Friday, August 13, 2010: Good Morning Beautiful. It’s ironic that I am writing this journal entry on Friday the 13th. This has been by far the most bizarre and surreal week of my life. The last time I posted in your journal was Saturday, August 7, 2020. I was sitting on my stolen couch inside Isaias Palomeque’s (AKA Isaias Uzziel Palomeque, Isaias Palomeque Vergara, Project Manager at DJO Global) and Adriana Coronel Tenorio’s (AKA Adriana Howitt Coronel, Ari Coronel, Ari Coronel Tenorio, Ari Howitt, Ari Howitt Coronel) house waiting for you. Since then I feel like I was on an episode of the Twilight Zone, to say the least.
Presently I am so close of you Sam yet so far. I am in the lobby of the Grand Hotel prior to a meeting with Alicia and Carlos. The reality is that I will not be coming to see you tomorrow Sam. My heart hurts me having to say that. You can thank Adriana for this.
For the most part we had a great time last Saturday. I brought a finger painting set for us to have fun with, which we did. You wanted to go to play at the kids amusement park near the border. So off we went to the amusement park and for the next 4 hours we had a great time. I absolutely melt when I am with you Sam. I am the luckiest Dad in the world to have you as my daughter.
It was 4:30 PM and you were getting tired and wanted to go home. That was the last time anything resembled normal to me.
Prior to all this, Adriana and I were engaged in a conversation about the next steps in finding a permanent solution to this situation that would make everyone happy. Adriana has offered nothing in the way of positive ideas. She’s all about making things a bigger mess than they have to be. I told Adriana that if money was a problem that I would help pay for her lawyer in order to get this done. Adriana realized all her excuses for not doing the right thing for you are gone. Rather than try giving me another excuse Adriana completely lost her mind.
She started to drive beyond recklessly. Speeding excessively with me, you and Axel Alvarez Coronel (AKA Axel Coronel) in the car. I told her to pull over and let me out of the car. She refused. Instead she picked up the phone to call someone. Axel turns around and threatens to hit me with The Club. A device used back then to lock the steering wheel of a car when it’s parked to keep it from getting stolen. It was then I tried to jam the gear shifter of the car so the car would stop. Adriana was driving that crazy. Weaving in and out of the opposite lanes. Blowing off red lights. Almost causing accidents as she entered Playas. A block away from the house, she was driving too fast to make the turn safely and hit a car parked next to the pet store on the corner. I saw that as an opportunity to get out of the car. As I opened the door and had 1 leg out, Adriana tells me, “you are not going anywhere” and starts to speed down the street towards her house. In front of us coming from the other direction was a big white SUV. Chevy Suburban. The street was to narrow for both vehicles to pass each other at the same time. Adriana did not care. She hit the gas and as she tried to pass the big truck, she hit the side of the truck, taking its driver side mirror clean off. As the ladies in the truck got out to confront Adriana, I kissed you on the forehead, said good-bye and that we will figure this out. Then I ran in the direction of that pet store. I see the owners of the car Adriana hit when she made that turn too fast. I told them that she just hit another vehicle and pointed in the direction of the big white truck.
Out of nowhere a dozen or so Tijuana Police officers surrounding me with their vehicles. Guns drawn. From the get go this smelled like a set up. No doubt about it. The police grab me and directed me to the sidewalk. A couple of the police officers spoke English and told me he would take my statement in a minute. Statement? For what? It was then Adriana, with Samantha in hand, Maria Guadalupe Tenorio Toledano (AKA Lupita Tenorio, Marsha Tenorio) and a friend all ran up to the scene. Both Maria Guadalupe and the friend were scratching their arms with rocks and they were screaming at the police.
Sam, you looked looked at me. You were so confused and sad.
After a few minutes of listening to Adriana, the police came over to me and told me we were going to the police station. They handcuffed me and told me to sit in the back of a police pick up truck. Adriana followed in her car, flipping me the middle finger while taking pictures of me handcuffed in the back of the police truck. I fixed my stare on each of them, never breaking my gaze. They never made eye contact with me directly. Why would they when they know they just did the unthinkable. Lucky for me we were close enough to the border where my cell phone worked. I was able to call a friend to tell them what happened and to call Alicia and Carlos. Little did I know it would be the last phone call I would make for the next several days.
When my phone went out of range, you gave me quite the surprise Sam. I had no idea Adriana brought you to the police station until you stuck her head out to look at me. I was so sad Adriana paraded you through the middle of all this. It made me sick to my stomach. You waved at me as if to say “hello”. I blew a kiss back at you and smiled as Adriana and her friend continued to take more pictures of me and taunt me with a barrage of middle fingers.
We get to the police station and Adriana continued to talk. After she was finished the police officer asked me, “what is going on here?” As I tried to explain, after 2 sentences he tells me he has heard enough and that I was under arrest. Yeah, no set up here <sarcasm>.
The police placed me in a holding cell. At least this place had a TV to pass the time. Soccer was on. After a few minutes another guy was placed into the cell with me. He exchanged some words with the officers and the three of officers proceeded to beat the hell out of the guy. He was not walking after that beating. And for a few minutes there I wasn’t sure he was still breathing.
People in Mexican jail are fascinated by Americans. I made fast friends because I respect the people there and the situations that brought us together. My new cellmate overheard what was going on with me in another room before we met. He tells me I was being accused of some crazy shit Sam. Adriana, Maria Guadalupe and their friend are trying to tell the police I beat the hell out of them in front of you. Then they would add to the lie by telling the police that after I tried to kill all three of them in front of you AND I got into a fight with several of the police officers before I was apprehended. Unbelievable.
If that was the case, why would the police tell me an hour later that I was going to be OK? That there was no evidence I hit anybody and all Adriana wanted was for me to give her money to make this go away. Interesting given the part of Adriana’s story that I got into a fight with several police officers yet I did not have anything that even resembled a scratch on me. Yet, there is a guy who walked into this same holding cell with me with all his limbs in tact and next thing I know was beaten within an inch of his life just because he mouthed off to police officers. Adriana’s math does not add up. Then again it never does.
This does not make sense. Part of it is that I have no idea how the “system” works down here. It may help if I did. I have not been able to make any statement to anyone. How could this be about paying for something I did not even do? Of course I learned soon enough that my gut was right. This was going to be a long night. Around 8:00 PM the police tell me Adriana wanted $500 to make this go away. I know I did not do anything wrong but if that is all I had to do to get out of jail, no problem.
Little did I know it would become a lot more complicated than that. I was taken out of the jail and handcuffed to another guy in the back of the police pick up truck. Not only that, both of us were also handcuffed to the actual truck itself. He was telling me where we were going, a central jail where I could be held for up to 2 days. He heard what was going on and asked me if I could pay the $500 needed to go home. I mentioned I did and he said I would be home by the next morning at the latest.
The next several hours were spent handcuffed to the back of the police pick up truck. Being bounced around as we went back and forth from the police station, through several very rough neighborhoods and finally to the jail. Was I even going home at all? Once they did away with the guy next to me, who’s to stop these cops from making me disappear? All of this was so surreal.
The guy next to me was right. We did end up at a central jail. Together, thank God. I think. They took everything away from me except the clothes on my back. No money, no identification, nothing. I was not even able to make a phone call even though I was told I could. After being led through a gate it was up a flight of stairs and to a cell. Alone.
If you have ever seen old movies about Alcatraz, then you will know what this cell looked like. The room is approximately 6 feet by 9 feet (2m by 3m). Iron bars cover the door way. A steel bunk with no mattresses or blankets. And a concrete block with a hole in it as a toilet. I don’t think I have to describe the smell to you. You get the idea. There is no toilet paper. No running water. And no food. I learned pretty fast how good my shoes doubled as a pillow.
Again everyone was fascinated with the gringo and that allowed me to make fast friends. For some of them this was not their first rodeo and were nice enough to explain what was happening. If I needed water, just ask and it was always provided. Not that I was hungry because of my maxed out adrenaline and stress levels but food comes from any family or friends who are able to deliver it. I was not sure who even knows what has happened to me let alone who could help with essentials. I was told not to worry, the unwritten rule is that everyone shares. Usually someone’s mom or grandmother, wife or girlfriend makes enough food for an army and brings it to the jail.
Most of the people there know the drill and had friends there with them. The way it was explained to me is that locals who have been in Tijuana long enough end up at this place eventually. Some for DUI. Some for prostitution. Some for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time or even stealing a diaper from a store. They call it the “Poverty Economy”. Where the justice system actually makes money off the less fortunate.
Gringos are considered the “whales” in this “Poverty Economy”. Offenses as described carry a $500 fine or 2 days in jail. If you cannot pay you may have bigger problems which I will get into in a little bit. Gringos can always pay the $500 though. So why was I still there? I have the means to pay.
To be continued…