Authors: Joseph Wambaugh
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Social Science, #True Crime, #California, #Alien labor, #Foreign workers, #San Diego, #Mexican, #Mexicans, #Police patrol, #Undercover operations, #Border patrols
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BARF
DICK SNIDER LURKED ON THE FRINGE. HE WAS STILL A Southern Division watch commander and still the godfather of the Barf squad. Sometimes he'd have a beer with the boys, and after a few, one of them might start hinting that Manny was having them do something that the department might not approve of.
But as Ken Kelly put it: "Lieutenant Snider would tell us that he'd have a talk with Manny. But he didn't really wanna hear bad things about Manny Lopez. He knew that nobody else coulda made BARF what it was, the biggest publicity machine the department ever had and the only protection the aliens had. And maybe Manny was another side a Burl Snider's fantasy life? Maybe Burl Snider was the superego and Manny was the id? Maybe." Ken Kelly often spoke in psychiatric terms. He probably learned them firsthand. He was soon to have his head shrunk.
"I just never felt much purpose," Ken Kelly would say. "Neither did Robbie Hurt. There we'd be, sitting in the brush for hours, listening to rabbits and coyotes and skunks and rattlers crawling around us. Sometimes having people just appear out a nowhere, scaring the shit out a both of us. And they'd look at us ragpicking bozos and wonder if we were waiting for scorpion stings or what."
"The sound a gunfire used to make us
psycho
because we never
knew
anything till after the fact. When we got scared there was never a payoff. We just felt useless. No wonder poor Robbie became an alcoholic."
And what did Ken Kelly become, living with this frustration of being, and not being, part of the Barf squad? These two young men, one black and one white, who could not be part of it because of their color, were, as he put it, like a double shot of nitroglycerine. This was just after the San Diego district attorney's investigator had a little conversation with the homicide leader of the
judieiales
in Tijuana. It seems that the
judieiales
were handling their own investigation of the shooting of the Tijuana cops. And the Mexican homicide leader told the district attorney's man that if their findings were such that the Mexican government decided to issue
arrest warrants
for Manny Lopez and his men, well, it would be the
judieiales
job to serve those warrants.
Of course the Mexican lawman knew that he couldn't just stroll into the San Diego Police Department and throw handcuffs on Manny and the boys, and take them back to Mexico for trial. Yet there were ominous implications in what he said. The
judieiales
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along the international border now, trying to arrest robbers on their side, the homicide leader said. And they might just run into the Barf squad.
When the district attorney's man asked if
judieiales
would really consider coming across into the canyons to kidnap the Barfers, the homicide leader said they would do what was
required.
The Barf squad received the information but it changed nothing. Manny Lopez still had them walking south of the line. So there were cracks made about the
judiciales
hanging Manny by his heels like Mussolini and other such jokes that no one found funny. And, there were more Barfers pandering a last will and testament.
"This job just ain't dangerous enough," Ken Kelly said to Manny at lineup. "Why don't we milk rattlesnakes or jerk off tarantulas on our lunch break?" One night the Barfers were walking in the drainage ditch near Monument Road and Dairy Mart Road, near the place where they had shot down Chuey Hernandez and his partner. The ditch comes across the border and during the rainy season spills runoff into a cow pasture near Stewart's Barn, often used as a resting place for illegal aliens on their nightly crossings.
Ken Kelly and Robbie Hurt were discussing the exact location of the Barfers in the drainage ditch. The others were possibly on the
wrong
side of the line, since the fence was damn close to being the actual boundary. But of course a few feet didn't matter if a squad of
judieiales
prowling the darkness suddenly ambushed them after figuring that real pollos wouldn't be hanging around that fence for so long, a fact that Chuey Hernandez found strange on the night
he
went to investigate.
Just then a U.S. Border Patrol chopper came roaring in out of nowhere and spotted the Barfers hiding in the ditch. The chopper hovered above them and lit them with a spotlight. The pilot started issuing Spanish commands over his loudspeaker. He started ordering this little group of bogus pollos to get their asses back to Mexico.
But Manny Lopez told his men to stay put, and he tried to raise someone on the HandieTalkie which never worked properly out there beyond the pale. So, much like the Tijuana policemen, the border patrolmen in the helicopter started getting a little testy because this group of pollos
there by the fence wouldn't run away and wouldn't obey. They were just staying put, which was very strange.
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Meanwhile, Ken Kelly and Robbie Hurt were going bonzo because the Border Patrol helicopter was making such a commotion that cars were starting to stop there on the Mexican highway, and what if one of them was a Tijuana police car?
Ken Kelly and Robbie Hurt were doing their damnedest to get through on their own radios with no success, and finally the Border Patrol pilot had enough of this shit and he started blasting his
siren
and swooping down a little lower.
Ken Kelly was nearly in tears and was screaming all kinds of things that the F.C.C. wouldn't approve of over the radio, but nobody heard him and by now the pilot was getting just about as mad as Chuey, Hernandez got the night he was shot down. And he
dived!
Ken Kelly stopped breathing because he was sure the chopper was going right in on top of the Barfers in a fireball, but this pilot was a hot dog, and
good
. He was also good and
mad
. He stopped his dive a few yards from the ground and blew up a cyclone of sand and brush and flying tarantulas, and the Barfers were all on their bellies protecting their eyes and faces and weapons and balls or whatever, and Ken Kelly started screaming hopelessly,
"They're trying to cut our dicks off!"
And just then they saw a car slam to a stop on the highway and Ken Kelly was seeing phantoms and was positive it must be the
judiciales
. With Tommy guns!
Well, even the Barfers weren't yet crazy enough to shoot down a Border Patrol helicopter, and finally the pilot either figured out who these lunatic pollos must be, or he was called out of the area. He took off very suddenly.
Ken Kelly said, "I was absolutely sure that if it had been
judieiales
on the highway our guys woulda been executed on the spot. They woulda just disavowed all knowledge, like they say on
Mission Impossible
."
When it was over, his troops told Manny that it was time,
definitely
time, to "chase the elusive southern burglar."
There was always a burglary series somewhere, and to justify coming in from the canyons they would write in their daily activity report that they were working on a burglar, which meant they would jump into plalnclothers cars and drive straight to a fast-food joint or, on a night like this, straight to The Anchor Inn for a drink. And nobody was drinking beer this night; they needed tequila shooters.
Renee Camacho was livid and Tony Puente couldn't stop swearing. Manny Lopez, who had gone to the substation, was the object of just about every obscenity ever invented in English or Spanish. They decided that it was time to
do
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They figured that the horrible explanation was that Manny was
glad
the chopper came in attracting attention. He wanted
more
Tijuana cops to come on over for another celebrated shootout. It seemed crazy but all of this was crazy.
Ordinarily at the end of their shift, they trooped into the BARF office, where Manny would have a message or two written on the chalkboard about the plan for the next night. So they all came trudging in as usual except that their eyes were all red from tequila shooters and sandblasted from the whirlwind blown up by the helicopter. Tony Puente, as the senior man, had drawn the short straw.
He was a quiet chap, not very outspoken at any time, and of course he was afraid of Manny, as they all were.
When Manny said, "Is there anything else?" preparatory to dismissing his troops, Tony Puente removed his glasses, wiped them nervously, put them back on, sighed once or twice and said, "Yeah, Manny, there is. Close the door." But Tony Puente just couldn't come out and say all the things they told him to say. Things like: "This shit's getting old!" Or, "We're tired a hanging our asses out for your headlines!" Or, "We've had it!"
It just wasn't Tony's style. He began tentatively and diplomatically. He said, "Manny, this is hard for us. I don't know how to say it but we got thoughts…"
"Yeah, so say it," Manny said.
"It's like we got the feeling that we shouldn't be doing certain things cause we're gonna get ambushed. And like tonight, with that chopper… we all talked it over and we feel you put us through shit that we didn't need to be put through and…"
"Our cover was blown by that chopper!" Eddie Cervantes said.
"There was absolutely no reason to stay there and get lit up for Tijuana cops!" Ernie Sjalgado said.
"No alien robber in his right mind would come in and work the area after that!" Eddie Cervantes said.
"What were we doing there, trying to bait
more
Tijuana cops?" Ernie Salgado said.
"My wife's pregnant," Renee Camacho said.
"
My
wife's pregnant," Ernie Salgado said.
"I'm not getting killed for this," Eddie Cervantes said. "I wanna see my kids grow up." file://C:\Documents and Settings\tim\Desktop\books to read\Wambaugh, Joseph - Lines a... 11/20/2009
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Not everyone was attacking. The younger ones—Joe Castillo, Carlos Chacon, Robbie Hurt—were
mumbling
. Big Ugly, Joe Vasquez, wasn't saying anything but even he was bobbing his head in agreement. Manny Lopez could see they were about to pop their chains.
Then they just talked themselves out. Everyone got very quiet and noticed that Manny's eyebrow had crawled to Point Loma. Manny was in his "
Sabes que
?" mode. Everybody's sphincter slammed so tight a sand flea couldn't have crawled in, which had actually happened out there in those vermin-infested canyons.
They were expecting the worst. Would he single people out? What would he
call
them? Kill me in combat but please don't call me a pussy!
But suddenly Manny's eyebrow came floating back down on his head. Then he got this look of melancholy resignation, like a hangman, or a proctologist, or an actor's agent. The kind of look that says, "It's a dirty job but
somebody's
gotta do it." Manny's mouth kind of turned down under his Zapata moustache and his little Asianlooking eyes got all misty and Manny put his hands in his lap and dropped his little head as though gathering himself. And when he looked up he made a speech about his
sons!
His
dear
sons!
Manny Lopez began it thus: "When I talk of you I call you
mis hijos
. And sometimes I call you guys
mis hijitos
. And that means I'm feeling
extra
caring about you. The things I go through uptown with the chiefs… the things I go through for
you
, well, I don't tell you because I don't wanna worry you and…" Then he reaches up and god-damnit! It looks like Manny's wiping away a motherfucking tear! And he says, "Okay, I hear you, I hear you. I get your drift. I just want you to understand that whatever I've done it's only for you and… Okay! I
hear
you. We'll make a few changes,
mis hijitos
." Then he gives them his impish grin and says "Now! Let's go down to The Anchor Inn because I got a Master Charge that'll pay for all the drinks you fuckers can
hold."
There wasn't a dry eye in the house. They were ecstatic. They'd won! Manny Lopez!
What
a guy! They hit The Anchor Inn like a freight train.
Ken Kelly wondered about it. Manny the high-living dude whose credit cards were always pushed to the max? Manny ordered a round. He told them he
loved
every one of them. They got all warm and rosy and started chattering about the groupie schoolteachers. Maybe
they'd
show up tonight. We'll give some apples to the teacher! Bring on the whole freaking school board!
Manny tossed down his Chivas while somebody was telling jokes, and he excused himself with a wink, saying, "I gotta go to a
meeting
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Everyone started winking back. A meeting. Sure. Hey hey, Manny! A meeting! Sure!
When Manny left, Ken Kelly, who often talked of reincarnation, said, "Last time around, Manny was either Joan of Arc or Heinrich Himmler. Or maybe he was W. C. Fields? He could con Orphan Annie into chain-saw massacre."
Then he called their attention to the fact that maybe they were only about as complex as a game of Bingo. Manny had stifled them with the bar tab.
"He knows us like ya know your dick!" Ken Kelly cried.
And within a week they were all back to walking south of the invisible line. Shortly thereafter it broke wide open. Predictably, it was Eddie Cervantes who bit the bullet. They were having their night's briefing as usual. Dick Snider walked into the tiny squad room as he sometimes did and was leaning against the wall, showing his permanent squint from the dangling cigarette. He looked even taller in the sun tan uniform of the San Diego police.