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Save Me Salvador
Category:
Memoir
Save Me Salvador is my, up-in-your-face account of the Arellano-Felix drug cartel, my ex-fiancé’s insanity after turning informant against this cartel and our three-year ordeal with Homeland Security, leaving me to deal with these harrowing experiences, alone.
Immigration is a cultural flashpoint and a major political issue in America today. Save Me Salvador is immigration on steroids.
Before Christmas in 2006, Victor Magno Escobar – a key lieutenant in CAF, known as “El Pareja” and “Copkiller,” forced my fiancé to join one of his cells of enforcers. For two weeks, Ernie learned of plans to kidnap and murder a wealthy executive in Tijuana and an American drug dealer at Escobar’s weekly parties. Parties that also entertained a few high-ranking Mexican PRI Politicians. He did this as we secretly planned our escape, from living in Mexico. In return for asylum in the U.S. Ernie gave information that helped lead to Operation Tijuana and the arrest of six cartel members.
What we got from Homeland Security was the cold shoulder as they reneged on their deal to help us with Ernie’s asylum application, after using the information we gave. Homeland Security feared CAF might try to hurt me to get to him. I was caught between helping someone I loved, or choosing to leave California. I chose to help my fiancé. It nearly destroyed me. This is our story of survival and my personal story of recovering my life after.
Save Me Salvador could be a cross between the bestselling book, ‘American Desperado: My Life--From Mafia Soldier to Cocaine Cowboy to Secret Government Asset’ and Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, Jose Antonio Vargas’s article, ‘My Life as an Undocumented Immigrant.
Excerpt
“I didn’t want this, mi amor.” His eyes fill with tears. I already know what he is telling me.
Then, he adds, “They didn’t give me a choice.” I stare at his face, wondering who this man is. “We need to get enough money together to get the hell out of Mexico.” His face changes to the desolate fallen face of a broken man.
“I tried to tell you we needed to move! They are talking about doing two kidnappings. I want out of this before that happens. We’ll save up enough so we can leave this month.”
I perch on the edge of the bed, feeling the blood drain from my body. I have not uttered a word. His words vibrate against my eardrum. They strike the surface and momentarily go silent. They bounce from my eardrum and slam into some emotional area like one loud crash of cymbals.
Waves of hysteria, terror, disbelief - all these feelings rise and slam down onto my frontal lobe. I close my eyes. I don’t want to hear anymore and I cover my ears.
Then his voice is soft. “Beto says I know too much. They are convinced I still have connections with Mara Salvatrucha.”
My eyes are still closed. I want him to stop. Just stop the words and maybe it won’t happen.
“Why are you doing this, Ernie? Why? After all, we’ve been through together, why?” The tears cling to the rims of my lower eyelids, but they refuse to fall down my cheeks.
His mouth is open. That great big, huge, lying mouth! Open! And he is talking, talking, and why won’t he just shut the hell up?
But he doesn’t. “Beto believes I know all the MS13 members in town, and he’s told El Pareja this.” Now he breaks down. He’s sobbing. But, for me, it’s too late.
“Jenny, either I join them and bring in all the gang members I know, or they’ll kill me. I’m so sorry, mi amor. I told you I wanted to move.”
I don’t say a word. My mouth is still half-open, overwhelmed with this massive jolt that just hit me. My soul is numb, an upturned blank canvass with paint drizzling in streaks down the side - red and green and brown oozing to the floor. I turn my head slowly and look into his eyes. “Is Rafael involved in this too?”
He tries to smile, but it is a broken man’s crooked smile. The smile of the damned. “No. I’ve never told Jacobo that Sleepy used to be in the gang. I didn’t want him mixed up in this too.”
I want to cry. I try to force it. But the tears won’t fall. My eyes sting. I glare at him, look through him, and wonder who he is.
The silent symphony of my nightmare gives way to this one broken man, seated before me. I look at this man. I don’t know this man. After eight years? My brain runs through his identity. Here he is: my protector, my savior, my God. There he is, the comedian. Friend. Bastard!
It’s a reflex. I slap his face with a force I’ve never known. So hard, the sound reverberates off the walls. He doesn’t move. We are silent once again.
A few hours later he hits me with one more thing, during the fight that ensues. He reveals another of my worst suspicions. He has cheated on me.
“It was only once,” he admits. “During the day while you were over the border.” He hesitates as if thinking if he should tell me more. “I was drunk.” He cries.
There is no elaboration about who he cheated with. He leaves the room, his shoulders drooping, and I sit on the bed as hollow as bamboo. I know who it was -- Elena!
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