Juan's cell phone rang. It was a number he recognized. It belonged to Stan Williams, "Hello?"
Stan Williams was with the Arizona Republican Party's Office. He'd arranged for Juan to become a duly designated delegate representing Arizona's Electoral College. "Juan, we need you to come down to AZGOP headquarters." The voice on the other end sounded stressed... and dangerous.
"What, tonight?" Juan objected. "It's almost eight o'clock!"
Stan insisted, "You're an Elector. We need you here right now."
Juan was up all night at the GOP headquarters. They'd just announced that California was being called for Harris when they began receiving disturbing reports of election fraud in Arizona.
Several of the other Electors became upset, and a heated argument broke out.
One lady threw the manilla envelope containing her instructions on the floor. "Harris was way ahead until the national power grid went down in several swing states," she argued. Then, when it comes back on, Trump is in the lead? Are we supposed to believe this?"
This is just what Tio Pablo said would happen, Juan thought.
"I just can't sign my name to this in good conscience!" she declared.
Then Juan did what Pablo had sent him there to do, reminding the other electors of their duty. "Listen to me!" he got the room's attention. "In 2020, the Supreme Court unanimously ruled that Electors aren't free agents; they have to vote for the candidate who gets the majority of the votes. We're only here to certify the results. We don't investigate fraud. You're all gonna vote for Donald Trump. Your good conscience doesn't matter."
That night, in a stunning election upset, Kamala Harris, who had held a commanding lead in the polls until election day, lost to her challenger. Former President Donald Trump was once again President-Elect, awaiting his inauguration as the 47th President of the United States.
“Mom told me what you’ve been doing, Dad,” Juan’s daughter, Sofia, was furious.
In one corner of the room, a towering Christmas tree reached toward Juan's ceiling, its branches adorned with an array of Mexican ornaments. Hand-painted clay figurines mingled with shiny glass baubles in red, green, and gold hues. At the very top of the tree perched a sparkling star, its rays extending outward as if to bless the entire room.
"What did she say I was doing?" Juan regretted asking that question immediately. He knew the answer, and didn't feel he could accept the accusations he knew were coming.
“All that stuff with Tio Pablo!” Sofia shouted her accusation.
Juan turned his back on her. Anger was bubbling up like a volcano inside him, but the heat was cooled by equal parts of frigid guilt.
"Have you really been manufacturing and delivering fake ballots?" Sofia's high-pitched voice was piercing. "You've betrayed the American dream!"
Juan made a soft sound he hoped Sofia would find soothing, “C’mon mija. It’s not like that…”
"Then what's it like?" Sofia stopped shouting, but her words grew ice-cold. "Do you have any idea how much damage Trump will do if he's not stopped? Hundreds of years of progress will be unraveled. He'll eliminate DEI and destroy the world with his war on green energy. He'll lead us into a civil war!"
Juan had tried to soothe her, but now his patience was gone. He wasn't going to allow his daughter to disrespect him with these ridiculous claims, "Quit whining! Some people win, others lose. It's the way of the world. I did this for us, mija. It's a family business. After I lost my job, this is how I pay for the house and put food on the table…"
But Juan never finished his sentence.
"Don't talk to me like I'm a child!" Sofia shouted again. "I'll be spending Christmas at my friend's house. Don't bother calling me!" Then she walked out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
“What’s going on?” Maria came into the living room. She looked terrified. “What was all that yelling? Is mija all right?”
“Why did you tell her about Tio Pablo?” Juan groaned, “Now she’s not coming for Christmas.”
Maria began to cry.
"Where you at, mija?" Juan asked as gently as he could. "It's Christmas, and your mother is crying because she misses you."
There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the phone, like Sofia was moving to a location where she could speak privately. "I'm at the Tempe Beach Park, Dad. We're holding a rally to protest Trump's illegal election."
"Please come home," Juan begged. Your brother is home from the military. The whole family is getting together, and it's not right that you're not here."
Sofia remained quiet for a long time. "I want to come home, Dad," she said quietly. But please, just think about it. You know they stole this election, and you helped them do it."
"Oh, mija," Juan had tears in his eyes. "My work with Tio Pablo didn't change anything. It was that power outage on election night. Once they got it turned back on, that's when all the votes changed. We didn't have anything to do with that."
"Dad?" To Juan, his daughter sounded small and afraid. "They said the late votes came in at 90 to 95 percent for Trump. That's a statistical impossibility."
Juan was glad Sofia couldn't see him wince. "It's not impossible. That happens every election! It just usually happens for the Democrats. It's always gonna happen for whoever pays the most. This year, that was the Republicans. They're not used to it. That's why everybody's getting so mad."
Sofia was quiet for a long time. "So you're telling me that both sides cheat?"
"Elections are just business," Juan hated destroying his daughter's idealism this way. But on the other hand, everyone was sick of the ridiculous causes she was always championing. "You shouldn't get so worked up about these things."
"So nothing's really worth fighting for..." It was a statement, not a question. Sofia was thinking things through.
It was Juan's turn to be quiet. He knew the Republicans stole the election. Maybe it was better this way. The sooner she learned how the world worked, the happier she would be.
Finally, he asked, "Do you need a ride? I could come right down there and pick you up."
"No, don't come down here Papi," she said. "They plan on camping here at the Tempe Beach Park until the inauguration."
"What!" Juan cried, doing the math with his fingers. "That's more than a month away! What are they gonna do out there?"
Sofia dismissed his concerns. "It doesn't matter. I didn't want to stay here that long anyway. I've just got to pack up some things in my car, and I'll come home.
What Are They Protesting?
Choose Option 1: Trump Jailing His Enemies
Choose Option 2: Issuing Executive Orders