The Devils Highway: A True Story (21 page)

Lower wages, cheaper product, unclaimed federal taxes, unclaimed state taxes, unused Social Security. Over a lifetime, does it start to ameliorate the $55K+? What about sales taxes, gas tax, rent? What about Pampers at the local Vons supermarket? Cigarette tax. Beer. Tortillas and BVDs and cable and used cars and speeding tickets and water bills and electric bills and tampons and Trojans and Mars bars. Movie tickets. Running shoes. CDs. Over a lifetime, how much does it add to the American commonwealth?

But they take away our jobs! Interestingly, the U.S. Bureau of Labor Satistics has reported that by 2008, there will be five million more jobs in the United States than people to do them. This is after the tides of illegals. After the post-Iraq economic doldrums. Even if we vacuum up the homeless and set them to sweeping and frying, we’ll have a few million vacancies. Who you gonna call?

UCLA’s North American Integration and Development Center (you can hear talk radio hosts protesting already—UCLA! Commie bastards!) released a twenty-first-century study that found that “undocumented immigrants” contributed “at least $300 billion per year to the U.S. gross domestic product (GDP).” If you put their numbers at a mere 4.5 million, they still add between $154 million and $220 billion, the report says. Researcher Marisol Sanchez told the EFE News Service, apropos of this study, that “although conservative groups claim that undocumented immigrants are a social burden,” illegals tend to shy away from seeking social services because they don’t want to be deported. Wherefore $55K+?

How many toys. How many phone bills. How much in the poor box at church. How much for pencils, steaks, charcoal, glasses, panties, bras, bikes, skateboards, concerts, Blockbuster, Monistat, Head & Shoulders, Listerine. AOL. Computers. Backpacks. Uniforms. Night school.

What of the Devil’s Highway itself, the tormented border in Arizona?

In June 2003, right in the heart and heat of the killing season, Thunderbird, the American Graduate School of International Management, released a study. Sooner or later, everyone will release a study. But this one made the Mexican consuls of Arizona happy. No doubt Vicente Fox faxed it to the White House.

Thunderbird learned that Arizona “gets $8 billion in economic impact annually from the relationship” with Mexico. That’s profit, not costs. Mexico makes $5.5 billion. Reymundo and his son would have been stunned to know they were dying under a high tide of money. Critics will be stunned to learn that the United States makes more money in the deal than those wily Mexicans.

Thunderbird relates:

“Mexican immigrants paid nearly $600 million in federal taxes and sales taxes in 2002 … Mexican immigrants use about $250 million in social services such as Medicaid and food stamps … Another $31 million in uncompensated health care. …”

That leaves a profit of $319 million.

The Arizona Republic
further quotes the report:

•  The average annual wage for Arizonans is $28,355; for the state’s Mexican immigrants it’s $12,963.

•  The total buying power of Arizona’s Mexican immigrants is estimated at $4.18 billion.

•  The state’s Mexican immigrants spend an estimated $1.5 billion in mortgage payments and rent annually.

•  Mexican tourists and visitors spent $962 million in Arizona in 2001, while state residents spent about $328 million in Mexico.

•  Remittances from the state’s Mexican immigrants to their homeland reached $486 million last year, with those transactions generating about $57 million in fees to Arizona banks and financial institutions.

We not only gonna get it back, but we gonna pay for it, too …

The investigation over, the afternoon growing late, the light fades in the Tucson consulate’s office. The scented candles are guttering low now, but they still give up their scent. The death pictures of the Yuma 14 go back in their envelopes, to be filed and forgotten. Their bodies are long gone, gone and buried. Still, the smell of death floats in the room as the tainted papers and cardboard folders are sealed. It’s dark and leathery, smells like burned barbecue and old trash, at once tangy and flat.

A woman in stretch pants sits across the room. She has scuffed white shoes and holds a cracking vinyl purse with a faux-gold clasp in her lap. She wrings its tan shoulder straps in her fists. She’s sitting on the edge of the seat, and she has pins in her hair, and she is smiling and bowing her head, enacting the ancient pantomime of subservience that Mexicans of humble origin rely on to help them deal with people of power. Like consulate secretaries sitting behind big desks.

She has come to ask the secretary about a certain Juan García who walked into the Sonora desert a week ago and never came out in Arizona.

The security chief is saying, “They drink piss to live!”

“Excuse me, sir,” the secretary says.

“What is it?”

“This señora has lost a Juan García.”

“How long?”

“A week or more,” the woman offers.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve got him.”

She smiles.

“Yes?” she says.

“He’s dead. I’ve got him on the slab.”

The chief walks out. The secretary walks out.

The woman sits alone, staring at the desk. She looks up. “What do I do now?” she asks.

Just as the last file is going to go on the shelf, a coroner’s report slides out. It’s Reymundo Sr.’s death certificate. Compared to his son’s, it’s almost an exact replica. Before the files are sealed and stowed away, to be unread forever, the Yuma 14 have one final surprise to offer. File after file says the same thing. Reymundo, and his son, all of them, have been listed in death as WHITE MALE.

The secretary comes back in and notes the woman is crying.

“Oh!” she says. “We’ve upset you.” She sits and says, “Señora, you must forgive us. We deal with death so often in here that we forget. We forget, you see. We’re indelicate. If you don’t work here, death still means something to you.”

She smiles as she collects the files. The chief comes back in and takes the grieving woman by the arm.

“Let’s get your man,” he says.

The files go on the shelf; a stack of newer files is dislodged and falls over. It is almost dark now. The secretary pats her hair into place, then bends once at each desk, and with a small puff from her deep red lips, blows out the candles.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I
owe thanks to many. Their generosity and expertise made this complex investigation possible. Most assuredly, any errors are my own.

Any writer undertaking a project such as this can only hope for a veteran investigative journalist for a partner. My wife, Cinderella, did more than her share of work. She set up a database, ran the computer, surfed the AP newswires and the LexisNexis cyberservice. She arranged interviews, worked the phones, and accompanied me to some of the meetings. She occasionally wrangled with the Border Patrol. Finally, she was my first reader and my first editor, keeping my nose to the news and my head out of the stars.

Tucson author, and my legal counsel, Brian Andrew Laird Esq. took part in many uncomfortable adventures as I sniffed around. Bad miles, the smell of death, many hot roads, cheap motel rooms, bad stares from Migra agents. Laird broke a few laws in our first uninvited penetration of the Goldwater range, nearly broke his axles in jaunts across forbidden landscapes. He sat with me as we peeled open the death packets in the Tucson consulate. And later, he survived our car wreck with armed Chicano drug mules on the rez. Viva Pelón.

I am indebted to the Mexican consular corps for generous help and support at every turn. Late in the game, San Diego consul Felipe Cuellar and his wife, Calexico consul Rita Vargas, were stationed in Chicago. Rita, as the manuscript reveals, happened to be the Mexican official in charge of the entire “Yuma 14” investigation. She and Felipe proofread my manuscript and caught me out in foolish errors. They hosted me to long locked-door meetings at the Chicago consulate. And Rita made her diaries of the event available to me. I will forever be in their debt.

My cousin, Enrique Hubbard Urrea, is the Mexican ambassador to the Philippines. Even from that great distance, his presence and name opened doors for me. His books lent a welcome bit of clarity to my understanding of Mexican politics. I’m waiting for him to become president.

His son, Alan Hubbard, in the security wing of the Phoenix consulate, made many incredibly valuable documents available to me, as well as the addresses and phone numbers of the survivors, and many notes on the structure of the Cercas gang’s Coyote empire. In Tucson, consul Carlos Flores Vizcarra was generous with his time and wisdom. He opened his archives to us and allowed us to inspect them and observe the daily operations of the consulate. His public affairs agent, Dulce, was professional and kind, and I am grateful to her for helping us penetrate their secretive world.

Finally, in Mexico City, a spirit hovering over much of this investigation is Gustavo Mohar, cacique of the consular corps.

In Phoenix, Mendez’s federal defender, Gerald Williams, gave us hours of his time. He turned over reams of information, and stacks of invaluable tapes. He also delivered messages to Mendez.

This book would be nowhere, however, without La Pinche Migra. For some reason, the Border Patrol decided to take a risk and, after long and fruitless courting, allowed me to enter the back rooms and the trucks. They were both open and guarded. But they were honest, even when it was not in their best interest. They showed me how to cut sign, and they stood on the Devil’s Highway with me and looked into Mexico with a certain sense of regret and unexpected compassion. Several of the agents have kept me updated via e-mail and telephone on developments in their personal and professional lives.

Wellton’s supervisory agent, Kenneth Smith, a thirty-year veteran, was my Yoda as I tried to penetrate their world. I think of the hours we spent with gratitude. Ken was a boon companion, and he helped put a human face on the Border Patrol.

Agent Jerome Wofford worked the computers and showed me the death scene photos and analyzed what the death-sign meant. Yuma’s Mike McGlasson was the exemplary information officer and good Marine. He opened the doors for me. I wouldn’t want to be a Coyote with Mike on my trail. Mike’s harem of news-women was also a delight to work with. Officer Friendly gave me a bunch of shit, and it was a great help in getting the feel of the station. He suggests that the proper title for this book is
Coyote Bait
. Miss Anne, in Wellton Station, was kind.

I must thank Jason Carroll, of BORSTAR, for excellent informative sessions. By phone and e-mail, Jason helped me decipher arcana—including the finer points of drinking urine. Tucson sector was tougher to enter than Yuma. Agent Ryan Scudder is greatly admired by the Mexican consuls, and he was helpful. Information officer Rob Daniels was informative. And in Washington, D.C., Mario Villareal was the master of the brush-out.

Former BP agent Warrior offered generous thoughts and prayers late in the game.

The Border Patrol’s PowerPoint presentation of “Operation Broken Promise” was a valuable tool.

King of the Cactus Cops, Steve Ganitsch, was a great blessing. There were moments when other law enforcement agents were so astounded that Ganitsch was my friend that they gave up secrets immediately.

Chuck Bowden, as always, was helpful and generous; a boon companion and a walking encyclopedia of border and desert lore.

Rick Ufford-Chase and the Samaritan Patrols based in Tucson were extremely helpful and open. I learned much from them, and I admire their example.

Dr. Ralph Cintron, at University of Illinois at Chicago, sent me valuable research materials. César A. González, at San Diego Mesa College, was as always a mentor and provider of valuable articles and insights. At UIC, graduate student JoAnne Ruvoli-Gruba provided me with materials about BORSTAR and some Border Patrol history. San Diego PD’s Great Dispatcher, Kyle Wiggins, helped out. Natalie Sudman introduced me to the Cactus Cop, and without her intervention, all the subsequent doors might not have opened. Thanks to my colleagues on the advisory board of the Paso Al Norte Immigration Museum of El Paso, Texas.

Tony Delcavo, of Bella Luna Books, caught my single greatest typo: I apparently uncovered a “vast conspiracy of snuggling.” It would be a different border if that were true.

Stewart O’Nan, as always, was the world’s best sounding board: his insights into narrative choices and editing were invaluable.

My unbelievable editor, Geoff Shandler, found the heart of this book. And everyone at the Dijkstra Agency makes it possible for me to go into battle.

Thanks to Rich Hopkins and the mighty Sidewinders.

Finally, thanks to the members of the band Calexico—their song “Across the Wire” appeared unexpectedly and lent moral support when it was deeply needed.

The news publications accessed in this project were: The
Arizona Daily Star
, the
Arizona Republic
, the
Chicago Tribune
, the
Denver Post
, the
El Paso Times
,
Global News Wire/EFE News Service
,
La Jornada
, the
Los Angeles Times
, the
New York Times
,
Newsday
,
La Opinión
,
Outside
magazine,
Range
magazine, Salon.com, the
San Diego Reader
, the
San Diego Union Tribune
, the
Tucson Citizen
, the
Tucson Weekly
, the
Wall Street Journal
, the
Washington Post
,
Zeta
. Ray Rojas’s Internet news service out of Texas was always a welcome source of information: Ray is the Xicano Drudge Report— even has a cool fedora. Of all the papers covering the border, the
Daily Star
of Arizona and the
Arizona Republic
are the invaluable sources, and the
Star’s
Web site offers a constant stream of illuminating border stories. For portraits of the Veracruz home and the relatives of the Yuma 14, the
Tucson Citizen
is of interest. Border Patrol Web sites and officer’s union Web sites were also of great interest. Mike McGlasson provided me with a healthy flow of Yuma sector press releases. The Samaritans e-mailed me their minutes after every meeting. And, of course, the aforementioned AP and LexisNexis services. My maps were U.S. Geological Survey topo maps that divided up the entire region into detailed sections. For a quick overview of the state of Arizona, the
Arizona Atlas and Gazetteer
from DeLorme Mapping was extremely handy. If anyone wishes to learn about the Devil’s Highway region, they need only step into Tucson’s Map and Flag Center, where Mr. F. Keith Trantow and the staff will orient and guide with a sure hand.

Thanks to P. K. Weis of the
Citizen
for his excellent photographs.

Several reports and monographs, from both the Right and the Left, were eye-opening. One of the most interesting was the Population Council’s December 1, 2001, report, “Death at the Border: Efficacy and Unintended Consequences of U.S. Immigration Control Policy,” by Wayne A. Cornelius. Another was the Center for Immigration Studies Forum press conference from the Nixon Center in Washington, D.C., in August 2002. (Transcript available from the Federal News Service.) The Border Information Outreach Service can be accessed via
www.us-mex.org/borderlines
. The Mexican Migration Project (MMP) has done some interesting research into the issue. An outgrowth of this research is the valuable book
Beyond Smoke and Mirrors: Mexican Immigration in an Era of Economic Integration,
by Massey, Durand, and Malone.

For those who want to keep an eye on the Mexicans, there are three excellent Web sites that pull back the tortilla curtain and make secrets visible. They are invaluable for anyone seeking to do thorough homework. These are: El Colegio de la Frontera Norte,
www.colef.mx
; Instituto Nacional de Estadistica, Geografía e Información,
www.inegi.mx
; and Consejo Nacional de Población,
www.conapo.mx
.

For a liberal/humanitarian angle on the border, interested readers should look into Humane Borders and Derechos Humanos and the American Friends Service Committee.

Anyone seeking a deeper understanding of the border might want to read the excellent anthologies put out by Cinco Puntos Press, in El Paso. Both
The Late Great Mexican Border
and
Puro Border
offer insights into the world of the Coyotes and the rich and troubled border world. The latter has an invaluable dictionary/lexicon of Coyote and pollo slang.

Certainly, anyone looking into the Devil’s Highway region must begin with John Annerino’s text,
Dead in Their Tracks
. Perhaps the earliest book about the Devil’s Highway region, barring the conquistadors’ chronicles, is Nils and Dorothy Hogner’s
Westward Ho! High, Low and Dry
. If you find a copy, let me know. Charles Bowden’s books are an invaluable source of border/desert information; of particular value to the writing of this book were
Blue Desert
and
Desierto
. Both Bowden and Annerino feature versions of the Melchior Díaz story. Rubén Martinez has written a classic of border literature,
Crossing Over
. Anyone who wants to understand the world of the undocumented entrant could do worse than to start here. For the bad-Mexicans and evil-Arabs crowd, Michelle Malkin’s alarmist screed
Invasion
is satisfyingly hair-raising.

Aron Spilken’s
Escape!
is a study of a similar tragedy to the one described in this book; it took place in the same general area. For some sense of the awfulness of the Devil’s Highway region in cowboy days, readers are wise to read the last half of Cormac McCarthy’s apocalyptic historical novel,
Blood Meridian
. Many other border/desert writers are worth looking into. Writers whose work also affected this book: John Alcock, Craig Childs, James W. Clarke, Ted Conover, Bernard Fontana, Julian Hayden, Gary Paul Nabhan, Sam Quinones, Sebastian Rotella— particularly his excellent
Twilight on the Line: Underworlds and Politics at the Mexican Border
.