Tomàs has been chasing me since I lost El Coyotito's trial. He finally found me two days ago, in my office. He duct taped my arms to the arms of my office chair. Then, he took my keys and locked me in my office. I don't know what happened to my secretary. I'm not sure I want to know. I've had a lot of time to think these past two days, and so to avoid thinking about my poor secretary, I ponder: How did I get here?
I guess it's the same way everybody else gets where they are. Reading Steinbeck and Harper Lee in high school got me angry about social injustice. My college political science professor pushed me toward law school. Law school taught me how to vent constructively. When I got out, I fought for criminals and the Constitution. That's how I met El Coyotito. (Only his friends can call him Javier Reyno.) And I guess El Coyotito is how I got here.
When I first met El Coyotito, he wasn't yet a druglord; he was just a mule who'd crossed at Eagle Pass on the wrong day. After I handled his drug trafficking charges agreeably, he started sending his "associates" to me. Before long, El Coyotito made me his abogado and put me on the payroll. I worked out of his South Texas headquarters and untied any legal knots he and his associates tied. I was hammering out a plea bargain the day the Feds nabbed El Coyotito. Tomàs succeeded as acting president, and I started delegating. I devoted all my time to freeing mi jefe.
Thirteen months later, El Coyotito's jury didn't understand my position. They convicted El Coyotito and sentenced him, like fools, to prison. I understood what that meant for me. I told the Feds everything I knew, and they hid me in Iowa. I sat for the Iowa Bar under a new name and started organizing small businesses and doing divorces.
But prison can't hold back the long arm of El Coyotito. Tomàs has found me. And suddenly, he's back in my office. He steps toward me with a cell phone in his right hand and a pistol in his left. He puts the phone to my ear. "Lo siento, Abogado. I liked you. But you will be an example." Tomàs raises the pistol. I close my eyes, bracing for the blast. Pleadingly, I wonder--How did I get here?
