Posted by: Ed Chernoff
March 19, 2007
Topic: The End of the World

I'm no drug lawyer as that term is understood. I don't get visits from shady vaguely connected cartel mules carrying cash. (Not that there's anything wrong with that!) If somebody did drop a bag of cash on my desk, I'd probably tell so many people the story, the IRS would move into my guesthouse. Frankly, the people I represent don't have cartels paying their way. My clients hold their hat out to family and sell all their belongings to pay for me.

This potential client resides in the Cameron County Detention Center. It is a surreal facility consisting of two buildings, surrounded by razor wire. The State inmates are in the North building. Federal, to the South. To enter the attorney visitation portion of the Federal section, you have to punch an unmarked button attached to a speaker at the front of a loading dock. A gate rolled up when I announced my presence. (It’s was very "Get Smart" like actually.) After I walked through a portico, the only thing that separated me from the hell of the detention center was a monitored cell door, controlled by a burly Mexican correction officer.

They let me in without having to show any identification at all. I know I have the innocuous look of a lawyer, but still, it seemed too easy. Out of obligation I handed the burly one my bar card and TDL. He gave it a cursory look and filed it away in a drawer. They got on the phone and called up my inmate and then directed me to the attorney visitation room. It was completely open. It struck me that a crooked attorney could deliver drugs to someone he represented. Of course, I haven’t any idea what search procedure occurs after the visit or what surveillance we were under, but considering the unique ways my clients have hidden drugs in the past, I haven’t a doubt it could be done.

I didn't have to wait long before they brought in my potential client, and he possessed something I hadn't seen in hours - a smile. He wasn't expecting me, he said, but I explained who had sent me and he made the instant connection. I have to admit, I was disarmed by this fellow! I had been in the facility many times and had always felt a little disturbed, but the way he approached me and the conversation that followed left me with an odd feeling of hospitality.

I learned that he came to the U.S. from Mexico at seven months of age. His Mom and Dad were migrant workers, and ultimately the entire family moved to California and became involved in the harvesting of our nations melons. For 15 years he attended various schools, and he lamented the fact that every time he became familiar with a certain textbook, it changed on him. He ultimately decided that he would never catch up, and quit altogether. He moved to The Valley, met the love of his life and had a couple of kids. He was particularly proud reporting that his 15 year old daughter was on a trip to Washington DC, which she had won based on educational merit. I told him about my own trip to Washington DC at that age. With a big grin on his face, he told me that his daughter wanted to be a lawyer, but added somewhat sheepishly that she didn't want to be a criminal lawyer. I replied, "Who the hell does?" We both laughed. We talked about the Dallas Cowboys and the Mavericks. We talked about the coaching problems of the Miami Dolphins. We laughed about the ineptitude of the Texans. He said that it was OK in the detention center – that nobody messed with him – but that everybody was into the Novellas, and with March Madness approaching he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to see any of the games on television. I earnestly commiserated.

I can't say I left the detention center happy, but I was content. And although I am tired in this airport, I'm still content. I hope he hires me. He got caught up in this business in the most natural way. Everybody has a price, and if you throw enough money at someone who is trying to support his family on a migrant's income, the threat of incarceration will not deter him. That is the foundation of the cartel’s business. The billionaires in Mexico City have nothing to fear from our war on drugs....Oops, got to go… they've announced boarding and I'm in the first group. I was about to start preaching anyway.  I’ll keep you posted...

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