[A man of thirty, military type, with muscles and a crewcut. He expresses himself with pride and confidence, but his eyes reveal doubt.]
I was always very much “by the book,” you know? Follow the rules. Respect the Law. That made sense to me. We’re given a set of instructions to live by so everything is clearly defined, good and bad, right and wrong…
My father thought the same way. He was a border patrol agent, and proud of it. Just as proud as I was of him, which is why I became one too.
I don’t want to come off as soft, but I hope people can understand we also feel bad for some of the illegals we detain at the border… mothers with babies, kids too young to be on their own…. we realize most of them are just trying to make a living, provide for their families.
But there’s a law. And someone needs to enforce it.
Still, I admit there are some…“special cases”.
Like this guy we caught about a year ago. Sergio was his name.
Homeland Security was holding him indefinitely. The guy had crossed the border one too many times before, and they suspected he might be in cahoots with something bigger… maybe terrorism or whatever.
He swore up and down he was just a cook though.
It was hard not to like the man; he joked around a lot and cracked everyone up… even the guards.
Anyway, about a week later, they said he was free to go. He was clean.
The night before the deportation, he offered to cook for us. He said he wanted to thank us for treating him so well…
We let him use our kitchen and even kept it secret from the higher-ups.
He made ribs. We all pitched in to buy them.
I swear you’ve never tasted ribs like those. Juicy, smoky, tangy… Dad would turn over in his grave if he heard me say it but, they were better than his… And my old man was as proud of his ribs as he was of his badge.
Everybody got a taste, including the other detainees. It turned into a party of sorts. It was fun…
The next morning Sergio was chaperoned back across the border, and all the time I kept thinking, how can doing the right thing feel so wrong?
Don’t get it twisted, I’m still an agent. I still believe in the Law.
But something in me changed that day.
I know because, last week, I stopped off at a random restaurant and ordered some ribs.
I immediately recognized the flavor.
So I ate, paid, and left… before I ran into the cook.
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Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016