The tonks jump we chase, sans point, simple right? Not at all…working east fence can be wild and out of control. The radio traffic is fast and barely comprehensible. We speak, at least when I worked there in our own radio language, hardly understandable to outsiders. There are Border patrol vehicles zipping up and down the streets, mad dogs barking and biting, unlicensed drivers careening down streets. Agents out on foot, in backyards. Agents hiding in alleys, trees and on roofs, Tonks running amuck. Trying to blend in hard without looking tonkified. Smugglers on the south side (Mexicali) throwing rocks, bottles and on a few occasions firebombs at us. We retaliate by using pepper spray on the smugglers as they slide down the south side of the fence back into Mexico. Some nights the scent of cayenne is thick along east fence.
Now, let’s talk about the word “tonk” for a moment shall we? It’s a word you will see used whenever I write about the border. It basically refers to the people who are jumping into our country illegally. It is not race specific. So let us not dwell on any racial aspect of the word. It’s simply not racist, at least in my opinion. In the Border Patrol world it means one of two things. It is an off kilter acronym for temporarily out of native country or in the old patrol days it was referred to as the sound the big black metal flashlight makes on the back of their heads. Horrible? Maybe. Racist? No. I don’t believe so.
Anyway back to East Fence. The latest trend on East Fence was for the smugglers to hacksaw the columns in the fence allowing the tonks to slip through and hopefully blend in with the rest of population. You would think this hacksaw nonsense could be easily stopped but it was more difficult than you may think. The smugglers had all sorts of games with us to distract us away from what they were really trying to do. Their favorite was “The draw.” A couple of smugglers would jump the fence and run north and the agent parked closest would pull off in his vehicle and give chase. With that agent out of play it would leave his spot open so another small group would jump over at the new opening. More agents would pull off to chase. So, while everyone was busy chasing these fools another crew was busy sawing a portion of the fence. It was all a game. A game played during day shift so the fence would be ready by nightfall. They just wanted to draw attention away from the crew that was hacking away at the fence.
These smugglers could climb that fence as easy as walk across a busy New York street. It was really something to see. I tried on more than one occasion to climb the god dam thing and it was impossible. Yet these smugglers had no problems whatsoever. Climbing up and down the thing all day long, assisting their charges with shimmying up the fence on the Mexican side and sliding down the fence on the United States side.
Once they were on the U.S. side they could run to a million different hiding places all along First Street. Most hiding places were inside houses sympathetic to the cause. Other hiding places were garages, outdoor water heater closets, under cars, trees and sometimes on roofs. It was basically professional “hide and go seek” with guns and pepper spray.
It was close to 8 pm and it was winter on the night I’m talking about. I remember this because I was wearing my jacket and I was also wearing a black beanie. I was driving slowly down Second Street approaching a street called Encinitas when the radio began jabbering “Old port coming through the fence 7 to eight times.” Translation, there were seven to eight illegal immigrants coming through one of the cut columns near what we referred to as the Old port. It was the old port of entry from Mexico to the USA. I gunned the engine because in one more block I would have a perfect view of the entire group. They would pop out from behind the old customs building and I would most likely be able to scoop up every one of them.
As I approached Heber Street I looked to my left and had a perfect view of Old Port and the old customs building. I saw the entire group move out from behind the old customs building and stop. They stood there like a group of confused deer. There were about seven of them, mostly men, a couple of women, no children and thank God for that. All were wearing dark clothing as seems to be the custom when sneaking across the Border at night. One of the members of the group caught my eye. He was not dressed in dark clothing. He was wearing what appeared to be a white button up dress shirt and light colored jeans with dark dress shoes. He was also carrying a small brown paper bag.
Headlights flashed illuminating the group of illegal immigrants. I saw a Border patrol unit driving right up on the group. I knew this would cause them to scatter and T.B.S. (Turn Back South). I wondered for a second who was driving the unit. It was most likely a trainee and he wanted to be there first. I knew just how he felt. But when you work in the city the tonks can disappear so fast it can leave a Border Patrol agent confused and muttering.
On the east fence when the tonks didn’t immediately run into a hiding place but began to simply wander. It was sometimes better to let them think they have made it safely into the U.S. Watch where they go and make sure when you roll up on them they have no place to hide or run. And as I predicted, when the unit rolled up they scattered although none TBS’s but they did run in all directions.
I kept my eye on the man in the white dress shirt. I wanted to see why he was different and I wanted to see what the hell was in that brown bag. He walked quickly west on First Street passing the tienda on the corner. Once he passed the tienda he began to stroll, to blend in with the early evening shopping crowd. I continued to watch him walk and I kept looking at his little brown bag.
The man had no clue I was behind him. I maneuvered my vehicle, which at that time was a 2001 Chevy Tahoe, all the way to the left side of the street. On that particular part of First Street it turns into a one way street and even though it was somewhat late at night the traffic was still heavy. I stopped my vehicle a few yards behind him and got out.
I approached from behind and said in a louder than street noise voice “hey bro, hey bro it’s me. Turn around.” The man slowly turned and saw my uniform and just for a second I saw that look. That “oh shit, I’m caught “look. But then he smiled at me and said yes official what can I do for you?” Hearing his English caught me off guard. I asked him if he knew why I was stopping him. “No Official. “He answered smiling. “I have no idea why.” I looked at his brown bag and told him “Bro, I saw you come through the fence with a group of about seven others. “He smiled again and I could see his clothing was completely clean and he even smelled nice. “Surely official you are mistaken it was not me I have been just down at the store shopping for some Como se dice? Cositas...Little minor things for my wife.”
As soon as he completed his sentence I knew I had him. I smiled at him and asked him if I could look inside his bag. He hesitated for only a moment and then handed me the bag. I opened it and inside were three small brown plastic bottles containing some sort of medication. I looked further and found what I was looking for. The receipt. It listed the name and address of a well known Pharmacia located just across the fence in Mexicali. In fact if he and I walked back to Old Port we would both be able to see the entrance of said Pharmacia. I showed him the receipt and he looked down at the ground and asked “do I have to go with you now Official?” I nodded and said “sorry partner I’m afraid so.”
I gave him a quick pat down and put him in the back of my Tahoe. I tossed his medication in the front seat with me. I got in and started driving west along First Street to Imperial. I didn’t plan on driving him to the station right away. I wanted to see if anyone else needed transport for their bodies. I listened up for the radio to announce they had bodies in custody. As we drove he leaned forward and asked me my name. I told him and he told me his name was Juan Carlos. I asked him why he was dressed so nicely and why he seemed so clean. I told him most people who jump small pretty bad and their clothing is dirty. He explained that he had been living and working in the United States for many years and he only crossed to pick up medication for his wife because it was much, much, cheaper in Mexico. His insurance would not cover the cost of her medication and they could not afford to buy it in the United States.
I asked Juan Carlos if he had kids. He smiled and said “yes official I have three girls. Well actually four if you count my wife” He showed me a small picture that he had in his wallet of three smiling girls in matching dresses and a pretty Latina with her arms around all three. I nodded and said “nice partner, I’m sure you are very proud.
We drove in silence for a minute or two. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw his face. He had the look of a man that had the weight of God and the devil upon him all at once. “Hey Juan? “ I said. He looked up quickly. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s wrong with the wife?” I asked. He looked at me in the mirror and said “Ahhh well Official, she has lupus. “ Now at the time Juan and I had met I mentioned I had three years on the job but in that short time I heard a lot of stories and excuses by the tonks. 99% of them were bullshit. At least that’s how I felt at that time. I pulled my Tahoe over to the side of the road and killed the headlights. I think I was somewhere on fourth street east of Imperial Highway. I turned around and looked at him and said “You serious? She has lupus? You aren’t bullshitting me?” “Oh no official, she has the lupus and she very much needs her medication. “
Now I happen to know just a little bit about the demon lupus. My friend Salvador’s wife is afflicted. Sal and I have had several discussions about her health in the past. I know it’s a terrible disease and can take its toll on the person who is afflicted with along with their family.
I asked Juan to name a few of her symptoms. Without hesitation Juan told me she has trouble with her kidneys now and sometimes trouble with the heart.” I looked at him and nodded. I reached over and retrieved my cell phone from my trique bag. I stepped out of my vehicle and dialed my friend Salvador. As I waited for Salvador to answer I reached back inside the Tahoe and grabbed the little brown bag. I was also thinking about what I was going to do with Juan. Millions of tiny little questions jumping their way around my head. On the sixth ring Sal answered and I apologized for calling late and asked him if he wouldn’t mind verifying some lupus meds for me and I would explain later. I gave him the names that were inscribed on the bottles and described the pills to him. He verified that all three were used to treat lupus. I thanked him and before I hung up Sal asked me if I was ok. I said” I’m not sure but I think I will be in a few partner.” I told him I would call him tomorrow and hung up.
I stared at my cell phone then looked through the glass that separated Juan and I. I wondered for a second if I had the same look on my face that Juan had on his when I first looked at him in my rearview. Juan saw me looking at him and smiled at me. I got back in my rig and turned and looked at Juan and asked him. “Do you know what street you’re on buddy?” Juan looked around in all directions and said “um I think Imperial highway is that way no?” as he pointed west. He was right. It was just a few blocks to the west. I asked him where he lived and he told me he lived further north in a town called Brawley.
I stared out my window and thought about his wife and his three kids. I thought of my wife and my kids. I thought of what I would do if was faced with a situation like Juan’s. I asked Juan if he had any money and he hesitantly told me he did. I looked back at him through my rearview and for a second I’m sure he thought I was going to shake him down. I turned on the headlights and pulled away from the curb and drove east along Fourth Street. Juan asked “are we going to the station senor?” I looked at him in the rearview and said nothing. I continued to drive east on Fourth Street until my lights illuminated a street sign that read Blair Ave. I headed north from there and drove slowly.
I asked Juan had he ever been to the station before. He looked at me in the mirror again and said he had, once before. I asked him had he ever been arrested in the US or Mexico. He said “No Never official, I never have.”
I jammed on my brakes hard. Hard enough to make Juan hit the glass partition but not hard enough to hurt him, just hard enough to locate his full and undivided attention. I turned and looked at him in his eyes. “No me diga mentida me! Me entiendas? No me hechas mentidas. Tiene que pensar de su esposa! Juan! If I find out you are lying I will personally come to Brawley and drag you the fuck out of your house” I yelled.
I had to do this. I needed to get in his head. He looked as if he were about to cry. “No no I swear to you a me Madre, never have I been arrested.” I stared hard at his face and could see in his eyes he was telling the truth. For just a brief moment I saw an honest man.
I punched the accelerator and continued to drive north and after a few more blocks made a quick left into a darkened alley. I killed the headlights for the second time that evening. I also shut the engine. I opened my door and stepped out onto the dirt alley. I could smell trash and dogs and the alley was void of anyone. It was so dark I could barely make out Juan’s silhouette in the back of my vehicle. I reached up and opened his door and asked him to step out. It was hard to see his face as I asked him for the second time that evening. “Do you know what street you are on?” Even thought I couldn’t see his face. I could tell his eyes were searching for mine. “Imperial highway is that way I am sure.” As he pointed west again. I took one last look at Juan and thought briefly of what might happen if I ever saw him again.
I got inside my vehicle and started the engine. I rolled down my window and handed Juan his wife’s medications. I put my rig in gear and kept the headlights off. I left Juan standing in that darkened alley. A cloud of Calexico alley dust most likely dancing on his white dress shirt.
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