Mexican Injustce - 1996

 This story took place in July 1996 when Sue and I were returning from a second honeymoon in Cancun. The place was now a tourist trap, a far sight from what it had been 10 years previously. At that time it was still under construction after a devastating earthquake had ravaged the economy. 10 years later it was a tourist's Mecca. After 10 days, when we were on our way home, we got a taste of Mexican "injustice."

For some unknown reason I had misplaced, or discarded my Visa. By this time we were at the airport and without the Visa I would not be allowed to board the plane, which was only 40 minutes from its scheduled departure time. To acquire a new Visa would require a Police report in person at the Police station, which was about 20 mintes away. Adding the time it would take to file the report and the 20 minutes it would take to get back to the airport, it was clear I would not be making the flight.

Sue, naturally, was not willing to leave without me. I explained to her that staying would only leave both of us in Cancun, with me, possibly under arrest. It would be best if she were at home to advocate for my release, should that become a necessity

I had already been turned over to the airport's Security Office, where I was told that there was no way to avoid missing my flight. Again I explained to Sue that this was my problem and that under no circumstance was she to stay in Mexico with me. This is where the story really begins.

I now had about 20 minutes in which to resolve the issue of my lost Visa. I went back to Security and asked the officer to issue me a new Visa. He refused stating that without a Police report it was not within his power to do so.

At this point a long legged, stunning Canadian blonde came in and reported that she  had lost her Visa. Smiling, and with the utmost courtesy, the Officer opened his desk drawer, revealing a full pad of blank Visas. He immediately wrote her a new one and leeringly presented it to her.

Now, I did not posess the long, tanned legs of the Canadian woman, but I was determined that I, too, would have my Visa. I gave the Officer $20 to issue me one. No longer able to say it was not possible he pocketed the $20, which I had covertly initialed, and he gave me my Visa. The next step, since I now possessed the coveted document, was revenge.

Then, with only 20 minutes to go before departure I asked to see the Chief of Airport Security. I was directed to his office where I quickly ran through the events, stressing the Canadian woman's success at obtaining her Visa, and my $20 bribe to secure the same result. The Security Chief, bedecked with gold braids and epaulets, was furious. "We do not take bribes, Senor", he said with indignation. He then summoned the officer in question while I watched the clock on the wall nervously.

The officer initially denied having taken any money from me. I informed the Chief that it was in his breast pocket and bore my initials. The Chief had the officer empty his pocket. When the $20 bill was revealed the officer denied that the bill was mine and the Chief threatened me with arrest for making a false accusation. I quickly pointed out my initials on the $20.

The Chief asked me if the officer had demanded the money from me. If so, then the Officer would be charged and I would be held over for his trial for having accepted, or demanded, a bribe. At this point my Tactical Situational Awareness kicked in.

Diplomatically I explained that there may have been a misunderstanding. As the officer did not speak perfect English, and my Spanish was not exactly fluent, I said that I may have misinterpreted him and thought it was a fee. I was released, the officer was neutralized, I got an apology from the Chief, and then ran from the office to the Gate, joining Sue on the boarding line. Case closed. 

The Locked Room

It all started with a trip to Mexico. Sue and I had been married for 10 years at the time and we decided to re-visit Cancun, where we had spent our first honeymoon. So, leaving Sarah, our daughter, who was about 9 years old, with her grandparents, we set off; confident in the ability of our teenage sons to act responsibly in our absence. We were half right in our judgment.

What we had forgotten to take into account was that the period of time we would be gone was also the week of “homecoming” for 3 area high schools. Now, for those who don’t know what homecoming is, I’ll explain. For some reason; maybe related to football, or the prom; each year high school students have a weekend of absolute insanity to celebrate. And if your house is the scene of an unsupervised homecoming party while you are away, my advice is to not go home.

Simply put, our youngest son, who shall remain nameless here because he knows who he is, decided to hand out fliers announcing an “open house” at our home. I never saw one of these alleged fliers personally, but I imagine that they said something along the lines of “Come wreck my parent’s house and steal stuff like furniture.” And, friends being friends, the masses happily complied with the request implied by the invitation.

On Sunday morning; early Sunday morning; and I mean very early Sunday morning; Sue and I were awakened in our hotel room overlooking the Gulf of Mexico by a phone call from the Maryland State Police barracks in Westminster, which was located several miles from our house. I immediately declined to make a statement; out of habit; before realizing what I was hearing.

The gist of the matter was that there had been some sort of party at our house the night before; actually I think the State Trooper said for 2 nights before; and that we should come home. We were scheduled to depart the next day for Baltimore and seeing that the event had passed, we decided to wait for our scheduled flight.

Arriving home late the next day we were shocked at two things; the damage that was inflicted upon our humble abode; and the fact that no-one had been arrested. Some furniture was gone, most notably the little Louis XIV end table which my parents had purchased in 1966. We found it by accident several days later, smashed in a roadside ditch. There was not a light fixture in our house that was undamaged, and our neighbors windows had been shot out. But nobody was in jail.

Later descriptions recounted that the police were throwing the partiers out of the front door, only to have the kids going back inside through the back door. And, the fact that the police actually thought that one of the kids had brought a Louis XIV end table to the party, and allowed that person to leave with it; well, that really took the cake.

While cleaning up this unholy mess; that’s right, the kid didn't even try to clean it up; I was livid. And, since I was due back at work at 7:30 AM in the morning and was clearly going to get no sleep, as I cannot sleep in squalor, about every 10 or 15 minutes I was at the door of the younger boy’s bedroom, cursing and generally acting insane. In my defense I would have to say that at the time, and in those circumstances, I was not in a normal state of mind.

The next morning saw me back at work, exhausted from cleaning up. And, to my surprise, everyone at work had heard about the party and the destruction at my house. So, I had to put up with quite a bit of ribbing about leaving teenagers home alone. And to make matters worse, by the time I got home from work, our son had run away. This began a 5 day odyssey which would rival the exploits of Homer’s “Odyssey” as I went in search of him. In addition to feeling guilty about yelling at him; which was absurd, since he needed to be yelled at; I was worried for his safety. And watching Sue live in torment at his absence only made me angrier at him. But clearly he needed to be found.

Though I looked everywhere, I never did locate him and he returned to school unbeknownst to us, on the 5^th day. This is the point at which the school authorities got involved and notified DSS. It’s also where this story begins to get interesting, and funny.

I was sitting in my office at Soil Safe, a company I was working for at the time, when I got a call from the State Police, again. The trooper on the phone was extremely courteous and nice, which raised my suspicions immediately. He wanted to know if I could come down to the barracks in Westminster to sign some papers concerning my son’s return home. I asked what kind of papers, and could they be faxed. He fell silent for a moment and then said that I needed to come in or they would have to come get me.

Realizing that our son had been in a locked principal’s office with 2 State Troopers interviewing him; without the presence of his parents or legal counsel; I recalled Hamlet and I, too, smelled a rat.

At the time I used to carry a small handgun with me everywhere. And of course there were always some left handed "cigarettes" to be considered as well. I agreed to meet the trooper at the barracks in about an hour, and then left the office.

Now, I am not the cleverest of individuals, but, having smelled a rat, I proceeded with caution. At the time I owned no vehicle or even property in my name. The vehicle I did drive was registered to Soil Safe. So, I decided not to go the police barracks, electing instead to park at a McDonald's located about ¼ of a mile down the road. I placed my pistol and cigarettes in the vehicle, locked it, and then left the key under the tire. Then I walked to the barracks.

Entering the barracks I approached the little glass window which separated the troopers from the reception area. I gave my name and was invited inside. As the door closed behind me I was thrust against the wall with my arms wrenched behind me and my jacket pulled up over my head, completely immobilized. The questions came fast and furious; “Where’s your gun Mr. Williams?”; followed by “Where’s the pipe and marijuana?”; and, “ Can we search your vehicle?”

Immediately I realized that they had pumped my kid for every bit of info about me that they could get from him. I was not at all angry with him; he was about 15 and definitely at a disadvantage without some sort of counsel during their interrogation of him. So, it was easy for me to look them in the eye; after they let me down off the wall; and inform them that I had no gun, no drugs and moreover, no vehicle. Of course they did not believe me and frog marched me to the parking lot demanding to search my vehicle. I showed them my keys and there was no vehicle key on the key ring. I also invited them to search the DMV database so as to satisfy them that I did not, in fact, even own a vehicle. Likewise with the gun, as it was not registered in my name, but to one Bob Wilson in Florida, where I had purchased it several years prior.

With these formalities out of the way, I was taken to the top floor of the barracks, placed in a locked room with a Trooper Sergeant and a woman from DSS. I was told that I was not under arrest and this was just a routine questioning about my son’s safety at home. I asked why the door was locked if I was not under arrest and was told that this was for my own safety. Then I was handed a form and told that my signature was an acknowledgment of my rights and I was required to sign it. I refused, as it was actually a waiver of my rights, allowing me to be questioned without counsel.

There was a tape recorder present and when it was switched on the DSS lady said, “This is an informal hearing with Mr. Williams and we have requested him to sign an acknowledgement of his rights. Mr. Williams, do you agree to this interview?” I replied, “That is a waiver of my Miranda rights, and if I am not under arrest, why is the door locked?” The DSS lady hit the stop button on the recorder. Take 1.

The Sergeant got tough and informed that I was to answer all questions and if I got wise with the DSS lady he was going to deal with me. The tape player was restarted anew with the same preamble by the DSS lady, to which I now replied, “Please note that this is the second attempt to interview me against my wishes and the first tape has been taped over.” This went on for about another 30 minutes, during which time I was asked where my vehicle was and how, if I did not have one, I was able to get from Baltimore to Carroll County in time for the interview. My reply; “I hitched.”

For the next three hours we parried back and forth; I wish I had a copy of that tape. I was like Clarence Darrow, fending off each question with a question of my own. I even found out that the DSS lady was a single mom and that she herself sometimes hit her son, even though that was not an issue  that was ever raised with me. She then threatened to take my children away from me, placing them in the custody of the county. My reply; "Go ahead, they're a pain in the ass; even you hit your own kid. So, you want 'em; they're yours. Where do I sign?" I do believe, that in the 15 years she had been doing this for a living, this was the first time that offer ever came her way.

During the 3 hours, a different officer would come into the room and ask things like, “Whose car is blocking the fuel truck?”, and “What color is your car Mr. Williams?” This only made me tap the microphone in an effort to see if it worked as I had already answered that question several times and now stated that I would not answer that question again.  In fact, I began to ask questions about the actions of the State Police on the night of the party. Things like, “Why were no trespassers arrested at my home?” and “Why were people allowed to leave with my furniture under the eyes of the officers present at the scene?”

After 3 hours I was released from the locked room and followed as I left the barracks on foot. I went to a Burger King nearby the McDonalds where I had left my car, got a hamburger, and waited until my “tail” was gone before walking back to the McDonalds to retrieve my vehicle. Sitting in the driver’s seat I reached down, feeling the reassuring weight of my pistol. Then I smoked a “cigarette” and went home.

The Wedding Band(s)

Sue and I were married on July 4th, 1986. There is no doubt about that. It's stamped on the inside of my wedding band along with the words "Forever Yours." But the real story behind the date is kind of funny, as it wasn't done until sometime after the date shown on this receipt, which is sometime later that July.

The ring, the original one, had been purchased before the wedding and was delivered on time for the ceremony. Sue lovingly placed it on my finger when we exchanged vows. I have the pictures to prove it. And the ring is right there for all to see. It was hard getting used to wearing a ring, as I was never really into jewelry. For the most part, unless I was buying it overseas and wearing it home for re-sale, I considered it kind of a non essential item. So, when asked if the ring fit, I said yes. It was a size 7 and a half.

Sue and I proceeded to go on our honeymoon to Cancun. This photo shows me arriving in Cancun, with the band visible on my left hand. It wouldn't be there for long. On the third day of our honeymoon I had been swimming, while Sue had been up in the hotel room, or somewhere, but when she came back she noticed that I was playing with the ring, twirling it around the base of my finger. Naturally she asked me if the ring "fit okay?" And naturally, never having worn a ring before, aside from a high school ring, which I had long ago lost, I didn't know how it was supposed to feel. As if to prove my point I took my hand and went, "See, it fits fine." With that statement I made a bold sweeping motion with my arm and hand, as I flung them both forcefully towards the fine, white Caribbean sand. The ring flew from my fingers, instantly swallowed by the Sand God, Lostringus.

Sue and I stared at one another in disbelief. But we were both instantly on our hands and knees, scooping up sand by the handful from the immediate area in which I had sacrificed my ring. After a few minutes a small crowd had gathered to watch us. Some of the more enterprising Mexicans were on their hands and knees along with us, as I had offered $100 to anyone who found the ring first. This may have been short sighted on my part, after all, if the gringo is willing to pay $100, it must be worth more..

After about an hour of this we gave it up to the Sand God, packed up our chairs and went back to the hotel and out to dinner, a bit bummed out. Sue was sure that this was an omen, dooming our marriage, which by now was all of three days old. For my part, I was wracked with guilt for my stupid and grandiose gesture, which had given birth to this whole tragedy. But I never felt that the marriage was at stake. This photo was taken the following night. You will notice the absence of the wedding band on my left hand.

We got back to Maryland, where we were living at the time, and immediately went to see the jeweler, where I got a new ring, with the same date and inscription as the first one. Although there was some initial discussion as to whether or not this ring should be a nose ring, we quickly settled on the traditional finger style which I had lost in Mexico. Only this time we made it a size 7.

The Wedding - July 4, 1986

The following is an excerpt from "It's Only Me". 

July 4^th, 1986 came and the wedding was set for 4PM at the Church with a reception to follow at the Greenspring Valley Golf and Hunt Club. We were set up in a big tent on the edge of the golf course with the food catered and a large ice sculpture done by the Chef at the Club.

My best man, Seth Herman, and my friend Michael Held, were both on hand at the church to handle any problems associated with Ben; who lived around the corner; should he decide to make an appearance. I think the plan was to put him in the trunk of a car until Sue and I were gone, but nothing ever did happen.

4 PM came and Sue was late and I was worried and pissed off. She arrived 10 minutes later and I took my place at the Altar as she began the march down the aisle with Keith and Shane. I was overcome with the beauty of her walking towards me to spend our lives together.

Arriving at the Altar she turned to face me and we held hands. The Pastor blessed us and did the vows. I was crying the whole time. Whether it was from release that the last 2 years were behind us or because I would never know how our courtship would’ve gone without all the problems, I can’t really say. But I was very happy when Sue said I do and the Pastor pronounced us Man and Wife.

We went to the reception and it was really very nice. The weather was just perfect- not hot and no rain. We had about 80 people in all, including my Dad and his new wife Alice. My favorite Aunt Gloria and Uncle Bobby were there also. And they had bought along Nana, my Grandmother on my Dad's side. She was very happy and smiling. It was the last time I would ever see her and I am happy to remember her like that.

Most of the reception is a blur. I remember leaving and the boys were looking a bit apprehensive, wondering if we were ever going to come back for them. They were staying with their Grandma Marlene and her husband Grant. Sue and I were going to Mexico. Our plane didn’t leave until the following morning so we stayed at the hotel by the airport.

We got in the room and Sue went to change clothes- coming out of the bathroom ready to consummate our marriage. I was busy with the envelopes we had received as presents. Sue told me to put them down, “Don’t you want to see what’s under here?” she said, referring to the sexy outfit she had on. I looked at her and said, “I know what’s under there- I want to see what’s in the envelopes!”

Fixing me with a hard look in her eyes she said, “Put the envelopes down and consummate our marriage.” I did- but then went back to the envelopes…

The next morning we flew to Cancun, Mexico. At the time Cancun was new, having just been created on the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico as an economic way out of the devastation wrought by a bad hurricane a couple of years before that had virtually wasted their economy. Also the traditional tourist areas of Tijuana, Mexico City and Acapulco were plagued with crime. Cancun would be the new tourist destination. Surrounded by Inca ruins there was a lot to see and do.

Our first night was a misadventure. The hotel had us on the 7th floor with a beautiful view of the sea. But the room was sweaty- it was actually humid and there was moisture on the walls! We called the front desk and they said they would be right up. After an hour or so we called again. This time they said there was no one available to fix anything until the morning. We asked for a new room and were told there were none. We tried to stay in the room but it was really uncomfortable. Usually I would be a screaming maniac in order to get my due, but I didn’t want Sue thinking she had made a mistake in marrying me so I had to be calm.

By midnight we had finally agreed on a course of action. Taking our luggage we went down to the lobby and set up on the sofas. We even brought pillows down with us. The manager asked what we were doing. We told him we couldn’t move until the morning when our air conditioning was fixed. A room was found immediately on the 3rd floor. This was actually an improvement because we could seee the iquanas on the beach and began feeding them with the chocolate covered almonds from the snack bar in our room. At $6 a pack the iquanas were very appreciative and began hanging out beneath our windows.

The next day we began exploring, signing up for all the tours to the ruins. Sue wanted to see the Pyramids. We took a bus and headed off to see them. When we got there a little kid was selling ices and was really aggressive at it. I told him no about 10 times before he went away. Sue and I made the climb up and then back down. By this time we were sweating and thirsty. Spying the boy with the ices I went to get some. When he recognized me he said, “No ices for you Senor!” before huffily walking away. Kind of like the Soup Nazi on Seinfeld!

One day we went snorkeling and after we were through were resting at the edge of the lagoon. I saw a rowboat, abandoned and drifting towards the mouth of the lagoon. Having some sense of respect for small boats I dove in and did a power crawl type stroke to overtake the boat. I flopped into it and rowed back to shore thinking I had impressed my bride with my aquatic prowess. Sue went to use the ladies room and I went to the bar for a drink. That’s when all the exertion I had put forth hit me. I never even got to order. I passed out and slid to the floor! Sue attributes this to the ices I had eaten in a small village we passed through on the way. They were really good, but in retrospect they probably contributed to this whole ordeal.

Coming to after only a few seconds I tried to get some help but no one would pay any attention to me! I started to crawl out of the shack that was a bar on the edge of the jungle trail. I didn’t get very far before I had to stop and just lay there, sweating and heaving. The Mexicans that passed me pronounced me a “Gringo addicto,” a drug addict. The Americans who passed me by took me for a drunk Mexican. But no one would help me!

Sue was with the tour bus which was about to leave. She would not go without me and so they came back to find me. I think they were afraid of getting into trouble if they lost an American. I was carried back to the bus and the driver mixed Coca Cola with salt and made me drink it. Before long I was back to myself but I think I scared the hell out of Sue! The rest of our time was spent in the markets and shops buying souvenirs and gifts for the kids.

The time passed too quickly and we were home again. But it was a beautiful trip and made me realize how empty all my previous travels had been without someone special by my side. Now we were home and it was time to find a real job.

Sue and I are still together as of this writing. But who knows, she could always change her mind...