found herself trembling with rage. She knew Sofia and Julie Cardona well. They were decent girls from a good family.
She did not want to hate the soldiers, but it was impossible to forgive their abuse. These men had terrified the girls—and
insulted their parents who were working hard to raise them right.

Elena tugged on her hand. “What were they doing, Mami?”

Rosa’s heart sank. She’d been too stunned by the encounter to realize her five-year-old was witnessing the ugly scene. “It
was nothing, m’hijita. Just a silly game,” she answered quickly, guiding her away from the window.

Looking at her wide-eyed daughter, Rosa wondered if Elena would someday be accosted by ignorant men like these. The likelihood
seemed very real. War often turned men into animals. And war was the only way to describe the conditions around much of the
country.

For the first time in her life Rosa was paying attention to events outside her home. She had tried to resist. But the brutal
deaths around her had revealed a painful truth: ignoring the outside world would not spare her family from its dangers. She
now watched the television news while the boys were in school and Elena was napping. The entire country had changed for the
worse—and very quickly.

Nine months after the Rio Grande Incident, the barrios of the Southwest were becoming battle zones where insurgents, vigilantes,
police, and National Guard troops waged a bitter conflict. Hate crimes against Hispanics by the KKK and other white supremacist
groups multiplied outside the Southwest, stirring more friction.

Damage to public structures was now so common that a new style of architecture was evolving in urban areas throughout the
Southwest. Glass was disappearing from public buildings, replaced by hasty patches of concrete, stone, or brick. In the interim,
sandbags were being piled inside windows. National Guard troops in combat gear were now permanent fixtures of the urban landscape.
“Homeland Security” was taking on an alarming new meaning in the national lexicon.

The apparent inability of the government to maintain order—or capture the vigilantes—was widely publicized by the media. The
bloggers were particularly vitriolic. Local, state, and federal law enforcement agencies were routinely roasted for incompetence
and accused of collusion with the vigilantes. Some radical-left publications called them government death squads despite their
obviously random attacks.

Many Americans were too afraid to leave their homes, let alone shop. Each passing week saw more retail stores shuttered. Local
economies that were already weak went on life support. With gasoline already rationed as a “strategic resource” in the war
on terror, workers moved closer to their jobs, sending once-prosperous suburbs into decline.

As the months passed, the scope of the violence mounted. Attacks by small armed cadres erupted, the insurgents often wearing
black, emulating their brethren who had ambushed the vigilantes in Los Angeles.

In El Paso, four armed men stormed a local television station and fought a SWAT team to their deaths while the station’s cameras
rolled.

The residents of Corpus Christi awoke to the sound of automatic rifle fire when insurgents staged an early morning assault
on a National Guard detachment camped on the outskirts of the city.

Explosions rocked the morning calm of Santa Fe as three homemade bombs were detonated in the portals of New Mexico’s iconic
Capitol Building. A group calling itself the “Latino Liberation Front” claimed responsibility.

Eager to cash in on the ratings windfall, the broadcast networks hired extra camera crews to keep up with the escalating violence,
vying with one another to air the most sensational footage. Their constant reports of turmoil inflamed opinions on both sides
of the widening divide between Hispanics and the rest of the nation.

Seeking the limelight, a number of pundits and politicians began parroting an alarming prediction: A full-scale Hispanic rebellion
was imminent. A growing segment of mainstream America quietly feared the prophecies were true. Nine months after the Rio Grande
Incident, their fears would find a voice in an obscure congressman from Louisiana.

A cascade of camera flashes greeted the Nationalist congressman from Louisiana as he stepped behind the podium on the steps
of the Capitol. Melvin Bates looked out across the expanse of the Mall, savoring the moment. He’d waited years for an opportunity
like this.

The Nationalists had gained eight seats in the last election, and today’s announcement could vault the fledgling party into
national prominence. Although Bates knew the resolution he was about to propose had little chance of being ratified, he was
convinced it would create an immense number of new supporters for the Nationalists… and help fill the coffers of his party’s
reelection war chest. Played right, the Nationalists could become power brokers, able to tip the scales between the two major
parties.

Looking down, Bates saw the elite of the Washington press corps arrayed before him in a rectangle of folding chairs. Flanking
them were the TV crews, their cameras and microphones facing him like nestlings with begging maws. Through his aides, Bates
had leaked the volatile subject of this press conference to a number of reporters. Judging by the media turnout, the tactic
had been effective.

Bates cleared his throat and began his opening statement.

“My fellow patriots, our nation faces a challenge unlike any other in our proud history. We are besieged by an enemy within
our borders who is brazenly moving among us in military formations with the avowed objective of sedition and conquest. These
unprecedented and heinous deeds are tearing at the very fabric of our society.

“To protect our homeland, some misguided Americans have taken the law into their own hands. They have struck back blindly
against these terrorists. However well-intended, the righteous fury of these misguided patriots is bringing us to the brink
of anarchy. We cannot allow our nation to continue suffering under these conditions.

“The insurgency we face today has a decidedly foreign presence. Those who are perpetrating these acts of terror speak another
language. Many were not born within our borders. What we face today is nothing less than a conflict with foreigners on our
own soil.

“I fully understand that those committing these deeds of aggression represent only a small minority of the Hispanics in our
land, and let me make this perfectly clear: the majority of the legal citizens of the Hispanic race are loyal, law-abiding
Americans.

“Therefore, for the protection of our faithful Hispanic citizens and to help root out the terrorists within our borders, I
will be proposing to the members of Congress a resolution of Quarantine and Relocation.”

Bates paused and looked beyond the teleprompter. He felt a rush of delight at the astonished expressions among the press corps.

“First, this bill will mandate the immediate deportation of all Hispanics who are not naturalized American citizens. Next,
the bill calls for the creation of Relocation Communities where loyal Hispanic-Americans can be protected from the wrath of
misguided citizens. These Relocation Communities will not only protect innocent Hispanics, but they will also help us isolate
the terrorist minority within Hispanic areas and choke off their lifelines of support. In addition, the relocation will aid
authorities in locating and deporting the vast number of illegal aliens still within our borders.